A/n: No idea where on earth this idea came from. Probably from having best friends who are all Doctor Who addicts, and a brother who wants to be Doctor Who. They sound cute, right? No, I didn't think so either.

Anyway; enjoy!

Full Summery:

He was there at the assassination of JFK, and he was there at the crowning of Elizabeth II. He was in photographs of the past; in snippets of papers, and he didn't look a damn thing like Christopher Eggleston, David Tennant, or Tom Baker. So who the hell was he? You won't find a Tardis in this story.

Bella's a hardcore Doctor Who fan, and a straight A history student. Six years ago she spotted a bronze haired man in a family photograph; since then, she's noticed his face appear in more historical pictures than she'd thought possible. According to this evidence, he's been alive for centuries. A cloud of animosity, questions, and mystery surround this man, and Bella Swan is determined to discover the truth.

A story of family, adventure, education, passion, love, lust and eternal life. This doctor's got a name, and it's Edward Cullen.

Disclaimer: What do you know? It's not mine…who actually reads these things? Just don't sue okay? I don't own Twilight, or, coincidentally, Doctor Who.

Chapter 1

"I'm not wrong, Angela. I know I'm not wrong. I can't be wrong!" Bella Swan stood in her living room with a mobile phone held to her ear. Angela, the best friend, was the other end of the line, once again attempting to convince Bella Swan to join her and her boyfriend for dinner. Like most of their conversations lately, however, this had begun as a simple question and answer conversation, and ended up in an argument over Bella's obsession with 'The Man', as Angela referred to him.

'The Man' was somebody Bella had been devoting her life to for the last six years. Currently, she attended Seattle University. She'd begun earlier that year; she was eighteen years old, and her whole life was history. Her relationship with 'The Man' began six years ago, when Bella was twelve. She'd been peaking into the family albums her mother had gotten out to complete, and never gotten around to finishing. He had appeared alongside her great grandmother; Margret Montgomery. Margret was young at the time, around eighteen herself, and was standing with her lifelong partner; Geoff. 'The Man' stood off to the side, he was not smiling, but stood rigidly straight, staring at the camera with captivating eyes.

Bella had not been interested at first, but a week later she'd seen the same face in a history book. He'd been photographed alongside the Weimar Republic, in Germany. She'd not believed it at first, but had made a copy of the picture, and found out as much as she could about the man from the photograph, and the man from the history book. She'd come up with nothing. Renee had shrugged and told her to ask her grandmother about him. Her grandmother had shrugged, 'just a friend I expect', was her reply. Bella had asked her history teacher about the man in the book, he'd shrugged, 'advisor?' he'd suggested, but he'd had no idea. No amount of searching the web, or the library, or her own extensive collection of history books had yielded any return either. Bella had been frustrated. Some prompting from Angela, however, had helped her let the issue drop.

However, the man had stayed on her mind, and two months later, when she'd seen his face again, this time in the local newspaper, under a heading of 'The History of Forks; The First Villagers', she'd jumped back into her research. This picture had been a painting, but she was absolutely certain that it was him. She'd kept the paper, and she'd made a box for her evidence, getting it out to review at any spare moment.

Over time she'd collected tens of photographs and copies of paintings with his face. The pride of her collection was a replica of an infuriatingly untitled, and unsigned portrait of the man, from, she was told, around 1929. The year of the wall street crash. His suit and hat suggested that he had been rich; obviously not from the stock market, unless it was painted before the crash; in which case, she had learnt absolutely nothing. She had learned, though, that the man was absolutely beautiful. His bronze hair was untamed and gave him a wild look. He was clean shaven, and had stunning green eyes; which, she guessed, were hardly even captured by the painting. He was looking directly at the painter. He had a straight nose, and full lips. And a strong jawbone. He was extremely attractive. A year ago, Bella had discovered the real thing at a museum in Phoenix. She'd gone back to visit her mum, and see the painting, but when she'd arrived, she'd discovered that the painting had been sold two days before. Bella had never been so close to murder before. She'd requested to know who had bought it; where it had been taken. She'd been met with the excuse that it had been a private buyer, and no information about private buyers could be released.

It had been him. It had to be.

Bella hung up on her friend, after assuring her for the fifth time that she was definitely uninterested in attending dinner with them. She had work to do, thank you very much. She could hardly care less about not having any friends, as long as she made a discovery. Any sort of discovery, about 'That Man'.

She walked into the lounge, and looked at her floor. It was absolutely covered with all the pictures she'd discovered. History books, examined for information, then abandoned, lay scattered across the floor. She kicked the nearest one; useless.

She sunk down to the floor, and sat, cross legged, before her collection, and picked up her newest book. She was three quarters of the way through, and had found nothing as yet. There was still hope though. She'd had yet to find him in any pictures of French history; he was most other places, but it appeared he'd not favoured France. There were few places he hadn't showed up so far. Few important events he had missed. She'd noticed that he'd not been pictured since before around 1930; that she'd seen. However, there had been several picture of a young boy from 1906 to 1916 who looked a lot like him. She'd kept these too, but she rarely bothered to take them out with the rest of her 'evidence'.

An hour later she'd finished the book; it hadn't been a long one, but she'd had a feeling about this one. She sighed, chucking the book away from her. Nothing, absolutely nothing. If only she had a name. Something to prove he was real. It was the same person, she knew it; she'd never been so sure of anything in her entire life, not even when Renee had asked her if she liked pink as a child, and she'd replied 'No' a second later, no hesitation.

Bella groaned, and rubbed her eyes. At first, it had been like an adventure. She felt like the man on Doctor Who, that had collected information on the man who's face he'd seen so many times over the years. But a girl, and not fat, or married, or…weird. Now it seemed like a duty; something she absolutely had to do.

Now it annoyed her, frustrated her; it was a challenge she was losing. Bella Swan did not like to lose.

A/n: It really is a bit strange isn't it? Yes, I thought so too. See you next time! If you liked it enough to read on that is…perhaps you actually stopped halfway through and are not reading this…or didn't even click the story title to get onto this page…perhaps I need a therapist.