Author's Note - Here it is. The last chapter. After two years I've finally completed this fic. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Breakfast of Champions

Earth: July 6, 1990

Martha kept her eyes trained on her little red shoes as she wandered around outside the grocery store, following the imaginary trail she had created in her mind. She didn't know where her mother was and she didn't particularly care. She was far too busy to be worried or frightened. She had to reach the Wizard before the Wicked Witch of the West got her.

"Well, we're in London at least."

"Yes, Ian, but look at the cars. This isn't 1963. I wonder how far in the future we are?"

Martha stopped when a shadow crossed over her own make-believe yellow brick road. She looked up to see a man and a lady standing off to the side, looking about with a frown on their faces. But what caught her eye was the elderly man next to them. He was an imposing, white-haired figure and dressed exactly like the Wizard from The Wizard of Oz.

"You're here!" Martha called out.

The old man looked down at her in confusion. "What was that, child?" He asked. He sounded gruff and mean, but Martha wouldn't be put off.

"You're the Wizard," Martha insisted. "The Wizard of Oz."

That brought an amused chuckle from the old man. "Oh ho, am I now?" He bent down so that he was eye level with her. "Then you must be Dorothy, hm? Now let's see, what was it that Dorothy wanted from the Wizard again? Courage? Brains?"

Martha giggled. "She wanted to go home!" She corrected.

"Ah, I can definitely understand that," the young man commented with a fond smile at the pair of them.

"MARTHA! Martha, oh thank God!" Martha saw her Mum rushing towards her in a panic. The woman swooped down and gathered her up in her arms, hugging her tightly and chastising her all at the same time. "Don't you ever wander away from me like that again!"

The old man stood up with that same arrogant and imperious look on his face from before. "What were you doing that was so important that you couldn't keep an eye on your own child, hm?" He demanded. "She could have wandered out onto the street! See to it that you take better care of her in the future!"

He pivoted on his boot then, his cloak swishing behind him as the man and woman shot her mother an embarrassed and apologetic look. They ran up to catch up with the old man. She heard the elderly gentleman sigh and sadly say to his companions, "She reminds me of my Susan."

Years later they would meet again.

Fin