Disclaimer: The only thing that is mine is the general concept and any original characters/situations.
The Impossible Astronaut
I'm on a beach.
This might not seem all that interesting. I mean, people go to beaches everyday. To swim, to catch some rays, to surf. Beaches are common enough that it doesn't sound weird.
Well, here's where the weirdness happens.
Literally two seconds ago, I was dancing with my new boyfriend in the club. At a costume party. At night.
Now I'm at a beach. In the daylight. No new boyfriend in sight. Just four people having a picnic.
No exaggeration. Well, now it's been about ten seconds, but you get the idea.
Two hours ago, I was running around my apartment, zipping up the puffy white jacked and squeezing myself into the thick brown belt before Daniel picked me much. Daniel, my hot English boyfriend—Eee, still love saying that!—had a thing for actually showing up on time, something I've never really been able to accomplish. Punctuality, thy name is anything but Lillian Meyers.
"Ah, crap," I zipped up my knee high brown boot. "Coming," I yelled as I stubbed my toe on the edge of my couch. I blew a blonde curl from the wig out of my face, pulled the toy gun out of it's holster, held it up like I'm one of Charlie's Angels, and opened the door.
Standing there, in a blue suit with red pinstripes and red Converse sneakers, his brown hair all sticky-upy, Daniel grinned at me.
"Hello, sweetie," I grinned back.
Daniel leaned in and kissed me. Man, knocks me off my feet every time. "Hello," he whispered against my lips.
I tipped my head up and kissed him back, the pulled away and looked into his blue eyes. "Mm, Doctor, I've always wanted to kiss you." I go back in for a quick, intense kiss.
He started laughing, breaking the kiss. "That has to be the nerdiest thing I have every heard."
"Says the man who introduced me to the show."
"I'm British. I'm allowed to watch it without being a nerd."
I pushed his shoulder. "Oh, whatever."
He just grinned and kissed my forehead. "Ready, River Song?" he asked. I nodded, smoothing the wrinkles from my tight brown pants. "Well, then… Allons-y!"
Daniel and I were dancing. I spent the better part of the night running my hands through his hair. He didn't normally wear it like that, and, let me tell you I was enjoying it. I was thinking about trying to convince him to wear it like that from now on when my wrist starting burning.
It wasn't intense or anything. However, it did sting.
I tried loosening the strap of my vortex manipulator, but it didn't help. I spent maybe five minutes trying to scratch under the leather band.
"You ok, love?" Daniel asked after I stopped dancing. And by asked, I mean yelled over the techno blasting from the speaker.
"I think I'm having an allergic reaction or something," I yelled into his ear. "The vortex manipulator is, like, burning me." God dammit, Ebay! That's what I get for buying the cheapest, already open toy I could find. "I'm gonna run to the bathroom."
He nodded, kissed my left hand—the burning one—and let me go.
I didn't know that would be the last time I would see him.
Or so I assume.
I knocked past a couple of Snookies, "sexy" bunnies, and someone in a clown mask. I pushed the black door to the restroom, itching under the brown leather of the toy vortex manipulator. The ladies room was magically empty. The pounding bass dulled in intensity once the door closed.
I leaned against the cleanest of the two dirty sinks, which isn't saying much, and tried to undo the watch strap. The little tooth thing would not leave the leather. Groaning, I pulled on it as hard as I could, to no avail. The heat intensified, spreading through my whole body.
Ok, how to remove leather?
That was my last thought before the world disappeared. I might have blinked. I might not have. Either way, I was in a bathroom and then I was on a beach.
I fall to my knees, my hands sliding into the hot sand. My lungs burn, breath coming out in shallow gasps.
Excuse me while I go have a wicked panic attack.
There has to be an explanation for this. Right? I mean, ok, let's think logically. Of course, the first thing that pops into my head is that season of Alias where Sydney appears in an alley with no memory of the past year or so. Maybe something like that happened. Maybe I just lost my memory!
Oh yeah, ok, because that is so great!
Quivering, I look around. Sand. Water. More sand. A red car that looks like it's from the 50's or something. Four people lounging on a picnic blanket.
One of them is waving at me. Like, ecstatically. I check behind me, because I'm sure there must be someone there, but no, it's just sand and big sandy hills.
From this distance, I can't make the people out. The one who was waving is standing, walking across the blanket towards me, probably spilling something, if the shouts of his companions are any indication.
I stand, slipping in the sand.
The leather band is cool against my wrist.
Sweat drips down my back. I realize that I'm wearing a thick white jacket in the desert, but I can't move my arms. I mean, I'm sure I could, however I just can't make myself move anymore.
Oh, god, am I paralyzed now?
The person is closer. Brown hair parted to the right. Tweed jacket. Bow tie.
"Lily!" the man, because it is a man, exclaims my name and pulls me into a tight hug.
I scream. I push against the tall man's shoulders. He lets go of me and I stumble back and falling once more into the sand.
You ever have one of those moments where everything makes sense, but your mind can't seem to grasp it? Kinda like when there's a word you can't think of, but you know what it means, and you can think of other words that mean the same thing or sound similar, but that one word is completely lost?
The man stops and frowns, the look lessening into a straight face. "Lily," he states, the most un-emotional anyone has ever stated my name. "What's the password?"
That English accent, so familiar and yet so foreign, holds no emotion. And, yet, somehow, all the emotion in the universe.
"P-password?" I crab walk away from this familiar man. "How do you know my name?"
His shoulders fall and he takes a step back. "You don't know who I am?"
I shake my head back and forth. "You look like the Doctor."
The words spill from my mouth, despite the ridiculousness of the whole situation because of course, of course I know who he is, but the synapses seem to be a little slow today.
A brief twitch from the corner of his mouth, eyes all sadness. "The password is banana."
"Talk about a non sequitur," I grumble, standing back up, wiping sand from my brown tights. "Where am I?"
"Ah, now that is a good question," he says, perking up. "You are standing next to the majestic Lake Powell in Utah. The state, not the country. That doesn't happen for, oh, a few more centuries."
I nod. Cause this all makes so much sense. Really. I glance all around me, taking in the water, the sun, the sand. The three people clearly staring at up from a picnic, next to a red car. The male. The red haired female. The curly haired woman.
"Am I at, like, a convention or something?" I'm grasping at air here. This just is not possible.
He just looks at me. "Lillian Meyers, think harder."
I look into his old, old eyes. "How do you know my name?"
"I know more then just your name," he takes a step closer. He reaches out and slowly pulls the bobby pins from the blonde curly wig off my head. I know my hair is plastered to my head in ugly pin curls, but I let him pull the wig off anyway. "Though the wig is an interesting touch. I didn't realize this was how you were dressed when you first met me." He balls the wig up and shoves it into his pocket. His tweed jacket does not bulge from the load.
Because his pockets are bigger on the inside.
"Ok, hey there, Mister," I hold my hands up and take a step back. Just call me Cleo, because I am swimming down denial. A piece of my straight brown hair falls out of a pin curl and tickles the back of my sweaty neck. "Don't touch me. And give me my wig back. My hair looks terrible."
He laughs, a sort of "Ha, haaaaah." He pulls his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and points it at me. "So today of all days is the day we met for your first time. I remember how the rest of this day goes. You'll be fine. Well," he stops sonic-ing me and regards his screwdriver. "In some sense of the word."
The heat is killing me. How is he not overheating in his tweed jacket? I pull the thick brown belt off from my middle. There. Much better. I unzip the white jacket and blissful cool arm rushes against my skin.
"You're really staying in character here," I say as I remove the jacket, reveling in the feeling of the sun against my bare shoulders. The black tank top was a good last minute thought earlier. "Your 11 is impeccable."
He places his finger against his lips. "Shh. I know you don't believe me now, but you will. Listen to me, Lily." He grips my shoulders and looks deep into my eyes. "Never tell me what you know. You'll break that rule at some point, but you have to remember it, Lil. Your life depends on it."
This guy is psycho.
I push him off me and pull the fake gun out of its holster, pointing it at him. Heavier then I remember. "Listen, Space Man," I snarl. "I told you not to touch me."
Ok, yeah, holding a guy clearly a few cards short of a deck at gunpoint with a fake futuristic gun is not a good idea. Sue me. I'm clearly insane as well.
The man puts his hands in the air. Seriously, did the gun suddenly gain weight? My arm starts to fall. "You're not going to kill me," he says, voice calm. "You know this isn't how it happens."
I point the toy straight at his forehead. "Watch me."
I don't know what my plan was. Shoot a foam dart at him and run away, I guess. But that's not what happens.
A loud noise, like a laser firing in a sci-fi movie. A bright shot of blue light.
The man dodges to the left.
I drop the clearly no longer fake gun.
I fall to my knees.
This is real. This is happening. This is so messed up.
"Doctor," I whisper.
"Yes, Lily?" He crawls towards me, not a scratch on him. Clearly I'm a terrible shot, even at close distances.
"How is this possible?" My eyes start to tear up. I don't know why. That's just my instinctual reaction to anything overly emotional and confusing.
The Doctor lifts up my chin. A small smile creeps into his ancient eyes. "Spoilers."