Disclaimer: All original characters and such belong to the BBC.
Summary: The TARDIS lands in an American farm at Christmas time. The Doctor makes a new friend.
Chronology: Not sure; Eleventh Doctor sans companions
Rating: K for fluffy holiday happiness
Author's Note: So I've become a massive Doctor Who fan thanks to one of my friends. This little oneshot is both a Christmas gift to my readers and for the many wonderful Whovian friends I've made since my first Doctor Who episode back in April. I apologize ahead of time for my lack of knowledge of British slang and such. I've watched many seasons/series of Doctor Who, so I've done my best. If you're a returning reader, I thank you and apologize for the umpteenth time for the lack of material on my part. I'll have an explanation and updates on my author page soon. For now, please enjoy!
"All right yes, you are adorable, but please! I am trying to work here," the Doctor said, gently pushing his new furry companion to the side with his boot. He toyed with his sonic screwdriver and surveyed outwardly undamaged TARDIS. His companion mewed insistently and hopped back over immediately to purr and rub against his ankles. He sighed, and reached down to pick up the small kitten. Her large amber eyes stood out brightly against her short black fur and the little white patches on her chest, nose, and toes seemed to glow, even in the relative darkness of the post and beam barn, lit only by the soft glow of the lights on the TARDIS.
"You're just not going to let me alone, are you?" he asked.
The only response was another hearty purr and the kitten rubbing her face against one of his hands, her whiskers chilly from the late December air.
"Ah well. I suppose I could use a break." The Doctor sat on one of the many rectangular bales of hay in the barn, letting the kitten snuggle happily in his lap. Through the gaps in the boards that made up the large doors at the front of the barn, he could see the wide expanse of bright white snow across the pasture outside. Little fluffy loaves of white sat on the fence posts and branches of the trees. At the far end of the pasture stood a light blue farmhouse, dusted similarly in snow on the roof and shutters and its windows lined with multi-colored fairy lights. If he didn't have a time-and-space-traveling device, he could have easily imagined he was in the English countryside, anytime between mid November and early January. But seeing as he did, he knew that he was in the American northeast—Pennsylvania to be precise—on the twenty-fourth of December in the year 1989. He didn't know why, as the TARDIS had come to a sudden, shuddering halt on his way to the planet Yeour'Idin in the year 4842 for their intense annual High Sacred Certainty Days festival.
He'd stepped outside to find that the TARDIS had parked itself right inside an old barn, stuffed with hay and bags of grain and a number of cats, most of whom had been startled off by the sudden appearance of the ship but poked their heads out from behind objects and beams to peer suspiciously down at him. The little black and white kitten now sitting in his lap, however, had been sitting outside the TARDIS when he first emerged, calm and curious and extremely friendly. Since that moment, the kitten had decided he was its best friend in the entire universe and refused to move outside a half-meter radius from him. Besides the overzealous kitten, he'd had no interaction with anyone in this place and hadn't even seen anyone besides the kitten. The house seemed to be far enough from the barn that his arrival could go unnoticed for quite some time. Possibly even a day or two. That was excellent news, as the TARDIS appeared quite unlikely to be moving anywhere anytime soon, and a handful of previous encounters with some of the more...interesting individuals of this particularly rural area had made him not quite keen to repeat the experience.
He surveyed the blue box from where he sat with the purring kitten. The outside appeared pristine, or as pristine as such an old and well-traveled device could appear. But every single time he tried to fly it to his original destination, it refused to do anything. It merely sat there, apparently completely undamaged, just stubborn. It was maddening. No amount of sonicing or cajoling was doing the slightest bit of good, either.
"You know, if I can't get this thing working again, we may be spending a lot of time together," he admitted to the kitten. "I can't just keep calling you 'you', now can I? You'll need a proper name."
She flicked an ear back at him in recognition.
"Now, what can we call you?" He scratched the cat behind her ears. "Fluffy is a good cat name, though it's awfully generic. All wrong for you, too. You haven't got enough fur on you for a proper hairball." He stopped petting her for a moment, lost in thought, and she meowed to get his attention, the way she had been reacting ever since she seemed to declare him her new favorite person in the entire world. "Demanding, you…Suppose I could call you River, though she'd likely kill me if she ever found out I named a cat after her…" He patted the kitten, allowing a small laugh to break the silence in the barn. His breath formed small, short-lived clouds in the winter air and his hands were getting a bit chilly, but for the most part his tweed jacket kept him warm. The snow and lights and almost reverent quiet in the hay-filled barn made the little Pennsylvania farm seem as though it were the capital of peace, the eye in the center of the storm that was space and time in the rest of the universe.
"It's nice here," he said aloud to no one in particular. "Nice and Christmas-y…" He picked up the kitten and held her up to face him. "So how about a Christmas name then?"
"Right, ok then. Well…hmm. Noel seems a bit overused. So do Angel and Snowflake, and let me tell you, angels aren't always the peaceful figures humans think they are." He paused and cast around for another set of choices. "Midnight…Holly…oh! What if we just put them together and call you Molly. You look like a Molly to me. What do you think about that?"
She merely batted at his bow tie.
"That's my bow tie! Watch it. They are cool, you know. Not everyone can pull off a bow tie." He tapped away the kitten's paws, feigning annoyance. After a moment, though, he became thoughtful. "Although…"
In just a minute, he had the bow tie fastened about her neck instead. She seemed a bit puzzled, shaking her head and raising a tentative paw to poke at it.
"There you are," he said, rather pleased with himself for some strange reason. "You should keep that, you look good in red and 'tis the season and all."
He glanced at his watch and found that he was just in time to see the hands tick over to midnight. It was now Christmas Day. At almost the exact same moment, the TARDIS made a happy sounding little engine noise, as though it had taken a deep breath and that was all it had needed to be ready to go again. The Doctor frowned at it, taken aback by the sudden recovery. He couldn't be certain until he went inside, but the problem seemed to be gone as quickly as it had appeared. It made no sense. And then a sudden realization dawned on him.
"You wanted me to spend a quiet Christmas not chasing monsters, is that it?" he asked, almost indignantly.
The TARDIS simply hummed and Molly purred. He shook his head but couldn't keep from smiling. "Well then. Merry Christmas everybody."