UGH…So, first time writing for DW but definitely NOT my first time writing something a little strange. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, tell me what you think. This is about ¼ the length of my normal chapters—it's a pilot. Give me opinions and REVIEW. I will, in fact, continue this if it is reviewed.

W'P

A cool breeze rushed quietly through the grass, stirring up a few leaves. The moon cast a white light across the calm scene. An owl hooted, lonely, somewhere in the trees. Stars dotted the sky like tiny holes in a black blanket over the earth. Water rushed somewhere far off. A tall church stood stoically pale against the night. Up near the bell tower, all was dark. Two figures smashed through a line of trees, each carrying an extinguished lantern. The first was tall and a little too thin, laughing and calling urgently back at the second figure. The aforementioned person had bright red hair and was lagging behind by just a few steps.

"Come along, let's go!" The first figure chuckled. "Lanterns aren't going to light themselves and we've still got to get up to the steeple!"

"Just wait up!" The second person gasped. The pair continued to sprint along, down to the church. The first person snapped a sonic screwdriver out and opened the door. The two looked up to the top of the church, where they needed to go, then promptly took off again, dashing up the stairs with their lanterns in hand. When they reached the top, the first person turned to the second.

"Do you have a lighter?"

"What? Just sonic it or something!"

"The sonic doesn't work that way! Just give me a lighter!"

The person brought out a lighter, and in a flash both lanterns were lit and hanging in the church steeple.

"All right." The tall woman grinned. "Let's get back."

"Aw, I'm tired!" The red-haired man groaned.

"And you sound like a little baby, now let's go. The TARDIS is still a ways back."

-o-

The man hopped back into the TARDIS, whilst the woman stayed back, saying a quick goodbye to Joseph Warren. "It really was just a blast, but I ought to be going. I might pop in again though! Bunker Hill is still coming—Oh, wait, never mind. Anyway, ta!"

She jumped in and closed the door behind her. This time around her hair was cropped short and dark. Though it was a little different she also enjoyed her new eye colour, green. She'd had blue a few times too but it never really appealed. Her shirt had a collar and was accompanied by a long, thin tie and black slacks. She jumped up to the control panel and began pulling levers and flipping switches, grinning at her companion.

"Where to now?" She asked, running around to the other side.

"Somewhere I don't have to run." He fell down in a chair and took a few deep breaths.

"Pull it together, Alistair. You're fine. Where's my hat?" She circled the control panel in search of said hat. "Where've you put it now?"

"Um . . . Oh, here." Alistair reached behind him to grab a bowler and hand it to the woman.

"Stealing my hat again, remind me never to leave you alone with it." She huffily dusted it off and jammed it on her head. "Now, back to my question. Where do you want to go to this time? Things are very lovely back in Victorian England, though I do rather like Babylon. There's also this absolutely brilliant planet where people just sit around all day and eat sweets. Had a real blast there a few times."

"Just go somewhere."

"Oh, what kind of attitude is that?" She hit a few more buttons, now frowning, and peered at her screen. "The TARDIS is picking up on something. I don't think it's for us."

"Then who's it for?" Alistair got up to look at the screen. There was a blond woman there, winking at the camera over fashionable sunglasses.

"I think I'm . . . intercepting some sort of transmission. It looks like old security footage, but I don't know who it's really meant for." She leaned over and twisted a knob, and then pulled the big lever. "Why don't we find out?" The TARDIS jerked, and both people grabbed onto a railing to steady themselves.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, you know. Places." The TARDIS came to a stop, and the woman hurried to the entrance. "Just traced the ship that sent the transmission. It crashed some time ago—or, now. Or—you know, just drop it. It's all very confused and twisted about. My point is, now we have something to do!"

She grabbed her jacket, opened the entrance and stepped out. A huge ship, half-buried in the ground, was flaming and smoking, towering behind a huge, ancient building. It looked about like the middle of the afternoon, and there were only three people standing amongst the scattered bits of flaming wreckage. She stepped completely out of her TARDIS, letting Alistair come out behind her.

"We seem to be on . . . Alfava Metraxis, unless I'm quite mistaken. I wonder what's going on." She walked up to the nearest person, a lanky man with a tweed jacket and a red bowtie. "Excuse me, what's going on?"

"The Byzantium just crashed, and—wait a minute, who are you?" The man peered at her suspiciously. She looked past him, at a large blue police box that was standing absurdly out of place amongst the wreckage and panic.

"I don't know, who are you?" She flipped out her sonic and quickly scanned him, peering in as equal suspicion.

"What's going on, Doctor?" The blond woman from the security tape walked over, now carrying a pair of red heels and a scanner. Behind her was another woman, younger than the first, with flaming red hair much like Alistair's.

Meanwhile, the so-called Doctor was staring at the other sonic with such a look of shocked disbelief, that holder of said device was a little unnerved. He laughed giddily. "Where—what—you have a sonic screwdriver?"

"Yes of course I do." She answered edgily. "I always have, why?" Her jaw dropped a little as he pulled out one that was not the same, but looked extremely similar.

She grinned, but the venomous edge of disbelief still gnawed at her. "You—youcan't have one of those! Where did you get that?"

"Always had it, same as you." The Doctor answered lowly. "So, why would both you and I have a sonic?"

"Because . . . oh my." She blinked hard, mouth still a little agape. "But . . . that can't be possible." Her brow furrowed. "That isn't possible, why is it possible? How are you alive?"

"I should be asking you the same question." Doctor said, suspicion colouring his tone. "Unless you're a shape-shifter or otherwise faking it, in which case you are for a very bad time." He threatened, putting a short pause between each of the last three words for emphasis.

"Excuse me?" A woman in a flowing black dress with bushy curls of blond hair strode over, looking slightly mixed between annoyed and amused. She was the same woman from the old security tape. "There's actually something that needs to be done here. Who're you?"

The woman in the bowler and the Doctor were still staring each other down, however, silently judging, deciding to hope against hope that neither was a fake. Electric currents of suspicion, fear, sadness, and a thousand other emotions shot between their looks like bolts of lightning between clouds. After a few minutes of solid eye contact without blinking, the Doctor hesitantly held out a hand, still not breaking their gaze.

"I'm the Doctor." He greeted. The woman shook his hand back, equally as hesitant.

"Yes . . . I'm the Poet." She said. "And you're a Time Lord."

"Yes, we all know this. Why does it matter?" The red-headed young woman said impatiently. She obviously had some kick in her. The Poet levelled her gaze with the girl, a slightly sad, disbelieving smile moving her lips.

"So am I." She whispered.