I got home last night, got to my door, and there was a little girl of about twelve or thirteen reading a book sort of in a bush, who said, "Don't worry, I'm not a homeless person," and then she said, "Could you just say, 'Hey, I'm the Doctor'?" So I sort of went, "Hey, I'm the Doctor."

~Matt Smith, true story


It's sometime in the forty-sixth century, and I've just saved New Tokyo from the Sontarans, because really, when you think about it, it's almost always the Sontarans. I'd parked the TARDIS in the Lower Financial District and walked up to the impending crisis, and when I get back after the celebratory dinner (which I'd only stayed for because there had been a certain Professor attending who really didn't take no for an answer) there's a parking ticket on the TARDIS's front doors.

Even when it's ending the world will have time for parking tickets.

I rip the offending piece of paper off that wonderful blue paint, crumble it into a satisfactory ball, and toss it into a nearby trash compactor, which flares a bright yellow as the paper burns.

In the interim of indulging in petty gratification I feel it prudent to note that someone comes up beside me. This isn't that odd, since the Financial District is busy with finances 36/8 days of the yearly quadropel. What is odd is that most of the People Around are men and women in business suits who are all doing their best to ignore one another, and the someone is definitely not doing either.

The someone [sic] latches onto my arm like a limp barnacle. A limp barnacle with who has an intense, burning will to live and feeler attachments stronger than the nuclear bindings of atoms. Surprised, I look down at the barnacle. It is vaguely female, although it's a bit hard to tell, what with her being stuffed inside a tweed jacket three sizes too big for her, a bright red scarf pulled up to under her nose, and a bobble hat on top of her head.

I feel that it is my duty to point out that New Tokyo doesn't technically have a winter, being inside the bio-dome as it is, ergo it is way too hot for the barnacle to have decided to take a stroll dressed like this, and ergo she must have come from somewhere else.

See? Deduction. It's the little things that really count.

The barnacle's bobble hat bobbles at me. "Don't worry, I'm not a homeless person," it says.

"Aren't you now?"

"No, I'm not." The barnacle begins to pull me along in the direction of Market District, which is just down the block. I resist, mostly because, well, it's been a long day, what with the Sontarans and all. What I'd really like at this moment is a nice cup of tea and a book and a view of the stars out my purely metaphorical library window. Plus it never really turns out well, allowing oneself to be pulled off from the TARDIS.

But the barnacle is surprisingly strong, and she manages to pull me a good five feet before I dig my heels in and simply refuse to move. "Excuse me, but I don't like it when people pull me off somewhere. It never turns out well. So let go." I try to wrench my arm away, but she clings on and hisses at me, "Doctor, please. I'm being followed."

This is interesting, because I've never met her before, and while I'm famous I'm not that famous. Really, I'm not. And have I mentioned before that I cave in the face of interesting? Besides, I have the sonic, and the TARDIS is locked up tight and not going anywhere, and really, really interesting happenings are happening.

I allow her to drag me down to a café about a block away, because even in the Financial District of New Tokyo there is coffee on every corner. We sit in the back corner; I order hot chocolate, while she gets a coffee, black. I raise my eyebrow at this. "Aren't you a little young to have coffee?" I ask her. She's shed the scarf and the hat, and rolled up the sleeves on the tweed coat. Underneath all of that fabric she is only a girl, probably around twelve or thirteen, with freckles on the end of her nose.

In turn, she raises an eyebrow at me, and quips, "Aren't you a little old to be ordering hot chocolate?"

She had a point.

"My name's Alison,"she adds, "and I'm your biggest fan. Oh, and I'm also your daughter." She takes a sip of the coffee, peers up at my slack-jawed expression over the rim. "From the future? Your personal future? Not ringing any bells? None?" She sighs. "Darn. Got the wrong one again. You might want to write this down. It's a rather long story."


A/N: This really isn't meant to be taken seriously. At all. Wrote it because I needed a laugh. Won't be continuing it, either. Probably. ~madis