A/N I'm baaaaaaack!
This fic is completely separate from my other fic. (Speaking of which, wouldn't you like to read that story? C'mon, you know you want to! Pleeeeeaaaassse!) If anyone cares, I will be updating that story soon, I just have to come up with some amazing plot for the next chapter!
Most places in this Fic are completely fictional, and any resemblance to people of places living or dead is entirely coincidental (aside from the lovely characters of Doctor Who)
Disclaimer: I heard there was a rumor going around that I own this wonderful material. Unfortunately, my lawyer has not procured the rights yet, so I am purely a fan. Hear that? A FAN! So while I recognize the brilliance behind making DW, I have no part in it. I do, however, own Jessie, though I wish she was on the show too! :)
I really hope someone likes this! :)
Chapter One - The Faces
She was running, faster than she had ever run, elbowing her way through the crowd. As she wildly turned her head, she caught sight of a gaunt, elongated alien face. She screamed in pure, instinctual terror and turned, only to be greeted by a sight equally frightening - a crying woman with curly blond hair that made her want to scream. The crowd began to close in on her, crushing the air from her lungs. She collapsed to the ground, panic blossomed within her, and she screamed...
Jessie sat bolt upright in bed, trembling slightly from the nightmare and clutching the fabric of her scratchy woolen blanket tightly.
"Jessie?" asked the worried voice of her roommate, Meg. "Are you okay?"
Her other roommate Bessie looked up from the textbook she had been studying, her large, owlish eyes full of concern.
"You were screaming. We couldn't wake you. Something about faces?"
"Oh." said Jessie, shutting her eyes as she tried to remember the details of the dream before it slipped away completely. "I was?"
She started to get up, but Meg gently pushed her back down. Jessie was a lot stronger than Meg, a girl quite tiny and slight for 15, but the dream had seriously diminished her stamina and she relaxed once more upon the puffy cushions.
"Relax for a bit. Breakfast and classes dont start for an hour. We'll see you there?"
Still feeling shaken and bewildered, Jessie nodded in agreement.
Jessica, or, as she was known among her friends, Jessie, was currently 10 years old and the youngest attendee of Lady McFinch's Finishing School for Gifted Young Women (a.k.a. LMFSGYW) in Westboro, Massachusetts, in the year 1975. She had been found as a baby and had practically grew up in this school. She had no surname or idea of who her parents might be, and as far as she knew, no one else did either. That was okay with her. If her parents didn't want her, why should it matter to her who they were?
Jessie laid down her head and shut her eyes. However, she did not fall back to sleep that morning as tired as she was. She had a distinct feeling that if she did, her nightmare would return.
Later that day, sitting in class, Jessie was making a good show of pretending to pay attention. She generally enjoyed history though it was ridiculously easy for her. Today though, the teacher, Mr. Deleware was teaching a lesson on world history during the 1960's which, being only 5 years ago, seemed too recent to really count as history. It was not until she heard a words flicker by that she started to pay attention.
"Of course, telephone boxes were still very common, and..."
Jessie raised her hand. Mr. Deleware called on her.
"Did they have police telephone boxes?"
Mr. Deleware narrowed his eyes.
"Yes, police boxes were very common in Britain. Why?"
This was a question Jessie hadn't been expecting, and she honestly didn't know why she had asked. She just...had.
"I was just curious. I...saw a show about it on the television, but I had forgotten what year it was from." She lied, blushing.
Mr. Deleware continued the lesson, but Jessie could tell that he wasn't convinced. She wasn't surprised. Mr. Deleware used to work for the FBI and could spot a lie from a mile away. She just hoped he would drop it and she wouldn't get in trouble for lying to a teacher.
Canton Everett Deleware III, ex FBI operative and teacher(for the moment) sat at his desk and quickly dialed a number on his telephone. He anxiously drummed his fingers on the desk top as it rang, hoping that the call would go through.
"Hello?" asked a voice.
Canton almost laughed with relief. Last time he had tried phoning the TARDIS, he wound up getting River Song before she had met him, and it had been interesting to try to talk his way out of that mess.
"Doctor! It's me, Canton."
"Ah, Canton. What can I do for you?"
"It's silly," said Canton, leaning back in his chair and pressing the phone up against his ear. "But there's a girl. Earlier today, one of her friends told me that she had a dream about faces she couldn't remember, and then, just now during class, she asked about police telephone boxes. Could just be a coincindence, but I thought you might like to know."
"Faces she couldn't remember? Hmmm... Interesting. This girl, describe her."
"What? Um, ten years old. Wavy blond hair, green eyes, tall and relatively slender. Very intelligent. Track star. Orphaned at a very young age, practically raised here, still younger than everyone other student here. Not really anything to notice."
"Everyone is noticable in their own way, Canton. Keep an eye on her for me, eh? Let me know if anything wierd happens again. Love to stay and chat, but I'm a bit busy at the mo'. See you."
The line cut off.