My first Doctor Who fanfic! Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Doctor Who or BBC related. I do however own the OC, so please don't steal her.
In one fluid motion I stretched up and then arched my back forward, bending over until my finger tips brushed the toes of my bright green running shoes. After a few moments I straightened, plugged in my iPod and started down the street at a brisk jogging pace. The sun was just beginning to set, streaking the sky with bright oranges and reds that gradually faded into softer shades of purple and blue. Dusk—my favorite time to run.
I rounded a corner onto 5th street, picking up the pace a bit, my feat pounding the cement in a steady rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the pace of my heart. I've always loved running, for as long as I can remember—when in actuality really isn't that long. Honestly I can't remember much past a year or so ago. Everything is just…blank. I do remember waking up somewhere in the middle of a dark alley way, in the middle of the Northeastern region of America, not knowing my name, who I was, were I came from, or anything else about my life. Doctors told me I had an acute case of amnesia, and that my memory might never return. Well…so far it hadn't.
All that I know about myself is what the Doctors tell me. My name is Mia Ashford. I'm 5'4'', with dark blue eyes and long dark hair. I'm twenty-one, and I've no known family, no back story. I don't know where I was born, where I came from, where I've lived. It was almost as if every record of my life, my entire existence, was completely erased. Save for the fact that I do exist. Sometimes I get flashbacks, bits of memory that are gone before I can even grab onto them long enough to make any sense of it.
I shook my head and turned up my music. It didn't matter now. I'd always assumed that maybe whatever had happened in my past was so bad that it was better I didn't remember it. It made the most sense, anyway.
I continued my brisk pace, completely lost in my music and syncopated rhythm of my body when something shifted in my peripheral, causing my head to whip to the side, to the shadows lining the streets. Nothing there…probably just a trick of the light. I continued down the street, nearing the city bay now, the salty tang of sea water sharp in my nose, but I didn't slow my pace. Again something shifted in the corner of my eye, and this time it seemed to be a bit closer. My gaze slid to the side, and I could have sworn I saw something dark and solid in the shadowing that quivered at the edges of the streets. My heart kicked up a beat in a way that had nothing to do with my extracurricular activity.
I quickened my pace, propelled by nerves, reaching the bay now and turning down a smaller, more narrow street that flanked the long and wide waterway. Up ahead I knew there was a small alley way that would lead me back to my apartment, and though I felt a bit ridiculous, I could have sworn that something was following me. Again the shadows seemed to grow and pulse, and with each step I took it seemed that they were drawing closer to me. The shortcut was just ahead, maybe two hundred feet or so...I could make it.
A cold wind suddenly kicked up, blowing dried leaves along the paved street and swirling them in graceful rings around my feet. A sense of foreboding settled around me and panic suddenly filled my veins, burning like liquid nitrogen and giving me the adrenaline I needed to keep going. Yes! The short cut was just ahead! I was going to make it! I cut a sharp right down the alley, my feet skidding a bit as I nearly lost my footing and momentum. The alley was even darker than the streets and filled with more ominous looking shadows that seemed to coil toward me as I tore down the grimy passage.
My lungs were burning, but soon I recognized the tall flagpole that perched on the roof of the building next to mine. I was almost there! Suddenly I tripped, my feet giving way beneath me and sending sailing through the air, the slick and filthy pavement of the alley rushing up to meet me. I collided hard with the ground, the air rushing from my lungs in a soft whoosh. I lay there for a moment, breathing hard as I tried to collect myself. My knee ached where it had collided with the pavement and the palms of my hands were bloodied and scrapped.
I dared a glance up, expecting to see the strange shadow creatures closing in on me, but something else caught my eye. Wedged into the corner of a tall chain link fence and a thick brick building was a blue police call box. It was rather old fashioned looking, and out of place for say…this decade, but it was better than nothing and I definitely didn't think I was going to make it to my apartment now. I pushed myself to my feet shakily and limped over to the police call box, my knee protesting with a throbbing pain.
Without thinking I wrenched the door open, darted inside and quickly pulled the door shut behind me. My breath was coming in uneven, painful gasps that burned my lungs with every intake, and my heart was hammering in my chest so hard I thought it was going smash through my rib cage. I took a staggering step back, praying that I was safe from whatever had been pursuing me just now.
"Excuse me!" a crisp British voice said from behind me, startling me so that I nearly jumped ten feet in the air. "What the hell do you think you're doing in here?" I whirled around, my long dark hair nearly strangling me in the process, my eyes widening almost comically. I drew in a sharp breath, something between a gasp and a stifled cry.
Before me stood a man dressed in a sharp looking brown pinstripe suit, which was strangely offset by a pair of white converse and a long, lighter brown trench coat. But that's not what made me gasp…what made me gasp was that the inside of the police call box looked nothing at all like that of an average police call box at all. It was massive, with some giant center console full of blinking lights and cables and a tall tube filled with some swirling-who-knows-what. I'd never seen it before, but something about it seemed vaguely familiar, like a distant childhood dream or the haunting tune of a forgotten lullaby.
The exasperated expression on the man's face slowly faded into that of recognition and faint disbelief, mixed with shock and confusion. "Mia?" he asked in a soft voice.
I stared idiotically at him for a moment as I tried to process how this strange man could possibly know my name when I'd never even seen him before. "What?" I sputtered astutely, amazing myself with my quick wit.
The man dropped whatever strange instrument he was holding with a piercing clatter and started toward me, slowly, removing the black framed glasses that perched on his nose. Vaguely my mind noted that he wasn't bad looking, in fact he was rather attractive. But he was a complete stranger. I was standing in the middle of some perverted police call box with a strange man who somehow happened to know my name and was approaching me with a tentativeness of someone approaching a small and frightened child.
I turned and ran. I pushed my way through the surprisingly heavy door of the call box, stumbling out into the gloomy alley way. Only moments later did it register in my mind why I had wandered into the police call box in the first place. The shadows shifted dangerously, and suddenly dark silky tendrils slipped from the gloom and started to take on a more solid form. An icy chill swept through me and dread settled into the pit of my stomach. "Holy sh—"a hand suddenly clapped over my mouth and a strong arm wrapped securely around my waist, pulling me back hard.
I struggled against my attacker, but it was pointless really because moments after my abduction I was being released, only to find myself back inside that demented little police call box. I spun around, ready to fight and defend myself if necessary, and once again came face to face with that strange and strikingly attractive man. He opened his mouth to say something but I jumped in before he had the chance.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded in a rush. "How do you know my name? And what the hell is this thing? And what they hell were they?" I flung an arm toward what I assumed to be the entrance to this contraption. "And what the bloody hell is going on?" Bloody hell? Since when did I say bloody hell?
"I'm the Doctor," he said in that beautifully seductive British accent of his. "This is the TARDIS. Those were Dark Soldiers. And I, Mia, have been looking for you for a long time."
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