Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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Absent Rose, Present Thorne

The day started the same way that most every day prior had. If we’re going with full disclosure, then the last six years had pretty much started off the same way for Thorne.

The repetition started by her applying, and subsequently being the successful candidate, for a department manager position that had been posted in the Want Ads section of the newspaper.

Six whole years.

Well six years, seven months, and 28 days… But who was counting, right?

Other than Sundays, and every other Saturday, the days all started in pretty much the same way. Come rain, sleet, or sniffles. *Achoo!*

So here it was six years, seven months and 29 days after being hired for that job position and, let’s all say it together this time, “the day started the same way that most every day prior had”.

The difference was in how this workday ended and technically how future mornings were going to begin from that point on.

While it could be said that the majority of her workdays ended in a similar manner, they weren’t exactly the same.

Sometimes she would have to politely shuffle out a persistent customer that wanted to continue shopping up until the very last second before closing. Other times it was going over the total sales counts, as the cash in the register drawers didn’t quite match with the sales records.

Not that the accounting, sales or even dealing with the cashiers had anything to do with her original job description. It was just one of those things. When you end up staying at a workplace for longer than most of the other employees you end up absorbing other jobs, even if you really, really, really don’t want them.

Ironically, her paystub never reflected the additional work that was loaded onto her.

During the years she had worked at the department store she had seen one security guard retire, two others had just ‘up and quit’ their jobs and buggered off somewhere. One of those two didn’t even bother giving a two weeks notice! Additionally, she couldn’t count the number of cashiers and floor employees that had come and gone.

That’s not to say that she knew everyone that worked in the department store with her. There might be more “long haul” employees that she wasn’t aware of. It was unlikely though.

Up until the month prior there were two names, other than her own, on the “long hauler” list.

The first being the general maintenance man. Honestly, if she didn’t know any better, she would assume that that man had been born and raised in the department store. A ludicrous idea she knows. Still… one wonders.

The other employee, whose name was no longer on that list, was an older woman. Everyone that worked with her simply referred to the older lady as Nona. Nona had been like the department store’s grandmother.

She would dote on her fellow employees. Bring in baked goods and in the colder weather, knitted mittens and gloves. The knitted wear was frowned on by the store manager. It was that man’s opinion that if the employees needed new gloves or mittens, then they should show some company loyalty and purchase them from the store.

Thorne was of the opinion that the employees came to work to earn money, not have to spend it.

She had done her best to discreetly run interference between the store manager and Nona, whenever the older lady brought in knitted gifts.

Nona had missed three of her scheduled work shifts and Thorne worried for the older woman. She saw a little was being done about it and decided to politely, but insistently, prod an upper manager into action. The upper manager took the issue to the employee who acted as the whole of Human Resources for the store.

Finally they did more then, just dock Nona’s pay. Instead leaving a message on her answering machine. 

Days later and by pure chance, Thorne was walking by a not fully closed door only to hear the voices of several upper management chewing out the HR employee for their lack of tact.

I guess the wording that the HR employee had used, while leaving the message on Nona’s answering machine, was not appreciated by Nona’s friends and relatives. The same friends and relatives who had been in mourning over Nona’s sudden passing away while in her sleep.

All things considered not a bad way to go, passing away due to old age in one’s own bed. It gave Thorne some food for thought. Something to contemplate throughout the monotonous workday.

The following work day, she had contemplated exactly how healthy it was to spend a full work shift contemplating and ranking ways to die. She had come up with quite a comprehensive list, sorted by most preferable to least preferable. Though perhaps it should be clarified that it was a mental list and not something she actually, physically wrote down. Might be a bit hard to explain if someone were to stumble across such a thing.

The department store employees had gotten together to sign and send a card of condolence to the family of Nona, whose name actually turned out to be Nona, Nona Joswick. That had made her pause for moment or two and even crack a grin when no one was looking. 

As they say, the truth is stranger than fiction at times.

Anywho… other than a handful of specific employees, remembering the names of the rest just wasn’t on Thorne’s priority list. She knew the names of the people that directly impacted her workday and of course those of upper management. Not that there were many that frequented the department store on a regular basis.

No, Thorne figured they had nice corner offices and cushy chairs at the department store’s home office. When given the option, why would they choose to come and slum it at the department store.

- - -

Presently Thorne was nearing the end of another workday. As she made her way across the second floor, she took a moment to peer down at some of the first floor employees, on the level below.

Though she couldn’t hear what was being said, it looked like the cashiers were, having an excited chat with each other over some topic or another.

Thorne had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she noticed two workers attempting to suck each other‘s faces off via their mouths. Obviously they had assumed the display showcase, they were hiding behind, was large enough to prevent others from seeing their little public display of “affection”. 

To be honest, the two reminded Thorne a little bit of the pleco fish she had seen in one of her relatives aquariums when she was younger. All big lipped mouths, sucking the algae off the side of the fish tank.

Thorne let her eyes wander the first floor for a moment longer before actually noticing one blonde haired girl who actually seem to be still working. She was tidying up one of the clothing displays.

Huh. Well at least there was proof of one person within the building doing their job.

With a near silent chuckle Thorne turned away from the ledge and continued on her way across the second story floor. 

She had already checked in with all the employees assigned to it and made sure that everything was in order so that they all could promptly go home. She had done two sweeps of the floor to make sure there was no lingering shoppers intent on finding just the right shade of white socks, (true story, it had happened to her about a year and a half ago).

Thorne quickly paced through the different sections and departments one more time.

If she was being honest with herself, something just felt off. No matter how many times she looked there was nothing that seemed to stand out as being out of the norm.

Still, it was like a feeling you get right before a particularly strong thunderstorm. Or the smell of ozone in the air during the storm itself. 

That antsy feeling when you’re expecting a package to be delivered to your home any day now.

A weird sort of anticipation… Though for the life of her Thorne had no idea why she would feel that way right now.

Taking a deep breath in and then slowly letting it out, she did her best to shrug off the feeling.

She absentmindedly followed the other employees down from the second floor to the first.

Checking off things on her mental checklist. Everything was pretty much exactly the same as any other night she finished her shift at closing time. Seeing as the cashiers had been excitedly chatting, she was just going to assume that all the tills matched, and there was no discrepancy between the cash and sales.

Once again, not actually part of her job duties, but laid upon her shoulders anyway.

The tiniest part of her was still holding out some hope that one day she would open her paystub and find that she had received a higher rate of pay. An overdue reward for all the extra jobs she had been “officially/unofficially“ put in charge of.

No pleasant surprises awaited her on her paystub. Not that she was in any way surprised.

Thorne had to come to terms with the fact that the higher-ups were more likely to let her go, then to ever give her a raise. Sometimes she contemplated quitting and then shopping in the store incognito. She was kind of interested to see whether she was actually so easily replaceable.

Some may call it her ego, but the reality of the situation was they had become too dependent on her just doing the extra work assigned to her.

They were unwilling to pay her what she was actually worth. What completing all the extra duties and jobs meant she should be paid. They were also not willing to simply fire her. Someone in the upper management knew that they would actually have to start doing their job if they let her go. Obviously, that lazy bugger wasn’t interested in actually working for the enormous paycheque that he or she received.

Corner office A-Holes… life seemed to have one or two of them sprinkled around everywhere.

Returning to the present Thorne made her way towards the front exit along with the other employees.

What she saw made her have to repress a sigh. Thorne sped up as the current security guard went to handoff the lottery money to one of the first floor girls. The blonde that was actually doing work earlier, if she remembered correctly.

Her name was some type of flower wasn’t it? Not Daisy… Rose? Yeah that sounded right.

Speeding up, she intercepted the passing of the bag of lottery money.

Thorne gave a rueful smile to Rose letting her know that she would take care of this. That Rose was free to continue on her way home… or to the pub, or wherever the heck the blonde was going. None of Thorne’s business either way.

She snatched the bag from the security guard’s hand a little more aggressively then perhaps necessary. Still she knew that she had spoken with him multiple times already. There were only certain designated employees that were meant to handle cash or the lottery money.

Rose was not one of those designated employees. 

While it was slightly out of character for her, Thorne gave the security guard the stink eye before turning and marching her way towards the lift to the basement.

She was going to blame her less than stellar behaviour on that disquieting feeling that had been bugging her all afternoon.

That ‘calm before the storm’ feeling. Goosebumps on your arms when there was no breeze or chill to cause it, type of thing.

She really needed to get home and rest. This day had, for no apparent reason at all, seemed to take more out of her than normal.

As the lift descended towards the basement, she did a quick assessment of her physical and mental levels of tiredness.

Honestly, she really wasn’t physically tired. Any fatigue she was feeling was more mental than anything else. It was the feeling of ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’. Some part of Thorne’s mind knew that if that ‘other bloody shoe’ would just hit the ground already she would be right as rain again.

Exiting the lift she headed towards Wilson’s office. Or Mr. Wilson as she liked to call him in her head. Some days it was only the sing song voice of Dennis the Menace calling out “Mr. Wilson” that helped her make it through the monotony.

In fact just the thought of it caused her lips to turn up at the corners in a tiny grin, as she made her way to Wilson‘s office.

Ahhhh, the sweet release of endorphins at finding humour in something, that she was certain, Wilson would not be impressed with. 

Wasn’t there a semi well-known German word for enjoying the misfortune(s) of others?

What was that word again?

Crap. It was going to bother her for the rest of the evening, not being able to remember.

She knocked on Wilson’s door and waited. Nothing.

She knocked again and this time also calling out Wilson‘s name. Still nothing.

She called out his name loudly and knocked harder on the door. That had made her knuckles smart and tingle with slight pain.

She stood silently for a moment listening for any noise behind the door. Any indication that Wilson was coming to answer it.

Her silence was rewarded as she did hear a noise… But it most certainly hadn’t come from behind Wilson’s door.

In fact it came from the main storage area. A space in the basement where the department store kept all the excess display pieces, Christmas decorations, and other unneeded items.

Trying one last time Thorne knocked soundly on Wilson’s door, but her eyes were still glued to the double doors leading to the storage room.

Still not getting any response, she made her way towards the storage area. The double doors were slightly ajar.

Before pushing them open a thought crossed her mind.

‘Isn’t this is exactly how people get killed in horror films?’

Still she needed to hand off the lottery money too someone.

There was no secure spot in the basement to place the lottery money for the night.

The fingers on her unoccupied hand gave a little twitch. She considered attempting to pick the lock on Wilson’s door. She was seriously in that type of mood.

That odd feeling she’d been dealing with all afternoon was amping up. Honestly, it was getting harder to handle and doing a number on her nerves.

Once again, her behaviour was out of the norm as she aggressively shoved both of the doors open hard. One swung back and hit the wall loudly. The other was stopped from doing the same by hitting some boxes before coming to a creaking stop.

If Wilson wasn’t in the storage room then she was going back upstairs. She would find somewhere secure to store the lottery money up there. It was just until tomorrow after all.

The tension in her body was just about at the breaking point. She was honestly ready to take a swing at the first face she saw.

Considering the number of display mannequins around, she might just tackle one of those. It might help expel some of this nervous energy coursing through her.

Thorne purposefully made her way into the storage room, calling out Wilson‘s name again.

Her frustration was turning into ire at an alarming rate. Some part of her mind knew that this wasn’t a normal reaction. Something was throwing her off big-time. She just had no idea what was causing it.

Thorne quickly turned her head as she saw movement in her peripheral vision.

It was one of the mannequins.

She locked eyes with it… Which technically shouldn’t be possible. Mannequins didn’t actually have eyes. Despite this fact, she couldn’t argue with the feeling that she was actually staring into its eyes.

It held her gaze, even as she quickly glanced around. Other mannequins seem to decide that it was a jolly good night for a walk as well.

A decidedly, threatening and menacing type of walk and they were walking in her direction.

Well Flying Crap Sticks on Rye… What was going on here?

Thorne’s mind suddenly was speeding through a dozen different possible explanations.

Unnoticed by Thorne the odd and heavy feelings, from this afternoon, had all but disappeared. Her posture changed slightly. She was standing taller and had gained back the sturdy balance she normally carried herself with.

It was almost like a physical weight had been removed from her.

Her mind was focused on the mannequins though.

There was a possibility that this was a prank, but she majorly doubted it. After all she had done an unconscious headcount of the employees as they had left for the night.

The night custodian should not be arriving for another three hours.

At most that meant that there were three people in the building. Wilson, the security guard (if he hadn’t already decided to leave), and herself. At least they should be the only people remaining in the building.

The amount of mannequins that seem to be fully mobile and moving towards her was greater than the number of employees that didn’t work today. (don’t ask her how she knew that, she just did).

This meant it was really unlikely it was them dressed up as mannequins. Any of the employees that had work today would’ve needed to pass her at so point to get to the storage room. Plus they would’ve had to take the lift down from the main level. While the lift may not be the noisiest thing she had ever heard, it was also far from being the quietest. She would have easily heard it being used.

There were other possibilities to explain what was going on. Unfortunately the ones that seemed to match the facts the closest also were the ones that held the highest potential for being hazardous to her continued health.

She spoke her earlier thought out loud this time, “This is how people die in horror movies.”.

With that thought firmly back in her mind Thorne decided it no longer mattered if there were people inside the mannequins. She was going to find something heavy she could swing and beat the crap out of as many mannequins as she could reach.

With that thought in mind Thorne did her best to avoid any trip hazards while keeping an eye on the approaching mannequin flash mob.

There were a lot of metal poles used for displaying clothes or as part of larger clothing racks, but they were all hollow and lightweight.

Some last-minute, fancy footwork prevented Thorne from tripping into the Christmas decorations. Losing her footing right now would not be good.

Still despite not tripping, the mannequins were closing the distance between her and them.

It was then that she spotted it and a completely out of place sense of glee filled her.

She reached for it wrapping her palm and fingers around it tightly. Suddenly a foreign palm and fingers wrapped around her other wrist.

Her head, whipped around to see who grabbed her. Thankfully she did or she would’ve likely put a dent in this guy’s forehead.

He said one word before he was almost physically dragging her back out through the double doors.

“Run!”

Thorne wasn’t left with many other options so she did her best to regain her footing and do exactly what he said. The two of them ran towards the lift.

The mannequins were surprisingly fast. One managed to wedge its arm, up to its shoulder, in the lift door preventing it from fully closing.

Out of the corner of her eye, Thorne saw her ‘gentleman rescuer?’ make a move to grab the arm.

He wasn’t fast enough though and she beat him to it.

Thorne released all that pent-up tension and energy.

With a war cry of “HiiiiYeahhh!”, she swung the cast iron crowbar she had found. Thorne brought it down from above, catching the mannequin’s limb from the top and far-side.

She is a bit embarrassed to admit that she let out a short “Eepp!” when the arm popped right out of the mannequin’s shoulder socket, but she had accomplished what she set out to do.

The lift doors closed, causing it to start the journey up to the main level.

She glanced up at the man with disproportionately large ears, before glancing at the floor of the elevator. The plastic limb sat there all innocent looking.

The silence continues for another beat before she locked eyes with the man once again.

He was staring at her with a mix of emotions. They passed through his eyes too quickly for her to identify. Eventually, a large grin broke across his face.

“Fantastic!”, his exclamation was followed by a bark of a laugh. With a crooked smile on his face, he pointed at her new favourite possession. “If you had a crowbar, why didn’t you use it earlier?“

“It was a relatively new acquisition“, Thorne’s reply rolled off her tongue before she even processed what she was saying.

Both of the lift’s occupants eyed each other, then the arm on the floor, and then back at each other. It took less then a half a second for both to lose their composure. Laughter filled the elevator, in Thorne’s case it was slightly hysterical laughter, but laughter nonetheless.

The man across from her opened his mouth as if to speak, but didn’t get the chance.

“Schadenfreude!”, Thorne suddenly yelled.

Big ears, looked taken a back for a moment. This was the same moment that Thorne realized what she had practically yelled. An embarrassed blush caused heat to rise in her face and ears.

“Sorry… I was trying to remember that word earlier. It suddenly just came to me. Schadenfreude…so yeah. I guess that won’t be bothering me tonight after all.” Thorne finished her explanation with another slightly lame “so yeah…“.

“Do I wanna know what originally prompted your search for that word?”, there was amusement in his voice and a slight grin on his face now.

His amused expression did not help to reduce the heat coming from her face.

“The woods are dark and deep… Probably best you don’t know. My thought process can sometimes be like an Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole… That is if someone gave the white rabbit an intravenous drip of hard-core espresso.… And yeah. No… no probably best not to ask.”.

Her verbal rant died off, but the amused look in big ears’ eyes just seem to increase.

She was saved from any further embarrassment as the lift reached its destination. The doors opened and suddenly the man was tossing the plastic arm at her, and pulling her out of the lift.

It seemed it was time to run again. 

Big ears took out what seemed to be an extraordinarily fat pen with a glowing tip. It hummed as he pointed it at the lift button.

“Question…“

He glanced over his shoulder prompting Thorne to continue asking her question.

“So, the mannequin flash mob downstairs, guessing its intent was on causing bodily harm that would likely lead to death?“ And Wow her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own right now. Spitting out words before her brain could process them.

“Yep!”, His reply.

“Another question… yeah okay, so hypothetically…if there was an electrician named Wilson down there with them…ummm… Likely not alive then?” She said the last bit in a more slow drawn out fashion.

“Ahhh…” Big ears started his reply, “Wilson’s dead.” His response was short and curt. “Probably. Most likely. More likely than not.”, His speech pattern, matching the speed and urgency in his movements.

“Okay…okay, okay… I am kind of ruined for ‘Dennis the Menace’ now. It’ll never be the same again.”, Thorne’s eyes widened as the insensitivity of what she just said dawned on her. “Umm… wow that was rude of me… I think?”

“I’m thinking you might be in shock.”, Was the only reply he gave her, though one of his eyebrows was raised above the other.

Thorne suddenly turned around and tried to make her way back towards the lift only to realize big ears’ humming, glowy, pen thing seemed to have disabled the call button.

“I’m thinking I might need to go back down there. I only just got this.”, she raised the crowbar up drawing attention to it. Her other hand still held the disarmed mannequin limb.

Disarmed… *snort* dis-armed.

Big ears had both eyebrows raised at her now. Thorne wrapped her arms around her stomach, snorting and giggling.

She glanced up at him, “Disarmed. I dis-Armed that mannequin by dislocating its arm… completely from its body. Disarmed!”

She got her giggles under control and straightened up somewhat.

“Okay… so what’s next?” She asked earnestly looking at her newly acquainted running partner, “I’m not contacting Wilson’s family… If he has one… HR can deal with that. Yeah, so what’s next?”

“Well, you’ve kind of ruined any arm related puns I could have made. Sooo… let’s get you to the exit. I still have work to do on the roof, with this.”, he held up a device that seem to scream the word ‘bomb’ while moving at a brisk pace towards a door labelled ’Emergency Exit’.

Thorne followed.

“So I’m guessing whatever that was downstairs wasn’t homicidal people in mannequin suits. Where would you even buy a mannequin suit? Never mind. So the things downstairs…” she started, “Animal?, Vegetable?, Mineral?”

“What?” Big ears asked in confusion before understanding dawned on his face., “Oh! Plastic, living plastic creatures.”

“Ahh… I wouldn’t have gotten the answer to that question. I got to brush up on my game.”

Once again Thorne felt her mouth runaway on her. Big ears didn’t seem to mind at least. The amused twist of his mouth was a good enough indicator of that.

“Question… Again… The beeping rectangular box thingy? The one that screams ‘BOMB!’, how exactly does that fit into the equation? With the roof and living plastic, I mean?”

“Good question… there’s a relay on the roof. It’s controlling the living plastic creatures, so I’m gonna go up there and blow it up.”

“Gotcha… ‘have bomb will travel’. I’m honestly not certain if I’m making any sense right now. I feel like I’m making sense… but then I also feel like I’m not making sense. Does that make sense? Actually better question, how big of a boom should we be expecting from your beeping bomb?”

He shot her a quick glance, “A pretty big ‘boom’, which is why you’re going out this door and I’m going to the roof. By the way, I might die in the process. Oh! Also making sense is overrated. Now go on and have your lovely beans on toast.”

He manhandled Thorne out the emergency exit. She was only out the door by three steps before turning back to look at him.

“I don’t like beans on toast.”

“Well have some chips then. Also, don’t tell anyone about this because you will get them killed.”

Before she had a chance to reply, he closed the door.

She cocked her head to the side with a contemplative look. Eyeing the, now closed, door with a hum.

“I could do chips.” She said to no one in particular.

Suddenly, the emergency door flew back open and big ears popped back out again, “I’m The Doctor by the way, what’s your name?”

It was Thorne’s turn to raise an eyebrow, “Why do I get the feeling that both the ‘The’ and ‘Doctor’ start with capitals? Ummm… my name… Thorne or if we’re playing it your way The Thorne. Better yet, ‘A Thorne’!

He ignored the first half of her response. “Nice to meet you Thorne, now run for your life!”

“Don’t ‘die in the process’!” Thorne yelled at the rapidly closing door. If said door seemed to slow for a half a second… well probably just her imagination.

“Chips.” She said to herself turning away from the door. “Wait, run first then chips”.

Then Thorne was half running, half jogging away from the building. She slowed briefly to admire a vintage art display. The parts of her mind not focussed on what just happened (or the prospect of chips), found it to be an absolutely gorgeous display of a previous century police call box. 

“Hello there… aren’t you lovely. Blue is definitely the new sexy.”, She said slightly under her breath, before speeding back up to her, previous, half run half jog pace.

Her mind was then left to focus on three different things. First, was her wondering when her brain to mouth filter had malfunctioned. Second thing was where she would find the best place to get chips. Third and last… when to expect the explosion from the beeping bomb.

The sound of an explosion caused her to stop moving forward and spin around to look back at the department store. Fire was rising from the roof and a secondary explosion then caused the top floor to expel flames through the once present windows.

“Ahhh…” she closed her mouth before opening it once more again, “Fire Sale, everything must go.” 

She shook her head at herself. There was that brain to mouth filter thing again. She decided that she’d contemplate that and whether or not she was actually in shock, as soon as she found a place serving chips.

Glancing down she realized she was still carrying the crowbar and the plastic arm. On a whim, she opened a nearby postbox and placed the arm in the outgoing post receptacle. Whoever the postal mail carrier was, for this box, would probably end up with a bit of a nasty scare tomorrow. Right now though, she needed a hand free to eat chips, and there was no way she was letting go of her crowbar. 

Technically the crowbar was property of the department store, but considering the department store was on fire, after being blown up… She considered it as an act of mercy. She was adopting this crowbar, and it was hers now.

After a moment of thought, Thorne decided that Crowley was the perfect name for it. After all, it was one hell of a crowbar.

- - - 

It was odd waking up to the memories of the day before. Actually, it was odd having the day start differently than the way it had pretty much been for the past six years, seven months and well this would’ve been the 30th day… but who was counting?

Thorne had startled a laugh out of herself at that last bit.

Not quite knowing what to do with herself, she decided to treat today as if it was one of the Saturdays she simply didn’t have to work. Give her brain some time to recalibrate to the new situation.

Sitting down in front of the old TV and watching the coverage by BBC NEWS 24 was a bit surreal. After all she had been present and involved in the events that led up to the ‘Department Store Blaze’, or at least that’s what they are calling it on the TV. In smaller letters, below the headline, was the words ‘No Fatalities’. 

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. If she believed the man with the big ears, then there was at least one fatality. Wilson.

A part of her hoped that the news report was correct. She could hope that by-line ‘no fatalities’ didn’t have an unwritten ‘yet’, as subtext.

Who knows though, maybe they won’t bother sharing that piece of information with the public if Wilson’s body was discovered.

That brought up a whole different series of questions. Would they even find his body? What did living plastic eat? Did the mannequins eat Wilson?

Okay, okay! This train of thought wasn’t getting her anywhere.

She took a big swallow of her now lukewarm coffee, and munched on a couple leftover chips from the night before.

- - - 

Typically, if it was a Saturday (and she wasn’t scheduled to work), she would go out and restock her groceries, including any other essentials. The normal ‘Prepare for the week ahead’, etc. If she had, had to work on the Saturday, then she would simply do the shopping on Sunday instead.

Thorne figured since she decided that today was going to be a ‘fake’ Saturday off, that she might as well get dressed and head out, though technically she didn’t need to shop for anything in particular just yet.

The week had barely started and technically, she had only used a couple days worth of groceries at that point.

There was also the fact that she had been holding off on restocking certain semi-essential items.

She was set to move apartments in about two week’s time. 

That was supposed to be the something that would finally add a bit of change and spice to how she woke up in the mornings. Waking up in a new apartment… not having her place of work, for the past 6 1/2 years, blow up.

Did it blow up? Technically, there was an explosion, and the top story did appeared to blow fire and glass outward in a giant ‘whoosh’.

That being said, what she had gathered from watching the news is that firefighters and emergency responders had had to deal with a fire that was determined not to be extinguished easily.

“Hmmm… I guess Miss Blondie could’ve just went and gossip with the other girls on the first floor last night. Her last-minute diligence in straightening up those clothing displays, quite literally, went up in flames.”

Thorne couldn’t help giggling to herself at that poor excuse of a pun. She continued to walk along the road’s edge and sidewalks. Funny enough this is the same route she had taken to and from her workplace since landing that job.

She continued to murmur aloud to herself. Hey! Don’t judge, talking to oneself isn’t a sign of being crazy! In fact, it ensures the best conversations possible… well not really.

Lots of people talk to themselves, especially when they’re alone… come to think of it that’s kind of standard for the human race as she knows it. Why did people feel the need to fill the silence when they were alone? Especially at night…

She certain that someone has posed this question before… Or will in the future, at least. Wait, technically, didn’t she just pose the question? What did it even mean to ‘pose a question’?

Unnoticed to Thorne a postal carrier vehicle seemed to be taking the same route as her. It had been following about 20 meters behind her for the last 2 1/2… no, make that three blocks now. It also didn’t seem interested in following local laws as it proceeded to slowly drive through an intersection on a red light. The extra car horns didn’t warrant a glance from Thorne, this was London.

Though, if she did have to take notice of something it was the fact that there were more motor vehicles on the road today, her ‘fake’ Saturday, then on a normal Saturday or Sunday morning.

“Makes sense, I suppose. I don’t normally do shopping on a weekday morning during rush-hour. Who would’ve thought 24 hours ago, that my normal morning routine would be changed before I even moved apartments?”, She asked the question to the London morning air, not actually looking for a response. “Over six years of nearly the same monotony day in and day out, only for a big eared bloke carrying around a beeping device to send everything… well… kaboom I guess.”

A shake of her head, another near silent chuckle and suddenly she was looking both directions before crossing the street, through the London traffic. It’s officially meant that she wasn’t following her normal route to work anymore.

In fact, this wasn’t even her normal shopping route.

She had heard some of the other employees, who actually got weekdays off every now and again, comment about a quaint street market that was only open Monday to Fridays, and only until noon.

If even half of the gossip she overheard was true, there was some decent fresh produce vendors, as well as a handful of different ethnic bakeries.

If there was one thing that she loved, it was trying out unique baked goods. Not unique foods, per se. She would never be the type to eat chocolate covered crickets or mealworms… No matter how much chocolate you poured over them.

Thorne was also not interested in ‘knowingly’ trying any “mystery meat” dishes. Also, milk comes from cows. Only cows! If they call it milk… Or any type of dairy product for that matter, and it didn’t come from a cow… It was not going into her mouth!

Yaks, goats, and any other type of animal… (except for cows, obviously)… Whatever they excrete… That wasn’t milk according to her brain’s dictionary.

Pretty much everyone has something they won’t eat or drink. She has some food rules. So, sue her.

Baked goods… baked goods were a different story.

If she was being honest with herself, as long as no one told her a non-cow dairy product was in the baked goods she would still try it. She had to emphasize here on the “not knowing” part. If it was even hinted that it might not come from a cow, all bets were off.

She wasn’t being picky! She didn’t make the rules, her brain did. She just had to follow the rules. 

A smile started to stretch across Thorne’s face as the smell of yeast and baked goods met her nose.

If she increased her pace, that was no one‘s business but her own.

Once again, the sound of horns and other vehicle noises were dismissed as mere background noise. Her main focus was on purchasing a half dozen fresh apples and finding the nearest bake shop vendor, as she turned down the Alley like street that was home to the morning market.

About two blocks away, one would find an abandon postal-mail vehicle. The engine still idling, although the vehicle was technically parked… though rather poorly as one of its tires was up on the curb.

A confused police officer was tapping on the vehicles rear loading doors. A second officer climbing into the front of the vehicle looking for any signs of a driver.

Said driver was fine, unconscious, but fine.

This wasn’t known to the officers quite yet. A big eared man holding a large glowing pen was aware though. He continue to make his way down the street as stealthy has his large frame would allow. Glancing down every now, and again at the humming object in his hand. Reading something no one else could decipher, while following his target.

Unlike the abandoned postal vehicle, he was only a block and a half away from Thorne’s location… Not that either of them was aware of this fact.

- - - 

Thorne may have gone a little bit overboard with her baked good purchases. Two bags held in her left hand, and a third one halfway up her right forearm. Her right hand currently occupied as it held the apple she was eating.

While unhurried, her pace was brisk as she made her way back to her apartment.

Part of her marvelled at the fact that overall her mood was quite upbeat. Technically, she had lost her job and was witness to the bombing of her workplace.

Big ears had told her to keep quiet about what happened… did that technically make her an accessory to a crime, after the fact?

She just took another bite of the apple she was nearly finished. Somethings in life you questioned, somethings in life you ignored, and some things in life you just ‘rolled’ with.

It had been over a half a decade since she had last ‘rolled’ with anything of importance. When she first obtained the position at the department store, she had questioned some things. When it became apparent that that wasn’t appreciated, by upper management, she went with the “ignore” strategy.

What happened last night? She could “question” until she was blue in the face, but unless big ears decided to show up again, she doubted she’d divine any real answers.

On the other hand, she wasn’t willing to put the event in “ignore” column either. 

She entered her apartment building and decided to take the lift instead of the stairs. Four floors wasn’t bad if onepaced themselves, but her hands were full so she wouldn’t be able to hold onto the railing.

Returning to her train of thought, “ignore“ wasn’t the course of action she intended to implement.

“I guess I’m just going to ‘roll with it.’.” She said when she stepped out of the lift on her floor.

I guess it wouldn’t be her floor for much longer.

The furniture had come with the apartment, so when she moved all that was staying behind as per the rental agreement. The new place she had lined up, was similar in that it was mostly pre-furnished.

That being said, she had money set aside to purchase a new mattress depending on the size of bed/boxspring that the new place had.

She had held off on ordering anything yet. Better to wait until the final papers were signed.

One thing she had learned was that until you sign those final papers, and everything specified was then legally binding… never buy a mattress!

When she first moved into this apartment, she had learned that the hard way. She had assumed that the bed she saw when she toured the place would be the size she would need when she moved in.

Turned out that that was not the case. She had ended up with a mattress smaller than the boxspring… Well, that was until she paid to get a proper sized boxspring to match.

Now she was compensated by the apartment manager for percentage of the price she had to pay for the boxspring. Still, life lesson learned.

She entered her apartment and placed the three bags holding her baked treasures on the counter. Now, with a freehand, she turned back and closed the door.

She paused the second as she could’ve sworn she heard something like the drumming of fingers on a table top., But shrugged it off.

In an apartment building your bound to here odd noises now and again. The hazards of people living on all sides of you.

Truthfully she’d much prefer to have a little cottage or a small detached home somewhere. Unfortunately, it wasn’t really practical (or affordable) when living in London. Maybe someday.

Before her job had really sunk its teeth into her and shackled her to the daily grind she had been a bit of a wanderer.

Not originally from London… Honestly, not originally from the continent.

Her original purpose, arriving in Europe, was to find somewhere in Scotland to settle down. That didn’t end up working out for her.

Though she did at least get to wander that gorgeous countryside, the cities and little hamlets also.

She considered wandering up to Ireland, and seeing if there was a place to be had for her there, something that would fit.

Before doing so she made her way to Iona. She visited the isle and actually stayed for about two weeks. It was the longest she had stayed in one place since arriving in Europe. It was also one of her reasons for travelling to Europe in the first place.

What to Thorne, felt like almost a lifetime ago, she had heard tell of Iona being a “thin place”. That had stuck with her. She wanted to know more about what that meant, see if she could feel it for herself.

After going there, she went southeast instead of north to Ireland. Somewhere along the way, she ended up in London.

London seem to have fertile soil because she ended up laying down some roots. Though not in the form of friends, family, or any type of relationship actually.

It all came down to contracts, signatures, down payments, a need for cash, a job hunt, and then 6 1/2 years of department store “in style” displayed on racks, “in style” on hangers… and “in style” on mannequins.

Thorne was nearly certain that she had at least one stirring those years thought the phrase “this job is killing me”, but she didn’t actually expect it to attempt to actually kill her off via killer mannequins. 

Come to think of it. She hoped that having not currently having job income didn’t affect her move-in timeline to her new apartment. Some contracts had stipulations on being gainfully employed.

She already paid for a storage unit to temporarily store the half dozen boxes of miscellaneous items that were hers. Books, a handful of mugs that didn’t come with the apartment. Most of the dishware and cutlery were there when she moved in so it was expected that they would be there when she left. 

The last two Sundays, she had taken the boxes and the three vacuum sealed bags of bedding, clothing, and her winter wear, over to the unit.

There would be just shy of the 14 day time gap between when she had to vacate her current apartment, and when she would hopefully be eligible to move into the new apartment.

Once again, hopefully her sudden lack of job didn’t mess that up for her. It wasn’t like she could suddenly decide not to move out.

New tenants had already been found for the apartment she was currently in.

The apartment she was set to move into was in the final stages of some renovations.

Originally there wasn’t the 14 day time gap, that happened to delays in getting some of the materials for the other apartments, renovations.

In the meantime, the bulk of her stuff would go into the storage unit and she would use a large suitcase on wheels to hold her every day items that she would need. She had already checked the prices at some local motels and determined their availability. She wanted somewhere that she could stay for the full 14 days and not have to motel hop.

So honestly, the apartment looked quite Spartan at this point. Any of the little knickknacks and what not that she had collected over the time she spent in London had been boxed up. Only the items that she use daily remained.

Hairbrush, toothbrush, etc. etc.

Actually, she should check in on the progress of the new apartment. With suddenly having no job and free time, she could possibly move out a little sooner if they were going to finish the renovations ahead of schedule.

Normally she wouldn’t want to of paid for extra nights at a motel, but, since the delay wasn’t her fault, they were going to cover the cost of her stay at whatever motel, she just had to submit the receipt to them once she moved in. They would take it off the monthly rent over the next year.

She was drawn out of her thoughts as she could swear she could hear the fast pace tapping of fingers on a hard surface.

She’s spun around in a circle trying to locate the noise only for a noise at the door too capture her attention.

More shuffling noises from outside the door.

Thorne quickly and quietly made her way to the cabinet door under the sink.

When her hand closed around the middle of the crowbar, she acquired the night before, she became determined.

Footsteps no longer quiet. She made her way to the door and threw it open.

It was a person (a man) and they had been squatting down, leaning into her door. The fact that he had nearly done a face plant, in her doorway, led to this conclusion.

He had obviously lost his balance when she, quite suddenly, had thrown the door open.

One of his hands had quickly been placed onto the floor, to balance himself, before he hopped up right. He staggered slightly while regaining his balance, and took a slight step backwards.

It was big ears.

A slightly accusatory “What are you doing here?”, came from him and then he saw she was holding the crowbar. “Ummm… I mean what brings you around these parts on this lovely day?”

Any surprise Thorne had from actually recognizing the man from the night before, disappeared as a dead pan look took over her face.

He obviously ignored her look and the faint underlying menace that was starting to bubble up in her. “Oh! That reminds me, “… lovely, dark and deep”.”

She continued to stare with a flat expression.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “the poem, that line reads ‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep,’. You missed the ‘lovely’ when you quoted it the other day… You’re not made of plastic are you?”

He tapped on her forehead twice before his wrist, was grabbed by her hand.

“No, I’m not made of plastic! Also, I’m aware of how the poem goes. I was describing my mind though, and not everyone thinks it’s lovely. I took some artistic license. Give me a break, I had just forcibly removed the arm off of one of the mannequins from that murderous, basement, flash mob!”

Big ears and wait, didn’t he call himself something else the other night? A doctor or something? 

Anyway, big ears started to turn back towards the hallway, despite his wrist still being clasped tightly in Thorne’s grip.

“Right, bonehead! Not plastic, tah!”

“Oh no you don’t,” with a quick, hard pull the big eared doctor man was forced across the threshold and into Thorne’s apartment.

She released his wrist, transferred the crowbar from one hand to the other, and then use the free one to close the door.

“You have got some explaining to do sir.” She walked past him and back towards one of the three bags from her earlier shopping run. She pulled out a small paper box and opened back the lid before reaching in and taking one of the baked sweets inside.

“Ooo!” Dr. Ears made to reach for the box of baked goods.

Thorne’s free hand slapped his away. Luckily, for him, she had set the crowbar down beside the three bags. He had avoided a hit that would’ve been much more painful. 

“Hey! Owwwe. Didn’t anyone teach you how to share?”, He said, withdrawing his hand and holding it against his chest, as if she had actually done some real damage.

Thorne rolled her eyes at his dramatics, “Don’t be such a baby, you got a light swat, not even a full slap. Also, yes. I’m sure I came across someone teaching lessons on ‘sharing’ at some point in past. And while we’re on the topic of lessons, didn’t anyone teach you not to take what doesn’t belong to you?”, and then she muttered under her breath, “or blow up other peoples places of work.”

It seemed that Dr. big ears was doing his selective hearing thing again. He had ignored what she mumbled at the end, and replied back with, “says the woman with a crowbar that doesn’t belong to her. Right there, Exhibit A, sitting on your counter.”

“I’m considering it my severance pay. I am unlikely to get anything else from my, now, former employers. They can be stingy like that. Then again, I can be stingy like that when it comes to someone attempting to abscond with my baked goods.”

She slapped his hand away from the box once again. This time he caulked a grin and repeated the word, ‘severance’ with humour in his voice.

Thorne sighed at the man before her. Exasperation colouring her tone.

Taking a large bite of her baked treat, she chewed fully and swallowed before looking him dead in the eyes.

“Coffee?”

“Black one milk… Thanks“, he replied, without missing a beat.

“Well, you might as well go have a seat at the table over there. I’ll bring out the coffee and box of baked goodies… In exchange you’re going to elaborate on and clear up a few things from the night before.”

Thorne took the man’s wandering over to the nearly empty shelves as acceptance of the arrangement.

Honestly, if the few knickknacks she owned hadn’t already been boxed and stored he probably would’ve been examining and playing with them.

He seemed like the type. There was a constant motion about him, even when he was standing still momentarily. His hands seemed to be reaching, grabbing, fiddling, twitching. Something Thorne figured was not unique to the situation.

“You a tinkerer?” She called out.

“What?”, He spun a little, half circle to face her again. “Sort of and at times. Why do you ask? Wait… Do you have a cat?”

It was her turn to spin around, “What? No, the apartment lease doesn’t allow for pets. Why do you…”, the word ‘ask’ failed to leave her mouth as she heard the tapping of fingers on wood once more.

Leaving the coffees, half made, she strolled purposefully into the other room where he was, and where the sound was. Her hand grasped the crowbar, unconsciously, bringing it with her.

“That noise again…“

“You sure you don’t have a caaaahhht!”.

Both sets of eyes went wide as a plastic arm rocket out from behind the low sitting sofa. It’s pasty, plastic hand wrapped itself around the doctors throat throwing him, off-balance and backwards into the armchair, which tipped over backwards as well.

Somehow he managed to stagger back up onto his feet all the while grasping the plastic wrist and trying to remove it from his throat.

“Tuck your chin into your chest!,” Thorne yelled at the man, who actually complied. It was a good thing too because not a second later, the crowbar was making contact with the plastic arm once more.

This time her swing was low to high. The motion of swinging a tennis racket, to catch a shuttlecock that was low to the ground, but with the power of a batter looking to plant a baseball in the pitcher’s face.

The arm was forcibly removed and sent upward, causing it to bounce off the ceiling.

In some corner of Thorne’s mind she was glad it didn’t leave a mark, or else she would’ve had to fix it before moving.

That thought was shuffled to the side as she assisted the arms descent by bringing the crowbar down on it from above this time.

Obviously, that was enough time for Dr. big ears to get his bearings again. Weird, glow tipped, pen in his hand. He spared a quick glance at her to make sure she wasn’t going for a third swing before pouncing on the arm himself. His glow pen buzzed or hummed or… It made some kind of noise, and suddenly the arm went still.

He hopped to his feet, with the plastic limb in his hand, and tossed it at Thorne who neatly sidestepped to avoid it. The plastic arm, once again, on the ground. 

The man furled his eyebrows at her, “You were supposed to catch that.”.

“Yeah and no. It’s one of my policies not to catch random limbs thrown at me. Especially when they were recently causing bodily harm to another.”

He grinned at her, “I stopped it. It’s not gonna do anymore harm. It’s….armless.”

“Yeah, and I ‘dis-armed’ it, from its main body, last night. Didn’t stop going all homicidal, Adam’s Family ‘Thing’ on you moments ago.”

She spun to take a look at the motionless arm.

“Come to think of it how did it know where I lived?”

“Why? Did you toss it in a trash bin or something before heading on your jolly way home?”

“ Postbox.”

“What?”, the man stared at her like she had randomly picked a word from the dictionary to respond to his question.

“A postbox, an outgoing mail postbox. There was one a couple blocks from the department store…you blew up.”

There was a moment of silence before Thorne continued slightly defensively, 

“If I was going to eat chips, I needed a free hand. No pun intended. Also, if it was a choice between that plastic arm and Crowley, then I was ditching the plastic arm.”

“Postbox. Chips…Wait, Crowley?”

“My severance pay crowbar.”, she held up crowbar and waved it around in the air slightly, “I figured it deserved a name after a job well done, the other night. I decided to name it Crowley. Crowley, the crowbar. After all, it’s one hell of a crowbar.”

“Ahhh, Good Omens. Happen to have a socket wrench named Aziraphale?” Big ears said amusement clearly painting his tone.

“No… Aziraphale is my favourite bookmark.” 

The look in his eyes at Thorne’s straight faced reply, told her that he wasn’t buying it, but he did still find the whole conversation amusing.

If one was to even look closer, there was something else in his eyes as well. It went unnamed.

“Right, well, then…”, and suddenly he was in motion. Quickly striding past Thorne , slowing only to pick up the arm, and then heading towards the door.

He grabbed one of her baked goods out of the paper box, and then was out the door.

“Oi!” Her yell and footsteps dogged him.

Thorne had grabbed another sweet out of the paper box, grabbed her keys, and slipped on her shoes in five seconds flat. Apartment door closed, locked, and she was hot on the heels of the baked good thief. She wasn’t letting him get away with a freebie baked good.

They had a verbal understanding and she was going to make him honour it. He only got a baked good if he answered her questions. 

“Oi!” She yelled at him again as she quickly caught up to his fast pace.

He wasn’t running, just had long legs and walked fast.

“Hello again.” He chirped with a slightly hollow sounding cheer.

She thrust her keys into her pocket, having finished her baked good while chasing after him, she now had two free hands.

She made to grab the plastic hand from him. He started to move it out of her reach only for her to abort her grab, and instead snatched the stolen, baked good out of his other hand.

“We had a verbal agreement, no answers for me, then, no baked good for you.”

“You’re a bit clever aren’t you.”, what he said, was slightly mumbled, and under his breath, but she caught it anyway, “Okay, well played, go on then. Ask away.”

Thorne momentarily pondered whether that had been the shortest run-on sentence she had ever heard, but she put that thought aside. She had spent the last 6 1/2 years on “ignore” mode, after a failed “question” mode. Here she was being granted the opportunity for answers. Bigger picture, her might have decided on “roll with it“ mode, but who said they had to be mutually exclusive?

Thorne was going to open a can of “inquisition” on this man and then ‘rock ‘n’ roll with it”! 

“ What did you say your name was again?”

…. Yep, even she could admit that, as far as first questions went, that one was a 10 on the “lame” scale.

From the glance that she received from the man, he thought so too.

“The Doctor.”

“The doctor?“

“Yes, hello.”

“That’s right, and I can still feel the capitals on the first letter of both words. The Doctor. I feel like I already know the answer to this, as much as it really doesn’t make much sense, but is that a title… Or your actual name?”

“It’s what I’m called.”

“That doesn’t actually answer my question.“

“Fine. It is the name… I chose for myself.”

“A name that you chose for yourself…The Doctor. I’m not sure if that speaks to the size of your ego, or the size of trauma in your life.”

There was a pause, before she continued,

“Ahhh… sorry about that, a bit rude. Though I’m partially blaming you. I didn’t particularly have a problem with words, bypassing my brain and flying out of my mouth. That is, until I met you yesterday. So sorry for the rudeness, but also, you reap what you sow.”

The doctor paused a moment, actually stopped walking in, glanced, making full eye contact. Even then resumed walking, “I guess you were more right. Woods are dark and deep… No lovely.“

“Okay now you’re being rude.”

He laughed, and she smiled.

They walked on. Thorne actually asking some of the real questions she had on her mind and surprisingly receiving mostly non-cryptic answers.

For one reason or another, she suddenly felt like they were nearing their destination… Or at least his destination.

“Surprisingly there’s one question you have an asked it’s one that I’m asked more often than not.“, His tone was slightly curious, and slightly solemn.

Thorne, having come to accept during their short conversation, her renewed gift for gab. (Her longest conversations were at work, the past six years. Motormouth wasn’t a desirable employee trait as far as she understood it.), so yes, now that she knew could vie comments back-and-forth with this man, she was going to take advantage of it.

“Your correct…”, She began, “there has been one question I’ve been wanting to ask.”

He actually stopped walking and faced her and she did the same. Serious looks on both of their faces. She locked eyes with him and he with her.

“Doctor… When did you first realize you were prone to pastry theft?”

They were standing somewhere in the middle of London, by no means somewhere you would designate as “quiet”, but in that moment, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Thorne Lost face first, but the doctor wasn’t far behind smiles and chuckles, breaking the solemn atmosphere of seconds prior.

“You… Wait a moment, is Thorne your first name or last name. And if it is wonder the other, then what’s your other name?”

Thorne laughed at that, after all the grief he had given her over his own title/name… I thought just occurred to her.

“A Thorne. You can call me that.”

“This is some sort of retaliation for earlier isn’t it?“, The doctor asked her skeptically.

“A Thorne, that’s the name I am choosing, for myself, in this moment.” There were suddenly a strange weight in the air. What had moments ago been merely a joke to get back at this man, The Doctor, now felt like more.

He could obviously feel it too.

She met his eyes and was nothing but serious when she said, “My name is A Thorne.”

An odd little smile started in the corner of the doctors mouth. Switching the plastic arm from one hand to the other, he held out his hand to shake hers.

“It’s nice to meet you A Thorne.”

Her smaller hand clasped his, “You as well, The Doctor. It’s a pleasure meeting you as well.”.

Their hands remain together for a moment longer before the doctor coughed a bit.

“Well, I’ve got to get moving. Got to see a TARDIS about a plastic arm.”, he shook the arm as if for emphasis, then turned to go.

“Doctor!”

He have turned back to see what she wanted. Instead, she took a couple steps forward and placed the baked treat back in his hand.

“ I will see you around Doctor.”, and with that, this thing she turned and walked away, leaving him to stare at the pastry in his hands.

She was too far away to hear the unique sound, of a beautiful blue box as a dematerialized. 

- - - 

After Thorne and The Doctor went their separate ways. She had gone back to her apartment, briefly, and The Doctor went… Who knows where.

Deciding that since it was still only a little before 10:30 AM, (and what a shock that was, with everything that had gone on it felt like it should be near supper time at least), she grabbed a few items that she had determined to be “nonessentials“ and plan to pop over to where she paid for a storage unit.

On the walk over there she decided that it would be a good idea to renew her rental unit for longer than the month she had originally paid for. The last thing she wanted was her units contents sold off, like in one of those TV shows. After being at the same job for years, she had felt financially stable enough to squirrel away at least 50% of her net earnings each paystub.

While 50% was quite a large amount to set aside, she is still figured it was doable. Thorne wasn’t one to go out for drinks after work, frequent a bowling alley or see a movie at the theater on a regular basis. 

The remaining money from her paystub would go towards rent and upkeep. Things like washing her laundry, food, clothing, deodorant, toothpaste, etc.

The previous apartment’s tenants had left an old TV with rabbit ears, when they moved out. She intended to leave the TV for the next occupants of the apartment, even if she didn’t really have to.

Thorne would generally divide her meagre amount of free time, off work, reading or fiddling with the TV antennas until it picked up something worth watching. CNN News 24 always came in crystal clear. When a rare mood would strike, she would sometimes get out her sketchpad and absentmindedly doodle a little something in it.

When she had first settled London, (and the department store job hadn’t drained the life energy out of her quite yet), she would spend her off work hours wandering around different areas of London. Not that she had ventured everywhere. A big city, London.

The touristy areas were interesting, but she was always more of a “off the beaten path”, type of wanderer.

She figured that she must have someone watching over her as, in those early days, many a time she had found herself lost and asking for directions from strangers, or a friendly cabbie. Luckily, none of them turned out to be serial killers.

When it came to money, she’d always been on the frugal side, it was why she was able to travel around as much as she did, before she had ended up in London.

Her mostly solitary existence, since deciding to get a job and stay a while, meant that the regular pressures to spend money while “the girls went to hang out and get their hair and nails done” or some other thing, was an non issue.

Arrived at the location, passed through the lobby and headed back out towards the storage unit she rented. She would see about extending the contract after freeing up her hands.

She assumed from the funny look, she had gotten on her walk over, that she might have been an odd sight to some people.

She was carrying lumpy looking bag, partially tossed over one shoulder, and a long skinny floor lamp in hands.

The lamp was tilted diagonally in front of her, one hand, grasping up closer to the top, and the other hand, grasping closer to the base.

Upon reflection, she realized that she might’ve looked like some part mental person playing soldier.

She may be not dressed in the uniform and camo pattern, but if she was and the bag over her shoulder decorated in the same material, she could probably pass for one.

Oh, she would have to exchange the floor lamp for a gun, whatever that longer type was called, to complete the picture.

She gave her head a little shake, she wasn’t the soldier type. Her newly acquired crowbar, Crowley, definitely suited her better.

- - - 

It was a fairly quick process to dump the items in her little storage unit, and then extend the length of time she would rent the unit for.

Just in case the new apartment situation fell through, because of her new employment status, she had decided to extend it. it just so happened that they were offering a deal on 16 month rental contracts.

Technically, the deal was only supposed to be for “new customers“ but the owner of the business always liked her slightly queer accent. “It ain’t quite British is-it.”, he had said the first time she had come in.

She ended up taking the 16 month contract for the unit, she didn’t think she needed it that long, but life was unpredictable. Besides, she was going to spend about the same amount if she renewed for four months at the regular rate.

She returned to her apartment building, only to have the building’s superintendent quickly intercept her.

It seems that the tenants that were due to move into the apartment she currently was in had shown up sooner than expected. A lot sooner.

She wasn’t expected to move out for another two weeks. Even then she was going to have to spend approximately 14 days at a motel, until the new place was finished its remodel.

It seemed that the new tenants were actually a family of three, a mom and dad with their two month old child.

They were coming in from out of country, and had got their dates mixed up.

Staying in a motel room with a two month old was less than ideal even for a single night, for them to be in a motel for just over two weeks would be a nightmare.

It seemed that the superintendent was acting as the go-between, and hopeful negotiator to try and settle this situation, and what would be a win-win-win. 

The Super didn’t want to take the chance of the young couple finding somewhere else to rent, meaning, he would have to explain an empty apartment to the buildings owner. 

Thorne wasn’t keen on the idea of having to spend another couple weeks living out of her suitcase in a motel. Honestly, it’d be like a month of motel living. The room type she had intended to rent, didn’t have a kitchenette. She might have to look for a hotel, instead of a motel. She had intended just to suck it up and do takeout for the two weeks, but four weeks of takeout was way too much.

She hadn’t looked it up, but she knew that the price difference between a hotel room, and a motel room was nothing to sneeze at.

She wasn’t even sure if the money the new apartments landlord was going to be comping her would cover two weeks at a hotel. When they discussed an amount, it had been with the understanding that she’d be looking at motel pricing. Anything the above and beyond would have to come out of her own pocket.

She felt for the couple in their child, she really did, but she still had some last minute preparing to do before moving. Not much really, but still. In fact, she had scheduled for a guy to come and repaint the bedroom back to its original colour (as was part of the rental contract when she moved in.).

It seemed that the Super was very motivated though. She guessed that he must’ve cleared it with the building owner before coming to her.

Not only did he offer to contact the person she booked to paint, but he was also willing to cover the cost.

In addition to her, not having to pay the painter, he also was going to reimburse her two months rent!

He told her that he had a handful of people on speed dial that could help her with moving her stuff out and would also pay for moving truck if needed.

For Thorne, the last two things weren’t much of an incentive. After all, she had pretty much everything that needed to go to the storage unit, in the storage unit.

Thinking further on it, it was really just her bedsheets, a towel, and some food items in the fridge and cabinet. Well, there was also the three bags of baked goods (there were some apples in the one bag!) she purchased today.

Everything else was pretty much ready to be placed into her large, rolling suitcase.

Like she said, the apartment had come furnished, she wasn’t taking the TV and she had only lived in London for just over six years. 

She was never much one for keeping additional clutter around.

Clutter didn’t bother her, it just was a habit from when she was travelling. When you’re wandering around the Scottish countryside, you really can’t afford to be dragging an extra suitcase full of souvenirs from the places you’ve been.

She had been kind of living “spartan” even before clearing out most of her belongings.

Not that she was going to let on to the Super that she was pretty much all packed up, even with two weeks remaining on her rental agreement.

When one engaged in the art of negotiation, one should keep such information close to their chest.

She was interested in the fact that she would get two months worth of rent back. Though the cost of renting a room somewhere for two additional weeks was going to eat up that reimbursement quickly.

“When is this family due to arrive?”, She asked the Super.

He looked both hopeful and nervous at the same time. She could guess that the hopeful look was due to the fact that she wasn’t flat out, turning him down. The nervous look could become an asset in her future negotiations with him, that is depending on what he was nervous about.

“I know this is quite a lot to ask of you, especially since you’ve been one of my more reliable tenants over the last handful of years. I also assume this will throw away wrench into whatever you had already had planned after moving out. I mean you come and go like clockwork. I don’t want this to be messing with your job and what not. I can set my clock by you. Leaving the same time, on the dot, every weekday morning for work. In fact, I actually did that one time.” He chuckled slightly before sobering up. “They are set to fly in the day after tomorrow.”

Thorne wasn’t 100% sure how she felt about him being so knowledgable of her coming and going times. Had she really become that predictable, that someone could actually set their clock by her?

Okay… there was a couple too many levels of discomfort to sort through that thought, and the information he unintentionally shared.

“So…”, she began, “you would pretty much need me out of the apartment by the end of today? If you’re planning to get someone to paint that room, before they arrive?”

The Super could tell from her unimpressed tone that he was losing her.

“Listen, I don’t know what you have lined up after you move out. An’ I know if it’s another rental, that it’s unlikely you’ll be able to get into it sooner. Look, we can comp you 150 quid per night for 14 nights, so you can stay in a motel? Also, you wouldn’t need to leave until tomorrow morning. I’ll get someone to come in and paint, after midday.”

She stared at him for a moment, and he shifted nervously before he continued trying to convince her,

“An’ like I said I have a handful of guys I can pay to move your stuff out, and I will cover the cost of a moving van for two days…no, three days! I’ll cover the cost of a moving vehicle for three days!”

Thorne figured she had let the man sweat long enough. It was her turn.

“I think we might be able to make this work… Might!“, She had to reinforce the last word, as he looked far too happy and relieved when she started speaking.

“Here’s the thing, I’m certain whoever you would pay to help me move, our all decent blokes. That being said, I’d rather have the cash and have someone I know move my things.”, she didn’t state that she didn’t actually have anyone who fit into that category, well, other than herself, “same with the rental vehicle. I’d prefer to arrange that myself, so if you’re willing to part with the approximate amount for a three day moving vehicle rental …?”

Thorne left the question hanging, and it didn’t take long for the building super to enthusiastically agree.

“ You will pay for the painter, and refund me two months rent?”

She received another nod from him.

“ My sticking point is with the 150 quid per night. A room that would cost that amount, wouldn’t have anything close to a kitchenette, meaning I’d be paying for takeout for nearly 2 weeks.”, again he didn’t need to know that she was already planning to stay two weeks at a motel.

“Are you willing to increase that amount to 210 per night?”

The super rubbed at the back of his neck and replied, “How about 170 per night?”

“195”, she countered.

“185, and I’m sorry that’s the best I can do.”

She nodded her head, accepting the compromise, “Agreed, 185 quid per night for 14 nights. I’ll be out of the apartment before noon tomorrow.”

The man seem to sag in relief, “Thanks, you have no idea how much that couple was stressin’ when they spoke to me over the phone. I think they were honestly worried that they’d be sitting out on some street corner, with their baby, for two weeks.” He gave a half chuckle at that.

“If you have time now, we can pop into my office and settle the exact numbers. I won’t be able to give it to you in cash, it’ll have to go direct deposit to your bank. That gonna work for you?”, he asked slightly nervous once more.

She waved hand, dismissing his concerns, “direct deposit fine. And actually, I do have time right now, so we’ll get the numbers squared away and I’ll head up to my apartment… well mine for the next 19 1/2-ish hours.”, she cracked a small grin at the Super which caused any remaining tension in the air to be released.

“Sounds brilliant”, he replied.

- - - 

That was pretty much the rest of Thorne’s afternoon. Finding a handful of documents, making arrangements to pop the two apartment keys through his office mail slot if she decided to leave after official office hours.

All said and done, it really hadn’t taken more than an hour and a half for her to confirm that she had everything packed up. It had been a last-minute decision on her part to actually leave that evening, instead of staying the night.

Yes, it would cost her one more night at whatever hotel she decided on, but it was better than feeling like she was being rushed in the morning.

She had her suitcase fully packed now. Inside was the last minute addition of Crowley, her crowbar, all wrapped up in plastic wrap. Didn’t want any dirt, metal dust or rust transferring.

She rolled the large case into the kitchen. It sat on the floor and above it on the counter, where her baked goods… Well, the ones she hadn’t eaten yet. There was a small amount of other food items in one of the bags as well.

Her cupboard and fridge weren’t empty of food though.

She had left some canned goods and an unopened jar of jam preserve in the cabinet. She made sure to check the expiry dates, not wanting to leave the probably “frazzled“ couple, and their child with expired food.

In the fridge was some unopened, fizzy drinks. She also may have ducked out of her apartment to make a quick stop at the nearest food retailer.

Knowing the couple had a small baby, travelling with them, made her want to leave them a few of the basics.

A 1 litre carton of milk, a thing of eggs and a unopened pat of butter was inside one of the paper grocery bags. She wrote a little note on the side of the bag with a welcome greeting to the couple.

She slid another bag into the freezer. Inside was a frozen lasagna, a box of waffles and a baggie of seasoned breakfast tater tots.

She had been tempted to grab them some bread and produce items, but decided against it. They weren’t due to arrive for 48 hours, at the minimum. Though it was unlikely, she didn’t want to leave anything that might start to become over ripe or go stale, if left too long.

She wrote a quick note addressed to the building superintendent. She wanted to give him a heads up that she had left a couple things for the new tenants. Maybe he could vouch for her that none of the items were likely to be poisoned.

She folded the note and slipped it inside an open envelope on the counter. Inside was already one of the apartment keys.

Her intention was to go out for some Dinner, then return to the apartment. She would add the other key to the envelope, seal it, and pop it through the Super’s office door, mail slot, once she knew he was gone for the day.

Then that would be that. The apartment empty, and her on her way.

She did need to take a bag of trash downstairs with her, when she left to get something to eat. It was filled with any little food items that had hidden away in the corners of her cupboard and fridge, that weren’t salvageable or easy to take along with her.

- - -

Thorne had just finished depositing the garbage bag in the proper area she was now heading down the street… A weird feeling was hanging in the air, and for some reason it seemed to be affecting her appetite. She hadn’t craved pizza in forever.

Unnoticed by her, she was being followed by a slightly awkwardly looking facsimile of her, presumed dead, coworker… Wilson.

She had the phone numbers for three different motels written on a small scrap of paper. The walk to the pizza parlour was spent mostly talking on her mobile. She needed to decide where she would be staying for the night. If you liked where she ended up, then she would see about booking a room more long-term.

She was done with the calls by the time she reached her destination. Little bells jingle above her head as she opened the door, letting the staff of the restaurant know she had entered.

She ordered and sat silently at a table, alone. Well… Alone until, an extra creepy, “shouldn’t you be dead right now”, version of her former coworker, Wilson sat down.

Thorne was struck silent for a moment, simply sat gaping at the man across from her.

“No casualties thing on the News makes sense now…”, she whispered to herself before clearing her throat, and greeting the slightly off feeling man across from her.

“Ah hello Wilson. Interesting coincidence meeting you here… I think. Glad you’re not dead?”, Wow, did she really just say that last thing, as if it was a question…

“Hello middle management, coworker, Miss A. Thorne, apartment number 412. You seem lovely and well this afternoon. Determining your safety, after last night’s events, was the company’s priority.”

What the fudge sticks on rye? Did he just rattle off her apartment number like it was not a breach in the privacy policy set for by the department store?

Thorne had a thing about the ‘protection and privacy of information’. And by thing it meant that she had serious issues with any breach of privacy, especially her own. His words honestly made her wish that she had Crowley with her.

When did she become so violent?

Irritation now coloured her tone, though she did her best too sound polite, “Yes. Thank you. I am well. As you can see. The… Company… can put its worries to rest.”

“Yes, the tragic events of last night. Had the company worried for you middle management, coworker, Thorne.” 

Her eye twitched, the politically correct side of her was glad Wilson was alive, but he didn’t seem to be taking the hint to bugger off.

“Yes, well as I said, I’m fine. Perfectly safe and fine. Also, I’m waiting for someone. So if you can remove yourself from that seat.”, she didn’t frame the last sentence as a question. She wanted this extra creepy version of Wilson, who seem to have no respect for privacy, to shove off. If she had to lie about expecting company, then she would do it.

“Is the company you are expecting The Doctor? The Doctor is expected to arrive here? You can tell me. I’m here because the company wants to make sure you’re safe.”

Okay… this just went from zero to ‘hit the fan’, in two seconds flat. How did Wilson know about The Doctor? She hadn’t told anyone, not that she really had anyone to tell. Also, what made Wilson think that she knew The Doctor?

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how who I’m meeting is any of your business. Or the “company’s” business for that matter. This is really starting to feel like a breach of privacy. I’m asking you politely, please leave me be.” She was wound tighter than spring, worse comes to worse she would slap 20 quid on the table and just leave the restaurant.

Well, that was the plan until Wilson grabbed ahold of her wrist, which she had been pulling towards herself in preparation for leaving. 

“Let. Go. Of. Me.”, Thorne had spoken quietly, but her tone was glacial. 

“The company worries for you, tell me about The Doc…”

“Someone ordered champagne?”

The question was directed at Wilson, but he was too busy locked in a staring, or in Thorne’s case glaring, contest.

“The champagne order is not for this table.”, Wilson said, only to have the waiter address Thorne the same question.

“ Someone here order champa…”

“Not this ta…”

Thorne interrupted both the waiter and Wilson, “ didn’t order it, but feel free to add it to my tab.”

With that Thorne reached across herself, with her freehand, and snatch the bottle of champagne from the waiters grasp. She then used the bottle too literally knock some sense into Wilson’s head. Swinging her arm and the bottle back across herself, and walloping him on the head.

She should’ve felt stunned by her violent actions, but a part of her told her that if it had been anyone other than Wilson, sitting across from her, she wouldn’t have hit them. No matter how creepy the other person might’ve been. There was just something about this Wilson that was off and made her wish she had brought Crowley.

The hit to the head, had a bit of an unexpected result, Wilson’s head had spun about 75° from center… Which was much more than a head was supposed to turn. What really threw her for a loop was the fact that the part of the face where the bottle impacted looked more like as if she had hit a lump of putty or clay. Speaking of which it seemed to be reaping itself back to normal though his head was still twisted 75° around.

At least he had let go of her wrist. She used her newfound freedom to quickly jump up from the table, causing her chair to fall backwards.

“Blimey, do you have a thing for swinging heavy objects with the intent to cause damage?”

She knew that voice!

Head whipping around towards the waiter, she found herself calling out, “Doctor!?”

“ Hello”, he gave her a cheerful smile, and a quick wave as a greeting.

“Ah, Doctor. Found you.” Wilson said, even with his head spun.

It was at this point that the other patrons and workers in the restaurant started to scream in fear. Wilson’s hands started to change shape, and the doctor grabbed the bottle of champagne back.

“Sorry, got to borrow this. A toast, to your accomplishment of finding me!”

The doctor then shook the repossessed bottle of champagne and flicked off the wire, allowing the bottles cork to rocket out.

It didn’t cause much damage, in fact, it had only caused Wilson to stumble back a step and a half. The cork itself seem to have disappeared.

Well, the cork had seem to disappear until Wilson turn sideways so that he was facing Thorne and the doctor. He suddenly spat the cork out of his mouth onto the table.

“That’s poor manners.”, Thorne mumbled.

It seemed like the doctor still heard her comment, even over the crowd of screaming people exiting the restaurant.

She quickly went to the wall and smashed the fire alarm, “Might as well make this evacuation official.”

There was a lot of banging and clatter behind her, and she turned around just in time to witness. The doctor go from having Wilson in a headlock to simply having Wilson’s head.

“That is not enough to stop me”, the disembodied, head said as its body went on a wrecking spree.

“A talking head. Technically, not unusual, though normally they are found attached to a body.”

The doctor gave a laugh at her comment, and then grabbed her hand with his free one.

“ Run, right?”

“Ohh, now you’re taking the fun out of it for me.”, she could swear the doctors voice had a pout in it. Obviously, she had stolen his line or catchphrase. What did that say about the doctor that “run“ was his go to catchphrase?

Either way, she was running through the back of the restaurant, through the kitchen, and following him out the back door. All the while the noisy smashing sounded close behind.

The doctor slammed the metal door behind them before tossing the head at her with a quick “hot potato”.

He didn’t even watch to see if she caught it before he was turning back to the door with his glow pen, humming away in a high-pitch. 

Unlike when he tossed the plastic arm at her, she did, in fact, catch the head, but quickly adjusted her grip so that she honestly looked like she was holding a shrunken voodoo.

Wilson didn’t have much hair on his head, what, with the receding hairline, but it was enough to, as she held the heads slightly away from her.

She must’ve looked funny, as the doctor actually snorted a laugh when he caught the way she was standing there, holding the head.

“Yeah? Go on then. Laugh it up chuckles.“, she spoke to the doctor in a half deadpan, half challenging tone.

The sudden, loud and repeating bangs on the metal door, prompted them both to movement once more.

“Why would they move you here?”, Thorne asked out loud to no one in particular.

She was certain that was the same vintage art display she had seen last night.

“What? Who?”, The doctor said, spinning in a circle and reclaiming the head she was holding in the process.

“That there”, Thorne nodded towards the lovely blue police box, “The art display.”

The doctor glanced in the direction she was looking, “The graffiti walls? Hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure that’s been there for a while, judging by the amount of chewing gum stuck to the surface.”

“ What? No. Are you having me on? The police box. I’m talking about that lovely blue police call box. The one you are practically walking straight towards!”, though she hadn’t actually said the word, her tone was full of the question ‘Are you a blind idiot?’.

The doctors face seem to display an amount of surprise before morphing into a bit of a pleased expression.

“Most certainly! Lovely, and fantastic. Frankly, magnificent”, the doctor made sure to emphasize the pronunciation of the last words with extra clarity.

“Yes, the display is that as well. Blue is definitely the new sexy. Oi, wait a minute what do you think you’re doing!“, Thorne jogged the few steps to close the distance between her and the doctor, who was reaching out to touch the art display.

She wrangled his arm into her grasp, just inches away from him, touching it.

“Wha…?”

She cut the doctor off, “you don’t just go manhandling art that’s on exhibit! Even if it has been moved to some closed off back delivery entrance behind a restaurant…” her ire sort of dwindled out towards the end of what was supposed to be a reprimand.

“Why are you back here, lovely?”, confused, she asked the air.

When the sound of metal tearing, accompanied the previous bangs on the back door of the restaurant, she returned to the present moment.

“Okay, One mystery at a time. We’ve got to get out of here, before the headless wonder gets out of there.”

“Tell you what, let’s go in here.”, The doctor replied, like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

He had even managed to get his hands on the art display, when she was distracted with the dummy at the door. 

“First of all, that’s a terrible place to hide! Second, don’t touch other people’s art disss…plays.” 

Anything more Thorne was going to say, ended up getting caught in her throat.

When the doctor had made his way inside the call box, she had been pulled a step or two forward, as she had still had her hand on his arm.

Both of her arms were limp at her sides now. She stood half in and half out of these threshold of the box.

The doctor fiddled with the head for a moment, on what appeared to be a circular console or really cluttered table.

She was still standing there, staring when he’s spun around. He opened his arms out to the side in a bit of a ‘Ta Da!’ fashion.

“Well? What do you think“, he asked.

Thorne inched forward a bit more. It was enough for the doors to close behind her, not that she noticed.

“I… It… It’s… Wow, yeah. Someone definitely has first place in the bag.”

Obviously, that wasn’t what the doctor was expecting her to say.

“It is called the TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimension In Space. And it’s mine. I would also call this fantastic ship, a work of art! So you were part right. Kind of.”

The doctor then proceeded to talk about the plastic arm and head, but Thorne was too busy looking and feeling. All the while she hadn’t moved an inch.

The doctor clapped his hands together loudly and spun around to face her, “Right, where do you want to start?”. 

“Right,… Start. What is that?”, Thorne cocked her head to the side as if listening to something.

“How do you mean?”, the doctor asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“ That voice… Or sound… Or feeling?”, she was absolutely confused, though, not particularly alarmed. Whatever it was, it was huge but not overbearing. It was like all up in our space, but at the same time not crowding her. It was metallic sounding and yet somehow, the most beautiful thing she’d heard. She wanted to cry lost tears. 

It was so much. Almost too much, but not at the same time. And why would she cry? Okay, she partly knew the answer to that, she had seen some beautifully orchestrated pieces of music in the past. They were some among them that stood above the rest. They would give her chills at the beauty of the sounds coming altogether from the instruments and voices.

Yes… This was like one of those times except 100, no 1000 times more. More something.

The doctor took a couple steps towards Thorne, after she had been silent for a tick too long. But before he could say, or do anything more than that, she seemed to snap out of her daze.

“Wait, what did you say? Relative dimension? In space…”

“Oh, good, you’re still alive. Had me worried for a mo’. Thought your brain fried, and was going to melt out your ears.” He smiled as if at his own cleverness.

“ Do you really really want to bring ears into this conversation?”

“Oi! What are you getting at?”

“Moving on from ears, let’s focus on melting.”, Thorne quickly change the subject and pointed towards the centre console, “As in Wilson’s head is melting over there.”

“Melt?”,  the doctor spun around quickly, “Aw, no, no, no, no!”

The doctor was suddenly in full motion, flying around the console.

Thorne ended up, grabbing onto one of the railings as it suddenly felt like she was in a giant port-a potty that someone was trying to tip over.

That analogy didn’t sit well with her. After all, whatever this amazing… something, she was inside of, was, trying a connection between it and an outdoor toilet was just wrong.

This thing, this ship? The TARDIS, It was honestly the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It was so odd and alien… Alien. That was it wasn’t it?

This TARDIS was a ship, an alien ship, and the doctor… The doctor was the alien occupying it.

Wait a moment… did this mean she just been abducted by an alien?!

Suddenly there was that feeling, sound, whatever… again. Was that amusement she was feeling or hearing, this was getting confusing.

She knew that the senses could overlap. Pretty much every time you eat something your sense of smell and taste with overlap with one another, even touch was thrown into that mix, as you could feel the texture and consistency of whatever you were eating.

Food actually kind of sounded gross when used in the same sentence as “texture and consistency”.

Off-topic!

The doctor finally stopped his yelling and running in circles. The… Ship, seem to settle as well.

The doctor ran past her an out the doors quick as a flash.

She followed after him, part of her brain, said the headless wonder was going to karate, chop murder them, but a larger part said that there was no danger out there.

With a deep breath, she mentally reminded herself that she decided on “just rolling with it”. Time to match her actions to her intentions.

And then she was out the door as well.

Thorne and the doctor got a few things cleared up. A little bit of explaining, answers to some questions, including why his spaceship looked like a 1950s police call box.

“It’s a disguise!”, he had said, all proud like.

She had let loose the most unladylike snort.

Back in the present, the doctor was almost spinning in circles, and she certain if he had longer hair, he would’ve been pulling at it.

“Okay, so is this transmitter likely to have a dome, like a satellite dish?”

“Not necessarily.”, he answered her distracted with his own thoughts.

“Huge, round or circular, metal, and smack dab in the middle of London?” She summed up, staring over his shoulder.

“Yes!”, He said an exasperation, “Yes. You got wax in your ears? Haven’t you been listening?”

“Oi, you wanna accuse me of having wax in my ears? How about you? Need to get your eyes checked?” She shot back at him and jutting her chin up in the air sharply, gesturing to something over his shoulder.

He spun around to look, then glance back at her, “What?”

Yeah, no. Thorne wasn’t up to playing the “what” game again.

Instead, she sing song, “I spy, with my little eyes… a much larger, metal, London Eye.”

The doctor spun back to look out over the Thames at the massive ferris wheel.

“Oh… fantastic!”

She swore his smile had to be contagious. Maybe it was an alien thing, because moments prior she had been ready to take a swing at him and now she was grinning like a fool… Just like him.

Then they were running, at one point they had somehow ended up, holding hands. New

As they continue to run, she turned and looked at him. The smile on her face was large enough to crack it in half. He met her eyes, smile just as wide.

“This is bat s**t crazy!”

“Oi, Language!”, despite the doctor’s reprimand, the smile on his face only seem to stretch wider at her words. Inappropriate language or not.

Before she knew it, they both found themselves in a tunnel below the London eye. A great vat sat in the middle of a room containing, according to the doctor, the Nestene Consciousness.

And… Oh! There was Wilson.

“I guess after everything you said, I should’ve realized that the mannequins, in the department store, hadn’t eaten Wilson.”

She had pointed Wilson in the direction of the exit, and he had taken off like a shot. She honestly didn’t know the man could move that fast. Whatever at least he was out of the way, back on the surface… probably halfway across London if he kept that same speed.

Meanwhile, the doctor had gone to speak with Nessie. Thorne had decided that Nestene Consciousness was too much of a mouthful to say.

The next set of events seemed to flyby. 

The doctor got himself in trouble, Thorne found herself another crowbar, Nessie and a bottle of antiplastic had a unfortunate introduction to each other, the doctor made Thorne leave the crowbar behind…

The TARDIS finished it, re-materialization process, and Thorne stepped out, still full of adrenaline and giggles.

She even allowed herself to spin around with our arms out a couple times. Just enjoying the feeling of twirling.

The doctor leaned against the door frame of the tardis watching her.

“Nestene Consciousness? Easy!”

“Ha! So you say. Remind me again, who was it that had to come to your rescue?”

The doctors expression changed slightly, look up gratitude and acceptance?… On his face, “You. You did. Thank you.”

The doctor shattered the atmosphere with his next words, “Right, then! I’ll be off.”

There was a short pause and then he continued speaking, “Unless… I don’t know. You could come with me. This box isn’t just a London hopper, you know. It goes anywhere in the universe. Free of charge. You could stay here and fill your life with work and food, and slee…”

“Yeah, shut up.”, she cut off his spiel before he could even finish it.

The doctor rocked back on his heels, slight disappointment could be seen on his face.

“You’re a bit of a daft alien, aren’t you?”, Thorne chuckled at the confusion on the doctor’s face, “I’ll go with you. After all…”, a cheeky smile crossed her face, “that big, beautiful, blue box of yours ‘had me at hello’.”

The light on the top of the TARDIS seem to dance slightly.