Work Text:
An ordinary night, turned cold and sour as an odd wheezing, groaning sort of sound filled the air around three am. The date was February the twenty-second, nineteen-eighty-nine. A mere two days before the girl, who was now looking out of her window, would be found dead, wrapped in plastic. After spotting something outside, she decided to quietly sneak out of her window. Curious as she was, she wasn't stupid either, and she took a pocket knife Bobby had given her, just in case one of her dealers was there.
Instead? She found a blue box in the front yard, that said police. Maybe she's still high? No, she's been clear for a few hours, and she can tell by the jitters from withdrawal. “What the fuck…” Laura mumbled, before slowly, for fun really, opting to knock on the door. And to her surprise, the door opened, and with a second of hesitation, she peeked in.
Inside was a man, hardly much taller than her, bracing himself against a question mark umbrella. With a pause, she noticed a cat at his feet as well, who promptly ‘meowed’ at her presence, causing the man to turn, and stare. The lights brightened, and she was greeted with an impossible sight. A library, but then, also not. It was so hard for her to process, and after a moment or two, the man came over and rested a hand on her shoulder, seeming to know who she was.
He wasn't the FBI man she often dreamed of, and he frightened her a little, reminding her in some ways of ‘Bob’. Yet unlike him, the little man seemed genuinely kind, and he let her stay for tea, something she began to believe was a dream, even as she sipped her quite sugary tea. “Thank you.” the girl politely said, before he spoke. “Hardly a problem, dear. Could you be so kind as to tell me, what year is this?” Scottish. She didn't expect that, but he was given his answer, and his expression and demeanor seemed to sink. “I'm quite sorry then.”
“For what?” Oh, but she knew, deep down. She knew. “You'll understand soon enough.” he said, cryptic as ever, which she thought had to be a personality trait with him. “How is this all here? It was… just a box outside.” He laughed a little, although not at her, no, merely at the ever so common question. “The door simply leads elsewhere, like a gateway of sorts, to keep it simple for you.” She nodded, satisfied with this, as she finished her tea.
“Laura,” he began, even though she hadn't said her name. “Would you like to leave here? Merely for a few hours?” Without any hesitation, she replied, and smiled. “Yes, please.”
With a tip of his hat, the odd man was leading her along to the big ol’ console in the middle of everything, and after flicking a few switches, the entire place seemed to glow, and wheeze. It startled her a little, and a feminine voice that wasn't her own seemed to tell her it was safe. “Welcome to my TARDIS,” the man said. “It's a time and spaceship, whether you believe me or not.” She wasn't much for sci-fi, but she looked like she believed him, and after a moment, a hesitant question was asked. “Do I have to go home after? Or can you… lose me, somewhere. Maybe on Mars, or something.”
A heartbreaking question, one he shook his head at. “I'm afraid not, you'll have to go back. It's fixed in place, or I wouldn't dare. I am sorry.” She nodded, leaning against his side, which seemed to surprise him as he froze. Then she rested a hand on his cheek. “Geez man, you're ice cold, like. . . like a corpse!” He didn't wish to know how she would know that, but once they landed, he offered her a hand, one she quickly accepted. “Now my dear, you'll have the honor of seeing something people often only dream of.” She faltered. “Oh yeah? What would—”
The doors had opened, and they were parked on a planet that overlooked the stars, a bench was there, and it was clear she could breathe. Slowly, Laura wandered out of the TARDIS, inspecting the skies, before quietly sitting down as she was let go by the time lord. “Why would… hey, why would you bring me, of all people, huh?” A chuckle.
“Why not you, hm? Oh, and I'm the Doctorrr, by the way.” He rolled his ‘r's, accentuating his accent, and smirking as he sat at her side. “It's beautiful.” Laura piped up, before glancing at him. “Will it look like this when I die?” What a morbid girl, huh?
“I doubt it, I'm afraid.”
“Damn shame, this would be cool. . .”
He chuckled at her response, and before he could speak again, the girl was hugging him. Something that utterly melted the seventh's hearts, as he very gently rested a hand atop her back. “Thanks, weird-spacey-scotsman.” Again, he laughed. “My pleasure, my dear.”
“Hope you don't wanna probe me.” Laura laughed at her own, rather off-color joke. Meanwhile he cleared his throat. “Absolutely nothing of the sort, nobody does that.” After that, the pair sat in silence, until she fell asleep. He carried her back to the TARDIS, and waited a little while, before hesitantly dropping her back home. Poor thing. . . if her death wasn't a fixed point in time, truly, he wouldn't do this to her. But alas, rules are rules, even for the Seventh, and so she was left on her doorstep, before he parted once more.
Whispering, before he left. “Good luck, Laura Palmer.”