Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE

COLLATERAL DAMAGE

A huge explosion. I’m falling.

How long have I been falling?

All I can hear is a loud ringing in my head.

Distant voices overlapping in my head.

I can’t make out what they're saying.

“We'd be lost in another universe…”

"…Hope…"

I feel like every inch of my body is being pierced.

Am I on fire?

“Across the boundaries that divide one universe from another”

Everything is… golden?

For a moment, I wonder if I’ve gone blind. Is this what blind people see?

Everything hurts everything hurts everything hurtseverythinghurts

I screamed. Or had I been screaming the entire time and just stopped? I didn’t know. I didn’t care, I just wanted the pain to go away. 

My vision returned, slowly but surely, and I could see through the blur a figure of a man. He entered through an oddly familiar door, but I couldn’t quite place where I was. At this point, the pain came and went. Or maybe it was my awareness of the pain that had been faltering. That wasn’t important. I needed to figure out what the hell was going on. Where was I? I grabbed my head and pushed myself up off the very uncomfortable floor. Was that a metal grille? It took a second for me to find the words.

The man was muttering something to himself. Something I could only hear in parts.

“...Of course… wearing a bit thin.”

I stared at the man, who hadn’t noticed me at first. I blinked fast in hopes of being able to see clearly. My throat was very dry. 

“Maya? What are you doing here? On the floor?” He said. He seemed happy about something.

He knows who I am?

Old man. English accent. Familiar voice? I shook my head and looked at him properly.

“WHAT?” I exclaimed, in absolute shock. 

The man operated something in the distance and then I hear it. The familiar thrum of a certain dimensionally transcendent time-space machine. The same sound I'd play as ambience while studying. I looked around. I wondered if I was dreaming or if I'd gone insane. I wouldn't have been veery surprised if it was the latter.

 I tried to stand up, and it almost worked, but then I doubled down in pain. I screamed. My veins were glowing. It almost looked like golden lava. It felt like lava, anyway. I looked down at myself and realized I was blipping in and out of existence. I could see my hands appearing and disappearing. I could feel my awareness falter. I’d never been more terrified or more in pain my entire life. The man who I had recognized as the War Doctor (This is ridiculous) hurried over to see what was happening.

“It can’t be…” He said. He was glowing too. Have I finally lost it?

“Just hold on. You’re going to be alright.” He grabbed my shoulders. I couldn’t move, there were only tears streaming down my face.

“I hope the ears are a bit less conspicuous this time” He grinned at me.

And then we exploded together.

I opened my eyes and to find I was back to lying on that extremely uncomfortable metal floor again. The holes in it had imprinted onto my skin. I groaned and got up, only to see the same man, but newly regenerated, standing there in front of me.

“Christopher Eccleston?” It’s obviously not Christopher Eccleston. Why did I even say that. I felt extremely disoriented. Like someone took my brain fog and turned it up to a million.

I’ve forgotten something. What is it?

The ground started shaking. No– The TARDIS was shaking. Violently. The ninth doctor looked up. His eyes recognized me. 

“Maya!” He exclaimed.

“You’re The Doctor.” I said. I might as well play along.

“Am I?”

“Wait, you know who I am?” I asked, holding onto the console for balance. 

“Of course I do.”

“What? How?” I asked again, “And aren’t you going to do something?”

“What?”

“The turbulence, Doctor, aren’t you going to do something?”

“Oh, right.” He got up, pulled a lever, and we shook with a jolt. I fell backwards, but held onto the coral pillar. The Console was smoking and sparks were flying, and I was pretty sure something was on fire. The TARDIS was pissed, and somehow I felt that.

“We should get out.” I suggested. The Doctor pressed buttons and pulled levers on the console. Freshly regenerated and piloting a TARDIS? Bad combination. I only hoped we wouldn't end up in a dinosaur.

“Yeah, we probably should. But first-”

I must have passed out, again, because my vision went dark and I couldn't make out the ending of his sentence.

I woke up in a cold hospital room after that. It took a moment for my vision to adjust to the light, but I realized I recognized this hospital. I was getting tired of passing out and finding myself in new places at this point. Shrugging off the shock of my recent disorientation, I looked around to see if there was someone in the ward. There were a couple of other beds, but they were empty, except for an older lady sleeping on one of them on the other side of the room.

I tried to get up. Looking around to assess my surroundings helped me notice the stack of magazines and a newspaper on the bedside table. I grabbed the newspaper immediately. Not because I was interested in whatever it had to say, I wanted to check the date. If I was right, The Doctor had dropped me off in the seventies. And I think I know where.

As it turned out, I was right. No surprise there. The date was September fourth, nineteen seventy one. Leave it to The Doctor to leave a queer Indian in a time period not great for them. I sighed. I skimmed through the newspaper to see if I could find any more information, or place where I was in the timeline. At first, I didn't find anything, only to notice an obituary. For a certain John Farrel. That name was familiar. I couldn't place where it was from, though. Frustrated, I got off the bed and looked outside the window. It seemed nice out. It was bright, but not too bright.

I was awash with a wave of dread. Had I really ended up in the Doctor who universe? Was I in a coma? Had I lost my mind? On the other hand, it was all so real. I'd felt unstable— like I'd either explode or fade away— before the Doctor had regenerated. With me. Had he shared his regeneration energy with me? Was that possible? My hands went up to my face. Same round face, same bifid nose, same full lips. Same black curls, same tan skin. So I hadn't regenerated. I wasn't sure if I should've been relieved or disappointed. A closer look revealed to me that I'd lost all my scars from my entire life. No marks of cuts or scratches, no reminders of childhood scraped knees. I supposed I should be grateful. Perhaps the regeneration energy had "fixed" those things. But I couldn't shake off the feeling that I'd lost a part of myself.

After the next few moments of silence a nurse walked in.

"Oh, you've woken up! Good morning, dear." She exclaimed cheerfully as she saw me.

I smiled, and gave her a little wave. "Hello. Could you tell me where I am?"

"Certainly. You are in the Ashbridge Cottage Hospital," She told me, setting down a tray with some medical equipment in the shelves. "Would you like a glass of water while I bring you breakfast?"

She started pouring before I could respond. I was going to say yes, anyway, so I didn't protest. I thanked her as she handed it to me.

"How long have I been here? And who brought me?"

She smiled. "You've been here for about a day and a half. A rather odd man in a leather jacket dropped you off and disappeared. Said to take care of you till someone came to pick you up. He didn't mention his name, but he called you Maya. I take it that is your name?"

I nodded. "Yes. Thank you for telling me. Is there anything else he said to tell me? Or any information at all?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I'm afraid that was it, my dear. Was he someone close to you?"

"He might have been."

She frowned with confusion for a moment, then moved on. I was handed a menu showing my options for breakfast. I thought about it for a moment.

"Um, I'll just have Buttered toast, please." I was not impressed with the menu choices, but this was a hospital in London in the 1970s, so I hadn't been expecting much in the first place. I was also told by the nurse where the bathrooms were.

The nurse left, and returned back a few minutes later with warm toast and also an apple that had been cut into bite-sized pieces. She set the food near me, informed me that the doctor would be here for a routine checkup before I could leave, and then she left the room.

I ate in silence. I wondered if they had any of my belongings. Did I even have any belongings in this universe anymore? I shuddered to think I didn't.

In the next hour or so, A doctor had walked in to check my vitals and tell me I was healthy, but that I should lose weight. I'd heard it a million times before, so I just smiled and nodded. After receiving my clothes from the lockers, I changed out of the hospital nightgown. I'd thought I might have to steal them from some poor unassuming patient Doctor Who style. But no, it seems The Doctor had left me a period-appropriate pair of brown trousers, red turtleneck, an argyle sweater vest and boots to match.

I thanked him in my head and waited only for about two more minutes before I was told someone was here to pick me up. I was confused on who to expect, Nine or Three. It turned out to be the latter. It was in that hospital that I first met the Third Doctor and Jo grant beside him. That's when it struck me who the name from the newspaper belonged to. The father of the plastic factory owner from Terror of the Autons. The one that was killed by that ugly ass plastic doll.

"Hello, Maya. I received your message." The Doctor greeted me. I wasn't expecting that.

"What, you know me too?" I asked, quite frankly shocked. How far back would I go? I was excited about it, though, "Wait, what message?"