The Girl of Time (Doctor Who Fan-fiction)

Chapter 36

I walk into a stark-white room with bare walls, occupied by nothing but a wooden desk shoved up against the side.

I take a few steps through the door, and after doing a once-over of the room, I glide over to the desk.

It's nothing special, really. It's just a desk. It's got a few dings in it, and marks where someone accidentally scribbled off their paper, but other than that it's in good shape. So, what's this doing in my head?

I'm assuming it's some sort of memory. It has to be. Something from my forgotten past. Unfortunately, a desk isn't much to go on.

I inspect the front of the desk, looking for drawers, and find nothing. However, I remember back when I lived at the foster home, Ann had a desk with a secret drawer hidden under the desk. She kept all the legal documents from all the foster kids in it. Of course, it only took me and Alyssa a few minutes one night to find it. When Alyssa and I got bored...bad things happened.

I climb under the desk and run my finger along the top, trying to find anything that sticks out. I find nothing.

I slide back out from the table, and stare at the worn writing surface. I don't get it, why is this desk so important? Maybe I should go check the other doors.

As I take once last look at the desk, I catch the tiniest little bulge underneath the lip of the desk. Under closer examination, I realize that it's key hole. I snatch the wire I had used to open the original door and start trying to pick the lock.

I hear the lock click, and I lift up the entire desk lid, like a child's desk used in a classroom. Inside, lies a small compartment. I empty out its content, and spread the items on the floor.

The only things I find are two short, clearly well-used pencils, and a very large journal. A very familiar journal...

This looks exactly like the journal I've carried around for years. Only, this one is almost three times thicker.

I open to the very end of the journal (force of habit when you're a time traveler, you always start in the back to avoid spoilers) and turn to the last page with writing on it.

I skim over the page, confused. This is something I wrote just a few days ago. Even after my Dreams ceased, I continued writing about my adventures with the Doctor. This is back when the Doctor, Clara and I were trapped in that tower. In fact, I'm pretty sure this is the most recent thing I've written. I flip through the journal, and find that it's identical to mine, although...I guess they're the same journal.

I get to the oldest page that I remember writing, which is only about a third of the way through the back of the journal. I never really went back to see what my oldest Dream was. I'm sure there is still a perception filter that keeps me from thinking about that delicate time from when I went from Time Lord to human. But now that I'm in my mind, I guess it can't affect me that well.

It turns out, the oldest Dream I had was just as ordinary as the rest is of them. Well, if you can call what the Doctor does ordinary.

He was alone that day, saving some small planet from Zygons. Of course, at the time I didn't know the name of them, so I just referred to them as "the tall red sucker things." However, over the years, I became question the the expert in everything alien. To this day I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

I snap the journal back to the cover, thinking about what I should do next. This is it. If I choose to turn to that first page, there is no going back. But, I'm going to do it. I have to. My past is my business. It's my responsibility.