Transcendent | 11th Doctor

Chapter One

Secret doorways

Nora felt sick. Something was pulling at her naval as if to make her implode from the inside out. She never quite got the knack for timings, always five minutes late to each deadline and scathing each bus schedule.

Time had never really been her friend. Blinded by a fickle white light and silenced by nausea, Nora knew Time was laughing at her. Everything had appeared to freeze. Each strand of her hair eerily still, arms stiff by her sides. Whatever trick Time was playing, she surely just had to wait it out. Nora was convinced she was having one of her sleep paralysis episodes. Where Time was just another demon climbing upon her chest. This time however, the pain didn't fade. She didn't blink between places nor get sucked into another black hole.

She was simply frozen. Waiting for the next shoe to drop.

*****

Amy Pond had not gone through 4 psychiatrists and 6 different types of medication just for her imaginary friend to reappear 12 years later. In fact, she had gone through 4 psychiatrists and 6 different types of medication for this exact moment not to happen.

Had she finally broke? Had the mediocrity of her life whittled her down so much so her childish fantasies were back in full rampage? Of course the only sane thing to do would be to dress up in her police outfit and scare off this new imposter.

Raggedy man wasn't real. Raggedy man couldn't be here.

"What are you doing here? where's Amelia?" The man, who had somehow impersonated her childhood fake friend, asked into the silence. There was a pause, pregnant with anticipation as Amy Pond considered her next move.
What would a policewoman do?

"Amelia Pond?" She muttered, eyes narrowed into thin lines as she pretended to survey the intruder. He jiggled for a moment, testing the toy handcuffs trapping him against a thankfully cold radiator.

"Yes! Little Scottish girl. Where is she? I promised her five minutes but the engines were phasing." He pressed, glancing round the room for any sign of that same small ginger girl. Amy rolled on her feet, stomach suddenly tightening at the reminder of being left behind.

How did he know that? How could he possibly know?

"I suppose I must've gone a bit far. Has something happened to her?" Another pause. Bated breath filled the quiet space until Amy felt forced to break the silence.

"Amelia Pond hasn't lived here in a very long time." That much was true. 4 psychiatrists and 6 types of medication tended to beat the child out of you after a while. Amelia Pond in all aspects other than literally, was dead. Amy stood in her fractured place.

"How long?" The impersonator panicked, leaning as far forward as he possibly could with the restraints pulling him back.

Did the time really matter? was 5 minutes worse than 6 months? Was 6 months worse than 12 years?

"6 months." Amy shrugged, struggling to keep her breathing balanced. This day couldn't possibly get any worse. A potential relapse? A man dressed up as her childhood drawings? A reminder she would always be the one left behind?

"No! No, no, no! I cannot be six months late. I said 5 minutes, i promised!" His smile was forced, almost as if he had to convince himself. As if this betrayal was personally on his shoulders. "What happened to her? What happened to Amelia Pond!"

Amy had to turn back, fingers trembling as they clutched the walkie talkie strapped to her shoulder. She couldn't answer that question, not truthfully. Amelia Pond disappeared the second she waited too long in her garden. Rain or shine. Storm or heat wave. She sat there waiting. What happened to Amelia Pond? She was let down one too many times.

"Sarge it's me again. Hurry it up. This man knows something on Amelia Pond." Amy grasped her walkie talkie tightly as she stage whispered into the mic. Hopefully the stranger hadn't noticed her flushed skin or shaking legs. Hopefully he didn't care enough to comment.

"I need to speak to whoever lives in this house right now!" His change in tone shocked Amy enough to turn her back around. She watched as his face turned serious, gaze flickering between her and something behind her. This must be a scare tactic, he wants her to lose focus.

"I live here."

"But you're the police?"

"Yes and this is where I live. You got a problem with that?"

He stopped to think, clearly testing if what she said were true. Maybe he would know, he already had breached some sort of confidentiality laws to find out about her imaginary friend after all.

"How many rooms?" The false raggedy man asked. His focus now solely on her. Amy thought he might be stupid. Could he not count? You could see every door from where they stood in the corridor, why did she need to clarify?

"I'm sorry what?" She grumbled, hands slipping from her hips as she glanced across the corridor.

"On this floor. How many rooms are there on this floor? Count them for me."

"Why?"

"Because it will change your life."

Amy huffed as she dramatically swerved to look down the hall. She wasn't sure why she was listening to him, but something made her do it.

"Five. One, two, three, four, five." She waved her hand around to point at each door, proving she had counted every single one

"Six." He counteracted, expression void.

"What? Six?" Amy furrowed her eyebrows, spending a moment to recount. No. There were 5. There had always been 5.

"Look." She turned back to the stranger as he prompted her to check again.

"Look where?" Amy sighed. She had looked everywhere. There were five.

"exactly where you don't want to look. Where you never want to look, the corner of your eye. Look behind you."

Suddenly, there were six doors. Six.
Oh she was fucked.

•••

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