So, this is my first attempt writing an original story for Doctor Who. Thank you to girlwhowaited1110 for helping me gain some ideas for this!
***
"How big is this place?" Astrid gushed as she looked around the library.
Jessie laughed from where she was curled up on the couch, her hair still slightly damp but returning to that curl the Doctor loved. "It's pretty big," she answered. "Not quite sure how big." She frowned. "But I couldn't find the pool when I took a look around again . . . " She looked around. "Wonder where it went off to."
"Who knows?" the Doctor's voice asked as he walked in, wrapping his arms around Jessie's torso as he leaned over her shoulder. "It's fun not knowing." He frowned. "What're you reading?"
"Dickens is a favorite, and so's Christie, but I don't know." Jessie showed him the cover. "I like him, too."
"Edgar Allan Poe!" the Doctor cheered with a grin, straightening up to walk around the couch. "Love that man! You know, he inspired Sherlock Holmes, right?"
"That detective fellow, yes?" Astrid asked as Jessie grinned and flipped through the pages.
"Exactly!" the Doctor pointed at her. "One of the best authors recognized. Oh, there's The Tell-Tale Heart, The Fall of the House of Usher - "
"That last one creeped me out," Jessie piped up before finding something on one page that made her eyes widen. What the hell?
"And then there was The Cask of Amontillado - "
"And The Oval Portrait," Jessie said shakily. "And the woman in the portrait looks remarkably familiar."
"Really?" the Doctor asked, walking around. "Who does it - " He faltered.
"What is it?" Astrid asked, walking around as well.
Jessie swallowed, holding up the book to reveal that the woman in the portrait . . . looked like her. "Me," she said hoarsely. "That looks exactly like me!"
"How could she look like you?" Astrid wondered.
"This box does time travel," the Doctor said, narrowing his eyes. "But we have never met Poe in our lives."
Jessie looked up at him. "Should we?" she asked.
The Doctor scowled. "I don't know if this is a good idea . . . "
"The past is usually good for companions instead of the future," Jessie pointed out. "Come on, please?"
The Doctor sighed. "Oh, fine," he grumbled, walking out the door. "Edgar Allan Poe, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1840."
Jessie grinned, jumping up. Dickens had been amazing. Shakespeare had been given the idea for Hamlet. Now, who knew what they would be getting into this time!
***
When they stepped out of the TARIS in 1840, they stepped out to find themselves behind a riot.
Jessie knitted her eyebrows. "What's going on over there?" she asked, trying to stand on her toes to look.
"I don't know," the Doctor replied, narrowing his eyes. "1840s . . . not a good time period for Philadelphia."
"No, it isn't," Jessie recalled. "Riots, yeah?"
"Exactly," the Doctor nodded. "Let's just get out of the way."
Jessie nodded and followed him around before stopping when she saw Astrid hadn't followed. "Astrid?" she called.
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Ending of the Hours (Book Four of the Bad Wolf Chronicles)
FanfictionThe Master is dead. The Year That Never Was is just that. The Year That Never Was. Martha is gone, and so is Jack, and the Doctor and Jessie are still alive. But they're not out of the woods yet. As they begin their married life, they're led back to...
