Jessica Bennett had a thing about rainy days. Although the sky looked sad and the world looked dreary, her mood was the complete opposite. In fact, she felt quite comforted.
But that day was not a day to smile at the rain. She'd had enough of life - school, her mother, her lack of friends - and she needed something fictional to absorb.
She contemplated reading a book, but her small library was already read over more than ten times; she didn't feel like watching a movie, and she wasn't exactly in the mood to watch gruesome things like Supernatural or Hannibal. So, she settled with her favorite: Doctor Who.
Clunk, clunk, clunk. The sound of her shoes echoed through the wooden stairs of her house and emitted all around her in a sense of drowsiness. She ran a hand through her sopping wet hair and gave a small huff. Yes, today was definitely not a day to smile at the rain.
She trudged up to her bedroom and was welcomed by her TV and her oh-so-comfortable messy bed. Before she pounced, however, she grabbed her blue-and-silver sonic screwdriver, whisked past her battery-operated Dalek (which was motion-activated and screamed "EXTER-MINATE!" when she walked by), and finally fiddled with her TARDIS - which wasn't life-sized, sadly - momentarily.
She dropped her bag in a growing pile of disarray clothes and shoes near the foot of her bed, and turned on her TV. To her surprise, the most beautiful sound blared through the house (but she quickly turned it down, as she was afraid she might destroy her eardrums): the sound of the TARDIS ripping through time and space. But, as the show started, and Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper chatted on-screen, a fainter noise played from what sounded like outside.
Jess found this rather odd, as she'd never heard that particular sound anywhere in the small town that she lived in. It could have been a car or a band, but she threw on her faded Converse and her unloved rain jacket anyway and hurried outside.
At first, she saw nothing. But then - in the distance, way beyond where she usually ventured (which was only to the back porch) - she saw a flicker of light, and the noise stopped.
As quickly as she could manage, she rushed past her small backyard and ventured into the strip of forest that her family owned, but still, saw nothing.
She was about to give up and say it wasn't important, but a small voice in her head (or maybe it was her gut) was telling her to keep walking. And although her feet were getting wet and her hair was dripping and it was the middle of winter when it should have been snowing, she did. So, as a last resort, she walked further and further, past the comfort of her backyard and the outdoors-y-ness of the wood, and arrived at a small clearing that she remembered from her childhood.
Although she couldn't see much with the rain in her eyes, Jess almost fainted with exhilaration. There was a tall man in a tweed jacket with sewn-on patches on his elbows pacing back and forth, an angry aura emitting from him. But not just any man, Jess knew that hair, and that coat, and those shoes.
"Uh, excuse me," Jess stuttered, closer now, as this man surely couldn't be in her presence.
"Oh, uh, hello!" he said, completely astonished that he might find a human in a world full of humans. "Hm, I know this is going to sound a bit weird, but where am I?" He had a British accent, which was extremely uncommon in her area.
Her hands instantly felt clammy. Her throat tightened, and her heart was beating faster than usual when she saw this man's face.
"You - you're - you - no! That can't be! Why would you be here? Wouldn't you be - um - oh, I dunno, filming or - or something?" Jess couldn't believe this was happening. This man, one of her most favorite people of all time, couldn't - just couldn't - be here. It was impossible. Absolutely impossible.
"Filming? I don't-" the man began.
"Oh! It's pouring," she said, cutting him off. "Would you like to come inside? I could make you coffee - oh wait, you're British, nevermind - do you want tea?"
The man looked confused for a moment, but then smiled. "I'd love some tea."
The two - soaked with rain - entered the house to which she made them both a cup of tea. Jess stood over the counter and gripped the edge tight, her heart pumping and her breath quickening.
"Is that a sonic screwdriver?" the man questioned, picking up the toy Jess had forgotten as she ran outside.
"Oh, uh, yeah," she replied, slightly embarrassed. She walked back over to him. "My mum got it for me a few years ago; big fan and all." She blushed, and handed the warm cup to the man. "Got a few other things up in my room. Dalek and everything."
The man jumped from his seat. "Dalek? What?" He took out his own sonic screwdriver - a prop, Jess assumed - and pointed it towards the ceiling.
"It's a toy. Completely battery-operated and the size of this mug. The closest thing it does to exterminating is screaming the word whenever you walk past it." The man cocked an eyebrow and sat down.
"I'm guessing I'm in America, am I right? I'm not exactly fond of America. I mean, whenever I'm here I get a gun pointed at my face. I don't suppose you're gonna point a gun at my face, are you?" The man smiled, and Jess could have squealed (although she wondered why he'd be threatened by guns in America) over that stupid goofy smile that she loved so much.
"Geez, you must have been to a crazy party or something. I mean, how much alcohol does it take to make someone forget where they are? And it's December the twenty-second, two-thousand thirteen, in case you forgot that too."
"Who are you?" he asked, which made Jess want to melt. "You know what a Dalek is - not that you couldn't, as they invaded before - you have a sonic screwdriver, you seem to know who I am; I mean, you're not running off or anything from a strange man with a bowtie who just randomly appears at your house. Who are you?"
"Well, I'm Jessica Bennett, but I go by Jess, I watch your television show, and I'm a fan. Nothing special. Why? Do you not remember anything? And did you say invasion? And why were you in my backyard, anyway?"
"Television show? What? I don't have a television show!"
"Don't be stupid," Jess said with much effort, "I watch it all the time. In fact, it's on in my room right now."
Jess brought the man up to her room, in which he marveled over her merchandise.
"But, that's me! And the me before me! What! And that's a Dalek! And a Cyberman! And - is that a picture of - oh gosh! This can't be. It's not possible!" He walked around the room, checking everything out - which Jess found quite baffling, because he had to pose for most of her things after all. But then he turned to the TV, and his jaw dropped.
"No, no, no! But, I remember this! From my own eyes! It seems a bit exaggerated, but how is this possible! Unless ..." he turned towards Jess.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Then what's my name?"
Jess snuck a glance at his beautiful, intricate eyes and muttered, "Matt. Your name is Mattew Robert Smith and you play the eleventh regeneration of the Doctor in a British science-fiction television series called Doctor Who."
He smiled. Not a happy smile, but that smile he got when he knew what was happening. "I'm not him. And maybe you knew that, because how could he possibly be here, in America, when he would be doing anything, anything else anywhere else? Because I'm not him." He grinned. "Hello, I'm the Doctor. Nice to meet you," he said, playfully extending his hand.
Jess's eyes widened in astonishment, and she felt as if she could throw up with all of the somersaults her stomach was doing.
"No! No, that's not possible! He's a fictional character! You should know, you play the damn guy!" Jess couldn't believe it. Not for a second. This must have been some kind of trick.
"Listen - wait, did you say two-thousand thirteen? Last time I was on Earth, it was two-thousand and eleven."
"What are you talking about, last time I was on Earth. This is sick. Why is this happening to me?" Jess threw her hands up in frustration. "You - of all people - the man I've idolized since, like, well, a while! This is sick!"
"Jess, you've got to listen. What can I do to make you believe me?" She shook her head stubbornly, crossing her arms.
He gave her those big, beautiful eyes, which made her insides turn to mush.
Jess - although still fuming - cautiously brought her hand over to the man's chest, right below his burgundy bowtie.
Over on his left side, there was a steady beat. And on his right, another rhythm, the two hearts syncing together in a drum-like song.
"Oh my God. It's real. It's all real. Damn, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that," she whispered, as she brought her head down to listen. "Just ... beautiful."
"Jess," he said, holding her head in his hands, "I'm a long way away from home, and I'm going to need your help getting back."