The Time of Change

Unfamiliar but Comfortable

After I check back into reality, completely shaken but very curious, he silently leads me outside. The torrent of rain has stopped, the storm already folding in on itself like a child after a temper-tantrum. We walk side-by-side a few steps with me staring up at the diluted blue sky before he speeds up and heads toward something nearby. We've made our way to a small park behind the hustle of the town square, and he's presently standing proudly beside the stone wall of a flower bed, which has been shaded from rain by an oak tree that guards it from behind. When I reach him again, he throws himself down on the pale yellow rock and pats the space next to him, gesturing for me to sit. I do, and much closer than I intended, but it doesn't seem to bother him. A beat passes before I start with my questions again.

"So, Doctor," I say, his name unfamiliar but comfortable in my mouth, "where are you actually from? And if you say Cleveland, I'm leaving."

He laughs, "No, not Cleveland, I'm afraid. I'm from—well, it's kind of a long story."

"I've got nothing but time... and apparently so do you."

Glancing at me sideways, he grins. "Those jokes aren't gonna stop coming now, are they?" I shake my head no with a smile. He gives a sigh that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle and rubs the back of his neck, peeling the still-wet collar off his skin. "Oh, alright. Well, I'm from a planet called Gallifrey. It was called Gallifrey, rather. It's gone now: destroyed in the Time War between us—the Timelords—and the daleks. They're evil robots whose only desire in life is to become the dominant species by exterminating everything else."

"... So, you're a Timelord?" I ask tentatively.

"Yes," he says, and there's a smile on his face.

I nod like I understand fully, even though I'm only about a quarter sure that I'm even hearing things correctly. "What makes a Timelord... um, I don't know, a Timelord?" I squint down at my knees, breaking eye contact with him as an embarrassed blush floods my cheeks. Being articulate was never a strong suit of mine. "What I mean is, you look very human. What makes you different?"

The Doctor doesn't miss a beat. "We have a binary circulatory system," he tells me.

My stomach drops. "You... have two hearts?" I repeat. Again he looks impressed and nods. I think he can tell that I'm having trouble processing this because he takes my hand and presses it to the left side of his chest, where every human's heart is. I feel a steady thump there. Then he slowly moves my hand to the right side of his chest, dragging it along the fabric so that my fingers catch on the buttons. I blush, my eyes on my hand to avoid looking at his face. Beneath my palm, I sense another set of beating, totally separate and out of time with the other.

Disbelief gives way to awe. "That's amazing," I breathe. He smiles a little and lets my hand go with some reluctance. I see his fingers twitch minutely to keep their hold on my own, but he feigns like it doesn't happen. Clasping my hands awkwardly in my lap, I ask, "So you aren't human at all, huh?"

"Is that scary?"

"No." With a light chuckle he drops his gaze from mine. "Is there anything else I need to know about you?"

His eyes flicker my way, and he says abruptly, "I'm not eighteen."

I inhale, not necessarily out of surprise but out of apprehension. "Alright," I begin coolly, levelly. "Then h-how old are you?"

He pauses for a really long time, and I hold my breath without realizing what I'm doing. But when I try to let out the air, my lungs don't obey my head. I feel like I've been trapped in a Twilight movie with the outlandishness of this interaction, but every few seconds, the pressure of his leg against mine reminds me that this is real. "I'm a bit older than I look, mind you," he tells me finally. I nod without a word, and he sighs.