Fight or Flight ( Doctor Who Fanfiction )

Time of Angels

It was hard to tell how long we'd been gone, but it was long enough to have a sort of a routine each morning where we retrieved an outfit from the large chaotic closet placed between our rooms and staggered to the kitchen for food once dressed. The TARDIS seemed to understand our styles, and left us with fresh pieces in the wardrobe each day. Amy and I could easily recognize which side of the room was meant for who. Hers contained endless skirts, mine an endless selection of loose jeans.

For her, today's selection was a red jumper, converse, a short black skirt and tights. For me, a loose pair of jeans, a skintight black shirt with boning and tiny embroidered florals, and a filmy black windbreaker.

And now for all our preparation, our tour guide was dragging us through a museum and it felt like we'd been walking for hours.

"Wrong. Wrong. Bit right, mostly wrong," he narrated the exhibitions as we walked. "I love museums."

Amy and I gave each other a Look, as we often did in in his presence.

"Yeah, great," Amy drawled. "Can we go to a planet now? Big space ship, Churchill's bunker, you promised me a planet next."

"Amy, this isn't any old asteroid. It's the Delerium Archive, the final resting place of the headless monks. The biggest museum ever, running right down to the core."

"But it's not a planet," she fired back.

"The biggest museum ever," I chimed in, pretending to be very taken by a particular glass case, "and not a single giftshop or food court. It's pathetic."

"Oh, what do you need those for? There's plenty of entertainment here, just look around! Open your eyes to everything this place has to offer you! Take your curiosity off its leash and let it sprint!"

"Yeah, and even if that were possible, no part of me can sprint right now. I'm hungry."

"I'm a little peckish myself," Amy agreed. "We've been here for hours!"

"We haven't been here thirty minutes," he said defensively.

Amy groaned. "Who cares? You've got a time machine. What do you need museums for?"

"Wrong! Very wrong. Ooo, one of mine. Also one of mine."

"Oh, I see. It's how you keep score."

He slowed down over a box in a glass case, and folded his hands on top of it. I went to look out a nearby window and saw a rolling beach some ways down from this wing of the museum. Must be a mighty big asteroid if it could hold onto a fucking ocean.

Still, the cathedral-like architecture, the seaboard... it was all a little too familiar for my tastes.

"Oh great, an old box," Amy said.

"It's from one of the old starliners. A Home Box."

"What's a Home Box?" I asked, wandering back over. Not because I was interested, but because if he explained what it was out loud, maybe he would bore himself enough to leave. I should have known better.

"Like a black box on a plane, except it homes. Anything happens to the ship, the Home Box flies home with all the flight data."

"So?" Amy demanded, putting her chin on her hand boredly.

"The writing, the graffiti. Old High Gallifreyan. The lost language of the Time Lords." He looked between us like he expected us to be laid out in awe at this, but we were both just tired. "There were days, there were many days, these words could burn stars and raise up empires, and topple gods."

Amy rolled her eyes, growing bored: "What does it say? "

He seemed to lose a little bit of his zeal. "Hello, sweetie."