Our Story

Chapter 5: Parking Brake

It was only four days later when the mobile phone in his pocket rang. Very soon after he had begun communicating with Christine via the mobile device he had started carrying it with him instead of leaving it on the console. Now, it was ringing—which it never did. She never called him first, it was always the other way around—it was their arrangement—she insisted he call her when he was available and "not off saving some planet."

"Hello, Christine!" the Doctor said cheerily as he walked along beside the shops in New New New York City. He stopped dead in his tracks when there was a long pause in which he heard sniffling on the other end of the phone. "Christine? What's wrong?"

He had already turned around and was quickly headed back to the TARDIS when she finally answered. "Doctor, I—I can't go with you this week. I—" she stopped speaking again as she broke down into a sob again.

Once again, the Doctor was stopped in his tracks. "Wha-?" He was gutted. His hearts broke. But he took a deep breath. Obviously she was upset about it too and maybe she just needed more time. "Oh. Well, that's okay then—maybe another time."

"No, Doctor—it's not—it's—" she started to explain, but the tears flowing too hard and too fast.

"What is it, Christine?" he quietly questioned as he started moving again. Whatever was going on, she was hurting, and he wasn't going to be hundreds of years in the future when his Christine needed comfort. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

"My—my dad. He's gone. He died," she wept openly, and he heard her sobs through the phone.

It was enough to move him faster. "Oh, Christine, love. I'll be there in just a few minutes." He didn't even realize he had used the affectionate reference, he was too distracted by the heartbreak he felt over her heartbreak. He heard the phone click on the other end and went into a full-out run towards the TARDIS.

-*-*-

When the TARDIS materialized in the back garden of Christine Madison's 2012 New York City home, he didn't even wait to be let into the back door. He knocked once, then opened the door. Finding it unlocked he assumed that perhaps she had known he would do so. As he entered, he spoke loudly, "Christine? Christine, I'm here!"

There was no response so he began quickly searching through the ground floor of the house, the kitchen, dining area, office—no signs of her except a half drunk cup of coffee. So he made his way to the stairwell and started up it, skipping several steps at a time. Rarely had he ever gone up these stairs, except when she had given him the full tour of the house, and when they had gone up to the rooftop balcony a few times. "Christine? It's the Doctor! I'm coming up stairs. Are you up here?" he said loud enough for her to hear in whatever room she might be in.

He listened carefully and finally heard a quiet voice, "Doctor?"

That was all the confirmation he needed. The bedroom—he took a few quick steps and was at her doorway. He tapped on the door, then slowly opened it. "Christine—I'm here."

As the door opened fully, he saw her sitting up on her bed, tissue box in hand, phone by her side. "Oh, Christine—" he said, sadly as he made his way to her side. He sat on the bed, one leg tucked up under him, close enough to be able to pull her into his embrace.

-*-*-

Hours later, the Doctor was now leaned against the headboard, his arm around Christine's shoulders, her head laying on his chest. After crying through the explanation of how she had found out about her father, he moved to this position and insisted she let herself cry as long as she needed to. Eventually her breathing slowed and he realized she had fallen asleep there, in his arms.