Hurricane

One

There wasn't anything worse than the banging in her head. It was playing non-stop, everyday, twenty four/seven, three hundred and sixty five days a year. She couldn't get to sleep, she couldn't tune it out, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her. She had it since she was twelve and every time she went to her paediatrician's office, they said it was just something to do with puberty.

Olive Alastair was twenty one years old and she still heard the banging in her head. It plagued her, dragged her down. Of course she wanted to have friends, of course she wanted to date, of course she wanted to do things. The only thing she could possibly think of doing was to run. She hoped she could outrun her problems even though she knew she couldn't.

Olive decided to take a walk down the street in her hometown of Salem. Coffee shops, medical centres, and tours littered the corners. Ghost tours and other buses were filling up with tourists- it was just an average day. The Witch House was probably crawling with guests from out of town, the House of Seven Gables was probably packed. Snow started to fall, the wind picked up and there was a screeching sound that sounded way more welcoming than the banging in her head.
No-one turned their head to look and Olive decided to run across the street. There was a bright blue phone box and the head lamp was turned on. There was no reason to call the police, she was safe. Plus, the phone box covered her from the oncoming storm and she didn't have a great jacket for the snow. Suddenly, the phone box opened and out stepped a man with a head of curly grey hair.

"This is Salem." He was Scottish and alone and he had just stepped out of a police box. Hadn't it just appeared? Olive was more enthralled than confused. Was he her hero? Or were her meds just acting up again?

"It's pretty boring, right?" Olive decided to speak up, gesturing to the crowded streets of Salem. "Although, you are talking to yourself. We need a little less mental around here."

"Who are you?" He asked, his furry eyebrows lifted up with a wave of emotions. Almost as though he was concerned for her. Could he know?

"I'm Olive Alastair."

"I'm the Doctor."

Olive outstretched her hand but, he did not shake it. She thought about asking him if he could treat her but, it was a crazy idea.

"Do you need help getting around? I know the best places to eat here."

"I'm not an old man!" The Doctor snapped, Olive could see the sadness in his eyes. Obviously he wasn't human, there were more years in his grimace than he let on.

"I've been here years and years before you even know. I was here the first they announced Salem was a town. I caused the Witch Trials- although, in all fairness they were witches. I know the best places to eat here."

Olive only barely listened. The banging was getting too loud. Was the Doctor dangerous? Was that the reason she felt her head was going to implode?

"You are an actual Doctor, though? There's a banging in my head. It's been there since I was twelve."

"A- What?"

"The other doctors thought it had to with my pubescent growth? I'm twenty one, now. I swear they don't know-"

She was whisked away into the Blue Box and dragged through many rooms. Finally, she was brought into a library where she was sat down and somehow magically fetched tea. The alien (?) was looking up and down the library's shelves, frantically paging through books.

"Look, I don't mean to sound rude. Honest. But, where the hell am I?"  Olive asked bitterly. She almost choked on the hot tea, and spilled half of it on her lap. She wasn't in the best of moods.

"TARDIS. Stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

"You're NASA?"

"I'm Gallifreyan."

Olive groaned and put her tea out on the table next to her. He was aggravating, acting like knew everything.

"We're in space?"

"No. We're in Salem, Massachusetts. Don't ask stupid questions."

"Why did you bring me in here? Is this a space ship?"

"I said, don't ask stupid questions. You have a headache, right? Wrong. Somehow that headache is more like the Master's working. How old are you? Twenty two?" The Doctor took three of the biggest books Olive had ever seen in life and decided to bring them off the shelves. It was an equation for disaster.

"Let me help." Olive got up from the velvet arm chair and carried two of the books they were easily fifty pounds each.

"No, really. Sit down, you could get killed." The Doctor insisted.

"Hasn't stopped me yet. You one the other hand, you look like you could drop dead at any moment."

"Believe me, I'll be here longer than you expect."

There was an awkward silence as Olive registered what the Doctor had just said.

Olive remembered a time when her aunt's close friend came to town. She had told Olive a myth about the time lords from Gallifrey and how there was one person- a Doctor who made a decision to kill the population. With that lovely story, somehow, chaos ran rampant wherever Olive went. Was she the reason to the banging in her head? 

"You're an alien? From Gallifrey? Are you a timelord?"

"Precisely. How'd you come across this information?" The Doctor asked, concern written on his face. Suddenly, the screeching sound Olive had heard earlier was sounded. Another sound, a deep hollow one was heard and The Doctor ran out the library. Olive decided to follow him.

"I heard it from this aunt on my mother's side, her name was Missy. She told me all about the time lords- 'said it was going to be important someday."

The Doctor came running back and suddenly lurched in pain. Olive knelt down to help him but was shooed away.

"Your. Aunt. Was. Not. Your. Aunt." He gasped breathing for air.

"Well, yeah. She didn't look like any of us. She barely knew how to cook us dinner."

"Your. Aunt. Was. A. Timelord."

And suddenly, there was a bright light. The Doctor changed into another man. He was tall and handsome, with thick chocolate hair and sea green eyes. It seemed as though he was a catalyst, the same man with a different  face.

"You are a timelady ."