The Visitor

xiii. Help Is On Its Way

"Hello? Who is this? This is President Nixon. Who's calling?"

Annie peered around the TARDIS, keeping her book close to her chest. She had taken it from Rory's backpack in the meantime- waiting for the Doctor usually took awhile.

That joke in particular was a terrible one.

"How can she be so calm about this?" Amy said through her teeth, and it was clear that Annie was not supposed to hear.

Annie winced, glad that she was facing away from them. River had offered her right hand a few minutes ago, and the two of them leant against the console, listening to the conversation from the camera and microphone hidden in the doorframe of the TARDIS.

"What spaceman? Where are you phoning from? Where are you right now? Who are you?"

"Jefferson... Adams... Hamilton..."

River's hand tensed in Annie's smaller one. The fear was catching up to the both of them, now, their hearts beating in a quicker succession.

The Doctor may have trusted them, but it didn't mean that anything couldn't go wrong.

"Surely this is something the Bureau could handle, sir," Canton spoke.

Annie remembered the first time that she had seen The Impossible Astronaut. She had been fascinated with Canton and Nixon's American accents; they were so different from hers. Her aunt loved the United States' television, and watched NCIS, Glee, and Parenthood from her computer religiously. Annie would snuggle up in her aunt's bed, sometimes, to watch at night. Her aunt always fell asleep, the colors of the pixels dancing across her wrinkled face in the darkness.

Even thinking about her Aunt Margaret made her want to scream. Never, would Annie have regretted leaving her boring little life- but the guilt scorched through her like a fire.

Would Annie have wanted to say goodbye? It happened in an instant. She never had time to mourn.

Annie had followed the crack, albeit recklessly. She had reached out her hand subconsciously, knowing what would happen if she touched it.

The emotion welled up inside of the child, a crater so deep that it forced her to drop River's hand.

"I want my mum," Annie spoke softly, and she knew that this was no time to do this. It was no time to cry, but what was done was done.

Rory and Amy's heads snapped up from where they huddled by the screen. Annie made eye contact again, "I want my mum!"

Repeating it only made it worse.

Annie didn't have any parents. She didn't have a mother- she didn't have anyone. Anyone, save for Margaret in the first universe, which helped along her hysteria, though she thought it was incredibly selfish to think that she might have one in this strange Doctor Who world.

Rory took a cautious step forward, but Annie took a deep breath. It was time to save the Doctor, now.

Blinking a few times, and thanking her eyes for not wetting, Annie quieted. It was okay. And, if it wasn't- it was going to be, because help was on its way.