Fight For Freedom |4| The Ascension

Chapter One: The Eleventh Hour

McKenzie woke on the jump seat to hear a man's panicked voice yelping from a few metres away. She couldn't see anything when she opened her eyes, so she assumed the Doctor must have taken her visor off when he'd put her there. The funny thing was, she couldn't remember passing out...

The man yelped again, and she rolled her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked, standing up slowly. She felt a bit sick, but that was probably something to do with the way the TARDIS was jolting this way and that like a rollercoaster.

"Umm," the Doctor said, making her turn her head in his direction. "Would you be mad if I said 'hanging from the threshold'?"

She sighed, not even surprised. "Are you alright?"

"I mean, asides from the threat of impending impalation from Big Ben, yeah!"

Her eyes widened. "Oh God." She addressed the central console. "Could you please try and fly a little more smoothly so I can help our husband, darling?" The flight evened out and she smiled, cautiously feeling her way over to the doors and reaching down to pull the Doctor in.

"How do you get her to listen to you like that?" he complained, closing the doors.

She grinned. "Because I'm her favourite."

"You're not!"

"TARDIS?" The ship buzzed in the affirmative and McKenzie smiled smugly. "Ha! Oh, and do you have JENSEN? I can't see a thing over here."

"Here," the Doctor said, helping her put the visor back on. "Well, what do you think?" He gave a twirl.

She looked him up and down, pursing her lips. "It'll do."

"Hey!"

"She's my favourite, too," JENSEN piped up.

"Why're you all ganging up on me?" the Time Lord pouted, crossing his arms childishly.

McKenzie smiled, kissing his nose. "Relax, baby. You're gorgeous as ever." The TARDIS jolted again, resuming the turbulent flight they'd had before. "Okay, what's going on?"

"Ah," the Doctor bit his lip. "Ever so slightly, sort of... crashing?"

"What?!"

***

A young ginger girl knelt by her bed in a white nightgown and closed her eyes to say her prayers. "Dear Santa," she began, her Scottish accent strong. "Thank you for the dolls and pencils and the fish. It's Easter now, so I hope I didn't wake you, but honest, it is an emergency." She looked to her right furtively. "There's a crack in my wall. Aunt Sharon says it's just an ordinary crack, but I know it's not, because at night there's voices, so please, please, could you send someone to fix it? Or a policeman. Or a..." She broke off as she heard a strange mechanical sound outside, followed by a crash. "Back in a moment." She got up and went to the window, peering out. When she saw the words 'police public call box' she smiled. "Thank you, Santa."

***

The little girl ran down to the blue box outside to find it on its side, the doors opening outwards. She flinched as a grappling hook was flung out, catching on her old swing set. Soon after, a soaking wet man followed it, sitting on the edge of the box. "Could I have an apple? All I can think about, apples. I love apples. Maybe I'm having a craving? That's new. Never had cravings before."