The Fandom of Doctors

Chapter 1: Doctor's Orders

Anger fumed within me as I gripped the neck of my guitar tightly, storming out the back door and into the yard. Raising parents was a difficult task, one that could hardly be managed. They never got the point of teenage humor, teenage entertainment. They didn't get the meaning of a silly prank. So what if I toilet papered the neighborhood and got caught. I got away from the police. How couldn't I? With all the Doctor Who I watched, I knew how to get myself out of just about any situation.

I sat down in the plush green grass outside, the wind blowing ever so slightly. Setting my guitar down on my lap, I began playing. The music emitting from the piece of wood flowed easily into my ears, soothing me almost instantaneously. I closed my eyes, enjoying the company of the music and the rush of the wind.

I sat like that, underneath my favorite tree, playing for well over an hour. A slight grin captured my face, replacing the previous anger I felt towards my parents. They could ground me from being with my friends all they wanted. I had a guitar, and I had my crazy fandom. Those things could occupy me for days. I tried hard not to be the type of girl to coop herself up inside lay on the couch all day, but it was hard. Something about Doctor Who captivated me almost as easily as the guitar.

I plucked at the strings aimlessly as my mind drifted to my favorite television show. Doctor Who. I started with the ninth doctor, and fell in love with the character immediately. I was always a fan of super heroes, but one who could save the earth from children in gas masks without killing a single one of them toped every hero out there. His only powers were his wit, his spaceship, and a screwdriver. Yet he so easily saved planets, species, and still had time to enjoy the nice things in life, such as love.

The classic episodes of Doctor Who were great, too. While less attractive, those doctors had the same goal in mind- to make everything better. To sacrifice things they loved for the good of the universe. Any creature who does that holds true power.

Another sound visited my ears with the guitar, but I kept my eyes closed, still plucking away. The sound grew louder and louder, and the wind picked up. I frowned, playing louder to combat the odd noise the wind seemed to carry. It sounded so familiar, yet so distant. I played louder and louder as the wind grew faster and faster. Finally, I recognized the noise. I gasped, stopping my playing instantly as my eyes shot open.

I almost laughed- almost. I had to be hallucinating. What I saw before me, and what I most definitely heard, did not make any sense at all. I watched, stuck in complete and utter awe, as a blue police box slowly made itself visible, carrying the noise the TARDIS makes while The Doctor leaves the parking break on. Finally, the wind stopped, and the box was fully visible.

My jaw had completely dropped. Standing before me was the box I had only dreamed of seeing, the box shown on the television. It couldn't be real. It just couldn't. And neither could the door opening slowly. Or the man peeking his head out. Nope. Definitely not real.

The man's blue eyes locked onto mine. He grinned. "Well hello there," he greeted, his beautiful accent ringing out. He didn't look like any Doctor I had seen before. He wasn't Matt Smith, or David Tennant. He had blond hair, with bangs that fell into his eyes. He wore a black leather jacket with a dark green, tight fitted shirt, and black skinny jeans that clung to his ankles. His navy shoes were high tops, and looked rather big next to the jeans.

"Doctor?" I asked, still sitting on the grass.

He frowned slightly. "You... you know who I am?"

I blinked, shaking my head, willing for the hallucination to disappear. To my dismay- or, delight, it didn't. "Uh, sort of."

He laughed heartily. "Stories about me drifting into America, eh?"

My eyebrows scrunched together. "Stories? You mean the television show?"