Revitalization

The Eleventh Hour

A/N: This is only the first chapter, no others will be posted on this site. I only made this account because another wattpad user had started to post my stories without my permission. If you would like to read the rest of the completed story, please see the external link ;)

~8~ is a scene break

~/~\~ is a flashback (three per story)

'italics' is the Doctor/Professor speaking telepathically.

This is the 11th incarnation of the Professor, a hazel (brownish-green, with flecks of lighter green) eyed woman with strawberry blonde, wavy hair and cheekbones that are slightly pronounced when she smiles. A more detailed description of her attire will be provided near the end of this chapter, as she is still dressed in her previous incarnation's clothing which will soon be in tatters due to regeneration and a crashing TARDIS.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who...if I did there would be continuous filming and the Series would would just keep showing with no gaps spanning months in between...

~8~

The Eleventh Hour

The TARDIS was flying out of control over London on a crash course somewhere, the console sparking, the room in flames, and the Doctor hanging out of the doors by his hands, the sonic in his mouth, as the Professor tried to help him in.

He turned, looking back to see the top of Big Ben coming towards him.

"Pilot her!" he shouted up at the Professor, who ran back to the console, "Up! UP!"

She quickly pulled a lever and the console sparked again, but the TARDIS flew up, narrowly missing the top of the tower.

She ran back over to him, helping to pull him into the TARDIS, shutting the doors behind him as they fell against them with a sigh, wide smiles on their faces. The ship lurched and spun out of control, throwing them off the doors and to the floor, the Professor half landing on top of the Doctor, both laughing before she pushed herself up, pulling the Doctor up with her and over to the console.

~8~

The TARDIS crash landed, on her side, on top of a shed, in the backyard of a small house, the sound of splashing and glass breaking echoing into the night. The doors popped open, releasing steam and smoke from within, when a grappling hook was thrown out of it, latching on to something. A moment later the Professor pulled herself up, soaking wet, her clothes torn and half scorched, to see a young ginger girl looking up at her.

She laughed and perched herself on the side of the box, "Oi! Use your muscles!" she called down into the box.

"Not all of us went through basic training you know!" the Doctor shouted back up at her before he popped over the edge as well. He looked over, spotting the girl and smiled, "Can I have an apple? All I can think about, apples. I love apples," he looked at the Professor, "Maybe I'm having a craving. That's new, never had cravings before," he worked himself onto the side of the TARDIS, straddling it as he looked back down, "Whoa! Look at that!"

"Are you ok?" the girl asked them, Scottish if her accent was anything to go by.

He turned, putting both legs over the side to face her, "Just had a fall."

"All the way down there," the Professor nodded down to the TARDIS, "Right to the library."

"Hell of a climb back up."

"You're soaking wet," the girl frowned.

"We were in the swimming pool," the Professor defended.

"You said you were in the library."

"So was the swimming pool," the Doctor laughed.

"Are you policemen?"