"You need to be careful, because you know the Doctor's wonderful and he's brilliant, but he's like fire. Stand too close and people get burned." - Martha Jones
- -
"Doctor!" Desiree called, the cold hands of the android dragging her backwards, she screamed and kicked. The Doctor stood almost 40 feet away, staring at her, eyes wide. Metal hands held him back as well and he didn't bother struggling. His shaved head glinted the light and the tear on his cheek reflected it back into her eye. It was the last thing she saw.
Waking with a start, Desiree rolled over in her bed, pulling the covers above her head. She shook violently and breathed heavily, attempting to calm herself down. A shiver trickled down her spine and it stabbed at her nerves, making her arm spasm. The sweat clinging to her back soaked through her t-shirt and onto the bed sheet.
She pulled the sheet away and jumped out, her feet hitting the cold floor and her eyes squeezed shut. She slowly stood and looked around, her head pounding. Crossing to her dresser, she pulled out a pair of pants. Her cream colored bedroom was bright and cold, the starkness of the room setting her off. She pulled the pants over her pajama shorts, her t-shirt was quickly replaced with a sports bra and a hoodie.
Her feet padded out of her room and into her kitchen, which was just as cold but at least had some color. Three years she'd been having these dreams, every time she woke up covered in sweat, every time it ended the same way, with her being dragged away by a psycho robot with plans of intense villainy.
Anymore it was becoming hard to actually go to sleep at night, she was too afraid of the nightmares and what psychological problem the doctors would conjure up because of them, but she knew the real reason for them and it wasn't "being haunted by a vast imagination and a good dose of paranoia". It was being haunted by the vast universe and a good dose of time traveling.
Four and a half years ago she'd met a man called the Doctor. Upon inspection, one would guess he was about 48 and had abnormally large ears, but she knew better. As she made a pot of coffee, she ran over what she knew of him in her mind. He was an alien, a Timelord to be specific, he traveled time and space in a blue box and he had the disposition of a sweet man, was about 12 on the inside and 896 on the outside.
In all of her 27 years of life, never had Desiree had any problems with the idea of aliens, and now that she'd seen confirmation that aliens existed, she was left with memories of being attacked by aliens on multiple occasions. Mental and physical scars from her travels, she'd claimed that she'd burned her elbow as a child at a campfire, when in reality she'd caught the wrong end of a double-finned brown sharks sting, and yes those were real. But not on Earth, they're only native to Jupiter.
Hitting the on button on the coffee pot and drifting towards the living room, that was just as colorless as her bedroom. She stopped at the fish tank that resided in between the rooms, she stared down at the white fish that swam inside. The only color in the tank aside from grey was a blue light that shone down on the fish.
A knock at the door drew her over to it, she opened it slowly and looked out to see the paperman walking away, waving back at her. She nodded some at him and collected her newspaper, which was waterstained from the rainy journey from the post office to her door. She retreated inside and closed the door firmly.
She set the paper down on the coffee table next to the couch and sat down. She grabbed up the telly remote and turned on the news. The usual dull reporter appeared, no color to her eyes or hair or clothes. She held a stack of papers in her hands and looked down at them, before back up at the camera. No emotion in her voice as she spoke, "There was a slight change in temperature today, but the winds kept it at the normal cool. So be sure to not put your jackets away yet. Moving onto bigger things, there was an accident down on 6th and Miller street, but upon further investigation, the police think maybe it wasn't an acci-"
