Travel (Doctor Who)

Chapter Eight

I walk up and down the flights of stairs, tossing things to myself.

"Okay, so you're in an alternate world where The Doctor exists, but no one knows about him. Your friends don't fangirl with you anymore, and when London transported you here, you brought Weeping Angels!" I yell to myself, feeling like Autumn.

Where was Autumn?

She wore the jem, same as me. Maybe she wasn't carried here. Or she didn't sleep yet. Was sleeping the way in? And if it was, was it the way out?

I shake my head, and repeat a sentence over and over again.

"The Doctor Is Not Real. The Doctor Is Not Real."

I sprint up and down the stairs, continuously saying the say sentence.

"No matter how many times you say it, I'm real."

I turn in shock to face a man wearing black shoes and suspenders, and of course, the famous bow tie, sitting on the staircase.

"How much of that did you hear?" I slowly whisper, afraid of the answer.

He jumps up and walks over to me, cheerfully as always.

"Since you said 'Okay'. Really juicy stuff by the way."

I push him playfully. "You are just too much."

He shrugs, not going against it. "Anyways, what did you say about-"

I cut him off, shaking my head. "Forget it. Seriously. Don't talk about it."

"But-"

I grab his shoulders and shake him. "No!"

He grins and I roll my eyes.

"You're impossible." I tell him, and he smirks.

"And You're a mystery."

I step up a stair, towering over him.

"Just waiting to be solved."

He steps up two stairs, and I know this isn't a game anymore. This is competition.

"So why are you so hard to find out?"

I step up another staircase.

"Isn't that the point of a mystery?"

He stops for a second, thinking about how to answer, and I know I've defeated him, so I smirk, and step down the stairs, my shoes clicking, making an echo in the empty hallway.

"Wait up!" I hear The Doctor's preppy voice echo, and I turn expecting to see his happy smile, and his bright eyes, but that's not what I see.

I see a boy, about my age, his face completely still, just staring at me. He's wearing all black, and a tattoo on his shoulder. Like, two small, thin lines. And under that is the word REACHED in capital letters.
"Can I help you?" I ask him, and he whispers five words.

"Give them what they want."

Before I get to ask him who and what, The Doctor runs through him, and he turns into air.

"How do you run so fast?"

I shrug. "Another mystery."

He smiles, and the boy pops into my mind, wearing dark clothing, his blonde messy hair the only thing standing out.

As we walk to the painting section, where is which everyone is currently at, I see a shadow walking to a room.

"Doctor?" I ask, and he turns to face me.

"Yes?"

I take a deep breath before answering.

"One, follow me. Two, where's the TARDIS?"

I run, trying to follow the shadowy figure that is walking quickly somewhere, as The Doctor follows.

"The TARDIS, about that. It's been acting up all day. I keep traveling in this planet in this time period, but I don't have the slightest clue why. And, sadly, it's in the statue room, hidden under a gray tarp."

I nod, and finally catch a feature of the boy. Blonde hair. Once I'm finally in conversation distance, I tap his shoulder, and he turns around holding a cigarette and lighter.

"What's your problem?!" He says, trying to hide the junk he has in his hands, and I shake my head.

"Sorry," I start, following as he walks to a room with a label imprinted janitor. "I just thought you might want to be with the group."

"What, you gonna go tell on me? Listen I just wanna light one up. Buzz off."

I back away, and feel strangely odd as he touches the door handle.

"Anyways," He continues, pulling a spray paint bottle from his bookbag. "I heard their was a decoy statue in here, and I wanted to tear it up."

That's when I realize he was wearing all black.

"What did it look like?" I ask, my words themselves trembling.

"Eh, angel or something. Anyways, if your not gonna join, I suggest you ditch."

I back away, the air in the room thin.

"Don't go in." I whisper, my eyes wide.

He scoffs. "It looks like you've seen a ghost. Anyways, the angel is supposed to look friendly. At least until I'm done with it." He takes off his hipster glasses, and wiped the lens.

And before I can stop him, he goes in, leaving the door wide open.

"Hey, they were wrong! It looks wicked! Set for a horror movie or something. Woh, my glasses are fogging up. Wierd. Hey, pass me my wipe from my bookbag, first pocket while I take these off. Can't see without 'em."

I had a feeling he wasn't going to need that wipe.

Why?

Because that was the last thing I heard from him before the door slammed shut, causing a small current.

And he blinked.