Help Me, Doctor

Chapter 1

Her eyes glowed a pale yellow colour, yellow mist floating out of the corner. "Help me," she whispered, her voice layering over itself. Her long black hair floated up around her.

A man and a women lay dead on the ground in front of her, a small green car smashed into a tree. The snow was covered in crimson blood. The girl's face was splattered in blood, her shirt torn and her hat in her bloodied hand. Her wrist was twisted at an awkward angle. "Please help me."

Elliot Honing was a mostly normal girl. She was quiet, not many friends. She was an American living in a small basement apartment on her own in London. Her parents had died long ago, leaving her on her own. She was sent around foster homes until she was left in London. After almost getting hit with a sheet of ice, Elliot meets a man in a tan coat, who keeps reappearing.

After saving her life, Elliot decides she must return the favour. The only way is to travel with him. As the pair of them travel across the universe, the doctor slowly pulls her out of her shell. And she shows him what's inside her head.

She shows the whole universe.

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The TARDIS shook violently, whirring and hissing. The pumps in the green tube in the center moved up and down, much faster than usual. The Doctor grabbed onto the control panel, hitting buttons and pulling levers. His eyebrows were knit together in concentration as he tried to stay up on his converse-clad feet.

Two minutes previous, he'd just been taking off from the year 3062. He wasn't sure why he was there. He sort of just landed there. So, thinking nothing of it, he left. Then- BOOM!- the TARDIS went crazy. It spin and shook and screamed at him.

A loud crash sounded and he knew he'd hit the ground. He fell back into the chair mounted to the floor. The lights went off, the large ship illuminated by nothing but the faint glow of the center tube.

The Doctor looked around, slowly standing up. The pumped still moved up and down, though very slowly now.

"Help me."

A voice filled the silence, a single voice with an American accent, seeming to be layered with the same voice, a semitone higher.

"Help me, Doctor."

"What? What is it?" He looked around, feeling up the control panel for the emergency lights.

"The snow, Doctor. Help me, the snow, Doctor. Why isn't it cold? Why is the snow not cold? Help me. Please. Help me. The snow. Hurry, Doctor, help me, please. The snow isn't cold."

The lights flicked back on and the pumps stopped moving. There was a spark and then the control panel began smoking.

"No! Agh!" The Doctor hit the panel in frustration. He coughed, waving away the smoke. "I just fixed that too..." He sighed.

Adjusting his coat and tie, the Doctor left the smoking TARDIS.

The air was icy and the ground was covered in snow. His breath came out in small puffs of air. He held out a hand. A snowflake landed in his palm, dissolving almost immediately. It was lukewarm.

==========

Elliot Honing walked down the sidewalk. The air was icy and the ground was covered in snow. The sidewalks were coated in a layer of ice, which made walking quite nerve wracking.

She wore a long blue scarf around her neck and a gray knit slouch hat atop her head of long black hair. She also wore a pale gray peacoat, buttoned all the way up. Her legs were covered by thick black pantyhose, a short black skirt and white knit leg warmers. A pair of simple black frames sat on her flushed nose.

Her feet her wet and she was shivering. Her black converse were wet to begin with, not to mention not built for snow. But she managed, just like she did everyday.

Elliot took whatever life threw her way. Wet shoes? Fine. Low paying job? She'd deal. Terrible land lord? All good. Flooded house? No problem.

She sighed. She'd lived in many places throughout her life, and this was the worst. She loved London, but her house was awful. She lived in an unfinished basement on her own, struggling to pay for everything with such a low paying job. She worked as a cashier, but only part-time. She didn't go to school. No money.

She was heading off to an interview for a new job, hopefully something fulltime. She couldn't afford a car, or a taxi, or even a bike, so she had to walk. Which normally wasn't a problem. London typically never got very cold. 5 degrees Celsius at the very coldest. Snow was pretty much out of the question. Especially in August.

But, she managed, as she always did. After her parents died, she was on her own. Sure she was quiet and had no friends. She didn't mind, as long as she got through each and every day.

"Excuse me."

Elliot turned, pulling her scarf up over her chin. She was faced with a man. He was wearing a long tan trench coat over a brown pinstripe suit. His brown hair was styled forward. He wore a pair of white converse on his feet. His hands were in his coat pockets, probably to protect them from the bitter cold.

"What's the date today?" He asked in an English accent, which made sense, given the setting.

"The thirteenth of August, sir," Elliot replied, adjusting her glasses with a blue gloved hand. She spoke with an American, given that she was from New York. Not New York City, but somewhere in Buffalo.

"Right, thanks," he said nodding. There was a look on his face that the dark haired girl couldn't quite read. Like, it sort of looked like he was trying to remember something, but he wasn't sure what. "Where might I find the nearest bistro? There's one near here right? I'm sure I remember one around here somewhere..."

She nodded. "I can, uh, I can't show you, I'm going to walk right by it anyway."

The man smiled wide. "Brilliant!" He walked up beside her. He was almost a whole head taller than she was, so she had to tilt her head to look at him.

She began walking again, the man beside her. "So, where are you off to? Oh, and I'm the Doctor by the way." He smiled again.

"Elliot Honing," she replied, looking him over. He was definitely good looking, but far too old for her. He was older than twenty for sure, but he couldn't be any older than 35.

"Oh, Elliot, that's a brilliant name!"

Elliot blushed, pulling her scarf up to her nose. She wasn't very good at taking compliments. She tended to just brush them off. "I'm going to a job interview," she said quietly, answering his previous question.

"Job interview?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. "Why do you need a job? Shouldn't you be in school? What are you, 14? 15?"

She pulled her scarf up again. "I'm 15. And it's none of your business." Elliot didn't want people involved with her life. She didn't want pity, or anyone's charity. She could do it on her own, she knew she could.

"Well, alright, suit yourself." He stopped, placing his hand on the handle of a door. It was the bistro. Elliot opened her mouth to ask how he knew it was there but he'd already slipped inside.

'What a strange man...'