Misc. Stories

Doctor Who - The Doctor's Sister - Chapter 1

Only character I own is Ninalynne and Rye, and all other characters belong to the creators of Doctor Who. This is probably my longest story here. 

A girl appeared on a London street. She hadn't been there a second ago. None of the passersby noticed her sudden appearance, or if they did, they did not care. The girl had straight brown hair that fell to the middle of her back. She wore simple clothes: a plain white T-shirt, a pair of black leggings, and a grey-plaid flannel with the buttons undone. She looked young. No older than thirteen.

No one noticed the unremarkable girl with her eyes scrunched against a headache. No one paid attention as she walked away from that spot, a hand against her head. No one cared about her, until she tripped. Then a girl, the same age as her, noticed the brunette. The new girl had black hair held up in a braid, and wore a band t-shirt with jeans.

"Are you okay?" the second girl asked the first.

"Yeah," the first girl said as she stood up, taking the hand that the other girl offered. Her eyes darted around, taking in the sights of London as though she'd never seen them before.

"What's your name?" the second girl asked, seeing the girl's confusion.

The first girl looked at her. "I..." her eyes flicked downwards at her feet, then back up. "I don't know." The second girl gasped. "Is that... Is that bad?"

Nina sat under a bridge, hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the television. There were others around her. She knew their faces, she saw them every day, but sometimes names escaped her.

"They're talking 'bout that space probe again, aren't they?" a face asked her.

Nina nodded. "Yeah, they are."

"Mind elsewhere?" the face asked.

Nina nodded again.

"Isn't it always?" the face chuckled. "Who am I?"

Nina looked at the face. It was a dirty face, but she could see the woman's blue eyes. Her blonde hair was greasy, and it wasn't exactly blonde. She had a scarf on, but the cloth was fraying. There were holes in it. She was wearing a dirty brown jacket too. In fact, the woman was covered from head to toe in dirt and mud.

She shook her head. "Names aren't working today," Nina said.

"But you know your own name, right?" the woman asked.

"Nina. I'm called Nina."

The woman chuckled. "Yeah, you are. I'm Rebecca."

"Rebecca," Nina repeated.

Her name felt familiar on her tongue. Then the memories slid into place. Rebecca was her friend. Her best friend. They were almost twenty years apart, but they were sisters. Almost sisters. Nina's sister was dead. She'd died two years ago, shot at the same time as her parents. And Rebecca lost her family when her husband took everything. Now they were both homeless. Family-less.

"This is the spirit of Christmas, birth and rejoicing, and the dawn of a new age, and that is what we're achieving fifteen million miles away," someone was saying on the telly. "Our very own miracle."

"The unmanned probe Guinevere One is about to make its final descent. Photographs of the Martian Landscape should be received by midnight tonight."

"Something's gonna go wrong," Nina said, watching the screen. Something made her feel sure, but she wasn't sure what it was.

"Oh, have a little faith," Rebecca said.

"Something always goes wrong. The... The... Whatever it was got blown up."

"I think you mean 10 Downing Street," Rebecca said. "Sometimes I wonder how you remember anything. Everyone said that was just a hoax. There weren't really aliens there."