Time and Earth: A Doctor Who and PJO Crossover (Bk 1)

Chapter 1: Orphan

29/9/17 Ok, so I originally wrote this when I was thirteen, and I decided before I move onto my original stuff and post the sequel to this, I'd rewrite the hole which this used to be. It could be better, and it still could use a bit more work, but I've done what I could. But also, like, enjoy it!

Also, all rights go to BBC and Rick Riordan!

***********************************

Chapter 1: Orphan

I am an orphan first and foremost.

Everything else is secondary.

I am an orphan, the nuns keep telling me, have kept telling me since I was born.

Unwanted, unneeded, un-everything.

It's a condition I've had since I've entered this world, born of two unknowns who decided for unknown reasons I should be raised here, in London Orphanage. Amongst nuns. Some logic they had.

I turned over in the sheets, unable to fall asleep peacefully as usual. The evening was mild. Despite the pollution which modern-day London threw into the sky, the stars still peeked from tangerine clouds, twinkled with an insane persistence I didn't understand.

Even at this ungodly hour, the chatter of traffic wafted into the cramped bedroom. The room had originally been built for one person, but there were four of us in here anyway, placed on two sets of bunk beds.

Dragging my fingers on the supple metal railings, I gazed out again into the window to my right, this time drawing my eyes downward, into the gardens below. The nuns, though strict, gave us the decency of having a forest to squander in.

During the daylight hours, Peter- my friend— and I would always pull as many pranks as possible. Even in the silence of the night, I could hear their chortles and sniggers; the Prank King and Queen of London Orphanage.

If there was one thing that I kept above being an orphan, it was that title.

The skyline began to lighten, the orange growing far more natural, more mellow, the stars winking as they took their leave.

Dawn. I hadn't slept at all.

In the silence, a new sound entered the symphony, and this one I'd never heard before, even in my near decade of life. The sound was alien, or at least unfamiliar, and poured hope into my gut like molten metal. The trees down below began to wither as if the breath of a god were blowing through it.

And that wasn't the best part.

Because as that sound lost its volume, something stood in its place.

A police phone box painted in the brightest blue stood proudly in the garden of my orphanage.

Any signs of sleep retreated from my body as I cast away the blankets and threw myself down the ladder, the metal bars burrowing into the soles of my feet.

As I landed on the cool wooden panels of the floor, Peter rolled over in a deep sleep on the bunk below me. Lucky him.

"Peter," I whispered, nudging his bony shoulder. He only groaned in distaste and moved further away from where I stood. "Lightshade," I hissed, poking his side now, the only place I'd be guaranteed to wake him up.

With much annoyance, Peter's eyelids screamed open. I could tell from his gaze he was not happy to be awake at dawn.

"What?"

"There's something you've got to see," I whisper-yelled, sliding on my boots and lacing them up as fast and as tight as I could manage.

Peter only looked at me as if I was an imbecile.