Continuum (Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Chapter 3 - Contemplation

I had been stunned into muteness.  “Come…come with-with…you?”

“Sure,” he said, over-exaggerating the word, making it sound like “shore.”  I continued to stand there like a statue, as if my feet had been nailed to the tile.

“Where on Earth would we go?”

“Think beyond Earth,” he spoke, his head still poking out of the doorway.  My eyebrows came together once again.

“In that tiny little box?”  I questioned incredulously.  He simply laughed.  “And why?  Why would I want to join you?  You’re mad as a hatter, you are.”

“Think of this as an alternative option to suicide.  If you come, I can bring you anywhere.  Anywhere in all of time and space.  In death, you’re alone.  Don’t be alone.”  Something about his words, his intonation, and his silent alluring nature drew me in like a magnet.  I felt compelled to join him, wherever the hell that may be.  Just for the pure justification of doing something.  But an alternative?  I’d been planning this for months now.  I even had it marked on my calendar; “Suicide!”

            I was already shaking my head.  “No, I can’t.”

            “And why not?”  He asked and stepped out of the box.  Shutting the door behind him, he leaned on the box and crossed his arms.

            I fidgeted uncomfortably.  “As an alternative?  Debt-”

            I was shaking my head again.  Biting my lip, I contemplated my words.  “I-I can’t.  I don’t want to be in debt to you.  I-I don’t even know who you are.”

            “Fine.  Then think of it as an opportunity to travel the world, the galaxy.  The time-space continuum.  So what do you say?”

            I stood there for a moment, nothing making sense.  “But…I’m…I’m supposed to be dead.  There’s supposed to be a body to find,” I mumbled, looking down at the gun in my hand.  The fear of dying slowly began subsiding.  Now would be a good time…

            “No, now give me the gun,” he stepped forward.  I pulled the top part, readying the gun.  “Hey, no.  Don’t.”

            I gave a subtle shake of my head.  I fitted my finger around the trigger once more.  “What’s your name?”

            I brought the gun higher.  “What?”

            “Name!  What’s your name?”  The man asked me, his eyes seemed to lock onto my very soul.

            I rose to gun to the middle of my forehead.  I shut my eyes.  “Skylar,” I murmured.

            “Beautiful, beautiful name.  Skylar, drop the gun.”  I shook my head.  I heard nearing footsteps on the floor.

            “You might want to look away for a moment,” I advised. 

“Skylar, give me the gun.”  Again, I shook my head.  “Come with me.  Death is…tedious.  It’s overrated.  The universe is not.  Never will be.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” I whispered to him.

“I’m the Doctor.”

“Alright then, Doctor.  Get back into your box, whoever you are.  You do your thing and I’ll do mine,” I told him, feeling a sort of almost-calmness hush my wild thoughts.

“No!”  He exclaimed, startling me.  My eyes flew open.  He had his hands stuffed into his coat pockets and a nearly angry ambiance emanated from him.

“Oh why not?”  I moaned.  “Just let me end it all, would you?”

“No!”  He shouted again.  “What will it take to get you to…not kill yourself?”

“Nothing,” I crossed my arms.  “Nothing at all.”

“You know, a wise man once said ‘the farther forward you can look, the farther backward you can see’.”

I swallowed back and eyed him.  “And who said that?”

“Winston Churchill,” he said with dignity and formality.  “We could go meet him.  Right now.”

I felt my heart stop in my throat.  Was it possible?  Could I actually meet someone who has been dead for over thirty years?  “Really?”  I murmured, highly skeptical.

“Of course!  Besides, I’ve been meaning to get back to him on the last call he gave me.  He’ll be thrilled to meet you!  Come on, pack a backpack and let’s go!” 

I stood there for a moment.  Winston Churchill…he had been an inspiration to me since the time I could read.  “Okay.”  I dropped the gun down on my bed and paused a moment.

“Come on,” the man egged me on.  I blinked a few times and went to my closet.  Pulling out an old, empty backpack, I yanked a few T-shirts off hangers and a pair of jeans.  Folding them up at the bottom, I grabbed a few undergarments and stuck them under the clothes.  I slid in my sketch book, a few pencils, a couple of my favorite books, my cell phone, my wallet, and the gun.  Zipping it up, I grabbed my jacket, throwing it on.

“We’re going to…1940’s Britain?  That’ll be during the Battle of Britain, when Germany’s bombing the country,” I said to the strange man.  “Isn’t that…dangerous?”

“Yes, probably.”

“Good.”  The man smiled at me and walked to the large box.

“Ready?”  He asked.  I adjusted the straps on my shoulders and nodded.

“Ready.”