The end of the world started with a man following her. It had actually started a whole week before with some unsettling discoveries made in an underground room, standing against a vault, but right now it was real.
She noticed him for the first time while trying to appreciate art, which proved very difficult when this artist had decided to make an animal fruit salad in front of a funny shaped house. On a corner there were red parrots sharing branches with squirrels and monkeys while angry swans chased the poor turkey. Zebras, turtles, antelopes and even one ostrich were drawn in impressive detail. Ophelia had missed seeing art pieces, going to actual galleries instead of browsing some room in the TARDIS or even worse: roaming endless halls at Canassis Manor, filled with tasteless art just because they could. This was supposed to be an exciting visit to Bristol's museum but it had turned to a game of escape the soldier. Her Doctor has ordered her to enjoy where they were, not just the TARDIS who'd grown to adore her or Saint Luke's, where every faculty member became fond of that weird duo (occasionally trio if Nardole felt extroverted). So he'd installed a good gps app on her phone, made sure there was enough money on a card and sent his assistant off to enjoy Bristol during an unusually warm afternoon. Not that the Doctor didn't want his companion around, it was just that there was no way to know who'd make it out alive on the other side of these Monks, and he'd feel even worse if she'd not seen the world around them by herself at least once.
Ophelia had whole heartedly agreed, wanting to go visit that museum again ever since her time lord friend had given a very detailed tour of its halls. Her mind actively ignored that middle aged man carrying a man purse, which probably had a gun inside, in favor of marveling at her surroundings. What was that quote Bill had said during their trip to Spike Island? Art is not supposed to be beautiful, it's supposed to make you feel something. Right now all these painted people made her feel paranoid. Why would this person make it so clear that she was being followed?
"Excuse me." A museum employee stepped aside to let her through.
Great. The perfect morning got ruined by some self important organization who'd sent someone to trail her, actually late afternoon judging by sunlight. Even if an escape was in progress, one simply had to stop when entering the museum's main hall where an airplane remained between two medieval looking chandeliers. It looked displaced once you looked at the classic architecture around or at that marvelous glass ceiling, but for an arts lover such as herself, this looked like perfect chaos. Ophelia took deep breaths, knowing it'd take exactly fifteen steps to reach her exit then twenty more to go downstairs and forty to get a cab.
Man-purse soldier had more not so discreet friends, dressed in full soldier uniforms, standing by glass exit doors, each of them. Shit. Quickly reformulating her plan, she blended into a large tour group of college kids until her body could squeeze through one of many staff only exits. No one questioned this new addition to their halls, figuring it'd be another short lived intern, some even helpfully pointed her towards the exit.
"Hey, Doc." She exited on a side street. "Just in case I don't make it back home because there is a guy following me, several actually, come find me."
The voice mail would hopefully be her salvation if push came to shove. Take a left here, a woman's voice called through the headphones (what the TARDIS would sound like if it could talk).
"Ma'am, wait." Man-purse appeared and they broke into a run, weaving through pedestrians who'd been through too many alien invasions to care.
"Like hell." Ophelia Watson was Handmaiden Fifty One not too long ago, someone who'd excelled at every physical training. Also a person who'd grown close to the most stubborn time lord of all time.
As it turned out, so were these people because no matter how many corners got sharply turned, they were always there. Until there were no more corners, only an alleyway closed on three sides by walls and three soldiers prevented exiting where she'd come from.
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ADIUTRIX | DOCTOR WHO
Fanfiction"you can always trust the helper." The Doctor expected many things from a twentieth-second century party, not one of them had included a new companion. {I also don't own Doctor Who}
