FIC: The Noble Girl: Jenny (1/6)

[tkel_paris]

Title: Jenny
Series: The Noble Girl - A New Who Rewrite
Rating: T
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for cassikat's birthday.
Disclaimer: Hugely AU. So no, I own nothing.
Dedication: cassikat, of course. Happy birthday, my friend! :D Also tardis_mole for the major help with the earlier drafts, and bas_math_girl for the final polishing advice. Love you both! (blows a big kiss)
Author's Extensive Opening Note: This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

It's easy to get the idea of taking a character and putting them into a different family situation. So, take one character from the Whoverse, transform the circumstances of her birth into something normal (or as normal as one can get in DW), and give her a different family. What do you get? Possibly this story. If you eliminate one other character.

I spent a lot of time watching “Rose” to get this right. For the first time that I can remember. May I say, imagining this instead made the watching more enjoyable. I don't think I would've become interested in New Who based off of “Rose.” I didn't see anything about her to engage my interest - beyond the human sense of wanting someone in danger to be okay.

Happy Birthday, cassikat! :D



Dear Readers, I want you to pretend that this is the start of New Who. That this is actually an episode you're watching - with added details about the characters' thoughts and respective backstories. Suspend what you know about New Who whenever possible, and pretend there are several big mysteries to be explored later on in the series. Make your comments as though you just “watched” for the first time, and see as the series progresses what you're able to accurately guess/predict. :D

This is actually more interesting to me because a certain someone auditioned to play Rose Tyler. I didn't know that until I told one of my friends about this idea. :D

(opening sequence

Christopher Eccleston
Georgia Moffet
Noel Clarke

DOCTOR WHO

“JENNY”

based on “Rose”, by Russell T. Davies)

Chapter 1 - Send-offs and Strange Meetings

The skies above Earth were quiet. Nothing was happening to attract the attention of anyone. If one swooped down to Ealing, the same could've been said in the grand scale.

An alarm went off in a bedroom. A delicate hand shot out to turn it off. A blonde head emerged from a slightly faded Wallace and Gromit rocket duvet, hair a tangled mess. She rubbed her eyes, shaking off the remnants of sleep that lingered.

There was a knock at her door. “Sweetheart?” called the girl's mother. “You want to see me off, you best get dressed! We have to catch the bus!”

The blonde smiled, kicking off her nest and waking fully in an instant. “Be right out,” she answered, grabbing the clothes she laid out the night before.

Soon after, the two were on the bus so the mother could catch the train. The station was busy practically all the time. It made traffic awful - hence taking the bus.

There was little chance for talking on the ride over. Too noisy for the private talk they wanted to have, and there hadn't been time at breakfast.

The blonde liked to wear practical clothing. Modestly-fitted jeans and a feminine-fit t-shirt with a design with the binary numbers for the letters 'Q' and 'T', covered by a casual green knit zip-up jacket suited her today. It also worked for her job, since she'd bought the jacket and jeans from them. (Helped that she was a good employee - else she would've just been a brat rebelling against the shop dress code.) Clean black and white trainers completed the look, much to her mother's dismay. She carried a light brown over-the-shoulder purse, and let her hair down for once. She usually kept it in a ponytail, but her mother and grandmother had urged her to try doing otherwise every so often.

Her ginger mother looked every bit the professional woman. Matching black skirt and jacket, a modest deep blue blouse, and business pumps fit well with the large purse that doubled as a briefcase. At her side was her suitcase, packed carefully for her journey. She usually kept her long hair down, often straightened to remove the waves.

The blonde frowned as she glanced again at her mother's hair. “You'd save time if you didn't use that straightener almost every day.” Her tone would've let any listener know that this was a frequent thought.

The ginger cringed, then looked lost in thought. “I do it because I feel like I have to,” she answered quietly. “Almost no one likes it as it is. Other than you, Gramps, and Great-Grandy.”

It took the blonde a moment to realise she'd hit a sore spot. One she tried to not talk about, out of respect to her mother. So she kept her mouth shut.

Soon enough, the two ladies exited the bus toward the departure area. They had been there many times, and the blond couldn't wait until she could drive and drop her mother off. “How long this time?” she asked, her hair caught in a slight breeze.

Her mother smiled sadly as she pulled her suitcase behind her. “A few weeks, at least. It's a big project, and they insisted on my working on-site. If I do the job I think I can, I'll earn enough money to help get us a lot closer to clearing granddad's mortgage.”

Yeah, the girl remembered. Her grandparents had one. Her great-grandparents had one. (Well, now just her great-granddad, bless him.) Everyone she knew who had a home had one. In varying stages. Why people had to buy their own big place was a puzzle to her. There was a point to a small place and just traveling a lot. She'd been laughed at for expressing the viewpoint, so she learned to keep it to herself. As she had to a lot of things.

But not everything. That was too big an ask. “Keeping busy isn't making you less lonely, is it?”

The ginger's face fell further. She cleared her throat, stopping to rest her hands on her daughter's shoulders. “Sweetheart, you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I chose to work hard because I needed the money to raise you. I couldn't bear the thought of giving you up. Even though I was so young and had to struggle to complete college and all the training. Thank god for the Wednesday Girls - I wouldn't have got those jobs that proved to me I could run my own business otherwise.”

“Something Gran hasn't let you forget,” the girl muttered, folding her arms. “Even though she does love us both.”

Her mother frowned. “Jenny, your gran and many people her age believe that if a woman isn't doing at least what her mother did by the time her mother did it, she's a failure.” The words were tight under the affectionate, patient tone.

Jenny narrowed her eyes. “Just 'cause it's the assumption don't make it right. Or true.”

“Why,” her mother sighed, “do you think I moved us in with your great-granddad after great-gran died?” She pulled her ticket out of her bag. “Things are much better between us now.”

She quirked a grin. “Just because she has to call or drive over to complain? Hasn't the nagging got worse the past year?”

Her mother opened her business cards case, a sign that she was changing the topic in preparation to leave. “Take a few extra of these, just in case anyone asks about the company, okay?” She handed Jenny about ten business cards, saying 'Donna Noble Temp Agency' with contact information and the same name listed as the cards' owner. 'We get the job done right the first time,' its tagline proclaimed.

Jenny put them in her bag's front pocket, looking at her mother the whole time with suddenly pensive eyes. This was the sore spot she was sure she'd hit upon earlier, but she had to ask the question. It was weighing on her mind, with her seventeenth birthday coming up next month. “Do you still think my dad will find us?”

Donna swallowed heavily, struggling to suppress tears. “I want to believe it. I still do. It's been so hard. I made such a mistake running away from him. Didn't mean I could run away from my feelings.”

Jenny put a hand on her mother's shoulder. “I believe it, too. I know he'll find us one day. What you've said about him, I can't believe that he would walk away when we see him again.” She didn't mention that she had dreams about the man who fathered her. Never saw his face or heard his voice, but his love was ever present. “Be strong. I doubt he's stopped looking for you.”

Her mother flashed another sad smile, then shook her head and cleared her throat. “Jenny, be a help to your gran and granddad. Keep a watch on your great-grandy, do a good job at the shop. We'll see when I get back if I can finally get you work that fits your skills. Or if another of your gran's friends can get you something better than the shop. At least Miranda was able to get you paying work.”

Jenny smiled wryly. Her mother changed the subject more and more whenever she mentioned her belief in the dad she'd never met. “We've managed this far. We can manage longer.”

Donna hugged her daughter tightly, letting touch communicate everything. It seemed to work with her little treasure, even in the womb. She'd stopped wondering about it, just as she stopped thinking about why her little girl had so many odd quirks. She was hers after all, and wasn't everyone different?

A garbled call from the announcement system broke their little moment. So they each took a deep breath and let go. Donna smiled fondly. “Take care, my treasure. Love you.” She kissed her cheek.

Jenny beamed. “Love you, too, Mum.” She returned the kiss.

Donna Noble, businesswoman and temp extraodinare, flashed her Call-Me-SuperTemp grin to reassure them both, took her bags and quickly boarded the train to Glasgow. She found her assigned seat, right next to a window to wave from to give her girl a few more moments of seeing her. They waved until they couldn't see each other anymore.

Jenny watched as the train pulled away, sending her mother off to a different task. She'd watched her mother develop a temp business of her own, managing a small posse of woman who were talented and enjoyed - like her mother - going from job to job.

There was a wanderlust in Donna Noble, and it was part of why she was still alone. Jenny felt the same sense, but - being young and starting out - she didn't have the options her mother did. And that was limited, despite her mother's successes. She really wondered why people had biases against gingers. You'd think having a prince who was one would've helped!

Sighing, Jenny walked away. Time to go to work... which meant waiting for the next bus.

Jenny liked to hum to herself as she hung on to the outer railing at the back of a double-decker. Her mum hated it when she did that - despite admitting to doing exactly the same in her youth. Today it was “Miss Independent” by Kelly Clarkson. She and a number of her friends liked it - and it had nothing to do with popularity - the woman from Texas sang good things, and she apparently could help write good songs. That was a huge plus in Jenny's book.

She hopped off when the bus stopped. She jogged inside Henrick's, the somewhat fancy clothing shop where she'd managed to be hired. She spared a quick glance at what the mannequins were decked in today, but hurried to clock in. She let out a groan at the big sign over the entrance: “Henrick's SALE SALE Henrick's.” That ensured the day would be fun - cleaning up after people who couldn't be bothered to put away the things they didn't want, who just left them on the floor in the fitting rooms.

Soon she was putting replacement clothing on the tables, now humming “Just Missed the Train” to keep as much of her mind occupied as possible. A shop job was one of the worst jobs to have. Jenny felt only a serving job would be worse. Both jobs, mind, gave you the chance to see the best and worst in people daily - and if you survived with your wits intact, you could probably handle a lot in life.

But she'd seen people steal, and get away with it! How did society function with this happening?!

Still, she did whatever needing doing to earn her pay. Folding clothes, moving them around, helping customers. Yes, it was boring work, but she could always busy herself with mental challenges. Whenever she folded clothes, she did geometric equations in her head, and estimated what could fit into boxes. She had a knack for it. Her mum was good at maths, and passed it on to her. That and a talent with languages.

She assumed. No telling what all she got from her dad.

Rearranging the displays was a chance to think about physics. What bound items together, how much force could be applied to a certain item before it broke or bent. Much more important than most people gave it credit for.

Dealing with customers was practice for testing her instincts about people. She wanted her customers to walk away so satisfied with their purchases that they were very unlikely to return them. She preferred to not make a sale than to make one that she suspected would be returned shortly thereafter. Most of the other girls didn't seem to care.

Lunch break was still a relief. Time out of the shop, where she could read or meet with friends. Or better yet... Rushing into the nearby square, Jenny looked around for her company this afternoon and beamed when she spotted him. “Mickey!”

Mickey Smith's face had already lit up on seeing her. He stood near the fountain. His kind face was always a balm on her spirits, and her sweet one on his. “Brought you a snack to go with lunch!”

He was so sweet that way. He used some of his spare money to give her little things to lift her mood. It worked best when she was facing a bad day, or her mother was away. Giggling, she rushed over to collect the bag, hugging and kissing him tenderly first. She could take a little longer with it since they weren't being watched by her granddad or great-granddad.

Or worse, her gran. Sylvia watched her granddaughter like a hawk, trying to make sure that she didn't follow in her mother's footsteps and have a child out of wedlock. Jenny understood it. Her mum struggled because she wasn't even nineteen when she had her, but she had refused to regret it or let anyone talk about how she should've given Jenny up. Even Sylvia, the loudest proponent of adoption while Donna was pregnant, shut up once she first laid eyes on her angelic-looking grandchild - becoming Donna's fiercest defender instantly.

Jenny was grateful for that; she couldn't imagine anyone else being as understanding or loving. Even her gran, for all the nagging, was determined to ensure she had every opportunity possible since she, Sylvia, could see a lot of herself in Jenny. And Jenny could see a lot of her gran in herself. She had trouble understanding why so many considered that a bad thing.

“Today going well?” she asked, opening the bag as they sat. She could smell the banana bread from a nearby bakery, and instantly had to swallow drool. Dessert had to be eaten first sometimes!

Mickey shrugged as he pulled out his lunch, suppressing a smirk as Jenny whipped out the banana bead. “The usual crowd. Got an old one to work on. Needs a new engine, I can tell. Blown pistons. Budget might mean just replacing the car instead. Trick is getting the owner to accept that.”

Jenny grimaced. “Male?” She took a bite, humming in delight.

Now he chuckled. “Female. Driving a second-hand car. Not sure who's responsible for paying yet.”

“Ouch.” She'd visited the shop a few times since Mickey got the job to pay his bills and help fund his studies. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

He grinned. “I'll be there.” His face fell as he approached a topic he knew wasn't easy for her. “Your mum leave okay?”

Jenny pouted. She couldn't help it - she missed her mum something awful every time. Growing up hadn't changed it. Might be because she didn't have a dad in her life. Gran, Gramps, and Great-Grandy could only fill the void so much. Especially now that Great-Gran was dead. “As always. She's getting a little sadder each month. She still misses him.”

Him needed no explanation. Not to Mickey - he'd heard the truth from her years ago. He sighed. “She is going out, isn't she?”

She shook her head. “Not anymore. No one's nice enough. Not like my father. I think no one will ever compare.”

He stroked her cheek gently. “Tell her to keep looking. There's someone out there for her.”

Jenny shook her head. “No, I have this feeling that he will come back. He just doesn't know about us yet. When he does, he'll never leave.”

Mickey wished he could believe in that, but he didn't want to ruin her mood more by calling it a fairy tale. “Well, let's enjoy lunch, okay?”

She sighed, knowing he questioned it, but he had the courtesy to not challenge her. He'd only do it if he really thought she needed a kick in the seat. She managed a smile and dug in.

Soon he was hamming it up with his eating to draw laughs from her, and talking her into copying his dance moves - despite her protests that she looked silly doing them whereas he could make them look cool. Wasn't there some movie that sort of went like that?

He was pleased that she was grinning by the time she had to go back. “See you tomorrow, my woman. Love you.”

She smirked, liking the name. Made her feel a bit more mature than she probably was. At least emotionally. “Love you back.” They kissed, hugged quickly, and parted reluctantly.

“This is a customer announcement: the store will be closing in five minutes. Thank you.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. The female voice didn't put the last customers in any hurry to leave. So she was at risk of spending extra time here - she was given a lot of responsibility for someone new. The hiring manager recognized that she was bright and capable, having known her since she was a baby.

Not that she wanted to advance here. It was a job to help with the bills until she could land something more within her skill-set. She hoped. Things were awfully rough sometimes. Of course, you weren't supposed to say such things, were you? You keep your real plans to yourself if it's a staging job on your path, her gran always said. That felt like dishonesty! The workings of society puzzled the devil out of Jenny sometimes.

Mercifully, the last customers left sooner than she or the other girls had expected. She had her purse over her opposite shoulder, and walked toward the door with the remaining shop girls. She was chatting amicably with them about the day. She could be more than politely civil, despite them not having much in common beyond the common job.

“Oi!” One of the security guards - Marc, if she wasn't mistaken - held out the clear lottery money bag to her. Inconsiderate grunt, her mum had remarked about him after visiting the shop once. Miranda, who was currently on vacation in Spain, had merely grimaced at the time.

She took one look at the bag, and nodded with a sigh as she accepted it. “Oof!” She joked. “We really sold them this time!”

Not that it was heavy. She just wasn't expecting that much inside. Nor did Marc do anything but flash her a get-on-with-it look. The other girls smirked, pleased that none of them got the job.

Refusing to give the others the satisfaction of seeing her displeasure, Jenny promptly went to the lift - acting as calm as you like. The bag had to go to the basement right away. Wilson would be right there with his keys to lock it in the vault. She entered and turned around, sighing as she saw Marc lock the doors after the others. “Guess I'm just trusted more,” she muttered in displeasure as the lift doors closed. Sometimes it stank to be the most responsible one.

She hummed “Just Missed the Train” once again as she felt the lift descend. “Not much longer until I can go home,” she reminded herself. “Just a little delay.”

When the lift doors opened, she stepped out and looked around. It was poorly lit, and the pale bricks and wood walls didn't make for a comforting sight. A few portable clothing racks broke up the monotony. The doors down in the basement all had those handles that attached in two places. The lighting also highlighted the vents and tubing attached to the equally drab ceiling.

It was also silent, save for the building's noises. “Wilson?” She looked around as she went further down the corridor. “Isn't like him to not answer right away, or be right here,”she muttered under her breath. “He has a keen ear for when someone comes down.” She tried a different tack: a sing-song tone as she approached his door. “Wilson, I've got the lottery money.”

There was no answer.

“Okay, this is worrisome,” she whispered. The lottery money was a running joke among the staff. People talked about what they'd do if they won. Jenny always thought the ideas were impractical. She knew she'd clear her family's mortgages, give some money to help her mother expand her business, and help out kids who needed an education. Yes, and further fund her own studies so she could actually have a career.

Snapping to, she focused again on the moment. “Wilson?” she called out, knocking on his door. It read: RP Wilson, C.E.O.. For Chief Electrical Officer. Like no one would have a clue from the yellow electrical sign below his nameplate. “You there? Listen, they're closing the shop. I need to get home to my great-grandy's.” She tried tugging on the door, but it was locked. “Wilson, are you all right?!”

There was no answer.

Most teenagers, when faced with such an inconvenience, would groan to themselves and complain loudly. Definitely whine. Probably even leave. But Jenny's instincts were screaming at her that something had gone very wrong. Wilson never failed to react to being called.

A sudden clattering burst further along the corridor. Jenny immediately snapped her head in that direction. “Hello? Hello, Wilson, it's Jenny. Where the hell are you?! Are you all right?!”

She couldn't hide her irritation. She got it from her mother and grandmother. Try as she might, sometimes it just slipped out. Her accent usually sounded like someone from Berkshire, something no one could explain given that she'd grown up on a quiet street in Chiswick and never even heard a Berkshire accent until she was twelve, but whenever she got upset her accent became a perfect mimic of her mother's. “Oh, I'm getting to bottom of this! No one sends me on a wild goose chase!”

She marched a bit,heading toward the almost-completely see-through hanging dividers. But she stopped outside a fire door for a moment, and listened. She didn't think she could hear anything, but she swore something was happening inside. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and found herself in a room that was apparently being used for storing shop dummies. She could tell even without good light - she'd always had great night vision, superb even. Scared her mum and gran a lot.

Still, she knew as she could almost hear her great-grandy's voice talking like the practical soldier he'd once been, no reason to not have light. She flipped the light on. The various fixtures turned on in bunches, first away from her and then moving closer. She cautiously walked further into the room. More plumbing for the air circulation and such was overhead - no need to cover what only employees would ever see. Sure made a person feel special.

Jenny looked around again. Every dummy was dressed. Some male, some female. The heads remained too androgynous for Jenny's taste. Not to mention all looking like they'd be Jenny's skin tone if they were real people. “Wilson? Are you alright?” No, this wasn't good at all. She couldn't hear anything like a person moving about. No breathing, no talking, nothing.

She reached to try another door at the side, but the fire door closed abruptly. Shocked, Jenny ran back - still carrying the bag - and shook the doors hard, but their hinges just creaked unhealthily. She couldn't get a good grip on the particular handles. If it'd been knobs, she would've had leverage. “Come on! This isn't funny! Whose bright idea was this?! I'll have your guts for garters! And that's before I let my mum and gran at you!”

There was suddenly a loud clattering and banging from behind her. It had a tone that wasn't familiar at all. “Oh, who is it?! Is that someone mucking about like an idiot?!” She went back into the room to figure out what happened, moving slowly. “Who is it?!” she repeated the demand.

Then she heard something creaking. Rapidly turning around, she saw one of the clothed male dummies slowly turn its head - of its own accord. Her mouth fell open as she watched it step out of its alcove and toward her.

Jenny backed away slowly. “What the hell?!” She stared at the slowly moving dummy, which seemed to be gaining momentum even as its motions were jerky. Another was starting to move behind it. “Okay,” she breathed, talking aloud to reassure herself. “Okay...what are animatronics doing being stored down here?” She scowled. “Very funny, whoever you are!”

The dummy was silent and kept moving. More suddenly joined it, all creaking as they advanced on her.

She shook her head and looked around. “You can stop the joke! Who's idea was this?! Was it that berk Derek's?!” He had the most annoying sense of humour.

The dummies still advanced. Other joined from behind. Jenny found herself forced toward a corner.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed as she backed away. “This can't be Derek's work.” He didn't have the smarts. She could tell. She didn't know how this was possible, but all of the dummies acted alive.

Well, she wasn't going down without a fight! She threw the lottery bag at the head of the closest one, somehow managing to knock it down, toppling the one directly behind it. She backed away again and bumped into a box, nearly tripping over it. She quickly pulled herself up and grabbed it. Not noticing how heavy it was, she threw it at the next nearest, knocking it and another two down.

But the others kept coming. And the ones she knocked over were getting back up, pushing off what she tossed. Jenny found herself backed against a wall, and felt her way toward the corridor she knew was there. The nearest dummy lifted its arm as if to strike her. She kept her eyes open, looking for anything to try to deflect the blow if she couldn't find the edge of the wall. Her right hand moved to throw her purse at them to buy time to escape.

Suddenly a hand grabbed hers. A flesh and blood hand - although a bit cool. Jenny gasped and snapped her head to look at the owner of the hand. In a split instant, she registered the sharp features of a man's face. Skin-head dark hair, big nose, bigger ears, and blue eyes that seemed deeply haunted by something. He wore an aged black leather jacket like a submariner's, black corduroys equally aged, and what looked like some acrylic jumper standing in for a shirt on a frame that seemed to have some muscle. In a Northern accent that she couldn't place, he said one word: “Run.”

She obeyed, letting him drag her out of the room through the narrow corridor. The dummy's arm hit the pressure valve behind where she'd been, releasing steaming water and air.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as the man led her away. She looked back, horrified to see the dummies were still in pursuit, moving faster and closing in on a run. The man led her through a few doorways and into a lift, dragging her in behind him. She opened her mouth to scream as the dummies rushed the doors. The man worked the controls, making them close - but the arm of the dummies that tried to strike Jenny stuck in. They all tried to push their way inside. The man fought against the arm for a long moment and sharply pulled it off, allowing the doors to close fully.

Jenny stared at him. “You pulled its arm off!” She didn't say his or her because there was no blood, nothing that sounded like a body being ripped apart. Who the hell was he?!

“Yep!” he said flippantly. He tossed the arm to her, and she caught it instinctively. “Plastic.”

She frowned, trying to piece together what happened. “Very clever, using robots that look like mannequins! Who's responsible for this then, students at the local tech school?! Is this some so-called genius' idea of a prank?”

The man glanced back at her, arms folded. “Why would they be students?” There was a hint of a grin there, but mostly curiosity. Although his gaze didn't stay on her.

Jenny's eyes narrowed at him and she scoffed. “Well those things can't be people. 'Cause normally to get that many people dressed up identically, they're either students or members of some other group, like a cult. But that's impossible. They moved too oddly, and for anyone to be inside suits that size they would've had to be very, very thin. And how could anyone manage to get back up so easily?! I've knocked a boy down cold once throwing something at him! So they weren't people! They were robots!”

Oh, the story about the boy was omitting details, but that was beside the point. And she didn't owe him the truth - he owed her!

The man grinned. It softened his face, and brought liveliness to his eyes. It seemed to Jenny that he liked her. Or at least how she thought. “Not robots, but fantastic reasoning there. And you did rather well fighting them off. Much better than I would expect of a girl with your frame.”

“Oi!” Jenny protested. “I'm stronger than I look, Sunshine!” Irritation also made her copy her mother's preferred phrases. “Now will you tell me who those people were?!”

His eyes widened. He blinked rapidly. “Full of fire, aren't you?”

Jenny folded her arms, still holding the arm. “You should meet my mum. She's a ginger.”

He turned to face her, his eyes lit like an instant bonfire as a huge smile broke out. “Ginger! Lovely! Never understood why so many in this age dislike them. Wished since I was little that I'd been ginger. It's irritating that I haven't been lucky enough to see it happen.”

He was talking absolute nonsense. Jenny ought to have been alarmed, worrying that he was some kind of serial killer, but her instincts were telling her that she could trust this man. Shaking her head, she exhaled sharply. “Well, whoever they are, when Wilson finds them, he's gonna call the police. If I don't call them first. He never fails to show up, so what's happened to him?!”

He blinked. “Who's Wilson?” He didn't even look her way as the lift slowed and opened.

She wondered if he knew that and was testing her, or if he was genuinely ignorant. She decided to humour the latter possibility as she put the arm in her bag, deciding she'd take a look at it later. “The chief electrician.”

“Wilson's dead.” With that, he stepped out of the lift.

Jenny's jaw hit her chest, but she followed him. She always had a knack for moving despite shock. “You can't be serious!”

The man ignored her. “Hold on!” His hand shot out to push her to the side, but she dodged him. “Mind your eyes.”

She opened her mouth to ask, and watched as he did something to the lift with an object that looked like a thick pen and buzzed a bit like her mum's sonic toothbrush. There was a small electrical explosion, and then he put the pen-like thing away. “What did you just do?!” she demanded as she noticed the door remaining open.

“Stopped them from using the lift to follow us.” He walked away swiftly.

Did he have some mental disorder?! Did he even realise how bizarre he was acting?! “Listen, you daft sod!” she yelled, following him through the maze of corridors and stairs.

His step faltered slightly, and he glanced at her in shock. As though he'd never been insulted before.

He was probably noting her accent changing again, she figured as she trailed him. Even as he looked back at her more than once, he never lost his footing or ran into something he shouldn't. “Who the hell are you?! Who's that lot down there? I think I'm owed an explanation! Oi! I'm talking to you!”

He tightened his face. His answer was crisp, like he had a mission and he wasn't going to be distracted. “They're made of plastic.”

She blinked. “What?!”

He continued heedless. “Living plastic creatures.” He led her through another clear divider grouping. “They're being controlled by a relay device in the roof. Which would be a great big problem if I didn't have this.” He showed her an electronic device that Jenny had a bad feeling about. The hint of a grin wasn't reassuring her at all. “So!” he exclaimed, opening the fire exit - which was strangely silent - for her. “I'm going to go up there and blow them up, and I might well die in the process. But don't worry about me, no. Go home, go on! Go and have your lovely beans on toast.”

Jenny's instincts told her that he absolutely believed every word he was saying, as daft as it all sounded, and that there was a very real possibility that he might die. She felt chilled to the bone by the words alone, but the manic look wasn't helping. “You mean, you just saved my life from living plastic - however that can exist - and then you tell me you could die and I'm supposed to just accept that?!”

Suddenly looking grim, the man grabbed her arm and tugged her outside. “They must be stopped, and I'm the only one who can.” Once she was outside, he added, “Don't tell anyone about this, because if you do, you'll get them killed.” And he promptly shut the door.

Jenny didn't know whether to shout at the door or laugh in disbelief. Her mind was struggling to process what he told her. Living plastic! Who the hell did he think he was, and why did her instincts say she could trust him?! And what did he think he was doing telling her to not tell anyone?! She grabbed her phone, cursing silently at the insanity of the moment as she thought to call the authorities.

The door opened before she could dial. The man popped his head out, still working on the electronic device. “I'm the Doctor, by the way. What's your name?”

“Doctor Who?!” That retort was what his line begged for. And she wasn't too numb from shock to not inject the venom she felt.

He narrowed his eyes. “That's my name, the Doctor. What's yours?”

She blinked. Weird man. “Jenny Noble.” She wasn't sure why she added her last name. Habit, she supposed.

“Nice to meet you, Jenny Noble,” he said with that hint of a manic smile - although there was something more buried within it. “Wish we could've spoken more. Run for your life.” Gesturing with the device and still grinning, he shut the door again.

Now her instincts told her she needed to do what he said. Trouble was, home was a long way from here and the bus wouldn't come soon enough. So she ran out of the back area and along the sidewalk. Jenny dimly noticed that no one seemed aware of what happened, but no one thought to ask why she was sprinting. Fortunately she soon saw a taxi and let out a shrill whistle to flag it down. Thank God for Saturdays with Mum, watching West Ham matches!

“Where to?” the driver asked from his open window as he slowed.

Jenny stopped right by his window. “56 Grange Road!”

“Ealing? Sure.” He waved her in.

As she opened the door, just before she stepped inside, she looked in the direction the taxi was heading. She noticed something sitting rather incongruously on the sidewalk just down the street: a large, upright blue rectangle with illuminated windows near a sign up top that read “Police Public Call Box.”

She blinked. “Wait,” she muttered, “those don't exist anymore! Gramps told me so! Mum doesn't even remember seeing any! What's an old temporary prison cell doing in London?!”

A sudden loud noise and glow caught her attention as she sat down. She looked out the back window, and she realized the top floor of Hendrick's had blown up. And another explosion burst right after that from the same level.

“Oi!” The driver sped away from the noise. He didn't notice his passenger's yelp as she barely got her other foot inside and closed the door.

Jenny kept staring as she saw hints of the explosion's aftermath, numbly buckling in. Had that strange man died? How could plastic be alive? And what happened to all the people who were still inside the building when she went downstairs?! Had they got out safely?!

And who was the Doctor?!

Chapter 2: Overprotected