The Man From Her Dreams ☾ Doctor Who Fanfiction

chapter two : the doctor is real

It didn't take Miss. Caroline much time to show up.

Somewhere between her ragged breaths and her wild rocking back on forth on her bed, little Elizabeth heard the pitter-pattering of other feet outside her door, of whispers that leaked into her room through its cracks and the keyhole. But she dismissed them, hugging her legs closer to her chest and burying her teary eyes in them.

Elizabeth told the caretaker about her dream, about how she had to help him, about how she had to help the Doctor.

She had to save him, be by his side, for a reason even she herself could not understand. One thing she knew above all is that she needed him as much as he needed her.

And, of course, ever calmly and ever strictly, Miss Caroline tried to convince her that what she saw was a mere projection of her thoughts, a pure product of her imagination.

Nothing more than a dream.

And, at first, Elizabeth believed her. Her breaths dyed down for the night, her frantic heartbeat slowing its pace, wide eyes returning to their normal size.

For the rest of the night, all was calm and Elizabeth Smith slept calmly, dreamlessly until dawn came.

However, days passed and, every night, the man, the Doctor came back in her dreams.

And every time she would wake up in her bed in the middle of the night, hugging her pillow tightly to her chest as a source of comfort, Elizabeth Smith would cry.

She would bury her nose in the soft material of her fluffy cushion, and cry, and cry, and cry some more.

And the pillow, her only friend, helped her out the only way it could, by muffling her loud sobs in its folds so that the other kids and the caretaker would not hear her sadness.

The reason of Elizabeth's tears was and always would've been, the fact that that man, the very same man who saved planets, who helped people purely out of the kindness of his heart, who laughed in the face of the danger for the sake of those around him, was so incredibly and utterly lonely.

And Elizabeth would cry because he, that brave, beautiful man of all people, did not deserve loneliness.

He, the Doctor, did not deserve to suffer its gelid hold like she was.

«I'm all alone, too.» she would cry, hugging her pillow tighter, as her blue eyes stared into the darkness of her room. «I'm all alone, too.»

Elizabeth Smith had no one.

Not the family she had been promised that first night she set foot into the building, nor even the comfort of a loving embrace or a shoulder to cry on.

Over time, she managed to find consolation in that same loneliness that had bothered her earlier on. Because, in a way, that loneliness united them in more ways than one.

She too, after all, hardly ever let a smile off her face, deciding that a pretty façade looked more inviting to the outside world than a broken soul.

His spirit, too, was shattered.

Perhaps it was due to the tragic War that had destroyed his home, Elizabeth would think, or maybe it was because he had lost something important, someone whom he once used to love or care for.

Her tears, a privilege she reserved for her nights only, did sometimes vary in nature.

On some rare occasion, they were an act of pure happiness, that only one of his triumphs and joyful instants could provoke.

But those moments were, as it was, like golden dust. And, sadly enough, quite fleeting in their length.

In the next years of her life at the orphanage, Elizabeth had taken up art as a hobby. One she was, surprisingly enough, impressively good at from the very start, from the early age of six.

Drawing and sketching freed her mind from the countless images of otherworldly landscapes that would populate her dreams.

When she was questioned on the origin of her inspiration by the tenants of the orphanage, who were obliged to spend time with her since none of the kids would, surprise and concerns began arising at the discovery that every single drawing stuck up on little Elizabeth Smith's wall was the product of her dreams. Particularly after one of the janitors, whilst gossiping with the front desk lady (whom he truly did fancy), hushedly declared that little Liz Smith thinks her dreams are actually real, all in a desperate attempt to keep the lady's attention on him.   

Now, as optimistic as she sounded, Elizabeth truly did believe in the Doctor's existence. However, she was not daft and knew better than to express such an opinion with those who surrounded her.   

She did not know when, how or who requested it, but after a short amount of time, she was strongly encouraged to visit a psychiatrist.

Or, rather, the psychiatrist was strongly encouraged to see Elizabeth, since the girl's opinion on the subject really quite frankly did not matter.

Elizabeth was then forced to participate in an elaborate discussion regarding her dreams with Mr Perkins, the orphanage's psychiatrist. Unfortunately, whilst Mr Perkins was a not-so-good psychiatrist, he was one with a pre-set verdict regarding Elizabeth's condition. the worked hard on extracting "the truth" from Elizabeth, spending long sessions working with her. The little girl eventually did c***k under pressure, standing up to defend the Doctor's honour upon Perkins' attempt to diminish him to 'nothing but a poorly conjectured fragment of your imagination'.

It was all downhill from then.

Her visits to Doctor Perkins' office became the only activity on her agenda, psychiatric visits filling up every possible hole in her schedule.

Leaving making eventual friends or socializing out of the question.

Not like that would've happened anyway, with her fame as the orphanage's official looney. Honestly, it would take a miracle to find one child in that bunch, or adult for the matter, who did not know her name.

Quite ironically enough, hardly anyone ever spoke to her (if not out of dire necessity), but was ready and glad to speak of her with pals, coworkers and mailmen.

Perhaps her fate had been sealed from the very start due to the peculiar colour of her eyes. You see, whilst their colour could be considered as remotely normal, the way they appearred to glow certainly could not. Maybe that is why children and adults found themselves in need to avoid her like the plague. 

Elizabeth did come to take pride in that odd particularity of hers, for the colour in its complexion matched perfectly that of a certain police box she visited in her dreams every night.

Over time, Elizabeth got used to the loneliness too, preferring the company of her pencils and papers, of her dreams and her Doctor rather than that of a snickering and whispering crowd.

So life went on, time crawled, the Earth kept spinning and Elizabeth's body kept growing, her spirit slowly withering away right under its surface.

Then, one day, they met.

It was five years later when young Elizabeth Smith was ten.

Nothing much had changed in her living conditions. Except for maybe the walls of her room, which had been tapestried in her elaborate drawings from top to bottom.

Maybe it was this, or maybe it was due to the fact that she had physically grown up, but her room seemed much smaller to her than it did when she first arrived. While, of course, there were obvious, logical explanations to that factor, Elizabeth liked to completely illogical and purely irrationally think that her room had shrunk in an attempt to provide her comfort. 

This, or they were just trying to squish her out of her misery in a more radical way.

Either way was fine by her, she was hardly picky.

She could see, however, how it could've been the latter option: after all, her walls were probably all but content with being dressed from head to toe in Elizabeth's numerous sketches without their consent. And who could blame them, really — there was hardly ever even the tiniest little space that wasn't covered by stacks of coloured paper.

Especially since her dreams started to become more rare and rare as time passed.

As years flew by, in fact, little Lizzie Smith realized that some of the memories from her dreams were starting to slowly fade. She didn't know if it was due to her ageing or some other external factor that thwarted with the process, but she was certain that that was the reality of the facts.

That was why, whenever she did have a dream that involved the man in his blue box, she made sure to scribble down every little detail she could on paper, before she had the chance to forget it.

Her life became quite constant and linear. Nothing ever happened to her.

The highlight of her days was whenever she would manage to sneak out of the orphanage, using an old, corroded ladder she had moved under her window.

When she had first found it, she couldn't have been more thankful for the fact that her room was the furthest one down the hall. She also was lucky enough to have a window facing the backyard of the building. 

Elizabeth Smith used those creaky stairs to get out of the building on that day, too.

It was a dreadfully sunny one, a weather she quite disliked. She much more enjoyed the soothing tranquillity rain provided her with.

Elizabeth's worn out black converse padded along the pavement, down one of London's streets.

While she had a precise destination in mind, an outsider would've probably thought otherwise — her steps were quite slow, steady yet dawdling, tending heavily onto sluggish.

Yet, even though she shuffled quite leisurely down the streets, Elizabeth reached her destination right on time. Her journey ended in an old shop.  

When she doddered inside, a bell chimed softly, alerting the occupants of the place of her arrival. Her muscles, which were previously tense because of the chilly weather outside, relaxed in the warmth of the shop, her shoulders sagging and her fists uncurling from where they were gripping onto the internal material of her jacket's pocket.

Lizzie had always quite loved the place she was currently standing in: one could've defined it as an antiquities shop, which held to itself a brownish-like hue, providing a comforting cosiness to the place. It was located on the western side of London, there where fewer cars raced down the alleyways and fewer people strolled down the streets — that silent, lifeless-like atmosphere was exactly what first attracted both Elizabeth and the owner of the shop himself to the area.

He was quite a nice chap, where nice is intended in its best way possible — he was kind, honest and had a jolly disposition to his character, a quality which, no doubt, had served him and his business quite well over the years.

Upon hearing the ringing of the bell, he popped his head into the doorway, out of his office which was located at the back of the shop, narrowing his bright eyes at the approaching figure through the round, old-looking goggles he usually wore when he read. His loved ones had, on numerous occasions, suggested he got himself a pair of actual glasses, rather than this ridiculous looking pair. He would always smile kindly at this, but ultimately do nothing about the matter. After all, both he and his grandkids found the goggles quite amusing. 

Elizabeth liked them too — she had told him this on their first meeting, when she had wandered into the shop after seeing a particularly old version of Jules Vern's From the Earth to the Moon on display. Even now, seeing those glasses made her grin wider than she ever would.

«Hello there, Professor!» She greeted, joyfully, skipping over to the counter.

«Aye!» the man exclaimed, eyes widening with recognition. A smile made its way on his wrinkled features and he reached up to pull his goggles up, on his grey hair «Kid! You're back!»

«'Tis I.» Lizzie beamed up at him as she leaned her forearms on the countertop, waiting for him to make his way out of the back of the shop.

«I suppose you're here for this, then.» He arched a knowing brow, sliding a round, familiar object towards the girl on the mahogany surface of the desk.

«And for your company.» Lizzie retorted, eyes sparkling with their ever-curious gleam, which had made the professor like her from the very start. Her gleaming blue eyes wandered all around the shop, caressing fondly every inch of it before they settled back on the kind man in front of her «You know I love this place.»

A chuckle escaped him «Oh, yes, you've made it quite clear with all the times you've come here.»

Elizabeth did smile at that, although her attention had been, by now, permanently stolen by the metallic object before her «Did you get anything from it?» she questioned almost tentatively, eyes lingering on the unidentified artefact.

The professor's sharp, thoughtful intake of air caused her gaze to flicker up to him, anticipation eating her chest out from the inside. Placing his hands on his hips, the man shifted his weight from one leg to the other «Well, it's a pocket watch, that's for sure. An old one too probably would be worth quite a sum if the lock wouldn't've been jammed.»

«Money is not quite what I'm interested in...» Elizabeth smiled softly nonetheless. Lying her chin on her hands her eyes observed the little object before her. «...so you couldn't get it open?» she wondered slowly and curiously, hesitant and quite frankly terrified of his answer.

But his lips pressed into a thin line and he shook his head, his soft features scrunching up into an apologetic frown «I tried everything, kid.» he told her, glaring fleetingly at the object in question «It's like it's sealed shut. Almost as if it is not meant to be opened at all.»

All Elizabeth could say was an ever soft «Oh...» her saddened eyes sliding back to the watch.

The professor could see how much his revelation had thrown off her spirits, a fact that made his tired old heart twinge in compassion and guilt. He knew, however, that the girl before him would not hold a grudge against him, for he had truly done all he could.

«But it's a pocket watch, all right, that much I am sure of.» he added, offering the child a tentative smile, an attempt of his at cheering her up even in the slightest.

And he did, for small smile graced the side of Elizabeth's lips. She proceeded to lean back, straightening up at once «Thank you anyway, professor. How much do I—»

«No, don't say another word, kid.» he cut her off with a brusque, cutting wave of his hand «It's my treat.»

Elizabeth's eyes widened in worry, orbs flickering between the man and her watch «But your work, I—»

«I have a policy against robbing clients. I'm honest like that.» he told her, mouth curved into a smile that reached and wrinkled the soft skin under his eyes «I don't take money if my services did not fulfil the client's or my expectations. And, in this case, they did not.»

The girl was far from convinced and absolutely not content with the agreement «But I—»

«No more buts!» he cut her off, strongly yet kindly «Now, laddie, go on ahead. There's a world waiting out there.»

At his dramatics a sincere smile could not help but curve her lips, her eyes rising to the ceiling in an exasperated-kind of roll, the chuckle that threatened to slip out of her lips betraying her. Grabbing her pocket watch off the counter and stuffing it in the pocket of her shabby jacket, she started shuffling her way towards the front door. «Can I at least come to next week's book sale?» she called, hopefully, over her shoulder. «I promise I'll make sure to get as much of my 'world experience' by then.»

All she received was a kind smile from the elderly man, his eyes twinkling with fatherly-like affection as he watched her grab the door's handle «I'll save you the best adventure books, kid.» he winked her way, the soft skin under his bright eyes rippling into numerous wrinkles.

Grinning gratefully, Elizabeth Swan pulled the door open, the tiny bronze bell jingling in a soft warning as she elapsed through the door. «Thank you!» she beamed at him «Good day, professor Mott!»

«Good day, laddie.»

And with that Elizabeth was off into the big wide world.

Leaving the professor to sigh in content as he watched after her, his hands loosely set on his hips. «Fine brains, that one.» he called into the back of the shop, eyes lingering fondly upon the now closed door «A nice kid.»

Which received him a chuckle from a certain ginger woman sitting in the back of his shop, strolling leisurely through her phone.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth wandered down the street she had come from, hands buried in the depths of her jacket's pockets.

Her eyes had fallen to the ground, downcast to watch her feet in motion.

Something, all of a sudden, had plummeted onto her chest. Something that at first had crawled its way through her ribcage but had by now slithered up to her throat, nestling in between her flesh and tying itself in a tight knot.

Perhaps it had something to do with Lizzie's failed attempt at finding out something about the mysterious object she had been found with, or maybe it was because the only clue she ever had to her past had revealed itself to be a dead end.

Either way, as Lizzie nuzzled herself deeper into her three-sizes-too-big jacket and continued on, shuffling down the empty street, a soft sniffle couldn't help but leave her huddled figure.

She had become well acquainted with tears but found herself not quite overly fond of their presence. So, when her eyesight began blurring out like it had done on numerous occasions prior, she straightened up and pushed them back, clenching her jaw shut in protest.

She was not about to have a break down in the middle of a street, even for how deserted it was (which was strange, considering the area she had wandered off to was close to Picadilly Circus).

Squeezing her eyes shut, Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath through her nose, in a futile attempt to calm her jittery nerves down.

When that did nothing, she blew that bundle of air out of her mouth, halting her steps and unclenching her fists. They had been clutching tightly on the material of her pockets without her even realising it.

The enormous amount of questions that were pressing at her mind had become unbearably heavy in the past few years. They kept growing, multiplying, splitting into new ones, like a virus that was slowing eating her brain out from the inside.

Dark thoughts mudded her mind and flashed before her closed eyelids as she stood there, attempting to clear off that dreadful feeling that had began building in her heart.

She could not give up, not even this failure could make her do so.

Slowly leaning her head backwards, Elizabeth Smith opened her eyes. She was met with the beautiful evening sky, a few stars peering down at her from behind the clouds. And just like so, sparring of different shades of blues took place, and she stood there, still, in the middle of a London's street.

The wind that rustled through the trees around her, reached out to gently ruffle through her hair as it went, leaving soft caresses on the skin of her cheeks, stinging them with their autumn-like coolness. The wind took it upon itself to carry away her horrid thoughts, instead leaving her with a feeling of melancholic contentedness.

It was as if the sky itself had taken pity on her, something which Elizabeth was sincerely grateful for.

Slowly, she breathed, watching more clouds roll in out of the corner of her eyes. She knew that this could only mean that soon rain would've started chucking down, a regular occurrence in London's weather.

So, returning her gaze forth, Elizabeth Smith sighed in silent defeat and took a step ahead.

Only for her foot to never hit the ground.

For that was when it all happened.

«Look out!» a shout echoed in the vast area.

Before Elizabeth even had the chance to react, she felt a pair of something sneaking under her shoulders (a something which she soon after identified as a pair of hands). And upon looking downwards, she realised with a start that she was being lifted off the ground.

Now, Elizabeth did not possess a fear of heights, but she was not quite keen on the idea of being kidnapped. She already was hardly having a great day, that would've just been a further inconvenience. 

So, when she did realise she was in the air, she mustered up all of her strength and courage and tried to quickly recall all of the karate moves she had seen on tv in her short lifetime.

While her mind worked, though, she found it appropriate to start kicking. For insurance purposes.

«Hey! Put me down! Put me down or I'll scream!» Elizabeth screamed, only later realising the mistake in her threat «I'll scream really loud! I'm not afraid to bite either! I bite hard!» Elizabeth shouted, aimlessly wiggling and jerking around in the hold of the stranger, like a fish out of water.

To her utter surprise, though, not a second after, her captor, who barely seemed fazed at her movements, placed her safely on the ground. «No need for that.» he, for it was indeed a male's voice, stated, carefully setting her on the bricked pavement before stepping away «There. See? Safe and sound.»

Eyes wide under her frowning eyebrows, Elizabeth spun around so fast to face the stranger that it was a wonder even to her how she didn't lose her balance «Why would you—?!» her flaring voice was cut short and her words got stuck in her throat at the sight of the man before her. Black hair, uniquely prominent ears, pained eyes and black leather: the image hit her like a truck, sending a weakening feeling to her knees. She stumbled back slightly but quite dramatically, a sight at which the man rose one of his brows, particularly when she started attempting to formulate pathetic mutterings «I-I... I... Can't... What....»

His eyes narrowed into something akin to confusion, mixed with ever slight concern «You alright there?»

Get a damn grip!

Clearing her throat way louder than she intended to, which almost resulted in her choking on air, Elizabeth straightened up, croaking out a feeble «I'm... I'm feeling a sudden urge to say that one bad word, but I'm fineeee.» she nodded briefly, eyes looking at everything but him as she shifted continuously from one foot to another, nervously blowing a breath out of her mouth. «Yeah, I'm- I'm good. What did you—» her eyes briefly wondered behind him, only to see there, lying on the ground, a figure. Upon further inspection, though, what Elizabeth had at first thought to be bare skin, was something else entirely «Oh...» she softly drawled, a small smile spreading on her lips as her eyes watched the now lifeless plastic dummy, her mind wandering over to a blonde woman she had seen in her dreams «You just met...»

«Just met?»

His voice caused her eyes to flicker up to his own, blue encountering blue yet again. Her eyes widened at the realisation that she had, in fact, spoken her thoughts out loud, and she quickly scrambled to dismiss them with a louder «No, no, nothing, um...» before finally pushing through her shock «What was that... thing?» she wondered, swallowing heavily as her eyes watched the unmoving form, even though the answer to her own question was as clear to her as the sky was when the day had first begun.

«Oh, that?» he asked, nonchalantly, turning to glance briefly over his shoulder «That's a dummy. Or, well, not quite really a dummy. It's an Auton. An alien from outer space who's trying to take over Earth. Nothing to worry about, I'll deal with that in a minute.» A tight smile stretched across his lips «Just an ordinary day on the job.» 

Allowing her eyes to wander over to his own, Elizabeth Smith watched him with a grin, eyes sparkling with something she herself wouldn't have been able to fully identify «I'm sure it is.»

It must've been her tone, or perhaps her look, but his eyes narrowed at her figure, mild interest swimming through his orbs as he asked her «What's your name again?»

Eyes widening, Elizabeth frowned. «I didn't say it.» she gave him a stumped look, eyeing him over «Stranger danger.»

The man's brow raised in disbelief «I'm not going to harm you, you know.»

She couldn't help but smirk «That's exactly what murder would say.» 

A vexed look crossed his features and he grimaced. «Fair enough.»

«How about you tell me your name first?» Elizabeth pressed forth, her eyes watching him with utter fascination yet weariness.

He raised his brow further «Fine then. I-I'm...»

«DOCTOR!»

At the booming sound of the shout both Elizabeth and, yes, the Doctor, looked around to its source. And, really, it was hard to say who of the two was more surprised.

For there, racing towards them, was a girl.

At first, she was but a blurry mess, in her skinny blue jeans and a lathered jacket, a black cap fixed tightly onto her head, brown hair cascading from its back in a messy ponytail. But, as she came closer, all Lizzie got was even further confusion.

For she had never seen this girl in any of her dreams.

Once the new mysterious stranger halted her run, chest heaving, her gaze rose up to meet the Doctor's, only to freeze on Lizzie's own, in bewildered shock.

And it was when their eyes finally crashed together, that a final blow was delivered to Elizabeth and eyes blew into wide plates. «You have my same eye colour.» she blurted out, flabbergasted. But her eyes narrowed the second later, two slits scanning the unknown woman with curiosity and suspicion. «No one ever has my eye colour.»

The strange girl stared down at the child with eyes as wide as Frisbees, her ever unique blue eyes burning holes into a pair just as unique. «We-well.» she stammered, swallowing heavily, a sight that made Elizabeth's jaw clench even tighter «I-It's a really common eye colour actually. It's blue. Blue, like clouds, like the sea. Blue. Blue is nice, I-I quite like blue, I-it's my favourite colour, do you like blue? I enjoy it greatly, it's supposed to be really good for your nerves...» the woman blabbered on, eyes flickering briefly over to the Doctor before settling back on Elizabeth, witnessing a matching inquiring expression on their features. And it was that sight, probably, that caused her to clear her throat and to shift uncomfortably in her spot «But I... may have mentioned that already...» she muttered awkwardly, eyes falling downwards briefly before she cleared her throat once again and glanced up, pointedly, at the man. «Doctor, we really have to go.» she urged, eyes only briefly sliding down to the little girl before she tore them off her once more.

«...right.» eyebrow lifted up at the girl in, what Elizabeth could only assume was, question, the Doctor drawled out, his gaze observing her carefully as she purposely avoided his stare. Or, at least, that was what Elizabeth thought she was doing.

«Now.» upon hearing his voice, both girls looked over at him, only to find his eyes fixated on Elizabeth «You go on home and be safe. Melody and I will take care of the rest.»

The new name, which Elizabeth had not even once ever heard in her dreams, generated even more questions in her mind, leaving her absolutely speechless.

Yet, as she glanced up at the Doctor and then at the mystery girl herself (she, in turn, giving her a small, hesitant, tight-lipped smile) all little Elizabeth could do was nod her head and force her feet to start off walking, back towards the orphanage. It would've been difficult, however, not to catch the sadness that flickered all over the woman's eyes as she watched the little girl turn around, a sentiment which caused even more questions and theories to flash through Elizabeth's mind. Her mind was clouded, however, by a new kind of pain clawing at her heart at the thought of leaving the Doctor.

It was when she was already halfway down the street that his voice echoed yet again, causing her to look back at him over her shoulder. «You know my name now!» he called after her, both him and the woman watching after her.

At this, a soft, little smile did curve her lips. «I do.»

He shrugged, a ghost of a smile lifting the corner of his lips. «Well, that's just not fair, is it?»

A grin slowly stretched across her lips, her eyes filling to the brim with pride and joy. «My name's Elizabeth!» she called back, her eyes beaming into his as she kept walking backwards.

She was surprised to see a beaming smile spreading on the woman's lips, as her observing eyes twinkled with an emotion little Elizabeth, back then, couldn't have had ever deciphered.

The Doctor too grinned, exhilaration radiating off of his stance «Nice to meet you, Elizabeth. Now!» and, waving a what Elizabeth realized to be a stack of dynamites, he exclaimed a rather joyous «Run for your life!»

With that, both he and the mystery girl took off, into the opposite direction.

And as Elizabeth watched after them, she realized that that knot that had bothered her earlier on that day had by now fully disappeared.

Because now she knew, now she was sure.

Now she was certain, that the Doctor was real.