Chapter Text
I am sitting at the end of the pier. I haven’t been here in years, but I like to visit it when I can. It always seems so magical to me; especially in the morning, when the dew is on the grass and nearby trees, and the fog is rolling over the surface of the lake. I feel content.
My feet are in the water; it’s cool but not cold. Minnows are nipping my toes. I inhale the air deeply, feeling the chill in my lungs. This is my escape.
Suddenly I see a shape appear from the fog. The nearly still water rocks it slowly in my direction, until I can see that the shape is in fact a small wooden fishing boat. Eventually I can make out details, and see that the wood is old, cracked, and painted a ridiculous shade of blue. I wonder how it can even stay afloat; it looks ancient. And I can’t imagine its cumbersome passenger is helping matters.
I continue watching as the boat moves closer to me. The man in the boat seems to be sleeping. Soundly. I pick my feet up out of the water before the boat knocks lightly against the pier, and the small jolt shakes the man awake.
“Hmm, K-9?” he says groggily. He yawns, sits up, and looks around until his eyes find me. For a second he frowns and seems very confused, but the expression is quickly replaced with a warm smile that shows interest and wonderment instead of confusion. Though perhaps it is simply interest and wonderment at his confusion. As if it is something that rarely happens.
“Why, hello,” he says to me. He tries to stand up, before remembering- or possibly for the first time just realizing- that he is in a rickety old boat. “Well, that is odd,” he says, looking down. He catches his balance and takes one large stride from the boat onto the pier. He has a deep but soothing kind of voice. He sounds British.
He looks back at the boat, hmm-s once more, and then dusts himself off. He is dressed oddly. He has a long burgundy coat, crooked hat, plaid pants, and a long colorful scarf which I assume is the thing that most people notice about him. I decide to call him out on it.
“Your scarf seems terribly impractical,” I tell him. “Don’t you trip over it?”
The man frowns funnily, and looks at the scarf, as if only just seeing it for the first time. “Yes, I suppose I do from time to time, but I can’t seem to part with it. I’ve had it now for quite a while, and I’ve grown terribly attached.”
The man shoves his hands into his deep coat pockets. “You seem like a terribly nice young lady, so I was just wondering if you mind telling me where we are.”
“We’re at my pier,” I tell him. “My dad built it with my uncles when they were young.”
The man nods and taps a wooden board with his shoe. The plank creaks under his heel. “Yes, I can see that it is top quality indeed.” He winks charmingly. “To be envied by its peers- you might say.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He takes his hat off, unleashing a mess of unruly brown curls, and scratches his head. “You know, I was wondering the same thing myself.” He crumples his hat and shoves it into a pocket inside his coat before reaching out his hand. “But silly me, where are my manners? How do you do? I’m the Doctor.”
“Adrienne,” I say, shaking his large hand. His grip is strong, but not violently so; more enthusiastic. “Adrienne Gracewood.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Gracewood. Tell me, I was traveling with some friends of mine, and I was wondering if perhaps you had seen them float by.” He smiles when he says the word “float”, as if he’s just made a clever joke. “One is a rather brusque but lovely young lady by the name of Leela. Well, she can be rather lovely, but that doesn’t tend to be her first impression on most people. My other friend is my dog. He’s called K-9, and he is a very special breed; quite smart too.”
I shake my head. “You’re the first person I’ve seen here all day.”
The Doctor does not seem fazed. “Oh, well I’m sure they’re just fine; so long as they have each other.” He pauses a moment. “Is this lake near where you live?”
“Just up the street.” I point behind me to where the pier connects to the land. I turn around to show him the path, but all I can see is the forest.
I knit my brow and look back to the man. “That’s odd.”
The Doctor bends down to my height and puts on another curious face. “Is it? Why should trees be odd, Adrienne?”
“Because there should be a path where those trees are; one that leads to the road… I wonder where it’s gone.”
The sky thunders in the distance, but neither of us pays any attention to it. As if it’s just background noise; low volume static on a radio.
The Doctor takes a few steps forward, and then looks all around him. He wiggles the fingers of his left hand through the air, as if trying to feel for something that’s just out of his grasp.
He turns back to me. “You say you walked here?”
I nod.
“Then where are your shoes?”
I look down and notice that my shoes aren’t on the dock. I can’t remember bringing shoes, but my feet are too clean for me to have walked here without them. The more I think about it, the more I can’t remember how I got here at all. What was I doing before…?
There is a sky-cracking pulse of thunder that is closer than the last one, but I don’t see the lightning that came with it.
The Doctor can obviously see the frustration on my face. “There is really no need to worry. I think I know what’s going on, and I am certain that you will be quite alright.”
I notice that he says “you” instead of “we”.
“Adrienne, do you like this spot?”
The question strikes me as odd, but I answer. “I love it here. It’s so calm… usually. It helps relax me.”
“Splendid.” The Doctor keeps smiling.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Everything around me starts losing shape and color, becoming vaguer, and less tangible. It’s hard to concentrate on anything.
“As I said before, there is nothing to worry about. Though I think you may be asleep.”
The horizon disappears into a dense, solid fog. There are only the trees, the lake, and the pier now. “So, you’re just part of my dream?” I wonder aloud.
“Well, I certainly hope not,” the Doctor huffs. “All I’ve done for the universe may have been for nothing if my entire journey through time and space had just happened inside your subconscious.”
I don’t know what he’s saying, so I push on. “You’re saying your real?” I can tell he is. He’s the only vivid thing left in the world. “How did you get here?”
“I was wondering that myself, actually.” He looks slightly embarrassed. “I was hoping to find out, but it seems you want to wake up before I get the chance.”
I feel dizzy. “So what will happen to you when I wake up?”
“Possibly two things.” He counts them out on his fingers. By now it’s just the two of us standing on the pier, beyond that is only a world of fog. “The first possibility is that I will wake up along with you, and all will be well, and we will each go on living our lives- now having this funny little story to help make dinner parties more interesting...” His face falls, and his voice turns grave. “The second possibility is what concerns me a bit more.”
I focus on him, not wanting to wake up. But I can feel myself stirring in the real world. In that sort of half-awake state.
“What’s that?” I ask quickly.
“If you wake up before I wake up, my mind could simply be trapped in your subconscious indefinitely.” He coughs awkwardly. “So, if you could at all stop yourself from waking up, that would mean a great deal to me.”
I hear the thunder more clearly now, and I notice that it isn’t thunder at all. It’s the sound of my alarm clock.
I wake up.