Best Day Of My Life by American Authors

***

"How is London going to help?" I yelled over the sound of the TARDIS engines. "We're still in a parallel universe, it's not like Rose will be there just because it's 2006."

The Doctor was working the console like a madman, flipping levers and spinning dials, attempting to hold down eight buttons with three fingers while stabilizing a large handle with his foot. He clenched his teeth, hitting a few keys near the viewscreen with his free hand.

"It's just a pit stop," he managed. "Good a place as any to start."

I eyed his position. "You look like you need a couple extra hands."

"Ten, actually."

"Really?" The floor tilted, and I grabbed on to a rail. "Well, anything I can do."

"Hold that down." He jerked a thumb at a rattling lever. "A TARDIS is supposed to be flown by a crew of six. It's a bit more complicated than pressing the gas and turning a wheel."

"I have a driver's license," I offered.

"I'll let you know if we need to use a car." The Doctor flipped a switch, and the room levelled out. "You ever been to London, Ash?"

"No." I sighed wistfully. "That's more than I can afford at the moment, but I've always wanted to travel."

"How do you feel about time travel?"

"I'm told it's impossible."

"That's disappointing. Suppose we're stuck here, then."

I grinned, leaning across the console. "Didn't say I believe it."

A wide smile spread across the Doctor's face. "Well, as it happens... I'm rather good at impossible."

He pushed away from the console, cocking a satisfied eyebrow at me. That familiar engine sound filled the air, signalling that we'd reached our destination.

"Well, here we are. Bit of turbulence, the TARDIS doesn't really like parallel universes, but she just takes a little convincing." He patted the dash lovingly.

I rolled my eyes, but was too excited to care for long. Skipping over to the doors, I paused and turned to face him. "We just travelled in time."

The Doctor stepped toward me, sliding his hands into his pockets. "What, don't you believe me?"

"Can... can we use the magic wardrobe?"

"Magic?" He laughed, picking up his coat from the crook of a column. "It's just a dimensional anomaly, which is perfectly normal for the TARDIS. Besides, this is 2006. It's hardly been a decade."

Flipping the latch, the Doctor pulled open the doors, gesturing for me to go first. "How much could things possibly have changed?"

I stepped out.

He started to follow me, then paused, taking in the scene.

The air smelled of roasting meat and spices. We'd come out from behind a heavy set of drapes in the corner of a long banquet hall, columns lining the sides. People dressed in colourful tunics and togas crowded the area, laughing, sipping wine, and partaking of the sumptuous buffet. It was a scene straight out of a picture book, and I found myself half-expecting to see some caricature of Julius Caesar on a raised dais at the far end. My jaw hung slack.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "Er, I think..."

"A slight miscalculation, perhaps?" I suggested.

"Can't be," he said, looking down at his watch.

Someone jostled me from behind, and I turned instinctively to apologize.

A large woman faced me, shock and disgust evident on her face. "Oi, watch it," she started, then took in our appearances. "What on earth are you wearing? You can't be here like this."

I glanced between her and us. She was wearing a monstrously fuchsia toga, dark hair elaborately curled and pinned to her head. My jeans and the Doctor's suit were definitely out of place in this room. I fumbled for an excuse, but she didn't wait for it.

"What d'ye think you're doing, anyhow? Kitchen staff, or what, snogging in the corner? You'll ruin the aesthetic, I said costumes only in the gathering area."

My mind skipped over the second half of her rant as we were none too gently pushed through a side door, and evidently the Doctor hadn't missed her accusation either.

"What?" he started.

I coughed, my face heating up. "Oh no. We were so not—"

"Definitely not, no way—"

"—you know, just a random corner—"

"—the two of us? I really think—"

The woman in pink spoke loudly over our stammering. "Yeah, and don't think I'm paying you for taking breaks. No street clothes in there again, you got it?"

And the door slammed behind her.

We were in a busy commercial kitchen, chefs in black and white uniforms and servers in varying styles of Roman dress. White countertops and stainless steel were such a glaring contrast from the room we'd just left that I was momentarily disoriented.

The Doctor looked up from his watch, then his eyes widened and he looked back down.

Street clothes, the woman had said. I laughed out loud as the realization hit me. "It's a costume party! So it's 2006 anyway - things haven't changed a bit. And you know, I don't think the ancient Romans were much into snogging, like she said."

"Ever been to Rome?" He raised his eyebrows at me. "They did it proper, back then. Snogging all round, loads of it."

"Loads, yeah," I agreed. "You'd know, of course?"

"Oh, you know, when in Rome and all."

"Right." I let out a puff of air, then put on an exaggerated accent. "I meant the word, snogging, it's very British."

"Yes, well." He made a face at my terrible imitation. "Please don't. Right, since we're here, we'd best be off, yeah? No time for— oh, that's excellent."

Sweeping past the counter covered in assorted dishes and desserts, he stuck a finger in one on his way to the opposite door. I followed, quashing the temptation to copy him.

We stepped out into the street. Bright afternoon sunlight was filtering between the buildings, a beautiful spring day in London.

London! I still couldn't believe it. I'd never left Canada before, forget crossing the ocean. Forget time-traveling. I thought my face might split open with all the grinning I was doing.

"Where are we going?" I asked breathlessly.

The Doctor finished licking his fingers and shoved them into the pocket of his long brown coat. "Newspaper, I think. We want to know the exact date."

"What, doesn't your TARDIS tell you the date?"

"The console is damaged. Didn't you notice?"

"Nope." I paused. "Should I have? It's usually a bit of a mess, isn't it?"

He threw an irritated glance my way. "The viewscreen cracked when the supermagnet from Torchwood hit the console. It'll take a bit to repair itself, but I suppose you know all about that."

"No, actually, because you still haven't told me how you got here. Anyway, if it's the date you want, I have a phone." I pulled the sleek black device from my back pocket, turning it on. Sliding my fingers across the screen, I smacked my forehead. "Wait, I don't have reception. I'm halfway across the world and ten years back in time - of course I don't have reception."

"Never mind," the Doctor said, almost cheerfully. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way."

I frowned up at him. "You know, for a time-travelling alien from a planet with technology that makes ours look primitive - you are weirdly old-fashioned. Look, they've got the news playing on a TV in there. Who needs a paper?"

I stopped, pointing through a set of sliding doors into the lobby of the building next to us. The words "ROYAL HOPE HOSPITAL" were clearly visible over the entrance, and inside I could see a reception area with a TV mounted on one wall. Stepping closer to the doors, I squinted through the glass to read the scrolling headlines.

"U.S. President supports new healthcare legislation... inner-city rec centre initiative from MP Sarah Candour... Wales and Scotland to face off on the pitch tonight with two wins each..." I let out a puff of disgust. "Politics, infrastructure and sports - the three most boring subjects on the planet. Does nobody care about the date?"

The Doctor drew in a long breath through his nose. Eyes half-closed, he appeared to be completely absorbed in the task, holding it for several seconds before taking another.

"Interesting," he said. Then, "Right. Let's go ask, shall we?"

I laughed. "Ask? Like walk up to the desk and go what year is it, like in some old sci-fi?"

In two strides he was through the doors, sending a wink over his shoulder as he headed for the front desk. I just barely slipped in behind him.

"Hello, yes," the Doctor started. "You've been having problems with your TV reception? It's been a common issue in the area, we're double-checking the entire network."

The receptionist, a young guy with shaggy curls and a perpetually surprised expression, glanced up with a surprised expression. "Um, I haven't noticed anything. I wouldn't know. Rudolf would be the tech guy but he's on break. What are you..."

"Oh, nothing to worry about." The Doctor jerked his head in the direction of the TV. "I'll just be— you know, don't mind me."

"Right, okay." Still looking vaguely put off, he pointed at a thick grey remote on the desk in front of him. "Um."

If the receptionist had planned to add anything to that sentence, the Doctor didn't wait for it. He handed me the remote with the air of someone who didn't really know what to do with it, moving back to the TV area by the windows.

I glanced down at the remote, wondering if I was being handed my first task as an associate of the Doctor - or if I was expected to do anything at all. The answer looked to be negative, as the Doctor had immediately reached into his coat pocket and started flipping through channels with the sonic screwdriver.

If it were physically possible to do the swirly heart eyes expression, that would sum up my reaction perfectly. I clutched the TV remote to my chest and made indistinct muffled squeaking noises behind the Doctor's back.

"That's the sonic screwdriver," I said completely coolly.

"Excellent observation," he nodded absently.

"And you're pointing it at the thing and it's making the actual noise," I continued slightly less coolly.

"Mm-hm." He'd managed to display a channel that I was pretty sure wasn't on the regular network. Circular Gallifreyan symbols rotated on one side of the screen, numbers scrolled swiftly along the bottom, and a gauge in the centre was in the red zone. It looked a little like the TARDIS display, but I had no clue what it meant. Something bad, judging by all the flashing lights in the corners.

I looked at the remote in my hand again. "Doctor?"

"Just a minute." He started muttering to himself.

"Okay." I shrugged and looked out the window.

The TV remote I held felt like a brick compared to what I was used to. I grinned, realizing this was probably the latest technology in 2006. Somewhere across the ocean, seven-year-old me was watching Disney movies on our old VHS player and thinking nothing of the fact that it had to be rewound at the end. I watched a pedestrian stop, pulling out a flip phone to take a picture through the rain.

Wait a sec.

I spun around, grabbing the Doctor's arm. "It's raining," I told him urgently.

He was rubbing his chin, squinting at the screen. "I'm missing something," he insisted. "There's something wrong with this picture, it's right in front of me - I just..."

"Up," I clarified. "The rain - it's going up."

That got his attention. The Doctor glanced sharply toward the window, stared, then abandoned the TV completely and stepped right up to the glass. The storm was swirling right above us, electricity jumping between clouds, hundreds of thousands of gallons of water pouring up from the sidewalk.

"Huh," he said, raising an eyebrow at me. "So it is."

"It's like that thing," I blurted, still staring out the window. "That... that thing. You know. Um."

"H2O scoop," we said at the same time.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Get down!"

He jumped back from the window, and I stood staring for only a moment longer before realizing that the ground was trembling under us. I stumbled back around a low table. The shaking was getting worse. The receptionist yelped as a stack of folders spilled across his lap, quickly followed by the contents of the low shelf next to him.

I grabbed on to a heavy sofa, just as the floor tilted dramatically and everything started sliding to the left. People in the waiting room were screaming, but the Doctor waded awkwardly through the mess, diving for the reception desk as everything tilted the other way.

"Doctor!" I yelled, but I doubted he'd heard.

The sofa started sliding back to the wall, so I let go and tried to pretend I had my sea legs. We straightened out, then all at once everything stopped shaking, and I promptly fell on my butt.

Pushing myself up, I stumbled over to the desk. People were getting up, and no one looked seriously hurt - just a bit, well, shaken. The Doctor's head popped up from the opposite side of the desk.

"Ash, hand me that remote," he said immediately, turning back to the TV. All it showed was fuzz.

I scowled at him. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Finding the remote still in my hand, I tossed it to him - then a yell made us both freeze in our tracks.

The reception guy was standing now, pointing out the front windows. Someone screamed. A lot of others followed suit.

"Is that the bloody moon?" he cried hoarsely.

***

How's it going?

I've been having a bad morning, but the promised chapter is up and that makes my day about 500% better already☺️ I appreciate every single one of your votes and comments!

Hope you like the plot twist... things are going to get interesting.