***

She trailed him to the stairs that led to the back of the Powell Estate, chasing him down. "Are you seriously running off?"

"Yeah, I am." He responded, not even looking back to face her.

But Willow wasn't going to let him go so easy -- she needed to understand what the hell just happened. "Okay, no. You're gonna give me some answers."

The Doctor tugged at his leather jacket, huffing. "Do I have to?"

"Yes." She said.

"Then I won't." This man must have thought himself to be so self-righteous if he was going to keep avoiding her questions. It wasn't fair on her.

They descended the stairs, Willow closing on him. "Listen, that thing just tried to kill my sister."

"But it didn't." He briefly glanced over his shoulder. "Are you married then?"

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

He repeated the question, curious. "Are you married?"

Willow clenched her jaw, her lips pressing together. "I'm taken if that's what you're asking."

"I wasn't." The Doctor's response surprised her, considering that she was used to being hit on by other men. "I'm just wondering why you have different last names."

"She's my foster sister," She informed him. "I mean, not technically. Jackie's my guardian." They reached the ground floor, the Doctor shoving the door open and stepping outside. "Not that I need a guardian anyway. I'm just living with them until I..." Her words were slipping away from her. "... Anyway, we're not talking about me. I wanna know who you are."

He shook his head, lightly chuckling. "You really don't."

"Yeah, I do. Why did you blow up Henriks?" she questioned.

As Willow approached his left, the Doctor turned to her. "Didn't Rose explain?"

She shrugged, folding her arms. "Well, she said something about killer mannequins-"

"Well, then there's your answer!" The man exclaimed with a cheerful yet sarcastic-sounding tone. "Now off you pop!"

Yet, she remained by his side, unable to retain her frustration. "Who are you?"

"I told you -- I'm the Doctor." He stated.

"Yeah, but what else?" she asked.

"There's nothing else." A blatant lie, of course; he was barely scratching the surface of his identity. "It's just "The Doctor", all right?"

"No, that's not all right." His tight silence built an invisible wall between them, and Willow could not cross it. The Doctor was a tough egg to crack. "Okay, fine -- keep your secrets. At least tell me what's going on."

He gripped the plastic arm by its wrist, twisting it in his hand. "Why should I?"

"Because you almost got my sister killed!" Twice, even -- and he was just walking off like it happened all the time.

"It was after me -- not her." Even so, their lives were still in peril. Sure, his intervention saved Rose's life, but he was the one to provoke the arm.

"Oh, so I should be thanking you then?" she retorted.

"Yeah, you should." The Doctor responded in a demeaning tone of voice.

She could tell from his stern glares that he thought very little of Willow and Rose like they were in his way. "What do you mean it was after you?"

He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Last night, in the shop, I was there, your sister blundered in -- almost ruined the whole thing." The Doctor believed. "This morning, I was tracking it down, it was tracking me down. The only reason it fixed on her is 'cos she's met me."

Willow scoffed, folding her arms. "You mean you pissed off some mannequins, and now they're after you?"

"I guess so." He tucked one hand into his trouser pocket. "It's a habit of mine."

"I can tell." The stranger was certainly annoying; she'd give him that. "So, who else knows about this?"

"No one." He admitted.

Surely, he wasn't fighting these things on his own. There had to be others who knew about this. "It can't just be you who's pissed off sentient plastic dummies."

He lifted his shoulders, shrugging. "I'm afraid it is."

"So, what did you do exactly?" Her lips curved into a small smirk. "Was it a crime against fashion?"

The Doctor stifled a giggle, angling his head away from her. He brushed the edge of his knuckles against his lips. "I wish it was that simple."

"This isn't, like, Toy Story, is it?" Willow had only seen it once since the 3D animation style freaked her out. "You know, mannequins have always been alive, but they just stop moving when people are around?"

He shook his head. "No, this is quite recent, and they're not technically alive."

As far as she could tell, the plastic arm had a mind of its own. "How'd you mean?"

"The thing controlling it projects life into the plastic." He explained.

Her nose wrinkled, thinking to herself for a moment. Willow tilted her head back, gazing into the richly blue sky. "What, like, they're controlled by satellites or something?"

"No, but that's not a bad guess." The Doctor complimented her. "They're controlled through thought."

She lowered her brows, looking back at him. "Thought?"

"Yep." He popped his lips. "Thought control."

"So, telepathy?" With a single nod, he confirmed her suspicions. "Then who's controlling it?"

"Long story." Once again, the Doctor avoided her questions and curious gaze; Willow wasn't getting very far with him. But she wasn't giving up now -- she never backs down from a challenge.

"Okay," she exhaled, "what do they want then?" As far as she could tell, they weren't doing much. "I mean, taking over Britain's shops isn't that big of a scheme."

"That would be interesting, wouldn't it?" The pair shared a brief giggle, almost making light of the situation. "But no." He dismissed her theory, bowing his head. "They want to overthrow the human race and destroy you." The Doctor met her gaze once more. "Do you believe me?

"Not exactly," she confessed, though with what she had seen, it wasn't too far-fetched, "but it's fun to listen to."

There was a pregnant pause, the Doctor halting in the middle of the road. He turned to her. "I know you don't think this is serious-"

"No, I know it's serious." She raised her voice slightly, her smile falling. "Rose nearly died twice within the span of twenty-four hours. When it's her life at stake -- yeah, I think this shit is serious." Losing her sister and failing Jackie was the worst thing she could do; Willow couldn't let anything bad happen to them. "Yes, I don't believe you, but if you know something then we have to stop it."

The Doctor looked her up and down, pausing for a few seconds. "You're very high-strung." He began to walk off, his back turned to her. "You know that, right?"

She asked again. "Who are you, Doctor?"

"I'm sorry if I've burst your bubble, but unemployment is not your worst problem today." He spun over his left shoulder, glaring at her. "It's whether or not you're going to live tomorrow." 

His abrupt outburst took her aback, and Willow was starting to understand the severity of the matter. She swallowed, growing quiet as he continued.

"I want this planet safe -- I want its people safe. I'm sorry Rose got thrown into this, but the best you can do now is keep her safe." His muscles tensed, pulsing in his thin neck. "Because you're right -- I am dangerous. That's who I am." He emphasised. "You both need to stay far, far away from me if you know what's good for you." It wasn't a threat -- it was a warning; she could see a glint of fire in his ice-blue eyes. "Go home, Willow Hughes." he prodded her shoulder with the plastic arm. "Forget about me."

And just like that, she let him walk away. Willow stood back, dumbfounded and even more confused than before. What else could she do but carry on?

So, she began to leave as well, turning a corner and passing the local playground. She glanced back a couple of times, though he wouldn't shed a single glimpse -- Willow didn't expect him to. All she could do now was return to the flat, give James a call, help Rose find a job that paid well, and sort out her life. That's what she was supposed to be doing, sorting everything out.

Willow wasn't too far away from the Powell Estate when she stopped, an abnormal feeling rushing through her nerves. Cool air brushed through her curls, accompanied by a strange sort of whooshing. Her head turned, peering back over her shoulder as the sound grew louder. It was like something was calling her forth.

Then she remembered -- the blue box. The one from last night. The one that gave her those rapid visions. It was there on the other side of the street, hidden in the background whilst they were talking. She was too focused on his warning to notice at first.

Her legs moved on their own accord, turning into a quick sprint. She dashed back to their original spot, only to find that the Doctor, along with the blue box, had vanished with the wind. There was only the street ahead of her, covered in parked cars on breaking concrete. If she asked for witnesses, she doubted anyone knew where they went.

Forget about him? Easier said than done. Willow needed answers -- she needed something in her life to make sense.

***

Thoughts of the Doctor began to consume her; he just wouldn't get out of her head. The man was utterly bewildering, and yet she found herself trusting his words. He was just impossible -- the things he said were just impossible, but so was Willow. 

Determination boiled, brimming close to the surface. As she wandered back into the main square of the Powell Estate, she saw a flash of pink and grey heading into another block of flats. Willow narrowed her eyes, her walk turning into a jog as she followed them inside.

She slapped her palm against the cold metal railing, putting one hand on her hip. "Um, where are you going?"

Rose spun back, her blonde hair swishing against her face. "I cleaned up!"

Willow shook her head. "That's not what I'm asking."

The girl hesitated, scratching her scalp. "... Mickey's."

"Oh, funny that." She peered at the floor, pinching the corner of her lip. "I was thinking the same thing." Willow lifted her head, meeting the blonde's confused stare. "He's got the computer, right?"

Luckily, Rose didn't ask many questions, and it appeared that the younger woman had caught on to her foster sister's idea. Together, they marched upstairs and soon found themselves outside his flat. Willow leaned against the wall just beside the door as Rose rang the doorbell.

A few moments later, Mickey opened the door, his face brightening. "Hey, hey, here's my woman." As she entered, he slapped her buttocks with a wide smirk. "Kit off!"

As he was about to close the door, Willow popped, beaming away. "And I'm here too, so no funny business."

Immediately, he took a step back, knowing how protective she could be of her little sister. "Coffee?" he offered, passing the young women.

"Yeah, only if you wash the mug. And I don't mean rinse," she spoke over his shoulder, emphasising her words, "I mean wash."

"Can we borrow your computer?" asked Willow.

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, why?"

"Research purposes." Willow flicked his ear, making him flinch as she strolled past. "You know, job-wise." That's what they should have been doing, but it seemed that Willow couldn't resist a good mystery. It's a weird one, albeit.

"All right then." Rose patted his back and gave him a light peck on the cheek. The two women wandered into his bedroom, Mickey rubbing his ear as he turned towards the kitchen. He halted, his eyes wide. "Don't read my emails!"

They ignored that last past, shutting the door behind them. His room was in a right state with clothes strewn across the floor and bits of food embedded in the carpet. Rose stepped over a scrunched-up crisp packet and approached the computer, sitting by his desk.

Willow wrinkled her nose, grimacing at the floor before locating a clear spot and kneeling beside her. She raised her arm and sat her elbow on the desk, holding her head in her hand. "What do you know about him then?" she questioned Rose. "I mean, considering you've met him more than once."

She shrugged, leaning forward. "I know he's called the Doctor, so..." Rose typed it in with very little thought and searched the web -- only to find over seventeen million results.

"Yeah, because that was gonna work," Willow grumbled.

Rose pressed her lips together, glancing upwards. "Can you not?" 'Living plastic' was added to the end of his name, thinking it would yield some results. But what appeared were several plastic surgeons. Rose huffed, sinking back into the chair. "Should have expected that."

"Let me try something." Willow angled the keyboard towards her and began to type, erasing the end of the sentence and replacing it with 'blue box'. The moment she entered it into the search engine, the top result caught her attention.

Doctor Who?
... do you know this man? Contact Clive here.

She clicked on the link, the webpage revealing an image of the elusive Doctor among a crowd of people, his face being the clearest despite the fuzziness around the edges. It was definitely him, though.

Now they were onto something. "Looks like we've just hit the jackpot."

***

Mickey agreed to drive the pair to the address given to them by Clive, the guy who claimed to know the Doctor. They'd spoken on the phone a little earlier, arranging to meet up and learn more about the mysterious man.

They parked on the other side of the road, Rose arguing with her boyfriend. "You're not coming in." She said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "He's safe. He's got a wife and kids."

"Yeah, who told you that?" he started. "He did!" The internet was still a relatively new thing, but Mickey already had some experience with it. "That's exactly what an internet lunatic murderer would say."

Rose glared at him before popping the door open and stepping outside. He was right to be suspicious of their special contact. After all, he'd known these girls since infancy, and if anything happened to them, the guilt would overwhelm him.

But they were also old enough to make their own decisions. They knew what they were doing.

Willow leaned forward, her head peeking through the gap between the front seats. "Do you know many internet lunatic murderers then, Mickey?"

"Well," he raised his shoulders, pouting, "I'll know one when he turns out to be one."

She gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, there's two of us, so if he tries anything, then he's in for a good slap on the face." 

Her foster sister crossed in front of the car, peering over her shoulder. "You coming?"

"Yep." Willow leaned back and opened her door, getting out of the car. She stepped forward and bent over, looking through the driver's window. "We'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah, you better." His breath wafted against the glass, steaming it up a little.

The two women strolled across the street, passing a neighbour putting his general waste bin out. They approached the house, Rose lightly knocking on the door.

There was a click, their front door slowly opening to reveal a young boy, around eleven or twelve, on the other side.

Rose cleared her throat, sharing a brief glance with her sister. "Um, hello, we've come to see Clive. We've been emailing."

"Dad!" The kid yelled, narrowing his eyes. "It's one of your nutters!"

He walked away without a care in the world, leaving the women feeling a little uncomfortable. Willow sighed, glancing at Rose. "Charming." Kids nowadays -- they have no respect. "Are we sure this is a good idea?"

"It's our best option, right?" Admittedly, it was one step towards learning more about the Doctor, even though his warning was still playing on Willow's mind.

A second later, a large man wandered out of another room, spotting the girls at the entrance. The man put on a large smile. "Oh, sorry. Hello." He appeared quite bubbly, a proper family man. Clive's gaze darted between the pair. "Which one's which?"

"I'm Willow," she pointed to the blonde beside her, "and this is Rose."

"Hello." The man shook her gloved hand, then Rose's. "I'm Clive," he chuckled, "obviously."

Her nerves resided slightly, and her face lit up with warmth. "Nice to meet you."

"I'd better tell you now. My boyfriend's waiting in the car, just in case you're going to kill me." The three shared a laugh, albeit a little awkwardly. In the background, they noticed Mickey roll his window down and glare at the man.

"No, good point. No murders." Clive waved to a suspicious Mickey in the car, the man's cheerful demeanour doing little to appease his worries.

"Who is it?" A female voice called from upstairs.

He crooked his head towards the ceiling. "Oh, it's something to do with the Doctor. They've been reading the website." Clive turned back, extending an arm. "Please, come through. I'm in the shed."

"Thank you." The man led them through the kitchen as his wife closed the front door, surprised by Clive's visitors being female.

He guided them outside, strolling over to a spacious blue shed and allowing the young women entry. "A lot of this stuff's quite sensitive. I couldn't just send it to you. People might intercept it -- if you know what I mean." Clive explained as he approached a workbench covered in scraps of paper and photographic evidence.

"Totally," Willow said, sounding a little sceptical. She took a glimpse at the various conspiracy theories on the wall, some linked by coloured pins and strings. The shed was covered head to toe in pictures, files and folders. It looked like the average hideout for a detective on the run.

There was also a bike on the ceiling -- for what reason, the pair of women could not decipher.

"If you dig deep enough and keep a lively mind, this Doctor keeps cropping up all over the place. Political diaries, conspiracy theories, even ghost stories." He picked up a thick blue folder, full of important documents. Clive joined them by the table in the centre, laying it down on some strewn files. "No first name, no last name, just the Doctor. Always the Doctor." Clive said. "And the title seems to have been passed down from father to son. It appears to be an inheritance." He gestured to the computer behind them. "That's your Doctor there, isn't it?"

The women adjusted their postures, getting a better look at him. "Yeah."

Willow straightened up, turning to Clive. "Have you met him then?" For someone so interested in him, they must have crossed paths once or twice.

But to her surprise, he said. "Not in person, no. But I've heard about him from various sources, and this is the clearest image of him." He opened the folder, removing a plastic wallet from inside. "I tracked it down to the Washington Public Archive just last year. The online photo's enhanced, but if we look at the original..."

Clive removed a selection of photos from the wallet, revealing them to the foster sisters, one at a time. He'd circled the Doctor's face in red pen, a scrawled arrow pointing him out in the crowd. The next one was the same photo, only taken from further away this time. By the time they'd reached the third photo, Willow and Rose recognised the setting in an instant.

November 22nd, 1963 -- the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

"No way." She uttered. The Doctor didn't look old enough to be from the 1960s; it was impossible.

"It must be his father." Rose thought.

Seeing that it wasn't enough evidence for them, Clive retrieved more files from his drawer. "Going further back. April 1912. This is a photo of the Daniels family of Southampton," he pointed at a figure in Edwardian garb, "and friend." It was him, clear as day. He looked exactly the same. "This was taken the day before they were due to sail off for the New World on the Titanic, and for some unknown reason, they cancelled the trip and survived." 

And he was saving lives, just like he'd saved Rose's. Why would he do that? 

"And here we are. 1883. Another Doctor." He showed them another image, this time a drawing. "And look, the same lineage. It's identical."

"He's even wearing that stupid jacket." They didn't even make those in 1883, and it wouldn't have looked so pristine in the present day if it was.

"This one washed up on the coast of Sumatra on the very night Krakatoa exploded." The only link between the images was the disasters that followed suit, and he was always there when they happened. It's like he's a storm chaser, desiring to venture into the eye of a hurricane. "The Doctor is a legend woven throughout history. When disaster comes, he's there. He brings the storm in his wake, and he has one constant companion."

"Who's that?" wondered Rose.

"Death." It was a bit dramatic, but then again -- he did blow up a building. "If the Doctor's back -- if you've both seen him, then one thing's for certain." His piercing glare unnerved them a little. "We're all in danger." Clive grasped his files, putting them back where he found them. "If he's singled you out -- if the Doctor's making house calls," he looked over his shoulder with an expression of poignant fear, "then God help you."

Rose squished her brows together, tapping her hand against the table. "But who is he? Who do you think he is?"

"I think he's the same man." Clive declared. "I think he's immortal." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I think he's an alien from another world."

Her mouth gaped, her neck bending forward. "An alien?"

The man retained his serious demeanour. "Yeah."

Willow remained silent, taking another look at the image on Clive's computer. The Doctor's words played back in her head: "I want this planet safe -- I want its people safe."

Its people?

Suddenly, the possibility of the strange man who fought off the murderous mannequin's arm being otherworldly became all too real. 

As Willow was starting to believe his insane theories, Rose scoffed, the corners of her lips curving upwards. "You think some fella from up north is an alien?"

Clive didn't think it was a laughing, staring the blonde dead in the face. "So you have seen him then?"

Her face fell, and she carved a hand through her hair before quickly releasing it. "We should go. It's getting late."

Willow's lips quivered, attempting to stop her from leaving. "But, Rose-"

"I'm serious, let's go!" She snatched her arm, tugging Willow towards her.

As Rose pulled her towards the exit, her head snapped towards Clive. "I'm sorry." She told him. "We'll keep in touch, okay?"

Before her foster sister dragged her out of the shed, Willow saw a dumbfounded Clive staring back at her, bidding the woman farewell with a single nod.

They exited through the back gate, and as it swung closed, Willow released herself from Rose's grip. "What the hell? What are you doing?"

"Mickey was right -- he is a weirdo." She was the one who wanted to come in the first place.

"Okay, he might be a conspiracy theorist cowering in a shed -- it does raise a few concerns," she confessed, rubbing her wrist, "but what if he's right?"

Rose spun back, the women halting in their tracks. "Look, maybe we should just leave this alone." 

She clenched her jaw, her eye twitching. "Come on -- you have to admit that there's some truth to this."

"To what? That some random guy is some alien thing from outer space?" she held her arm towards the sky, pointing. "Yeah, that sounds pretty unbelievable."

"What about the photos? Huh?" Her arms crossed the front of her chest, her heart throbbing. "And you saw that drawing, didn't you? You just gonna ignore that?"

"Pictures can be faked." She insisted, raising her voice. "Hell, and drawings -- come on! He could have sketched that earlier!"

Her protruding gaze burned into her foster sister's glare, her nostrils flaring. "Rose, this is important to me!"

"What's important to me is staying alive!" she yelled back. "Will, we're in way over our heads with this whole living plastic thing. I still don't believe that, by the way." Rose stepped back, turning away from her. She scrubbed her hands over her face, releasing a strained huff. "All I want is a new job, and I don't need this Doctor messing it all up."

Tension ebbed from Willow's body, her muscles loosening. She lowered her head, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose and sighing. Maybe she was right -- this was a crazy situation they shouldn't get involved in. They were just two young women facing the world, oblivious to how horrible it could be. It's not like they could do anything to end the living plastic situation anyway.

"You're right." She lifted her head and lowered her arms, slapping her palms against her thighs. "This is stupid, I'm sorry. Let's just go."

"Okay." She muttered, her tone calmer.

Willow put on a smile, wrapping an arm over her sister's shoulder. The women shared a brief embrace, comforting one another before making their way across the street.

They approached Mickey's yellow car, the window still open.  "All right, he's a nutter -- off his head. Complete online conspiracy freak. You win!" They climbed inside, the women unaware of the danger they were now in. "What are we going to do tonight? I fancy a pizza."

"I like the sound of pizza." It had been a long day, and she needed something good to eat.

"Oh," Rose hesitated, peering over her shoulder, "well, I-"

"Pizza!" Mickey exclaimed, the word fresh on his tongue. He pursed his lips, enunciating it. "P-p-p-pizza!"

"Mickey sounds up for it." She said, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

"Pizza!" His enthusiastic response was abrupt, to say the least. It weirded the pair out a little, and as he started driving like a lunatic, they only began to feel more uncomfortable. But other than that, they suspected nothing to be amiss -- despite his skin looking a lot smoother than usual.

***

Don't know why I kept getting stuck on this. Seriously, I kept walking away from it because I couldn't write anything. This chapter was going to feature a lot more, but then the word count got a little too big.

Anyway, how are we all? Did we enjoy the 60th Anniversary specials? I did. I'll admit there were a few flaws here and there, but what can you expect? The show's never been perfect, and that's what I love about it. I can't wait to watch the Christmas special. It's been years, so I can't wait to sit down and watch it.

Let me tell you something. I've got plans for the future of this fic series, and it may be a little controversial. Well, I hope I get around to writing it because I really want to.

Thank you for reading. If you could, I would love it if you left a vote or a comment because I really appreciate the support. Thank you so much for 2k reads xx

- Alice.