𝟘𝟙𝟙 ▹ 𝔼𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕, 𝟙𝟡𝟙𝟛 (ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙)
VIOLET SIGHS IN BOREDOM as she stares at the monitor, wishing she could be out there with the Doctor and Martha for this, but knowing that it is way too dangerous for her to even attempt such a thing. The Family of Blood is after the Doctor due to his Time Lord status, and they would only transfer to Violet if she were to walk out there despite her only being a half Gallifreyan. Whilst the Doctor can transfer his Time Lord self into a fob watch, Violet cannot as she’s not a full Gallifreyan.
Tapping the edge of the screen to get a clear picture, Violet sees that the humanised Doctor is lying on a bed in an old-fashioned wood panelled room. A clock is ticking and there are voices in the corridor outside. He gets up, and there is a knock on the door.
“Come in,” the Doctor calls.
Martha enters the room, carrying a breakfast tray and wearing maid’s uniform complete with little cap. She turns her back when she sees the Doctor isn’t fully dressed, and Violet snickers at the darker skinned woman’s movements.
“Pardon me, Mister Smith,” Martha apologises. “You’re not dressed yet. I can come back later.”
He puts on a dressing gown. “No, it’s all right, it’s all right. Put it down. I was er... Sorry, sorry. Sometimes I have these extraordinary dreams.”
Martha puts the tray down on a table by the leather settee and draws the curtains. “What about, sir?”
“I dream I’m this adventurer. This daredevil, a madman. The Doctor, I’m called. And last night I dreamt that you were there, as my companion.”
“A teacher and a housemaid, sir? That’s impossible.”
“I’m a man from another world, though.”
“Well, it can’t be true because there’s no such thing.”
“This thing. The watch is...” He picks up the ornate pocket watch from the mantle piece for a moment then puts it back. “Ah, it’s funny how dreams slip away. But I do remember one thing; it all took place in the future. In the Year of Our Lord 2007.”
“I can prove that wrong for you, sir. Here’s the morning paper. It’s Monday, November 10th, 1913, and you’re completely human, sir. As Human as they come.”
“Mmm, that’s me. Completely Human.” He takes a mouthful of his tea and Violet rolls her eyes.
Hours pass and the half-breed becomes even more bored, throwing a ball and waiting for the TARDIS to somehow get the ball back to her, or bouncing it off one of the walls and catching it repetitively. The time machine doesn’t exactly like that and electrocutes Violet once or twice, warning her to stop.
The young girl groans and pulls out her communicator, finger hovering over Jack’s contact. Giving in, she touches it and waits for the time traveller to answer, pulling her long, pale brown hair up into a ponytail and tying it just as Jack answers. His laugh is the first thing she hears, followed by him teasing her about her “turning into a Wookie” or something of the sort.
“I wish I was a Wookie right now,” she grumbles. “At least then I wouldn’t be stuck in the TARDIS waiting for the Doctor and Martha to defeat the Family of Blood and I can enjoy 1913 London.”
“Alright, alright. Calm down, Violet.”
She and Jack continue talking for what may well be hours as those at Torchwood wander about and do their daily jobs, never really calling on the 51st Century man for anything. However, they’re broken from their conversation by a woman’s voice saying: “a journal of impossible things.” Violet clambers up from her seat and hurries over to the monitor, making it so Jack can see what she is seeing.
Lots of inky scrawl and pictures in a journal flash on the screen: a Dalek, The Moxx of Balhoon, Autons - labelled as plastic men, one of the Pompadour clockwork robots, Rose Tyler, Cybermen and the TARDIS - labelled magic box, sketches of earlier Doctors, and drawings of the pocket watch.
“Just look at these creatures,” the matron murmurs. “Such imagination.”
The Doctor smiles. “It’s become quite a hobby.”
“It’s wonderful. And quite an eye for the pretty girls.”
“Oh no, no, she’s just an invention. This character, Rose - I call her Rose - seems to disappear later on. Ah, that’s the box. The blue box. It’s always there. Like a like a magic carpet. This funny little box that transports me to far away places.”
“Like a doorway?”
“Mmm. I sometimes think how magical life would be if stories like this were true.”
“It’s just a dream.”
Violet feels her stomach twist and turn at him talking about Rose, and the half Gallifreyan has to fight the feeling of misery and loss welling up inside of her whilst Jack is on the line. The immortal time traveller appears to look at his friend out the corner of his eye, but, as she looks back over to him, she finds him watching the images on the screen.