Saving the Universe!

Apologies, and more than you probably want to know about me

2008-05-30T22:06:59Z

I'm home till July, but Internet time is still somewhat limited (have to share with five other people, after all!) and I don't trust my computer since it deleted most of a story I was working on (WITHOUT my input). So not too much writing going on right now. I get a new laptop in a few weeks though, yay!

I borrowed this from amberfocus.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?

Yep, Katherine after my mom's mom's mom, and Maria after my dad's mom's mom. Amanda is "because we liked it," according to my mother...

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

Umm...maybe Monday, when Sam (the swan I was raising) died

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Sometimes. It's not very elegant, but it's this neat print/cursive blend.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Varies on a daily basis.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Not yet, but I'm only 21, so I definitely have time.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Well, it would largely depend on the type of other person I was, wouldn't it? I would hope so, because I'm nice, a great listener, and insanely loyal. Of course, I also require a bit of work, because I don't like to talk to people I don't know.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A Lot?
What, me use sarcasm? NEVER....

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS
Yep. And they're kind of big, and it's great whenever they're a little swollen and a doctor looks in my throat and then looks at me really quickly and wants to know why I'm not in immense pain.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
HEEEEEEECCCCCCKKKK no. I'm scared to death of falling.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
This tends to vary on a daily basis too.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Umm...most of the time.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
On a physical scale, not so much. But I'm so intelligent it can alleviate that. Like, I had to set up a bunch of tables, and since I wasn't strong enough to lift the tables on my own, I used the carts they came on to lever them into place. I was pretty proud of myself.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
This tends to vary on a regular basis too, but I really like mixing the double fudge and mint chocolate chip together. Cookie dough is awesome too.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Their height.

15. RED OR PINK?
Depends on my mood.

16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
I have some stomach flab.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST
Right now, my sister Callie (don't tell her I said that)

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?
Since I doubt anyone cares, it doesn't matter.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Denim capris and bare feet.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
Umm...a piece of pepperoni pizza.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
The fishtanks and the birds outside (and my bird upstairs)

22. If you were a crayon what color would you be?
Dark blue

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Barns, freshly-cut grass, flowers

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My dad

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
Well, I stole it off her LJ, and I don't know her too well, but she seems nice enough!

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
HORSE RACING!!!! (Belmont Stakes, 7 June, don't miss it, as Big Brown has an excellent chance of being the first Triple Crown winner in thirty years!)

27. Hair color
A moderate brown.

28. Eye color
Brown, but they've gotten lighter over the years (or maybe it's my hair getting darker, but they used to match). They're almost-hazel and they have green specks. I like my eyes.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
Yep!

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
I can never decide, but I love fruit. And spaghetti.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Happy endings any day.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Well, completely was "Dances With Wolves." I'm part way through "Spiderman" right now.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Red

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Winter, but I prefer autumn

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Depends on who's doing it (or are we talking about the chocolate kind?)

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?
Mmmm....anything chocolatey (which reminds me, there's brownie mix in the cabinet...and I'm going to be the only one home tonight...MWAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!)

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
Nobody

38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND
Also nobody

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
"Pride and Prejudice" but I'm almost done with it.

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
On mine, nothing, I have a laptop. But I'm using the family's desktop which is a holographic fish one.

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
I watched a bit of "911: The Bronx" and "How It's Made" because my mom was watching it.

42. FAVORITE SOUND
Galloping hoofbeats on dirt.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
The Beatles

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
London, England.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
I can write! And I can get along with pretty much any animal.

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Tulsa, Oklahoma, U.S.

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
These are somewhat repetitive, huh?

48. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN?
Shop. Write. Read. Watch my favorite sci-fi TV shows.

49. WHAT'S YOUR ALL TIME FAVORITE MOVIE
It's too hard to say!

50. FAVORITE HOLIDAY?
Christmas...not just the presents, the general atmosphere.

Emily Rose, Chapters 6-8

2008-04-17T03:01:16Z

Because I've fallen way, way behind, I'm updating this on here in chunks.

Emily Rose

Chapter 6: The Quest Begins

By Kate Carter

The Googling would have to wait, however. I was exhausted. My parents took me home and I climbed into bed and slept…for the next fifteen hours. After that, I felt refreshed and ready to go. Except that I didn’t have any clothes.

I found some in my closet that had been too big for me previously, but fit me almost perfectly now. I made a mental note to tell Mom we needed to go shopping.

I sat down at the computer and tried to figure out what to search for. I tried several terms; “doctor+alien,” “doctor+London+alien,” “doctor+changes bodies+London,” but when I tried “doctor+London+blue box,” I hit paydirt. I found this website, whoisdoctorwho.org.uk. There were pictures of a man in a suit and a long trench coat, and, oddly, Converse sneakers, and another man, labeled as “the old Doctor” who was tall, with close-cropped brown hair and a leather jacket. He didn’t look anything like the man Dr. Holloway had described…but how many other aliens named the Doctor with the ability to change their bodies run around the universe?! It hadn’t been updated in about a year, but an old update said that it had been taken over by Mickey Smith. There was a phone number. I whipped out my cell phone and called it, wincing slightly as I pushed the “Call” button…my parents weren’t going to like a lot of overseas calls, even though Dad had pulled me aside and told me to do whatever I needed. Unfortunately, there was a disconnected message…guess that one was a dead end.

I searched for another three hours without any luck. I studied the pictures I’d found carefully; if I did see anything about him, I wanted to be able to recognize him.

Finally I sighed and pushed back from the computer. My eyes were aching from staring so intently at it for so long. I wasn’t sure what I’d do now. Normally, I’d be taking classes at USF, or working. But that was yesterday. Most of my professors wouldn’t know the difference if a strange girl walked in and sat down, but my friends and my boss definitely would. So I decided I might as well go shopping.

Since my car was totaled, I asked my mom if I could borrow her car. She refused. Typical mother, she insisted on driving me herself.

Mom and I went to the mall first, and after I’d hit up all my favorite stores, the bank account was somewhat lighter and the bags on my arms were definitely heavier. But I had a very cute, brand new wardrobe. There may be some perks to this changing-body-thingamajig after all.

We were driving back home, and Mom realized she needed to stop by the grocery store. I went in with her, and while she grabbed the things she needed for dinner tonight, I browsed the magazine rack. Normally I love reading the more ridiculous tabloids; you know, the ones that say things like, “Bigfoot wins tennis competition,” or “Demon from Hell frightens circus-goers (ringmaster says, ‘It’s not part of the act!’).” But today, a headline caught my attention. It was just a little thing, in the corner, but there was the headline “Do you know this man?” and a picture I recognized in the circle next to it. It was the Doctor.

I clutched at the paper as though it would disappear. Frantically, I flipped through it until I found the article. A grainy picture of a large blue box, exactly like the one Dr. Holloway had described, with the Doctor opening its door, was at the top, along with a bright yellow headline screaming “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?” I read the article below it with interest.

“This man (above, on a picture from a security camera) has been reported in connection with every unusual event happening in Britain in the last two years. States Mrs. E, 68, of the Powell Estate, London; ‘He was the one who was always hanging around here, over at the Tylers, before they were killed, although I don’t know how, because Jackie never went over to Canary Wharf anyway.’ The incident in question occurred nearly a year and a half ago, when metal robots attempted to take over London from the building One Canada Square, commonly known as ‘Canary Wharf.’ He has also been reported in connection with unusual events in Cardiff, and photographs from 1920s New York show a similar person in connection with some unusual events there. Indeed, all the unusual reports of alien invasion we’ve heard from England, commonly dismissed as hoaxes by such esteemed publications as this, all seem to share him as a common factor. It is known, however, that this man tends to appear in London every two to three months. We are looking for more information on this man; please inform us if you know anything about him!”

I was still clutching the article, reading it over and over again, when Mom came back.

“Emily, what are you doing? You know better than to read anything that says Elvis is alive, well, and living on the moon,” Mom said, giving a disdainful glance at the cover story, which proclaimed this very fact.

Dazed, I pointed at the article. “It’s the Doctor, Mom.” I flapped it in her face, doing an excited jig in place. “He’s in London! He’s been there every few months!”

I stopped as the realization hit me. I looked at my mom with wide eyes. “Mom,” I said slowly. “I have to go to London.”

Emily Rose

Chapter 7: London and Leads

By Kate Carter

“No,” said my mother firmly. “For the last time, Emily. You can't just go running off to London on your own. You're only nineteen.”

“Mom,” I groaned. I turned and jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter, ignoring the disapproving look she was giving me. “I died, Mom. Died. And then I switched bodies, and now I have two hearts. And it just so happens I have the one doctor in all of San Francisco, and heck, probably the world, who's seen it before and can tell me who I need to find, and when I happen to get a very promising lead on him, you tell me I can't go because it's halfway around the world. I'm nineteen. People my age are getting married and having kids and joining the military. I can decide who I want to be president of the country, and yet my parents still won't let me go search for an alien in London.”

“I lived in London,” Mom insisted, putting the last few cans from the sack onto the shelf. “Emily, Frisco is nothing like London. It's a whole different place.”

“Yeah, I know. You lived in London for six months when you were working as a journalism intern, and you wanted to get back to the States because you accidentally insulted the Prime Minister when you were trying to do the whole 'V for victory' thing. But Mom, I'm not going to meet the Prime Minister, and I'm trying to track down the only person, to my knowledge, in the entire universe, who can tell me why this happened.” I looked at my mother earnestly. “Please Mom. I have to do this.”

Mom sighed. “I still have a few contacts at the newspaper. Let me get in touch with them. There's a woman who was starting out there at the same time I was, she and I were good friends while I was there. She might be able to help you out.”

The victory won, I headed upstairs to pack what clothes I had.

Three days and $1500 later, I was fighting my way through Heathrow Airport. I clutched my backpack tightly; it held all my truly important belongings, not that there were many. My few outfits, the article, the blanket and the note I'd been left with, and my passport. I'd been lucky, I was able to convince Customs that the passport picture was me, and that I'd just had a different haircut, colored my hair darker, and gotten colored contacts. They bought it pretty easily. Seriously, is that all you have to do to get into another country? Sheesh.

I fought my way to the Underground station and took it to the Earls Court station. This was the first time I'd been on a subway, and it was definitely an experience. I was lucky enough to find a seat and sat tightly clutching my pack the entire time. I had no idea how people did this on a regular basis. I was used to the streetcars in San Francisco, but the Underground gave me a slightly claustrophobic feeling.

All in all, I was grateful when I finally reached fresh air and the street outside the Earls Court station. As promised, my mom's friend was there waiting for me. I recognized her from the description I'd been given and went to introduce myself to her.

“Hello,” I said, “I'm Emily Thompson.”

“Yes, Emily, hello!” she said brightly. “I'm Sarah Jane Smith.”

We walked to where she'd parked her car, and she asked me those standard questions - “did you have a nice flight,” “what do you think of London so far,” the nice, polite questions, you know? Eventually we made it to the car, and as she carefully navigated the streets, she said, “Your mother said you were looking to find somebody in London?”

“Yeah,” I said, the thought sounding more and more ridiculous. How was I supposed to find someone in this city? It was huge. Between residents, and tourists, and who-knows-who-else, I'd be lucky to find my own way around. I decided to tell her anyway. Two people keeping an eye out is better than one, isn't it? “I'm looking for someone who tends to be here every few months. I know it sounds ridiculous, but he's got a blue box that will appear, and he's called the Doctor.”

Sarah Jane hit the brake and I found myself thankful for the seatbelt. As cars honked behind us and people made their way around with rude shouts and ruder gestures, I looked at Sarah Jane's face. She was pale, and looking at me with wide eyes. “You're looking for the Doctor?” she asked in disbelief.

I stared at her. “You know him?” I asked cautiously. Oh, this was turning out to be too good. I was destined to find him. Things were falling into place.

“You could say that,” Sarah Jane said. She slowly began to drive again, and the irritated honking and shouts abated. “I traveled with him for some time.”

“You what?!” Now it was my turn to be shocked. Then I grew excited. “This is great,” I said, practically bouncing in my seat. “You can help me get in touch with him!”

Sarah Jane shook her head. “No, I'm afraid not. I've only seen him once since then, and that was by sheer coincidence. However,” she said thoughtfully, “I might be able to give you the information of someone who could help.”

Emily Rose

Chapter 8: When Companions Get Together, Gossip Occurs

By Kate Carter

A/N: I've never seen SJA, so it's a little short on detail...sorry!

When we made it to Sarah Jane's house, I was briefly introduced to her teenage son and his friends before they left for one of their houses. I was somewhat dazed and confused, and after the nearly twenty-hour flight, my body had just decided it was time to crash. Of course, I'd only slept three hours before I left...so, come to think of it, I'd only slept three hours in the last forty-eight. Huh.

It turned out to be all right, because Sarah Jane wasn't able to get a hold of whoever it was she was trying to find. I could vaguely hear her on the phone as I dozed where I was sitting on the couch. “She's in Cardiff? All right, thank you.” And then the sound of dialing, followed by a long pause; I'd guess it was an answering machine or voicemail or something. “Hello, this is Sarah Jane Smith. I need you to call me as soon as possible. I've got a friend's daughter visiting me from America, and you need to meet her.”

After this, I was too tired, and I couldn't resist falling asleep completely. I woke up four hours later, feeling refreshed. This was surprising – before, well, the accident, I'd been happy to sleep ten hours straight. For me to wake up after four hours and be fine? Well, I would have said impossible, but...

Sarah Jane was sitting in a chair, reading a book. She looked at me as I sat up from the couch and stretched. “Um, sorry,” I said. “Jet lag.”

She smiled. “That's all right,” she said. “I should have someone coming by soon who you'll want to talk to.”

“Great,” I said. My stomach let out a loud growl as I said it. I blushed. “Sorry.”

Sarah Jane smiled. “It's all right. Let me get you something to eat.”

She was in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. “Emily, would you mind getting that? It should be my friend,” she called from the kitchen.

“Sure,” I said. I walked over and opened the door.

A young black woman, a few years older than myself, was standing on the steps. She looked tired, and still had traces of what looked like a greenish - I'm not really sure whether to call it slime or goo. One of the two – on her clothing. Even so, she looked at me with interest. There was a bit of a hardness in her eyes though, and I got the impression of wariness. Something told me this woman had seen a lot more than most people.

“Hello, I'm Dr. Martha Jones,” she said, extending her hand. I shook it. “Is Sarah Jane around?”

Before I could answer, Sarah Jane came up behind me. “Martha,” she said warmly. “Come in, sit down, would you like some tea?”

Martha sighed as she sat carefully in a chair, mindful of what she had on her clothes. “Yes, please, that'd be wonderful. I was just helping Torchwood with a-” she glanced at me and stopped.

“Don't worry about the furniture, relax,” ordered Sarah Jane, coming back in and giving Martha a cup of tea. She handed me a sandwich, and then went back to the kitchen. She came back out with two more cups of tea, one of which she handed me. I sipped it appreciatively. I always had enjoyed tea.

“So, I'm guessing this is who you wanted me to meet?” Martha said, nodding towards me. I liked that she got straight to the point.

“Yes,” said Sarah Jane, glancing at me. “This is Emily Thompson. She- she's looking for the Doctor.”

Martha lifted an eyebrow and looked at me. “That's interesting,” she commented. “Why are you looking for the Doctor? And how do you even know who he is?”

I sighed. “Well, it started a week ago, when I was killed in a car crash,” I began. I told Sarah Jane and Martha the whole story; how Dr. Holloway had seen me coming back to life, how she'd told me to find a man called the Doctor who traveled in a blue box, how I had found the tabloid article detailing the mysterious man connected with mysterious events in London, and how my mother had remembered her old friend, Sarah Jane Smith, who lived in London. As I said all of this, I became aware of the fact that I hadn't used a restroom in several hours. I hurried the conclusion of my story and excused myself.

As I shut the door, I was still able to hear Sarah Jane and Martha talk. Don't ask me how, I have no idea. But I could.

“She seems sincere enough about it,” said Sarah Jane. “I've developed a rather good sense for when people are lying, and I don't think she is.”

“I agree,” said Martha. “But still, I'd like to take her to Cardiff with me tomorrow before I call him.”

“Absolutely,” said Sarah Jane. I could practically see her nodding her head in agreement. “He can take care of himself perfectly fine, but there's no point in tempting fate. We can do what we can to protect him. After all, he's already regenerated how many times?”

“Ten,” Martha said ruefully. “But he's been averaging nearly a hundred years a regeneration, so I wouldn't feel too sorry for him.”

“It certainly sounds like Emily regenerated,” said Sarah Jane thoughtfully. Then, slowly...”I know he doesn't like to talk about his past companions, but do you think he and Rose...?”

Martha laughed bitterly. “Who knows. He never talked about Rose, except in that wistful way. He's very protective of her memory.”

“Her middle name is Rose,” said Sarah Jane softly.

“Is it?” said Martha, surprised. “It may be than,” she said softly. “Maybe that's why...”

They were silent for a moment, and I chose to come back at this point. I tried to smile pleasantly as I sat down and began to drink my tea.

“Well, Sarah Jane, I'm exhausted. I'm going back to my flat,” said Martha, rising. She looked at me. “I might be able to help you out in your search for the Doctor tomorrow,” she said. “We'll need to go to Cardiff though. I'll be by to pick you up around eight.”

“All right,” I said cheerfully. “Sounds great.”

Martha left. Sarah Jane and I sat silently for another few minutes. Finally she stood up.

“I should make dinner, Luke will be coming back soon,” she said, excusing herself. I was alone.

I sat there for a moment and took in my surroundings, the first real chance I'd gotten. A picture caught my attention and I picked it up. It was a young woman standing with a man in front of a blue box, and I realized it must have been Sarah Jane and the Doctor.

“We took that in 2688,” Sarah Jane said softly. I jumped and turned around. She came over and took it from me. “That was his third regeneration. He died from radiation poisoning three weeks later.”

I looked at her closely. “You loved him, didn't you?” I asked, the realization dawning upon me.

She looked at me, her face quickly shuttering its emotion. “It was a long time ago,” she said firmly. “Come on, Emily, you can help me with dinner.”

Emily Rose Chapter 5

2008-02-27T01:30:45Z

Emily Rose

Chapter 5: Finding the Doctor

By Kate Carter

Disclaimer: In addition to not owning “Doctor Who,” I do not own Google (although they have my full support when they finally succeed in taking over the Internet; I love my iGoogle and Gmail!), nor do I own the other two TV shows referenced below.

Kudos to horsemaniac on FFN for correctly recognizing my subtle tribute to “Stargate: SG-1” in Chapter 3. Nobody has picked up on a subtle mention of another show back in Chapter 1. Virtual TARDIS-shaped cookies to those who pick up the references to two more TV shows I love in this chapter.

I looked at Dr. Holloway in confusion. This was the second time she’d mentioned this “Doctor” fellow. “Dr. Holloway, who is the Doctor?” I asked curiously. She’d mentioned something before about him, and about other people doing this whole new-body trick too, but I’d just discovered that I wasn’t dead, so I hadn’t really paid much attention. Now, however, I had the feeling this could be important.

Dr. Holloway looked from me to my parents. “You should probably come with me,” she said. She led us through the hospital corridors to an office and brought us in. Since it had her name by the door, I was pretty sure it was her office. “Sit down,” she said, beckoning to a couch along the wall. I sat down, one parent on either side. They both kept shooting me nervous looks, but I guess there was something about me that reassured them I was, in fact, their daughter. Yeah…I’m totally not used to that.

Dr. Holloway sighed and sat on the edge of her desk. “This is going to sound a bit weird, but do you remember the atomic clock that was supposed to be started on New Year’s 2000?”

Dad nodded. “Yes, actually, my wife and I were at the party. I own a computer consulting firm,” he explained.

“Really?” Dr. Holloway said. “Well, you remember that the clock wasn’t exactly a success, right?”

Dad snorted. “Yeah, I’d say. It destroyed the career of whats-his-name, the scientist behind it. He’d made such a big fuss over it being the next big thing.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Holloway said, nodding her head. “Well, it should have worked, but the Doctor took the beryllium chip that was the key component.”

“Wait a second. Doctor who?” I asked.

Dr. Holloway shrugged. “He just said the Doctor. He had a British accent, he rode around in a blue box, it said ‘Police’ on the top and looked like a telephone booth, and it was bigger inside. He was an alien. He even had two hearts.”

This last bit of information made me catch my breath. I could still feel the odd th-th-ump-ump happening in my chest. “Um,” I squeaked. “I think I might know something about that.”

Dr. Holloway grabbed a stethoscope and listened to my chest intently. After a moment, she nodded her head. “You’ve got two hearts,” she said, looking at me in amazement.

“I’m an alien!” I cried. If you’re adopted, chances are you’ve wondered about your birth parents at some point; who they are, why they gave you up, do they ever think about you. Sometimes I used to think that some famous movie star was one of my parents, and they abandoned me to avoid a scandal. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I consider the possibility that an alien was one of my parents.

“How is that possible?” my mother asked, confused. “You only had one heart before, I’m sure of it.”

I looked at her pointedly. “Mom. When I woke up this morning, I looked entirely different,” I pointed out. She wrinkled her nose up and nodded. “Good point.”

“Well,” said Dad, “I guess we’re going to have to track down this Doctor, then. Do you know how?” he asked Dr. Holloway.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen him again since then. Although, with someone who can change his body, I guess I should say I’ve never knowingly seen him again since then,” she added ruefully.

“Well, maybe we can hire someone to find him for us,” Dad said. “What about that detective, the one who’s always in the papers, that Monk guy? Or, I read an article about a psychic in Santa Barbara. Maybe we can hire him.”

“Dad,” I gave him a Look. “Let’s not hire anyone. Not yet, anyway. They’re going to think we’re crazy if we hire them to look for an alien. Besides, you don’t believe in psychics.”

He peered at me as though he was examining me. “Yep, you definitely are my daughter, even though I woke up this morning believing that things like this couldn’t happen.”

It was my turn to sit back and mutter, “Point taken.”

“Anyway,” I continued, “this is my thing. My quest. I want to do it.”

“How are you going to find him?” my mother asked.

To be honest, I didn’t have a clue, but as I glanced around and saw the computer sitting on the desk, I figured it out. I slowly smiled. “The same way you’d find anyone else,” I said. “I’m going to Google him.”

Emily Rose Chapter 4

2008-02-26T04:17:24Z

Emily Rose

Chapter 4: Proof of Identity

By Kate Carter

A/N: This is kind of sad that I have to ask this, but please, please consider leaving me a review if you're enjoying this. I work really well off of feedback, and if you have an idea, I'll probably try to find a way to incorporate it. I've only gotten seven reviews, all on FFN, and from five people. As much as I LOVE and APPRECIATE my regular reviewers (you guys rock my socks off!), I would love to get more feedback!

I have figured out pretty much a rough draft of the rest of the storyline, although I'm still sketchy on a few things, especially towards the end. But, you will be seeing some more familiar characters, or at least two, and the Doctor, of course. I'm quite proud of myself, really...it's so nice to have a sense of where the story's chapters are going before I write them!

Grace looked at Chang, who had led the middle-aged couple in, and instantly realized who they were, something that was confirmed when she looked at Emily's suddenly pale face. Chang looked at the cot and Emily in confusion. What happened to... he mouthed, pointing at the cot. Grace shook her head minutely. Later, she mouthed back.

The couple looked drawn and haggard, like it had been days instead of not even an hour since they'd received the phone call. Of course, Grace reflected, it was the worst phone call you could get. He spoke, looking back and forth between Grace and Emily. “I'm sorry,” the man said. “I guess this must be the wrong room. Our daughter was brought in earlier, she...she was in a car accident.”

Think fast! Grace told herself. “Right, um, about that, I think there must have been a mistake,” she started. She had no idea where she would have gone with that if Emily hadn't stopped her. “No, Dr. Holloway, I've got to tell them,” she said softly. “They'd worry otherwise.”

She approached them. The man was probably in his early forties, with dark brown hair that was going steel gray at the temples. The woman was around the same age, with fading blonde hair that was in a shoulder-length, layered cut. She bit her lip as she looked at them. “There's no easy way to tell you this,” she began, “so I'll just come right out and say it. I'm Emily.”

The woman's eyes began to fill with tears and the man grew visibly upset. “What sort of sick joke is that?” he snapped.

Emily shook her head. “It's no joke, Dad. Something happened to me. I died. And then I changed.”

“That doesn't happen,” he insisted. Grace stepped forward. “Mister....Thompson?” she asked questioningly, looking at Emily, who nodded her head in confirmation. “I'm Dr. Grace Holloway.” She shook his hand; he was reluctant about it. “I was with Emily the entire time, and I assure you, it happened. I don't know how, but it did.”

“What?!” He glanced between the two of them, anger and irritation obvious. “I'm going to sue this hospital for every penny,” he growled. “This is absolutely ridiculous!”

“Dad,” Emily said insistently, taking his hand. “It's me, Dad. Do you remember what happened when I was twelve?”

He glared at her, but didn't pull his hand away. “You tell me. What happened when Emily was twelve?”

“We were driving to visit Grandma up in Napa, and we were on the highway. I told you to brake. You were startled, so you did. Just a few seconds later, a truck came barreling over from the southbound lane. If we hadn't stopped, we would have all been killed. Remember that?” Emily asked softly. “And remember when I was eight, and I was riding in my first show, and you canceled that meeting with the company you wanted to buy out so that you could come watch me? And when I was five, and my puppy died, and you helped me bury it in the backyard, and you never told me that you'd bought a doghouse for her, you just left it up in the attic and I found it when I was ten and never told you.”

For the first time, the woman spoke. “Emily!” she choked, throwing her arms around the girl's neck. Emily looked up at her father. His face softened. Confusion and joy took over where anger and sorrow had been. “Emily?” he asked in disbelief, reaching out and touching her cheek.

As best as she could manage from the grasp of her mother, Emily smiled. “Hi Dad,” she said shyly.

He looked at her in disbelief for a moment, then hugged her. For a few minutes, the trio stood together, the parents rejoicing over the daughter they'd thought they'd lost. Finally, she gasped out, “Excuse me, I love you both, but I've already died once tonight, so do you mind?”

They released her, smiling through the tears that streamed down their faces. “What now?” her father asked.

Grace stepped forward. “Now,” she said, “I think we need to find the Doctor.”

Emily Rose Chapter 3

2008-02-23T01:19:09Z

Emily Rose

Chapter Three: Pulling It Together

By Kate Carter

The woman staring at me was so pale I’d thought she’d seen a ghost, and I couldn’t blame her, because she very well could be. I’d died. I knew I died. As soon as my car had gone into that gully, I’d seen the future, and I’d died. I’d never been wrong before. What had happened?!

I stared at my body in disbelief. I was taller, somewhat rounder, and as my fingers brushed the tips of my hair, I realized my hair was a good eight inches shorter. And then I became aware of my chest. No, I don’t mean *that*…I’d already noticed that I was…well, let’s just say that certain items seemed to have almost doubled in size.

No, it was inside my chest. Have you ever felt your heart beat? Sometimes, if you’re laying really still, and quiet, you can feel it…thump-thump-thump-thump. I didn’t know what was going on, but I could feel mine, throughout my whole chest. Th-th-ump-ump-th-th-ump-ump. It felt like there were two hearts, one on each side of my chest.

I looked at the woman still staring in shock at me. She was about forty, reddish hair, wearing scrubs. Slowly, the shock began to dissipate, and a thoughtful look replaced it instead. She opened her mouth and then closed it. This repeated a couple of times. Finally she sighed.

“In the fifteen years since I graduated medical school, if there’s one thing that I’d thought I’d learned, it was that people can’t switch bodies and come back to life. But you, Emily Thompson, are the second person I’ve met who’s decided to do so. Well, third, technically, but I never really saw the Master.”

I chose to ignore the stuff about “the Master” and instead grabbed onto the “second person” bit. “Wait a second. You mean somebody else did this whole, freaky-weird-body-switching thing once?”

“Yes.” The woman stared at me, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Have you ever heard of the Doctor?”

“The Doctor?” I was confused. “What doctor? I thought you were the doctor? Doctor who, by the way?”

The woman seemed slightly startled, like she’d forgotten. “Doctor Grace Holloway,” she said, extending her hand. I shook it politely. “Right. And you obviously know me. So what just happened?”

Dr. Holloway bit her lip for a moment, thoughtful. “Well, you came in, you had obviously been in a very bad car wreck. Multiple fractures, chest trauma, head trauma, it was pretty bad. We tried what we could, but you’d barely been here for five minutes before your heart stopped. We worked you for a few minutes but the damage was just too much. So we left you in here while we contacted your parents. I was just cleaning your body up, so that they wouldn’t have to see you like that, and suddenly you grew warm. I stepped back, and a green light seemed to come from your skin…and you changed, and then you woke up. And that’s all I know,” she concluded.

I digested this for a moment before nodding. “All right.” I looked down at my clothes. Not only had they grown uncomfortably tight, they were covered in dirt and my blood. I shuddered. “Can I get something different to wear?” I asked.

“Oh! Yes, just a second, I’ve got a spare pair of scrubs I can grab you,” Dr. Holloway said. She went out the door, then popped her head back in. “Don’t go anywhere.”

I gave her a wan smile. ”Right,” I said. As she left again, I continued. “Like I’m really going to be wandering around in bloody, dirty clothes that are two sizes too small.”

I hopped off the edge of the bed and took a few experimental steps. My balance was definitely different. Things just seemed so…weird, and different. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that I WAS IN A DIFFERENT BODY!!!!!

There was some sort of round mirror on a stand in a corner. I went and looked at myself in it. My hair was definitely a darker brown, and my eyes were a definite brown as well, no longer the hazel they had been. My face was rounder, more heart-shaped, not oval like it’d been before. And if you looked really hard, there was just the lightest scattering of freckles across my cheeks and nose.

Seeing myself now really brought it home for me. I walked back over to the gurney and sat on the edge. I couldn’t help but start hyperventilating slightly. This was…insane. Weird. Wacko. Crazy, nuts, psycho, demented, cuckoo, berserk. One brick short of a load, one fry short of a Happy Meal.

As I went down this oh-so-pleasant train of thought, Dr. Holloway returned. She handed me a pair of blue scrubs and averted her eyes while I changed into them gratefully. I put my old clothes in the opaque sack she handed me and stuffed them into the trash.

“All right,” I said. I felt much better now that I was in clothes that fit me, but I still wasn’t sure of the whole situation. Then a thought struck me. “Wait a second. You didn’t want my parents to see me like that. That must mean-“

My thought was interrupted by the door being slowly pushed open. A young Asian man stepped in, followed by an all-too-familiar middle aged couple.

What am I going to tell Mom and Dad?!

Emily Rose Chapter 2

2008-02-22T05:20:39Z

Emily Rose

Chapter 2: Appearance and Other Variables, Part 2

By Kate Carter

Grace Holloway stood in the triage room, empty of all but the body of the girl who had been brought in earlier that night. She smoothed back the girl’s light brown hair and carefully drew the washrag over the cold skin. Her parents were being contacted, but when they came here, she didn’t want them to find their daughter looking like this.

Grace was a professional. As a doctor, you weren’t supposed to let your emotions get in the way. And eight years ago, if a patient died under her care, she would practically run out of room. She hated death, refused to accept it.

She still hated it. But she had learned that for most people, death was a natural part of life. Even so, when someone as young as this girl – she looked like she was barely old enough to have a driver’s license – died, she couldn’t help but get a little emotional.

Chang Lee softly opened the door and put his head in the room. “Grace, they’ve contacted the parents. They should be here in a little bit.”

Grace nodded at him. “Thanks,” she said quietly, washing the dried blood off the girl’s collarbone. She was really quite proud of Lee. After the events on New Year’s Eve 2000, he had gone on to college, and was now in medical school. He was one of the many students running around the hospital.

He softly shut the door and she was alone with the girl again. They’d found her driver’s license; this had been Emily Rose Thompson. Nineteen years old.

She began working on her arm, but dropped it in shock as it suddenly grew warm. Bright green light suddenly seemed to stream from the girl’s body. As Grace stared in shock, the girl’s body changed. Light brown hair that had been twisted into the scattered remnants of a long French braid was suddenly dark brown and shoulder-length. She seemed to grow several inches. Fat seemed to redistribute, and her slim, athletic figure became a very definite woman’s body.

And then she sat up.

As Grace stared in shock, the girl blinked in confusion a few times. She looked at her hands and arms, felt her hair, looked at her legs before swinging them experimentally off the edge of the gurney a few times. Finally she spotted Grace. Big brown eyes stared into Grace’s, the panic clearly written into them. The girl who had been dead only a moment before spoke, her voice apprehensive.

“What just happened?!”

Emily Rose Chapter 1

2008-02-22T05:19:09Z

Emily Rose

Chapter One: Appearances and Other Variables

By Kate Carter

Disclaimer: If “Doctor Who” was mine, my cell phone would have Bluetooth. As it is, it is not, and it does not.

A/N: I suppose an apology is in order to all of those who have been watching this story. I just wasn’t happy with it. Eventually I concluded that I could leave it unfinished (no), come up with a lame way to finish it (heck no) or rewrite it. As you can see, I chose to rewrite it. And I’m pretty pleased with the result!

* * *

My name is Emily Rose Thompson. I’m nineteen years old, and I’ve spent my entire life in San Francisco, California, just your normal American girl.

Until I died three days ago, that is.

I don’t really know how to explain it. I guess I should start at the beginning.

When I was two days old, I was left at a hospital in a car seat. There was a small note left with me; “Her name is Emily Rose. She’s two days old. We wanted to keep her, so badly, but it’s just not safe. Let her know we loved her.” The only other clue I had was the blanket I had been wrapped in. It was made of some sort of strange material; soft and light, but incredibly warm, a rainbow riot of colors that changed as the blanket shifted, constructed of a tightly knit yarn that felt like a cross between chenille and silk. No one had ever seen anything like it. Still haven’t, actually, since I still have it.

I was adopted fairly quickly, and my parents have really been terrific. Dad owns a computer consulting firm, Mom works as the editor of a small newspaper. They always made time for me and my younger sister, Elizabeth, who’s also adopted. They really couldn’t have been better parents to us.

At the same time, though, I was always…different. Not necessarily bad-different, just, different. When I went into kindergarten, I was reading chapter books. The teacher had me tutoring other kids in the class. At five. When I was nine, I won the local geography bee - against eighth graders. Of course, I did horribly at the state geography bee, but that was because being up in front of so many people scared me so badly I almost passed out. And I was eventually banned from competing in the school science and history fairs; people thought I must have been cheating, after I won first prize three years running. All right, I wasn’t officially banned, but when they “happen” to come up with a rule stating that no participant can receive a prize more than three years in a row…

Anyway, I’ve always been smart. And, I know, it’s kind of weird, but…I’ve always been kind of psychic too. I knew that Michelle Tanner, who was a junior when I was a freshman, had scored a 30 on her ACT – before she did. And I knew that my dad was going to have a car accident. I was just thankful he didn’t die, because I should have warned him. But I didn’t even believe it myself.

So, why did I die? Well, it’s not so simple as I know what’s going to be happening next. That would be nice. It’s more like…possibilities. Option A might happen. Option B will probably happen. Option C is slim. Option D is a one-in-a-thousand chance.

Unfortunately, this time it was option D. And option D involved a bridge, my car, a drunk driver, and gravity.

Luckily (I guess) it was a dry gully and there was a gas station nearby. An employee at the gas station called an ambulance. I vaguely remember the firefighters and paramedics extracting me from the car, one of them telling me I’d be all right and it was a good thing I wore my seatbelt, and me trying to tell him that no, I wouldn’t be all right, because option D had happened, and it was clear to me what was going to happen; I was going to die.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness as the ambulance raced to the hospital. And as I slid towards oblivion, one of the last things I remembered was somebody – a woman - holding my hand and talking to me.

“Emily? Come on Emily, wake up. My name is Dr. Holloway. It’s going to be all right.”

Dear Doctor

2008-02-19T05:38:21Z

Haven't posted this anywhere else yet. Just wrote it - hot off the press! And, as a side note, I'm writing all of this (and half this story) with my eyes closed. Now, you might not think that typing blind is that big a deal, but I'm a hunt-and-peck typist. Extraordinarily fast, but I only use the first two fingers on my hands. My parents used to think that I needed to learn to type "normally," but then my dad saw that I could type faster than he could and decided that maybe I was okay typing this way after all. And I admit, I cheat slightly. I open my eye every few words to correct any typos. I don't make many though...I've probably only made about six or so in this whole paragraph. Pretty impressive, huh? (and I just cracked an eye open and realized I made three in the last two sentences....*blushes*)

On to the story!!!!

A/N: Inspired both by my recent story “I Lied” and one of my “Stargate: Atlantis” stories I re-read a couple weeks ago.

The Doctor felt hollow inside. Donna was safely returned to her parents, and it was only now that he truly had a chance to feel the aching emptiness Rose had left behind. As soon as she’d been trapped in the parallel universe, he had shunted emotions aside as much as possible to get the chance to say goodbye. When he had said it – and, more importantly, when he had not said the words he’d been putting off for so long – he had barely had time to do more than sniffle before Donna had appeared. And now that another crisis was averted, and Earth was once again safe, he was going to mourn Rose properly.

He walked into the library and settled heavily into a chair. He stared morosely at the flicker of the fireplace and thought about Rose. He’d had many companions, many friends, but Rose…she was different. She had been so much more.

And he’d missed the chance to say it.

A tear ran silently down his cheek. The ache in his chest felt as if both his hearts were about to burst. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and when he opened them, he was surprised to see an envelope lying on his lap. Usually the TARDIS wasn’t so overt about bringing objects out. But then he saw the writing on the front; it read “My Doctor” in Rose’s clear script. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment, holding it in his hands in amazement and sorrow combined. What had Rose written? There was only one way to find out; he opened it.

Dear Doctor,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone, and I’m not coming back. This is my worst case scenario message to you, and I’m getting the TARDIS to leave it for you when I’m gone.

I don’t know why I’m gone, of course. I suppose I’ve probably died. Because I can’t imagine that I would ever want to leave you otherwise. I don’t know how I’ve died…did you ever ponder how you would die? I should ask you that, sometimes…what it’s like to die. If I’ve asked you that, this is where I got the idea from.

I want to make sure that I thank you for everything you’ve done for me. From the time you grabbed my hand and saved me from the Autons up until the very end, because I know you’ve done your best to save me. And if you’ve gotten this, it means it didn’t work. And that’s all right, because I figured it was always a possibility. We’ve had too many close calls already. You saved me from a life of being a shop girl and marrying Mickey or someone like him. You showed me things I never thought I could see. Yeah, it ended, but it was amazing in the meantime. Or should I say, it was fantastic!

Please make sure you tell my mum and Mickey that I loved them and I was thinking about them to the end. I don’t know whether it’s true or not, but we’ll say it is. Our secret, okay? Tell them not to grieve too much, because I died while I was experiencing the universe, and that’s not something I would ever have given up, even if I could have lived to a hundred if I had been on Earth. I would rather have had one glorious year with you than one hundred boring years on Earth.

And Doctor…I wanted to tell you I love you. I’ve loved you almost since the beginning. And I know you love me. I’ve seen it in the way you look at me, and the way you hold my hand, and the way you’ve said my name. You tell me you love me a million times a day, even if the words themselves aren’t said. And I feel like the luckiest woman in all of space and time.

If there’s any way of doing it, I’ll always be with you at least in spirit. You’re my Doctor, and I won’t leave you if I can help it. Don’t give up hope; we may see each other again someday. Remember me, my Doctor.

Love,

Rose

The Doctor laid the letter back down carefully, smoothing out non-existant wrinkles.

She had known.

And then the tears came.

I Lied

2008-02-19T05:01:36Z

(five days late, but I did post it on here!)

I lied.

I’m sorry, Doctor, I’m so sorry. I had to. After we solved the problems with Chloe, and you got to carry the Olympic torch, and talk about your edible ball bearings, you told me about your family. You had never talked about them before, and as you described your children, and I heard the pride and the sorrow in your voice, I wanted to give you what you’d lost, at least in some small part. But I would never guess that what we did that night, the beautiful, wonderful act between you and me, would do that.

I blamed the fact that my cycle hadn’t come on the stress of losing you. It never even occurred to me until I’d been away from you for two months that I could be pregnant. And when I looked at the test, and it was positive, I sat down and sobbed. I finally had your child - and you were gone.

It was six weeks after that when you said goodbye. I’d been here for three and a half months, and I was fifteen weeks pregnant. I was so happy to see you, and then so upset, that the thought never crossed my mind to tell you until you mentioned Mickey. And when I said there were five of us, the look on your face convinced me in that instant not to tell you. So I lied, said it was Mum. And when you said that phrase, “the one adventure I could never have,” I knew I did the right thing.

I did the right thing.

How could I tell you that I was pregnant with your child? The child you could never see, never hold, never know any details about the existence of. You wouldn’t know if it was a boy or a girl, if it had my eyes or your nose, if it loved history or science, if it took after you or me. The memories of how you were when I met you were so fresh to me, still. You were so raw and angry. You’d just lost everything you knew and everyone you loved. I couldn’t do that to you again. I couldn’t see you become that man again.

So I lied.

And the next night, I lay in bed, and I realized that the slight fluttering I felt was it kicking. I don’t think human children kick that soon, but maybe when they’re a quarter Time Lord they do. I guess they must. And the memories were still so fresh, so raw, that I cried until my voice was gone and I had no tears left. Every time I felt our child kick, it ripped open the wound again, and I wanted you so badly. Who cared if the universe exploded? My child was going to grow up without the wonderful man I’d fallen in love with. Their father was never going to know they existed.

Oh Doctor,,,my Doctor. I spent the next twenty-five weeks alternating between rejoicing at the life I felt inside me, mourning you, and cursing you. You should have been there for me when my feet swelled up and I needed someone to rub them. You should have been there to tell me I was beautiful when I felt fatter than an elephant. You should have been there when the contractions took my body over with more pain than I’d ever had before.

And now, just three hours ago, I gave birth to our son. He’s perfect, Doctor. I wish you could see him. He’s a fine, healthy baby, quite large. When he was born, he started complaining – not quite crying, just a loud, irritated babble – and I know he’s inherited your gob already. He’s got your hair, and I don’t know if he has your eyes or mine; the doctor said they could get darker, but they’re definitely brown. I’m not sure what I’m going to name him. I wish you were here to help me.

But you’re not.

And I lied.

And I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

And I love you, my Doctor.

Rose

You May Watch Too Much Doctor Who When...

2008-02-10T06:42:31Z

(something that will be updated occasionally)

- You wear decorative vegetables
- You learn to knit so you can have THE scarf
- You saw a statue of a weeping angel and almost did permanent damage to your eyes due to refusing to blink until you were out of sight
- Whenever you delete something on your computer, you imitate a Cyberman - "DE-LETE!"
- (alternatively, you have a wav of the Cybermen saying "DE-LETE" for your "Empty Recycle Bin" sound [psst, send me a link, would you?])
- You talk in a British accent (unless, of course, you are British, in which case that's normal)
- You want to go visit Britain and get your picture taken at all the places "Doctor Who" was filmed at (after you've stalked the production to the point that you have a restraining order, of course!)
- Your alarm is the Daleks saying "Exterminate!" because you thought it'd be a good way to get the early-morning adrenaline rush
- No matter how messy your room normally is, you always keep a spot big enough for the TARDIS to land on cleared
- You make paper models of the TARDIS, Daleks, Host, and whatever else you can get your hands on
- They're perfect for your "Doctor Who" action figures, that you keep in a carefully treasured place when you aren't acting out the best scenes.
- You've gotten the full "Blink" 'easter egg' and have learned Sally's part so that it seems like you're having a real conversation with the Doctor.
- You desperately want a sonic screwdriver
- You own a sonic screwdriver
- You built your own sonic screwdriver
- You built your own working sonic screwdriver (can I get the blueprints?!)
- You're upset when your psychic paper doesn't work
- You buy your clothes based on one important question; "would (insert character) wear this?"
- You love bananas and hate pears, even if it used to be the other way around
- You believe that formal outfits and tennis shoes are absolutely the coolest outfit possible (no kidding, I'm planning on wearing a pair of Chucks to my college's spring formal)
- You're reading this list
- You're thinking that some of the things on this list are a good idea
- You've already done some of the things on this list
- You're thinking of things to add to this list

Giving this another go...

2008-02-10T06:25:05Z

I'm giving this LiveJournal thing another go, since it's used by so many fanfic writers/readers for DW. It's funny, really, each genre has its own distinctions, and that was something I didn't realize at first. "Star Trek" is big on having challenges; more than just "first line," you'd have several elements to deal with. It was also a big one for fanfiction contests; I entered a couple, took a third place in one. "Stargate" is just the opposite, there aren't as many challenges and no contests. "Doctor Who" has a few challenges and seems to be fond of the first-line ones in particular.

Anyway...I'll be putting the stuff up here as I write it, and I'll update Teaspoon and FFN with it at the same time.

Rundown of current projects:
- Rewriting "Emily Rose" as I hate the way it is now. The story line was moving way too fast, she was too much of a Mary Sue, and she was way too accepting of the fact that she discovered her father is an alien traveling throughout time and space. I'm changing a lot of things about it, and hopefully it'll be better; I think it will be, anyway. It'll also be multi-era!
- Trying to figure out more on "Life After Death" because much to my dismay I realized I created the self-perpetuating story. I thought it was a great idea to have both of them able to live forever; I just didn't realize that this means the story will continue forever! AAHHHHHHHH!!!!
- Writing more chapters to "Finding You," a new story I'm hoping to finish before I start posting it. Should be a good one; it's one of my favorites. I won't spoil it, but it involves at least two Doctors, what Sarah Jone told Rose, the fact that the Torchwood on the parallel Earth *is* "open for business," and a familiar first-season figure.
- Writing essays; I'm doing an analysis of Rose, Martha, Jack, and possibly Donna as companions to the Doctor, and essays on characterization. If there is one thing I've learned from the last...geez, six years?! of fanfiction writing, it's how to stay true to the character. I feel it is my duty to pass the knowledge on.

Help!

2007-10-19T04:40:46Z

I'm quite new here, and fairly clueless. If anyone has some hints about how to use this, I would be quite appreciative. Otherwise, you can check out my fanfiction at fanfiction.net/~katecarter until I figure this out!