Behold, my NaNoWriMo project. Because Miss Quill needs a girlfriend. Will be on Saturdays and Wednesdays, (so in the case of the former, sort of in place of new episodes). Hope you like it!

"Remind me again why I'm here?" Miss Quill asks, for the third time.

"Because you're a member of the staff, Andrea, and this is a staff meeting."

"So no particularly good reason, then."

She hates the staff room. Its chairs are too squishy and the coffee machine is terrible and it's always full of people who try to smile at her or even worse, talk to her. Which wouldn't be a bad thing necessarily if all her colleagues weren't incredibly dull idiots. (Who call her Andrea.)

The Headmaster is tolerable, but there are places she can talk to him where the others can't bother them, so she tends to avoid the staff room at all costs. But some days, like today, she can't get out of it.

"Ah, here she is!" Mr Armitage says with a big smile. "Back from South Africa to help get the Maths department back into shape-"

Miss Quill tunes him out and barely spares the woman he's (re?)introducing a second glance. Some brunette with a dress covered in flowers.

Just what was this species' obsession with printing flowers on clothes? And who decided that it was only acceptable for women to wear them? How can plants be feminine? Ridiculous.

The moment she registers that the Headmaster is done talking, she steps away from the wall she has been leaning against and makes a beeline for the door.

Unfortunately she realises within the hour that the matter of the maths teacher goes a little further than the staff room. Teachers returning to Coal Hill, given the horrific mortality rate, is apparently almost unheard of and the students are amazed.

"I'm just so glad she's back," Tanya is saying to April when they are all meant to be doing the equation Quill has set for them, "All those substitutes were rubbish. Thank god the work's been easy enough in the meantime."

"I don't think I've encountered her yet," Charlie says with interest, "What's she like?"

"April," Ram laughs, "She's like April."

April rolls her eyes. "The fact that she's nice doesn't automatically make her like me, Ram. Though as it happens, I'm going to take that as a compliment-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise this was gossiping hour, I thought this was fourth period physics," Miss Quill tells them, narrowing her eyes.

By some miracle, they mostly shut up and get on with their work, leaving her free to sit on her iPad and scroll through cat pictures. It's a physical weight off her chest when they leave at the end of class and she has a few minutes to herself before the next lot come in.

Which is what makes the knock on the open door so annoying.

"What?" Miss Quill snaps, without opening her eyes from where she is leaning back in her chair.

"Hi, sorry, I'm in the room a few doors down and I'm out of chalk, I was hoping I might be able to borrow some from you?"

The blonde cracks an eye open to look at the figure standing in the doorway and find out just who has the audacity to come to her with such a trivial request when any smart person would ask literally anybody else. Ah. It's Floral Dress. She's perhaps not been warned about Quill yet. That would explain it.

"Sure," Quill answers, waving a hand in the vague direction of the blackboard.

Unfortunately, and to Quill's extreme exasperation, the woman doesn't simply grab chalk and then leave. She approaches her desk and holds out a hand.

"Also, we haven't met, so I thought I'd say hello since you're new and left the meeting in a hurry this morning," she says to Quill with a big smile, "I like to make sure I know all my colleagues. Kalei Jacobs."

"Why?" Quill asks, not bothering to keep the disdain out of her voice. The other woman blinks, confused.

"Why what?"

"Why do you care about knowing your colleagues?"

"Because we're a team," she says, and smiles before glancing at her hand, which still hasn't been shaken. The smile doesn't fade but falters slightly.

Quill decides to see how long she'll leave the hand there if she doesn't shake it.

"A team?" She asks instead.

"Well, us against the students, so to speak." With a bite of her lip, she finally withdraws the hand and instead uses it to adjust her thick rimmed glasses while giving Quill an awkward smile. "It's not my favourite way of looking at it, but-"

"No, I like it," Quill says, more to herself than to Floral Dress, whose name she's already forgotten and really doesn't care about anyway.

"Yes, well, when things go a bit loopy it isnice to have backup."

"Backup?"

Floral Dress smiles and nods. "You're not in this all on your own, you know. We're all in the same boat."

"Metaphorically speaking," Quill says, to clarify that there isn't a naval branch of the school she hasn't yet been made aware of.

Floral Dress' brown eyes are serious. "Well, only until next week, when we move to the half of the year where the lessons are run on a fleet of ships traversing the Pacific. Why do you think I'm back now? Meeting up with you all then would have been difficult."

"What?" Quill asks sharply, trying to push down the panic in her chest. She's read nothing about British schools doing anything like that, the Doctor would surely have mentioned it, or someone -

That's when Floral Dress starts laughing and Quill realises with great relief and annoyance that it had been a joke. Not even a good one.

"Your face," the other woman says, looking far too pleased with herself.

"You're hilarious," Quill replies, making it abundantly clear she thinks anything but. Mercifully, that's when the first lot of students start to trickle in. "The chalk's over there. Help yourself."

"Ah, right," Floral Dress says, as if she had forgotten her reason for coming here in the first place. "Thank you."

She grabs a couple of sticks of chalk and heads for the door, but is delayed by enthusiastic greetings from some of Quill's students. One of them even hugs Floral Dress. Worse, Floral Dress hugs back. For all her talking about being against the children, she genuinely seems to like them.

Weak attempt at deception, revealing herself in plain view of me, Quill thinks. If that's the best 'backup' I'm being offered, I'll pass.

For once she is almost relieved to get to teaching physics.

A bit over two weeks later, on the Friday afternoon, Quill reflects on recent events over a cup of coffee as she lingers in her classroom once the school day is over.

1. Shadowkin attack before and during prom, wherein using a student to kill one and himself landed her in the shit with the Doctor, giving him moral high ground that even she can't really argue with. Outcome: one of her students now shares her heart with the king of the Shadowkin. And she's definitely stuck here for good.

2. Four human teenagers have become aware of her and Charlie's identities. Outcome: uncertain, could be negative or positive in the long run.

3. They're apparently a little 'saving the world' team now. Outcome: probably the most disgusting thing to happen all week even with skin pealing dragon taken into account.

4. The prince has found himself a pretty boyfriend via Prom, boyfriend is Polish (whatever that means). Outcome: she'll hopefully have to spend less time with him if he's found someone who actually enjoys his presence and vice versa.

5. Headmaster skinned alive by interdimensional alien dragon. Verdict: unfortunate, since he was the only member of the faculty she could stand with the exception of an English teacher who only ever exchanges nods with her whenever they pass and never tries to initiate conversation. Outcome: Uncertain, pending appointment of new Headmaster/mistress.

6. Inspector sent by the governors turns out to be a robot, meaning her shoving him against the lockers and snogging the life out of him really wasn't what he was after at all. Outcome: bit embarrassing, and probably best the teenagers don't give enough shits about her to ask about the whole debacle. Verdict: she really needs to get laid.

The longer she thinks about the whole mess with the robot, the more she wants to cringe and is immensely thankful the teenagers never asked for details. The fact that she had just thrown herself at the first person to show even a hint of interest - completely misinterpreted interest, at that - really just highlights how pathetic her life has become.

God, she needs to get laid. Falling short of that, having a conversation with somebody who is vaguely interested in anything she has to say might be nice, for once.

With a sigh, she gets up and grabs her coat. Avoiding going home isn't something she can do forever.

As she walks through the now empty hallways, she slows at the sight of Floral Dress (whatever her name actually is), who she hasn't had to speak to or even really see since their initial exchange nearly three weeks before. It's a streak she'd like to prolong, if possible, and she stops to weigh her options about whether going around would take longer than if she were to get pulled into a conversation.

Thankfully, the other woman hasn't so much as glanced in her direction. Her attention is held by something else.

They're in the space near the Barbara Wright Building - where there's an entire wall dedicated to the list of the dead of the school, which the maths teacher is standing in front of silently. Quill watches her for at least a minute, out of curiosity for how much humans tend to care about this sort of thing.

"I suppose they'll be adding to this, soon. Missing is never just missing, here."

The unprecedented speech almost makes Quill jump. Floral Dress is looking at her now, her expression grave but not teary like Quill had expected/dreaded.

"I think you're probably right," Quill says, unsure of how to act and uncomfortable about being detected without her knowledge.

"Sometimes I think I'm mad, coming back here."

By the time Quill realises that she's automatically started walking closer to the wall and Floral Dress, it's too late to stop. "I don't think mad people tend to be aware of it." She comes to a stop next to her so that they're both looking at the wall of names. "You're probably just stupid."

An odd laugh escapes the maths teacher. "For the first time in my life, that might just be the case." There's a pause. "You're funny. They didn't say you were funny."

Quill turns to look at her and arches an eyebrow. "Oh? What did they say?"

"I think the words cold bitch were the most common."

"Good. Then we're all on the same page."

The other woman laughs, just for a moment, and then they fall into silence again. It's strangely...comfortable. Quill uses it as a chance to get a closer look at her colleague since she's been too busy being uninterested or annoyed to properly retain anything about her up until now.

Warm brown skin, and curly dark brown hair confined in a bun at the back of her head that would probably look severe on anyone else but not on her. Brown eyes rimmed in glasses (Quill remembers the latter faintly, but it's amazing how little one can notice if one is determinedly not caring). She's pretty, maybe half a decade younger than Quill - but then, she's hardly the best judge of human appearances, in age or attractiveness. Also a good half a foot shorter than her even with heels the same size as Quill's.

Not knowing her name - despite her lack of attentiveness on this point being at least half deliberate - becomes annoying within the space of a few seconds. After searching through her memories for a hint, a student's complaint about maths homework does the trick.

Miss Jacobs.

"You know, I think Danny Pink was the first person on this list in years to die of anything natural," Jacobs says eventually.

Quill doesn't respond, or even lift an eyebrow to prompt further explanation. She does however meet Jacobs' gaze and make it clear that she's listening. (She doesn't know why she's listening, but oh well, she's done it now.)

"He was the maths teacher before me, the one I took over from. Ex-soldier, amazing teacher from what the staff said about him. But then...car accident. The others kept talking about how much of a nice change it was to have a body to bury and to know what happened to him. Not the most reassuring thing to hear on your second day."

Ex-soldier is the only part of the whole thing that Quill finds remotely interesting. She wonders why she's still standing here with this human. But a part of her is curious about the school's history - it pays to know one's battleground, after all.

"He was dating Miss Oswald," Jacobs continues, and Quill notes that Oswald, C. is the name on the list after Pink, D. Against her own will, she finds herself interested. A little.

"Don't tell me she killed herself because of it, that would be tedious and far too Romeo and Juliet," Quill says, frowning, "I can't stand romanticised suicide. What an absurd play."

Jacobs shakes her head. "No, she had a hard time coping but she got through it. Well, sort of. That part is up for debate. She would leave in the middle of class because of an urgent phone call, or show up in a right state, anything from sunburned to soaking wet. I liked talking to her, but as the months went on, it just became obvious that she didn't care about teaching anymore."

"Imagine that," Quill says, sarcastically.

Jacobs either doesn't notice the sarcasm or ignores it. "And then one week she just didn't turn up at all. The next week we got a phone call, had a funeral. And I've never been able to stop wondering what happened to her. What she got involved in that made her like that - because I talked to the ones that worked with her before Pink's death, and they said that for the most part she was incredibly attentive to her work."

"Wondering about things you have no ways to find the answers to is the shortest path to insanity, I don't recommend it," Quill tells her. "Anyway, this has been a fascinating history lesson I didn't ask for, but I have places to be."

Jacobs blinks at her. "Oh. Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to delay you, or bother you."

"You delayed nothing of importance and if you'd been bothering me, I would have left," Quill replies, rolling her eyes and walking away without another word.

This Miss Jacobs really must be an idiot - or half mad - to come back to the hellhole of a school that is Coal Hill out of choice.

A week later, an alien chameleon parasite tries to take over the world by using grief as a way of feeding on clueless humans who are so ruled by their sentimentality. Just the usual Friday night in Shoreditch.

Being able to ram the bus through the heartstring of the Lankin does wonders for her morale, but it fades almost instantly as she watches the teenagers hug and gush together and becomes painfully aware of her lack of anyone to celebrate the victory with.

Most of the time she tries to tell herself that she doesn't need anyone. Nights like this one - made so much worse by the visit from her sister - remind her what bullshit that really is.

All I need is a gun, she tells herself, and while the new determination helps, it's just not convincing tonight. She goes to bed and welcomes the abyss that sleep provides her with. Her dreams involve her sister, her real sister, the same conversation but as their true selves. It packs a lot more punch than the chameleon's attempt and she wakes up with a longing and loneliness in her chest that almost makes it hard to breathe.

Things don't get better until Monday, when she can unleash her temper on students.

"If you want to swap saliva to the extent that it dribbles all down your chin, Mr Jones, do it on your own time," she says to half of a young couple she yanks apart in the hallway.

"Miss, I wasn't able to do the homework," a student tries to say about fifty metres later.

"Don't care," she says.

It's an idiotic white boy in a backwards cap that really makes her day, though. After the itch nearly all day to make someone squirm, to make someone nearly piss themselves out of fear of her, she is given an opening when he makes a lewd sexual comment about her to his friends as he's leaving her class.

He can only be sixteen. She doesn't care. She takes him by the front of his shirt and resists the urge to slam him into the door only because she knows the arn would make her pay for it dearly.

Luckily, she doesn't need physical violence to make a point.

"If I hear anything like that come out of your mouth again, Mr Agnew," she says to him, backing him up against the open door of her classroom and leaning in until there is only a few inches between their faces, "About me or any other woman or girl in this establishment, believe me when I say that I'll see to it that you never have the ability to do a single one of those things you just mentioned. Don't think I couldn't make it look like an accident - I have experience in these things and believe me when I say that you really don't want to cross me. Besides, this is Coal Hill. Your genitals could be sliced from your body and diced into tiny pieces and no one would think for a second that it had anything to do with me."

The boy is trying to put on a brave face for his friends that are watching, but she can smell the fear on him and see it shining in his eyes. No piss though. Shame.

He shoves away from her in an attempt to mask how rattled he is. "Crazy bitch," he says, which would be unacceptable towards any other teacher but just makes her smirk.

"And don't you forget it," she shouts down the hallway as he and his friends hurry off, "I've got my eye on you, Agnew."

"Wow," a new voice says from nearby, and Quill turns to see Jacobs standing a few metres away. If her lifted eyebrows and slightly widened eyes are anything to go by, she witnessed the entire exchange.

"Problem, Jacobs?" Quill asks her, crossing her arms, giving her a look that dares her to say anything, to express disapproval over what she's seen. It would be tedious if the maths teacher felt the need to report her for misconduct.

"No," Jacobs replies quickly, shaking her head, "He's been incredibly out of line lately, and I think you were just the woman for the job. Has anybody told you that you're terrifying?"

"Not in far too long," Quill says with a sigh, before smirking, "So, thank you."

Jacobs laughs. "You're welcome." She doesn't move to leave, and instead just keeps regarding Quill with a kind of awe, which gets annoying within about two seconds.

"Can I help you with anything?" Quill asks her sharply.

She blushes. "Oh. No, I was just passing when all...that happened." She turns to leave, only to stop and adjust her glasses. "Actually, now that you mention it - that equation's wrong. Just for the record."

With that she walks off at a quick pace, leaving Quill bemused at her audacity to take one look through the door of the classroom and make such a claim about Quill's blackboard content.

"That equation's wrong," Miss Quill mimics to herself as she goes back into the room, "I'm a human who thinks I know better than a superior alien lifeform because I teach maths."

She looks at the equation on the board, only to frown.

Well fuck. It is wrong.

Quill glances at the doorway, half-expecting to see Jacobs there looking smug even she's not sure that's the other teacher's style. Of course, the doorway is empty. She takes to the blackboard with an eraser, her jaw set in a firm line.

She doesn't know if she's irritated or vaguely turned on by being corrected by a human apparently intelligent enough to do so.

Nope, scratch that.

Irritated. She's definitely irritated.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!