A/N: I decided to post the first two chapters of this fic, even though I haven't yet re-written the rest of them. Don't worry, the overall plot of this story won't be that different to Adventure of Susan the Finn, just the start, some aspects of Susan as a character, and certain plot points. More to come, hopefully soon.

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no telling where you might be swept off to."

- Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter 1: Stage One, Panic

Susan turned around, confused. One moment she had taken her camera out, preparing to take a picture of a huge Doctor Who advertisement, and the next the advertisement was gone, as was her tour group. She frowned and spun around, but couldn't spot them.

"Excuse me, have you seen a London tour group wearing yellow T-shirts?" she asked a young man sitting on a bench near by. "I'm afraid I've lost them."

"No, I don't think so," the guy said, looking around briefly and scratching his head through his black beanie. "If you're lost you should go into one of them tourist offices."

Susan pursed her lips at the helpful advice. "Yeah, thanks."

Good thing she had a map on her. According to it, there was an office just around the corner. She adjusted her shoulder bag on top of her black winter coat and started walking.

As she got there, there was no tourist office. Just a Shawarma place.

"They must have moved it," she sighed, wringing her hands in front of the fast food place. It looked cozy. "I wish I had a British phone plan in my phone so I could use the GPS..."

She glanced at the map and started walking towards the high street. Surely one of these offices would be where the map said they were.

"Ah, there's one!" she said and put the map away. She went through the door, pulled off her scarf and opened her jacket. She walked up to the desk. "Excuse me, I seem to have lost my group."

A woman in her fifties smiled at her, "We'll find them. What's the name of the tour, dear?"

"London Walks, the group was Tower of London, the 12 pm one."

The women typed something into her computer. "Let's see..." she read the screen carefully, and frowned. "I'm sorry, but I can't find anything called London Walks on our database. Are you sure it was called that?"

"Yeah, I've got their leaflet," Susan said, now frowning too. She handed it over. "Here."

The woman took it and skimmed through both sides of the leaflet. "I haven't seen one of these in my life," the woman said. "I'm afraid you might have been scammed."

"What!" Susan exclaimed, "No way. I even got this t-shirt," she said and opened up the t-shirt that had been tied around her left arm. "Look!"

"I'm sorry, but we haven't heard of them. It might just be a very elaborate scam, dear. It's not that unusual..."

Susan sighed and scratched her head. "Oh, whatever, I'll just go to my B&B. Do you have any maps? I think mine is outdated."

When she finally arrived at the Bed & Breakfast place, she was sweaty from all the walking. Maybe her winter clothes really were too warm for British winter. She took off her hat and scarf and once again opened her coat, and walked up to the reception.

"Hi, I was told my stuff would be brought here during the tour..." she started, and by the confused expression on the receptionist face, she closed her eyes and cursed silently. "Of course. That must have been a part of the scam," she muttered. "Uh, I've got a booking by the name of Susan Friberg, single room." It all was getting rather ridiculous.

The receptionist nodded and typed in her name. He turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, there seem to be no bookings by that name."

"What!?" she gritted out. "But I've already paid for it!"

The receptionist looked apologetic. "May I ask, how did you make the booking?"

"Online, of course," she said.

"There lies your problem, sweetie," the receptionist said. "We don't take online bookings. This hotel doesn't have a website yet. I heard it's on it's way but it's not going to be online for at least six months."

"This is bullshit!" she said and stomped her foot. "I've been scammed again?! How can this happen twice in a row?"

"Would you like to book a room, dear?"

She gritted her teeth. "Yeah, why not since I'm already here."

"Single room's 25 quid a night."

She dug around her purse for her wallet and took out her credit card. "Here," she said and handed it over.

"Thank you."

She fanned the map on her face while waiting, feeling sweaty and disgusting. There was no question, her winter clothes were definitely too much for England. They didn't even have proper winter.

"Miss, your card has been declined."

"Yeah yeah, thanks..." She said, holding her hand to get the card back. She stopped. "Wait. WHAT?"

"Your card has been declined," the man said, holding the card. "You won't be able to pay with this. Do you have another?"

"No," she said and bit her lip. Okay. Deep breaths.

This was bad.

"We take cash," the man said helpfully.

Susan glanced into her wallet. She only had 50 pounds in cash. She had counted on being able to get more from the ATMs, and people (mainly her parents) kept telling her it was no use taking large amounts of cash since every shop accepted cards nowadays.

"I only have 50 pounds..." she said and looked up. "I think I'll have to think what about this. Uh, thanks for your help." She backed out of the door, donning her winter clothes and closing her coat.

Susan took a shuddering breath and her face twisted. She was not going to cry on a public street. She walked towards a bus stop and sat down, her phone already in hand.

She dialled her mom and held the phone to her ear.

"Valitsemanne numero ei juuri nyt ole käytössä. Numret ni har valt är inte i bruk. The number you have dialed is not in use."

She cried.

Susan sat on that bus stop for quite a while. Luckily none of the people passing by noticed her crying, so eventually the tears stopped. She blankly stared at her phone. Suddenly, it let out a sound to notify a new text message from an unknown number.

Check out the news. There's a news agency across the street.
Love, me.
xoxo

She glanced up and behold, there was indeed a news agency there. She grabbed her bag and crossed the street in a daze.

As she entered, the shop keeper greeted her but she paid him no mind. Her eyes immediately zeroed on the newest headlines. They were all about the same topic.

THE CASE OF THE ROYAL HOPE HOSPITAL: ALIENS, OR A GOVERMENT COVER UP?

She blinked. Why did that hospital sound so familiar?

"Excuse me," she said to the shop keeper and pointed to the headlines. "What's this about aliens?"

The shop keeper looked at her and arched an eyebrow. "Haven't you followed the news? The whole country's talking about it. A hospital disappeared into thin air. Some of the survivors swear they were on the moon. Here, buy a copy and read for yourself."

She handed him some change and took the newspaper. Reading it confirmed what she had been thinking of.

"But..." she trailed off. "This all happened in an episode of Doctor Who."

The man tilted his head. "Doctor Who?" he said like he didn't recognise the name.

"Oh, c'mon, you have to know what Doctor Who is! I didn't think there was anyone in the UK who hasn't at least heard of that show!"

"Look, missy, I haven't heard of now Doctor Whos or whatsits. This is a real newspaper and whatever it is that happened to those people, it happened. Maybe you should get your head checked out."

She glared at the shop keeper and walked out.

This was definitely getting weird.

Her phone beeped again with a text from an unknown number.

How about a library? They have computers.
Love, me
xoxo

She glared at the phone, but realised it library would actually be a good option at this point. So she did as the text said, and found the nearest public library.

First she googled 'London Walks scam?'. It had no results actually related to her situation.

Then, just for fun, she googled, 'Doctor Who'.

Just a handful of results. She clicked on them, and almost had a heart attack, as the first few sites were some kind of conspiracy websites, trying to prove that a man in a blue box was travelling in time. There were even pictures.

Haha.

This had to be some kind of a marketing tactic.

She googled Torchwood.

It received similar results.

'Worst kept secret in Cardiff,' someone wrote on a forum.

"Jesus," Susan said out loud, and had to drop her head down as a passing librarian glared at her. "No way this is happening..."

Suddenly a horrible realisation came to her.

She had chalked it up to the public library, but in her eyes, these computers were ancient.

The lack of Doctor Who...

The search results...

Those news about the hospital...

She dug out the newspaper from her bag and laughed. She was getting a bit hysterical, she knew.

There was a date written on top of the front page, as clear as day, but simply impossible.

26th of February, 2008.

A librarian was approaching her, so she shut her mouth. "Sorry," she whispered to the angry woman. "I'm just gonna check one phone number, I'll be out of your hair."

Susan looked it up and scribbled it on the corner of the newspaper.

She walked outside in a daze and found a bench to sit on. She dialed the number and held her breath.

"Cardiff Bay Tourist Office, can I help you?" came a cheerful reply over the phone.

Definitely a familiar voice. Welsh accent.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

Susan hung up.