It hadn't taken long to explain everything to the emergency personnel, or at least, not nearly long enough to make her feel any better. They'd taken her bloody clothes, lent her a sweatshirt twelve sizes too big and smelling strongly of bleach, handed her a box of tissues, and unceremoniously kicked her out of the makeshift office. She felt like it should have been a bigger deal, been something investigated and looked into, even if that meant the impossible being found out. But, funnily enough, what had been the culmination and climax of her own private story hadn't been on anyone else's radar.

The worst part had been calling her parents. It had been (mercifully) after she'd been sat down and checked off and debriefed, but the official story (source of the explosion under investigation, preliminary data indicating a faulty gas line) didn't taste any better with the backing of the men in uniform.

She knew she couldn't tell them the truth, couldn't sit there and cry herself out over the phone with them. And that hurt, or would have if she hadn't been so terribly numb. They hadn't been very pleased when she'd turned down their offer of a ticket on the first train back, to sit out the rest of the semester and winter break at home until the university reopened at home, in comfort.

But she couldn't commit to it, needed the time alone – and she was alone, at the moment. The Doctor, her mysterious stranger, had melted away at the first sign of the emergency personnel, not seeming to be interested in giving any account of his presence on campus. He'd sent her a meaningful sort of look, as if to say that he'd see her again, but she didn't know if he would – or if he did, what she would say. What more was there? He'd shown up and saved her, perhaps more than once, but now that it was over, what place did he have in her life?

What place did she have in her own life now? The university, which had once seemed so vast, with the opportunities to be anyone she wanted wherever she chose to go; was suddenly too small, cramping around her.

Discharged from the medical tent when they'd been sure she was unhurt (physically at least), avoiding the busses set up to take them to somewhere safe for the night (now that she knew what was out there, would she ever feel safe?) she wandered away from the lights and sympathetic faces, making her way down to the building that had housed the theatre she'd been about to show a movie on a million years ago. It hadn't played any part in this official story, and so was as empty as she had thought it earlier.

Her back to the wall, comfortingly solid, she sat on the front steps to try and figure something, anything out. It was just all too much, she'd felt too many things within the last few hours, and had honestly reached her limit. There was nothing more to feel. Distracted by the simple act of breathing, the steady beat of her heart, she couldn't have told you if she'd been sitting there for one moment or millions.

"How was it?" A familiar voice interrupted, just the right amount of sympathy and understanding in those three little words.

She looked up, up from the battered sneakers, across the expanse of pin striping to those old, old eyes. "Not too bad. They're saying it was a faulty gas line." She shrugged, twitched the corner of her mouth. "Not really anything I could say to that."

"What are you going to do?" He seemed, for a moment, genuinely interested in how she chose to pick the pieces back up, in how she was about to cope. She looked emotionally battered, drawn and quartered. But there wasn't anything he could do for that, other than hope she caught the empathy in his eyes. He'd done this, shattered someone's world, so many times…

"I dunno. Probably go back home. I mean, they aren't going to reopen for a while or anything," She shrugged again. It wasn't like the intricacies of her own internal discussion would actually matter any to him. She wondered what he did, when he wasn't blown in on the wind into someone's life, bringing with him the chaos of understanding. When he wasn't changing everything.

He hadn't made up his mind about this, not even as he'd taken a moment to watch her there, tear-stained and lost, pressed up against an empty building. But there was something in the way she told him that she was simply going to float back into her normal life, however hard she might fit it to fit back in, that sealed it for him. She'd been good, she really had, game through something that he wouldn't have wished on anyone, brought to too many. "You could come with me," He offered, so casual. As though it was nothing, when really, it was just about the most important thing he could ever offer. A chance to travel to see the universe, where it wasn't always like this, where not everyone had to die. Where it was so very often beautiful.

"Travel where?" She accepted the hand he'd held out to help her up, a little bit confused by just what he was offering, and a whole lot intrigued in spite of herself. It was too much to hope, really, that she could go somewhere grand and lovely, or just warm and soft, after all this.

"Anywhere you wanted to go," He explained, with just enough of a sparkle, a certain light in his eyes she hadn't seen yet. "Any where and any when in the whole universe."

She paused for a moment, hardly daring to breathe. The walls that had been closing in, cramping up around a world that had grown smaller by the moment were suddenly flung wide again with possibility, almost too much possibility for any one moment. "Well," She looked around, took in the fire crews still tackling the residual flames, the news vans surrounding the exits, and the gaping holes where buildings had been, "somehow, I don't think there's going to be class tomorrow."

"Is that a yes?" He looked for clarification, trying not to grin until she did. It felt a little obscene, really, smiling after the wringer they'd been put through. But here it was, a chance for something light, and he couldn't help himself.

She could only nod, the excitement at the fact that what he was offering was really real building to a fever pitch, face breaking into the first smile he'd seen from her. It was like the first bite of real food after having been sick, the flavors were over exaggerated and intense, and for a brief second, threatened to overwhelm.

"Brilliant!" It was contagious, it really was, this thrill and this new life, however situated it was on the charred remains of the old. He took her by the arm, with an air of almost comical ceremony. "To anywhere and everywhere."

She almost laughed, but that would have been just too much. She didn't quite believe him yet, however much she would have liked to, whatever impossible she had seen that day – it would have been just too much. But she loved the ring of possibility in his words all the same. "To anywhere and everywhere."

--

AN: Whew! I actually finished Episode One! Now, onto Episode Two.

A Sneak Peak:

Cat peered at the ornate clock, enjoying the intricate swirling of the craftsmanship. It was so delicate, really, for something that was making such a loud ticking sound- She paused for a moment, watching the hands. They weren't moving; the clock didn't seem to be wound. "Do you hear that?" She asked, intrigued.

The Doctor did not seem nearly as unperturbed as she was. Rather, he seemed momentarily alarmed. "Yes, I've heard that sound before." He paused, glasses disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. "Its clockwork."