A/N: Just wanted to give a little background to this story. This is my first fanfiction, it came from a dream I had quite a long time ago. English is not my first language, so sometimes my grammar can be a little strange, but I have an editor. At the time I wrote this, series 7 hadn't been released, nor were the photos with the Doctor's new outfit, so that is why he's still in tweed. I'm trying to make this as canon as possible, so I use Wikipedia for fact checking. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and if you don't mind, drop your thoughts into a review! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1

The Doctor sat with his legs hanging out of the TARDIS, elbows on his knees, admiring the spectacular show below. He took a deep breath as the solar flares stretched across the Earth, the protons and electrons shooting across the stars leaving streaks of colour in the Earth's atmosphere. The Doctor noted that it was a particularly strong storm, perhaps causing power outages, the humans staying up all night to catch a glimpse at the Northern lights. He let out a little chuckle, perhaps envious of how the human race found everything new and exciting. He remembered those years, when he was young, just a teenager, celebrating his first century. Even his home planet mesmerized him, leaving him astonished at everything. The Doctor rubbed his eyes, the eyes of an old man, of a war veteran, of a father, lover, and the list went on and on.

It had been three hundred and fifty years since he had slipped into the shadows, since he had had a companion. Of course there had been the days with River Song, but even now those were behind him. He hadn't had a companion since, preferring to travel alone now. Just the Doctor and his TARDIS like it always had been. Alone. He adjusted his bowtie even though there was no one to put the act on for. But he did so out of habit. He was so used to hiding his feelings it had become his entire being. Always the happy Doctor, the carefree Doctor with his fezzes and Stetsons. What he had become now he did not know. His mask was so worn, he wondered how much longer it would last.

He admired the stars once more, the familiar twinkle in the sky on the velvet expanse of the unknown. His hearts were heavy, he was aware of their staccato rhythm in his chest; every single pumping of the valves reverberated in his chest. It was beautiful, the flares. They seemed to engulf the Earth, like a flame under a coal. Satellites would surely be capturing the moment with their filtered cameras, unable to see what he could. Unable to witness the immense power of their central star. Unable, like so many, to understand what he felt. The weight on his shoulders could not be described. So many lost, so many gained. So many come, so many go. And only he remained. The madman and his box. A single tear left a trail down his face, when the TARDIS suddenly jolted, corkscrewing in such a way, he fell inside, into the railing of the staircase to the main console.

Emmaline Gray sat on her roof of her flat in central London, clutching the locket that dangled from her neck. Tonight was one of those nights, another heated domestic with Nick, ending with him grabbing most of his things and slamming the door so hard that the photo of them falling off the wall, shattering. She shuddered, remembering how he grabbed her shoulders, his grip hard enough to leave bruises. She decided that she would call a locksmith tomorrow, leaving his things in a box on the steps. She respected herself enough to get out of a terrible relationship than to deal with someone so manipulative.

She laid back on the quilt she had spread nearly three hours ago, sighing, and shivering in the damp cold. The wind whipped her long curly hair around, she cursed, knowing her untameable curls would be knotted tomorrow. She wrapped her arms around herself, and then pulled at the chain around her neck. She lifted the locket to her face, examining it closely. Funny, she's had this locket for as long as she can remember. And worn it every day of her life, there was not one memory or photo without it around her neck. But the origins of the locket, well, she couldn't quite explain them herself. Maybe it was a family heirloom, passed down from mother to daughter. Maybe the answer was inside; she had never opened it before. What possessed her to open it now, she didn't know.

She slid the long chain over her head, rubbing her thumb over the face of the locket. It was soft silvery yet gold colour, it was engraved with a circular pattern, it was quite beautiful, and she traced the interlocking loops with the tip of her finger. Then she pressed her thumb to the clasp, and it sprung open.

"Dear, what are you doing?" The Doctor screamed, pulling himself up with the railing, bounding up the stairs and analyzing the data on the dashboard.

But the TARDIS would give him no information as she flew herself to his destination. He straightened his bowtie, running his hands through his hair.

"Where do I need to be now, old girl? Who needs me now?" He grumbled, checking his jacket pocket for his trusty sonic screwdriver.

The brakes screeched in response, and he leaped down the stairs and out the doors.

He was on a roof, in central London. Bloody hell, he thought, how did he always end up in London?

But the woman being surrounded in swirls of golden energy stole his attention away from his current location. She was sitting with her legs crossed, curly brown hair waving about her, an open locket in her palms, shining a warm light onto her face. He kneeled in front of her, she didn't notice, enraptured in the locket. Her navy jumper hung off of her shoulders, where he could see her skin had formed goose bumps. Her dark hazel eyes were round and wide in awe, a smile splayed across her face. He took his sonic screwdriver from his jacket and passed it up and down her. Human, well, not quite human, the readings were unclear.

Pocketing the tool, he leaned towards her "Hello? Miss? Are you okay?"

But she didn't respond, the light coming from within the locket flashing across her face. The swirls of gold rushed around her, he held up his hand, and the energy reached up, surrounding his hand, tickling his palm. He understood now, and he backed away unsure of what he found. His chest tightened, and he pulled at his collar, swallowing hard. How could he not have known? How did she survive this long? How did she get here? His head was pounding, he pulled at his hair, gritting his teeth, going to the edge of the roof and looking down upon the street. That didn't help, it made his head swim.

"Oh!" He heard behind him, whipping around immediately.

The woman lay crumpled on the quilt, skin glowing slightly with all the energy. He rushed to her side, feeling her pulse, it was erratic, but she was alive. He brushed some stray curls from her face, and smiled. She was quite beautiful, the soft creamy skin, with a spray of freckles across her cheeks, pearly square teeth framed by luscious dark lips. But he couldn't think of that now, he had just discovered something that changed everything for him.