Important Note: If you haven't read Crossing Timestreams, this might not make sense. I tried to describe some things, but it would make a lot more sense if you read the first story in this series before this one.

If you have read Crossing Timestreams, enjoy! Things are going to be different this time, in case you can't tell from the title. :-)

.1.

An Actual Holiday

Sighing, I dip my fingers into the soft, chalk-like sand. The book in my lap, momentarily forgotten, falls off my lap and into the gray dust. I brush Lizzie Bennet's face clean, tracing the curves of the words Pride and Prejudice, slightly embossed on the paperback cover. I place the book back in the Tardis and stick my toes in the sand, wiggling them. The blue door of the Tardis, the most wonderful and awesome ship ever created, bumps against my back. I push it away with one hand while tracing a circle into the sand with another. The sand is so soft, like fine baby powder.

I close my eyes and lift up my chin, reveling in this amazing, impossible moment. I open my eyes again and take in the gorgeous sight of the green, blue, and white planet before me. A planet that looks just like the one I came from about, oh, three or four years ago by my timestream. Give or take a few hundred years. Because what is time, really? It feels like a straight line at first, but when you travel in the Tardis—as in Time And Relative Dimension In Space—also known as a time machine—you quickly learn that time isn't straight at all and in fact it is just a big pile of yarn that the cat played with and knotted together.

Or, as some would say, time is just a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.

Once upon a time, in a world far away, in a completely different universe, that was just a line from a TV show. Now, however… it's something my best friend said. My best friend… also know as the man I love, though I do NOT intend to tell him that little fact anytime soon. He's not exactly the type to confess undying love for anyone. I guess he's kinda like Mr. Darcy in that regard. Although, come to think of it, Mr. Darcy does confess his love to Lizzie… it just takes him a while and it's not as if he really wants to, he's just tired of holding it in. And she rejects him, anyway. But they end up together at the end. Because it's a story. A book. Fiction. In my old universe, this universe is fiction, too. So I guess I'm just philosophizing things that I really have no right philosophizing.

Must be the mood. Basking in the light of the Earth would do that too you, I suppose.

But back to my best friend.

Yes, I do harbor romantic feelings towards him. Yes, the future version of himself has said/done some things that make me believe that he might feel the same way. Future version? Right… remember what I said about time being all wound together? Where… there's this thing on my wrist that won't come off no matter how much I pry at it. It's called a vortex manipulator. It travels through time and space, kinda like the Tardis, except… not nearly as classy or cool looking. It just kinda looks like a big leather bracelet or something that someone who's really into BDSM would wear. The Tardis is a blue box that's bigger on the inside.

Still with me?

Anyway, the vortex manipulator is faulty or something. It brings me to times and places all willy nilly, ripping me out of the past and into the future and vice versa. I can't control it. It does what it wants, when it wants, no matter how bad the timing. Like those moments when the future version of my best friend is kissing me or getting around to confessing his undying love and how he would give his last regeneration to be with me. Ok… I made that last part up. There have been some times where he has kissed me… but that's not the only time I'm ripped away. Could be in the middle of an adventure, or in the heat of battle, while in the shower… anytime.

So it kinda makes trying to feel out the possibility of a relationship with him a bit… impossible. Because I never know when I'm going to leave.

But that's not the only reason it's hard. You see… he's not the type to get into a relationship. Not with someone who's human…

Oh, he's an alien. Did I mention that?

Yup. He's a Time Lord. Pompous title, yes, but there's more. He's from the lost planet of Gallifrey. He doesn't die, he just regenerates into a new man. And I don't know his name.

I call him the Doctor.

~XxX~

So, where was I? Oh yes. I'm dangling my legs out of the doorway of the Tardis and into the sand or dust or dirt or whatever of the moon. Earth's moon. Special request by yours truly. I mean, who wouldn't want to go to the moon? I have my own personal reasons for wanting to, of course, but still. Anyone would want to sink their toes into the moon.

I hope there's no such thing as a moon virus.

The Doctor, wearing his blue suit, sits next to me. I guess he decided to stop tinkering with the Tardis. He's been there for hours, fixing things that probably don't need fixing. He's silent for a moment, taking in the view of the earth and stars. I take the moment of his distraction to steal some glances of him.

This regeneration (the 10th) is skinny for sure and normally not my type. But take one good hard look into those wide brown eyes and that infectious crazy smile and you would see what the big deal is. His dark hair defies gravity, sticking up and out in the front. His side burns are too long and his suit is too tight. He has this addiction to Converse sneakers that I don't really understand, since half the time we're running either away or toward evil on an adventure. But he's just… adorable.

Not long from now, he's going to become a completely different man. I used to prefer that man. Now I'm not so sure.

He finally looks at me. I blush, ducking my head away. I hope he didn't catch me staring. He doesn't say anything. He just keeps looking at me.

Anyway, half the time, I'm sure the Doctor is going to strand me somewhere or force my malfunctioning vortex manipulator to take me somewhere so that he doesn't have to worry about losing me. He hates losing people, so he's on this kick that he should be traveling alone right now. Which is complete crap, by the way. The last person in any universe who needs to be alone is the Doctor.

But what do I know? I'm just a weird chick who was once obsessed with a TV show.

Thinking about the TV show makes me think about my home universe. And I kinda don't want to think about that, because I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get back there.

I stand, my feet sinking a few inches in the moon. I start to take a step, but can't make myself do it. What if that lack of earth-like gravity makes me float away, out of the force field of air. I don't want to suffocate in the cold universe. Alone.

"When I was little," I find myself saying. "My dad used to tell me the moon was made of cheddar cheese and that all the cheddar on earth was from the moon. That's why there are craters." I giggle at the memory. "He was a professor of psychics at MIT, so of course I believed him. Why wouldn't the moon be made of cheese? My daddy knew everything. We used to joke that someday we would go to the moon and sink our toes into the cheesy goodness." I kick at the dust gently.

"Was?" the Doctor asks, voice deep.

I stare at the earth, so small and impossibly huge all at the same time. "He died. He and my mom. Car accident. Two years before I came here. I had just graduated from college." A tear falls down my face. "My mother taught high school English. She hated Shakespeare. She didn't think he should be read; he had to be seen. To her, Jane Austen was the best, because they might seem like insipid novels about marrying above your station, but…" I can almost hear my mother's voice as I say this. "But in reality, they are about women trying to achieve their best in a society when they were kept down." My voice cracks.

The Doctor stands, placing his hand on my shoulder. I stand as still as possible, squeezing my fists, trying not to break down. The tears are falling, but I refuse to let them win.

"She used to tell me why Mr. Darcy was the best romantic hero and how much he reminded her of my father." The words are just tumbling out, like I've opened the dam and the water is forcing it's way out of the small cracks. "Because even though Daddy loved her from the beginning, he wouldn't admit it. He was a thinker and she was a dreamer. He hated books, unless they were non-fiction. He thought novels were a waste of time, unbefitting of someone with their PhD in how the universe works. But he loved my mother. So much." I run a hand through my short hair. "He supported her dream to become a writer. When she finally published a book, he threw her this huge party. When they… died… they were coming back from a book signing." I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm talking about this. I haven't thought about them since before I came to this universe."

The Doctor, surprisingly, pulls me into his arms, crushing me against his chest. "Don't apologize, Lily. It's all right."

I bury my face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him… the fresh smell of the universe. "My mother loved lilies. It's part of why they named me Lillian. She always had a vase of lilies around…any type of lily, it didn't matter, she thought they were all beautiful." I pull back, wiping my nose. He hands me a handkerchief. I blow my nose. "She used to pluck one of the buds from a vase and make me sniff it. 'You're my blossom,' she would say. 'My favorite of the lilies.'"

He pulls me in again, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. "I like that." He pauses, then, rubbing my back with his hands, he continues. "I'll take you to this planet that is completely full of lilies someday. When you're ready. If you want."

I don't answer. I just lay my head on his shoulder.

We stand that way for a minute. It's one of those moments that you never want to end. But at the same time, it kills you to stand in it.

So I back away from him, blowing my nose again as an excuse.

He sticks his hands in his pockets, making circles in the moon dust with the toe of his red Converse. Then he looks up at me and offers me his hand, very gentleman-like. "Miss Meyers," he says, adopting a proper English accent. "May I have the pleasure of taking a turn around the moon with you?"

I laugh. "Won't we suffocate?"

"Around the Tardis, then," he says, not missing a beat. "We'll stay in the diameter of the air shell. I've extended it about… ten feet out?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" I tease.

He grins, winking at me. Instead of saying anything, he takes my hand, leading me in a walk. And by walk, I mean… well, you've seen what it's like walking on the moon. It's like jumping on a trampoline, except… more weightless. I think. It's hard to describe.

Pretty soon we're laughing, skipping about, daring to jump higher and higher.

That's when I let go of his hand. And jump too high and too far. I feel myself floating away, and, panicking, I yelp. "DOCTOR!"

He grabs my hand and pulls me to him. But he underestimated how much strength he needed. So we both fall inches from the side of the Tardis. He lands on his back, gray dust puffing everywhere. I land on top of him, stopping my head from banging into his chin just in time. But our faces are awfully close.

"Well," he says, staring at me. "I suppose I don't know my own strength on the moon."

"Ya think?" I ask, scrambling off him. As I stand, he sits up, grabbing my hand again. He pulls once and I fall flat on my bottom, practically in his lap. "Doctor, wha—?"

But the word is cut off.

Because he kisses me.

My stomach jumps into my chest and my heart leaps into my throat. His hands cup my face; my own hands are digging into the moon.

He pulls away after a moment, slowly, licking his lips. After looking at me for a moment, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs, he presses one more kiss to my lips, though it's must shorter and more chaste.

"I've heard of kissing in the moonlight," I say, once again coming down with a case of verbal diarrhea. "But never kissing in the earthlight."

He chuckles. "Let's pretend we're the first."

We. For some reason, that makes my stomach jump again.

We stare at each other for a moment. I have no idea what's going through that Time Lord mind of his, but mine is going to fast, even I can't keep track of the flow of the thoughts. I'm thinking it's basically just my mind exploding and imploding all at the same time.

Then, the Doctor smiles, wiping at my cheek. This makes his laugh harder.

"What?" I ask, touching my cheek.

"You have moon on your face. Moon face."

The ridiculousness of the statement make me push his shoulder, clucking. "Whatever," I laugh, looking away.

He grabs me again, grabbing my chin, kissing me again. My heart is thumping against the Tardis key on the chain around my neck.

He pulls back after a moment. "I like your moon face." His eyes are lazy, his smile lopsided.

I swallow. "Is this a dream?"

His eyes search my face and he becomes serious. "I'm not quite sure."

I can't believe I'm about to do this. I lean in this time, pressing my lips against his, letting all the emotion I feel towards him pour out into the action. I run my fingers through that amazing hair. And, yes, it's every bit as amazing as I dreamed it would be. Soft. Supple. Easy to twirl around my fingers.

He pulls back. Again. I open my eyes, licking my lips. They feel puffy and raw. He's breathing heavily and I cannot tell what he's thinking. I glance up at his hair and giggle. His serious expression is quickly replaced by confusion.

"You have moon in your hair," I laugh. "Moon hair."

He looks up as if he could see his own hair. "Whatever," he jokes, mimicking my American accent.

Giggling, I run a hand through my own short locks (never get your hair cut on the planet Shan Shen) then crawl back to my feet. The Doctor follows a moment later, curling his hand into mine, swinging our arms back and forth.

"How do you feel about Victorian London for Christmas?" he asks as we enter the Tardis. I pull my hand away so that I can pick up my book.

I raise an eyebrow as I walk up to the console. "It is Christmas already?"

He grins at me, and, giving the moon dust in his hair and basically all over his body, it's pretty comical. "That's what a time machine is for, Lils."

I roll my eyes. "Please don't call me Lils, Doc." I toss the book onto the jump seat.

He just chuckles. "Very well, Blossom."

Well, that made my stomach jump. He hasn't called me that yet. Only 11 has called me that.

I clear my throat. "Victorian London sounds nice. Can I wear a pretty dress?"

But I never heard his answer.

My body buzzes with electricity, and, gasping, I'm transported somewhere else.

I land on my feet (which is a big deal, to be honest) in a park. I lean onto a tree for a second, allowing myself to catch my breath.

I told you! I freaking told you! Just when I'm getting somewhere with the Doctor, the stupid universe decides to take me away and plop me down on some stupid planet where I have to run around and try to figure what stupid thing I have to pretend I don't know anything about.

AND! To top it off! I'm not wearing any shoes!

I growl and punch the tree. Ow. Ok, not doing that again.

Shaking my hand to get the feeling back, I look around. No police box in sight. Strange. Usually I land somewhere near the Doctor. Ahead of me, a group of men are playing soccer. Ok, I must be in England or something, because lord knows I'm not in America. People don't play soccer in America.

Frowning, I step forward, wincing a bit at the pain of walking barefoot, for some reason drawn to the game. One of the men scored the last goal (that's what it's called, right? Haha, just kidding.) and the whole team has jumped on him, screaming. Except one kinda pudgy guy. He's standing there as if someone just kicked his dog.

Wait a second…

I start walking faster. A man with floppy brown hair breaks away from the pig pile and is walking away, arms in the air, triumphant. A girl with long straight brown hair walks up to him, clearly upset. He tries to calm her down.

My jaw drops as I see my future self slap the 11th Doctor across the face.