Hello everyone. So first things first, this story is basically if Ten had another series in which he takes along this companion. I felt like him being alone so suddenly was too sad, so I decided to fix it. There is mention of 10/Rose as they are one of my biggest OTPs but as we all know they won't ever be together again *sobs*

Let's also take a moment to remember that I am American. If I use words improperly, please feel free to let me know. I'll happily change it.

I don't own anything you recognize.

That Man In The Box

Chapter One

The Box and the Tree

(A Blue Police Box)

"A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving."

-Lao Tzu

River fumbled with the cables on her lap, trying her best not to look at the Doctor as he laid unconscious with his wrist handcuffed to the pillar. She heard him as he came out of his slumber and braced herself.

"Auto destruct in two minutes."

"Oh, no, no, no, no," he said worriedly as he properly came to, trying to yank his hand free. "Come on, what are you doing? That's my job!"

River smiled sadly but she didn't answer.

The Doctor looked around and spotted what held him down. "Why am I handcuffed? Why do you even have handcuffs?"

She couldn't help herself as her smile turned flirtatious. "Spoilers."

"This is not a joke, stop this now," he demanded sternly. "This is gonna kill you! I'd have a chance, you don't have any."

"You wouldn't have a chance, and neither do I," River answered. "I'm timing it for the end of the countdown. There'll be a blip in the command flow. That way it should improve our chances of a clean download."

"River! Please! No!"

She ignored him. "Funny thing is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you, the real you, the future you, I mean - you turned up on my doorstep, with a new haircut and a suit. She was along with you. She looked so happy, but her eyes were sad. You both took me to Darillium to see the singing towers. Oh, what a night that was! The towers sang and you both cried."

"Auto destruct in one minute."

"Neither of you would tell me why, but I suppose you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the Library. You even gave me your screwdriver - that should've been a clue."

River stopped talking and watched as the Doctor noticed her diary along with the screwdrivers. He reached for them desperately, but his attempt was in vain. They were out of his reach, just like she wanted them to be.

"There's nothing you can do," she told him.

He was unconvinced. "You can let me do this!"

"If you die here, it'll mean I've never met you! It means she never met you!"

"Time can be rewritten."

River shook her head. "Not those times. Not one line! Don't you dare! It's okay. It's okay, it's not over for you. You'll see me again. And you'll meet her. You'll meet her soon. And she'll be the best thing that happens to you."

"Who is 'she?' You keep saying 'she.' Is it that Emma? The one you thought was with me?"

"Spoilers. But I can tell you this. You two will run. You'll run to the farthest reaches of the universe and back again. She'll be everything. She'll be the woman who saved the universe. She'll be my best friend." River couldn't stop the tear that slipped down her face.

She could tell he was becoming frantic. "River, you know my name!"

"Auto destruct in ten..."

"You whispered my name in my ear."

"...nine, eight, seven..."

"There's only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name. There's only one time I could..."

River smiled gently. "Hush, now! Spoilers..."

"..three, two, one..."

She put the cables together and then there was nothing.

It was another overcast day in Greenford while Emma sat behind the counter of New Leaf Books. She was bundled up from the lack of proper heating (William still hadn't fixed it yet); her warm, periwinkle scarf wrapped around her neck and her black fingerless mittens over her hands. She lost count of how many jumpers she had on. Damn January weather.

On the counter sat her laptop - which was open to her brainstorming page - as well as her mobile and a book on the French Revolution. She had been leafing through it before Mr. Mott walked in for his weekly chat and to pick up another book. Why he came to Ealing from Hounslow for books, she would never understand; but he was a pleasant old man and she didn't mind talking to him. After he left, Abigail had called and wanted to chat.

"I'm at work," Emma told her older cousin after answering the ringing mobile.

"It's a Monday!" Abigail exclaimed. "Surely business is slow."

It was true, Mondays were not a particularly active day. But then again, most days weren't. It was one of the reasons she was able to work all day everyday. The shop got just enough customers to make a profit and keep the Scott family from going under.

"So," Abigail drawled, "have you gotten a date for my wedding yet?"

Emma scowled as she practically heard the smile in her cousin's voice. She unconsciously ran her hand through her pin straight cherry colored hair and let it fall to the counter with a thump.

"Abby..."

"Emma! It's next week!"

"I don't need a date, Abigail." Emma exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling like a petulant child. "I'm happy like this, okay?"

"Oh, Emma." Abigail sounded sad. "You're not happy."

This was true. Emma was far from happy. After a freak fire in the flat next to hers, she moved back to her parents house in Greenford from her dream flat in Sutton. She had hoped to move back after the reconstruction was complete, however it seemed the renovators a were complete rubbish and she gave up hope after the fourth time their finish date was delayed. And so she stayed with her parents, filling the void that had been left behind once her younger twin brothers had left for Cambridge. Thus, she was stuck working in her mother's bookshop day after day.

"I just..." Emma tried to think of words that could possibly describe her thoughts. "Do you remember when we were children and grandmother would look up at the sky and tell us stories about the stars?"

Abigail paused. "You want to travel to the stars?"

"No." Emma shook her head and leaned back in her chair; the single leg creaking as it bent. "I want to tell stories like her. She learned them from some people in Greece, did you know? I want to go to Greece. I want to hear stories and tell them to my children and grandchildren. I wish - I wish something amazing would happen to me."

On the other line, Abigail sighed. "I know the feeling. Do you know how long it took me to find Simon?"

At this, Emma groaned comically loud, though her lips were twitching upward. Before she could respond, the bell above the door dinged and she stood up as a tall man walked into the shop. He wore rectangular glasses upon his nose and a smile was playing on his lips. He came in and leaned his elbows on the counter, his face resting in his hands. His chocolate brown hair was sticking up in random directions and Emma had to admit it was rather amazing hair. A long tan coat hung over a brown pinstriped suit, just about reaching the floor. He was rather cute, she noted, but tried to ignore this fact. There was no need to get all awkward with an attractive customer.

"Abigail, I have to go," Emma said into her mobile.

"Oh, is someone there? Is it a boy?"

Emma didn't bother answering and instead ended the call with the press of a button. She carelessly threw the phone on the counter and smiled at the man. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No problem," he replied cheerfully. He stood up straight an slipped his hands into his suit pockets. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"You just did." Emma instantly regretted her cheekiness; however the man grinned happily.

"Then I'll ask you another." He put his hands on the counter and leaned forward. "Has anything weird happened here lately?"

Emma quirked an eyebrow. "Is that some sort of threat?"

The man looked horrified. "Oh, no, no, no. Not at all." His expression then became questioning. "So everything's been...normal?"

"Yeah," she answered slowly and then sighed. "Perfectly boring like always."

"I wouldn't say it's boring." The man looked around the shop. "Look at all these books! I like books. They're powerful. So many words inside them, forming sentences, paragraphs. Pages upon pages of simple letters that put together tell us the lives of people we never met." He smiled and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Amazing, huh?"

Emma was a bit baffled. "I never thought of it that way. My mum prefers to sell nonfiction books as opposed to fiction. Don't get me wrong, I love history, I just overly enjoy getting lost in fictional worlds." Realizing she was rambling, a slight blush crept into her cheeks and she looked down sheepishly. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

He smiled rather mischievously once she gathered up the courage to meet his gaze. "I'm good, thank you." He turned to leave, but just as he reached the door, he paused. He turned around. "What's your name?"

"Emma," she answered without delay. "Emma Scott."

"Well, Emma Scott, I guess this is goodbye."

Before she could ask him his name, he was out the door, his coat blowing out from behind him.

It was after closing time that Emma gathered her things. She left the store and locked it up, entering the cold, January air. It nipped at her skin, so she pulled her scarf and jacket tighter around her. Once she stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and let out a huff of air which froze in front of her face, she realized her laptop still sat at the counter. Cursing under her breath, she hastily pivoted on her heel and hurried back to the shop. She grabbed the laptop and stuffed it into her messenger bag swiftly before heading to leave the shop again. However, there was a strange wheezing noise coming from the back room that caught her attention. Her mind went through a list of things that could possibly make that noise, but nothing seemed to fit. Wary, she slowly walked past the counter and the endless shelves until she reached the door which led to the back.

She turned the handle and pushed the door open as it creaked. The light was off (that had to be a good sign) and so she felt the wall for the light switch before flicking it upwards. What she had expected to find was a room piled with extra books on tables and shelves, ready to be sorted. Instead, she found that plus something extra.

A box.

A blue police box.

Well, that was unexpected.

Emma bit her lip before leaving the back room and going back to the counter. She picked up the phone and quickly dialed the home phone number, waiting for her mother to pick up.

"Hello?" Natalie's voice flitted though.

"Mum, when did you get a police box?" Emma asked.

Natalie made a noise of confusion before answering. "I didn't buy a police box. Why would I buy a police box?"

"I dunno, that's why I called you." Emma looked back at the door, unable to see the box from where she stood. "I heard a weird noise from the back room and when I looked I found a police box sitting there."

"Love, police boxes aren't even used anymore."

Emma frowned. "If you didn't buy it, then why is there one here?"

"Maybe you've just had a long day; why don't you just lock up and come home, okay?"

Emma was not fond of the implication that she was hallucinating the box, but knew her mother had a point. Sitting in a boring book shop almost all day drove her crazy. But why a police box? She suddenly heard the wheezing noise again, but ignored it.

Instead of questioning the whole ordeal, she obeyed Natalie without hesitation. After saying goodbye, she went to close the door and saw that the room no longer held the box. The space where it had sat was now empty as if it had never been there in the first place. Her forehead creased and her mouth dipped in a frown. She could have sworn that box had been there and she realized that box was going to bother her to no end until she could figure out if it had been real or not.

It was a ten minute walk from the shop to Costons Lane; but with at least forty centimetres of snow on the ground that was shoveled into random places, about five to ten extra minutes were added. The sun was just setting as her boots crunched the blanket of freezing whiteness beneath her. She shivered as an arctic wind blew past her harshly.

Once she reached her home and entered through the door, the smell of her mother's cooking drifted by. She closed the door and locked it, kicking her boots off and hanging up her jacket and scarf.

"I'm home!" she called, walking through the narrow hall that led to the kitchen.

The kitchen was small; the granite countertops almost completely surrounding Natalie as she finished preparing the meal. The right branched off into a dining room and off from that was the living room. The beige curtains that hung from above the sliding doors were pulled aside, revealing the yard which held Natalie's beloved flower garden.

"How's the shop?" Natalie asked as Emma wandered into the dining room, dropping her bag on the floor.

"Slow as usual." She debated for a moment on whether to mention the mysterious man in the glasses and coat, but ultimately decided to kept that secret. Perhaps he had known about the strange box?

"So about the police box," Natalie continued, bringing two plates of pasta over to the dining table.

"I think I just imagined it." Emma went into the kitchen and brought over some forks and napkins and placed them on the table around the dishes. She then helped her mother bring over glasses of water (Natalie was one of those rare Brits that didn't like tea) and the two sat down together to begging their meal.

"Sort of an odd thing to imagine," Natalie remarked as she cut into the pasta with her fork. "Why would you see a police box?"

Emma held back a rude retort. "I dunno, I just did. But it's gone now. There's nothing to worry about." In order to avoid speaking of the police box anymore, she attempted to change the subject. "Where's dad?"

"He had to work late." Natalie took a bite and swallowed. "I suspect he will be around in an hour or so."

It was then small talk that filled up the silence while the mother and daughter ate dinner. Emma was typically never one for conversation, but her mind was filled with thinking about the mysterious suited man and the police box. She was undeniably itching to return to the shop and see if the box was back. Part of her was sure it would be there, but another part - the one with common sense - told her that the box had never existed in the first place and that returning to the shop would be a waste of time. Yet, for the first time ever, she desired to be at shop more than anywhere else in the world.

After supper, Emma helped clean up and then retreated to her room. The place was tidy and simple, just how she liked it. The originally whitewashed walls had been painted over and over again throughout her childhood and now were a beautiful blue color (a man in a bow tie had suggested it to her) and were bare except for a bulletin board on which hung a calendar and a few photographs. Other than that there wasn't much to the room except the window, the bed, the closet, and the desk with the chair. Emma had grabbed her bag and brought it up with her, sliding out the laptop and setting it on her desk. She opened it up and turned on the power as she went to change into something more comfortable. Once in her favorite pair of pajamas, she sat down and stretched her fingers.

It was once she brought up her brainstorming document that she heard the wheezing noise again, this time coming from outside the house. It was obvious it was somehow related to the strange box, so she instantly jumped up and hastily drew back the curtains from her window. The sky, now dark, made it hard to see anything on the street except for what was touched by the street lights' illumination. She looked down and saw that the box was down there, across the street. She could barely see it for only half of it was visible. The other half was hidden in shadows. Without any hesitation, she took off down the stairs and out the front door. It wasn't until her feet landed in a pile of snow that she realized she was barefoot. However, when she looked across the street at the exact same spot she saw that the box was gone. In her excitement, she had not even heard he wheezing noise again.

Disappointed, she frowned and returned to her room. She threw herself onto her bed, suppressing a scream. She could not quite understand why the box sparked something in her. Perhaps it was its mysterious and impossible appearances and disappearances. Perhaps it was the fact it was in her mother's shop and then right outside her home. Perhaps it was simply because it was different and she wanted different. But the true, underlying reason was because wanted to be inside that box. She wanted the box.

The next morning her mother prepared breakfast bright and early like everyday. Emma refrained from speaking of the box and it seemed that Natalie had either forgotten it or had no interest in pursuing any further and instead babbled on about how William came home late and left too early. After eating, Emma dressed in her usual tights, shorts, jumper, and - considering the weather - boots ensemble. It was off to the shop she went, her bag swinging on her shoulder and the leftover snow crunching as she stepped upon it.

The streets were nearly empty except for parked cars scattered about. Emma found herself more conscious of her surroundings; her eyes constantly searching for the blue police box. Sadly, there was no sign of it and she entered the shop a tad bit crestfallen. Nonetheless, the day had to go on.

It went by slowly at first. A few people came in and made their purchases. Someone unfortunately bought the book on the French Revolution that Emma was enjoying, but she let it go when she realized it wasn't even her book. She had her lunch break and some tea around one before returning to her job. And all day she waited for the box. It was driving her insane. She even had to close her laptop and cease brainstorming because of that stupid box. Why did it have to be so mysterious?

Emma found herself simply standing at the counter, one hand holding up her head. Her other hand tapped repeatedly on the counter impatiently. She was aware of how strange it was to think the box would come back for her. Why would it? It was just a bloody box. Since when did she have a connection with a box?

As she contemplated, she barely noticed a customer walk in. To her surprise once she saw him, it was the same strange man from the day before. He no longer wore the glasses, she observed, but he still wore the suit and the coat. And today he most definitely looked like he was coming in for a reason.

He suddenly whipped out a large book from inside his coat (how it fit in there she didn't know) and showed it to her. "Where did you get this?"

Emma read the title (it was Les Miserables) and she frowned. "Hang on, I haven't put that out yet. How did you get it?"

"I need you to tell me where you got it," he demanded.

She put her hands on her hips. "Not until you answer my question. Where did you get it?"

"I'm sorry, but this is really important." He placed the book on the counter. "I need to know where you got it."

Emma shook her head. "I dunno; my mum takes care of shipments. I just put the books out and sell them. But how in the world did you get it? It's in the back room!"

"Last night," he answered nonchalantly. "I got it last night."

He then proceeded to open up on side of his coat and take out some strange object. Was it a pen? A really thick pen? And hold on - he got the book the prior night?

"Wait a minute." Emma ran out from behind the counter and followed the man. He was pointing the weird pen thing at all the different books. It made a strange buzzing sound as he used it and a blue light emitted from the tip. "You were in the back room last night, yeah?"

"Yep," he answered, popping the "p."

"And so was the police box."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "You were there?"

"Only long enough to see it." She stepped in front of him. "So what is it then? The box I mean. Is it some sort of teleport? Are you a spy? Are you working for the government using things that they haven't shown to the public yet? Am I some sort of threat and you need to spy on me?"

The man looked taken aback and almost overwhelmed. His eyebrows were squished together and his mouth was open in confusion. "What?" he finally said. "How could you - what?"

"That box; it's yours, right?" she asked and he nodded. "And it appeared and disappeared in the back room. I heard it! And then you were at my house last night, too."

At this the man looked as though he was trying to solve a crossword puzzle that was written in the form of sudoku.

"But I wasn't at your house last night." He looked away in thought.

"But you were," Emma insisted. "I heard that noise and I looked out the window and the box was there."

"But I wasn't there," he repeated. "Huh. That's interesting." He finally looked at her again, a smile forming on his lips. "Oh, Emma Scott. You're brilliant!"

Despite this random declaration and its moment of appearance, she was rather flattered. "Um, thank you?"

"You're welcome, Emma Scott. You're going to be brilliant. You must be."

Now Emma was as confused as he had been before. She was displeased with the role switch and strongly desired for it to reverse again.

"Has anyone told you you're a bit..." She struggled to find a word. "...weird."

The man smiled so happily she thought his it might break his face. "They never stop."

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "Who are you?"

"Well, I'm the Doctor."

This made her quirk an eyebrow. "The Doctor? Doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor."

"What's your real name?"

He was still smiling. "The Doctor."

"Surely your parents didn't name you that. Who names their child the Doctor?"

"Who names their child Emma?"

She uncrossed her arms and stood back angrily. "Hey, at least I'm not named after a profession."

"And I wouldn't want it any other way. Now -" At this point he put his hands on her shoulders "- Emma Scott, let's solve a mystery."

He ran off then, his coat billowing out from behind him. Emma saw he was running to the counter and followed almost obediently, but mostly out of curiosity. She watched as the man - the Doctor - began to rifle through all sorts of drawers, looking through binders and folders. Part of her wanted to scold him for being invasive and not asking if he could go through the shop's personal files, but another part silenced her. She didn't want to scare him off just in case he would let her inside his box.

When she approached him, she saw he was using that device again. It was buzzing as he pointed it at the different objects at the counter.

"What is that thing?" she asked.

"Sonic screwdriver," he answered without looking up. "You said your mother ordered the books?"

She stood on the tips of her toes and watched him carefully. "Yeah. I think I have a list of the companies we've bought from and what we purchased."

"I need you to find it."

She didn't hesitate as she hurried into the back room. There were some filing cabinets hidden among the extra books and Emma was sure she'd find where Natalie had gotten Les Miserables. Once she got to the cabinets, she pulled one of the metal drawers open and began to sift through the folders, reading the different forms tucked away in each one. She smiled happily when she found the folder which held a purchase of several copies of Les Miserables. Strangely, though, only one had been sent. How had she not seen that before?

With the success of her discovery, she grabbed hold of the folder and returned to the shop where the Doctor was examining the counter with his screwdriver.

"I found it," she told him, holding the folder open with one hand. "She got the book from a company called Two Branches."

The Doctor smiled and shook his head in what appeared to be disbelief. "Oh, that is perfect!"

Emma couldn't stop the smile that she returned. "Why is that book important anyway?"

He took the folder from her hand and started skimming the pages within it. "That book is very powerful. It was made from a specific tree and it seems that for some reason those books ended up here." He closed the folder and looked up at he ceiling. "But why? Why here? Oh!" He looked at her again. "Do you have a particular interest in France?"

"In France?" she repeated. "Well, a little bit. I mean, I was reading a book on the French Revolution because I want to be an author and the novel I'm writing takes place in France and I was hoping to do some research."

"Where is that book?"

"Oh, I sold it today." She cringed when she realized he wanted it. "Should I not have?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You didn't know. However, I want to look at this list." He handed the folder back to her. "Now tell me what all these books have in common."

She went over the list again and saw that they all had once thing connecting them. It was so blatantly obvious that it made her want to curl up in a corner and pretend she didn't exist

"They all have to do with France," she answered. "That's why you asked me that then, right? But why would my mum buy so many books about France?"

"I don't think your mother ordered these books."

His ominous statement made Emma feel uncomfortable. It wasn't necessarily the Doctor himself, but it was the fact a company had shipped books to her and in her endless boredom never questioned the order. Not once did she wonder why a whole order had been dedicated to France.

"I think it's time we paid a visit to Two Branches, don't you?" the Doctor asked her with a mischievous smirk. For some reason she couldn't stop the grin that spread widely over her face. She nodded in agreement and before she knew it, he had grabbed her hand and the two were running out of the store. It was cold outside, like it was supposed to be, but she barely noticed the wind nipping at her exposed skin. All she noticed was the police box sitting on the pavement on the other side of the street. She and the Doctor stopped outside the shop and he looked down at her as she admired the box. She then returned his gaze and smiled again.

With that, the Doctor took off running again, Emma's hand still in his. They sprinted across the street and she realized they were going to enter the box. Its small size briefly crossed her mind as he pushed open the door (despite the sign saying "pull") and pulled her inside. She had expected to be squished in there along with the Doctor (not that she would've minded) but instead there was no small space. In fact, there was plenty of room to move.

Because it was bigger.

It was bigger on the inside.

"Oh, this is cool," Emma muttered to herself as the door closed behind her. She slowly stepped up the grated ramp, looking at the coral design around her and the panel of buttons and levers up ahead. The Doctor had taken off his long coat and thrown it haphazardly on one of the supports. He was running around the console in the center, pushing things and pulling things here and there. The thing in the middle was making strange noises, lit up and moving. It was all so weird and brilliant at the same time.

"It's - it's..."

"Go on, then," said the Doctor excitedly. "What d'you think?"

Emma felt so much amazement that she could've cried. "It's bigger on the inside."

"That's what I like to hear!"

There was a definite thump as if the box had just fallen on something. Emma looked around in alarm for just a moment before the Doctor was running again, taking her hand as he passed her. They hurried out the door and she gasped as she saw they were no longer on Greenford Road. Instead they were inside some sort of abandoned warehouse. There were large puddles on the concert floor. The windows were cracked and broken, allowing a cool breeze to drift through. The metal supports were rusty and the high ceiling had holes scattered about it.

As the Doctor took out his screwdriver again and used it, aiming it at the air around him, Emma ran around the box several times. Nothing about the box made any sense, nor did the man that was standing a matter of feet away from her. It was then that she realized the Doctor was a complete stranger to her. She let a complete stranger take her in a strange box and then transported her to an empty warehouse. For all she knew, he was some sort of assassin sent to kill her. But who would want her dead? She may not have been incredibly social, but she was sure there was no one that hated her that much.

"How did we get here?" she finally asked, finding her voice.

The Doctor lowered his screwdriver, but stared straight ahead. "The TARDIS took us here."

He then ran off again, though slower this time as his feet splashed in the puddles, making the bottoms of his trouser legs wet. Emma quickly followed him, running faster to keep up with his long legs.

"What's a TARDIS?" she asked. They stopped as they found a regular metal door with rusty hinges.

"It's my spaceship," he answered with a smile, finally looking at her again.

Emma raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Your spaceship? Your spaceship is a police box."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, that's just a disguise."

"Couldn't you disguise at something normal?"

"How is a police box not normal? Who's going to wonder why they're looking at a police box?"

"Me!" Emma shook her head. "So does that mean your an...an alien?"

The Doctor smiled again. "Technically you're the alien. You humans with your one heart."

Emma's eyes went wide. "How many hearts do you have, then?"

"Two, but enough about me!" He pointed his screwdriver at the door handle. "Let's see what's behind this door. Allons-y!"

The door unlocked and opened for them. The Doctor lowered his screwdriver and slowly pushed the door open. Light streamed out from behind the door and Emma found herself leaning forward to see what was there. The Doctor slipped through the space between the door and the frame, her following him. He took her hand again and pulled her down as they looked around the room.

Now this was a warehouse. Well, more like factory. Same difference.

There were large machines set up everywhere with conveyor belts connecting them. There were people walking around them dressed in uniforms and others up on higher floors. On some belts were tree branches and others were fully printed books. She looked up at the machine they were hiding behind and read the writing that was stamped onto the metal.

"Two Branches," she read out loud softly. "So this is where the books came from?"

"It seems so," the Doctor answered her. "And it seems just as bad as I thought it was."

Before she could question him any further, a new voice came from behind them.

"Halt, intruders!"

Both Emma and the Doctor slowly turned around to find a large gun raised and pointed in their faces.