It takes a lot to realise that there are two sides to everything.

People aren't always what you expect them to be. Gradually, one by one, humans are starting to prove that to me. London is the place that has taught me that.

It is a simple city. It isn't very remarkable, it isn't extravagant, it doesn't need to show off its wealth to every pitiful nook and cranny. No amphitheatre stands in the centre. No temples tower over the dwellings of mortal men. No frescoes or tapestries adorn the walls. And yet, somehow, it still manages to appear beautiful to the eyes of a traveller. A silent, simple beauty.

The streets are empty at night, for no-one dared to venture out. They are afraid — fraid of the bombs. However, this does not stop the locals from venturing out to quiet bars for a break from the nightmare of a world at war.

—

That is were my night begins, surrounded by gossiping patrons and cigarette smoke. The band plays softly in the background, the singer's smooth voice filling the room with a lilting melody. I take a long sip from my glass, allowing my gaze to travel across the small stage. Until a man catches my attention.

He stands by the back exit, leather-clad arms folded across his chest. There is something about the way his eyes scan the crowd. Something strange. He regards the people with masked pain, a look that seems almost longing as he watches them chat amongst themselves.

He finally matches my gaze. Lips twitching into a friendly but awkward smile, he nods his head once in greeting before turning his attention back to the band. Applause rings out as the song ends, and I watch curiously as he jumps onto the stage.

"Excuse me!" All eyes fixed upon him. "Excuse me, could I have everybody's attention? Just for a mo. Be very quick. Hello! Um..." the microphone squeaks shrilly as he stammers his way through the announcement, "might seem like a stupid question, but has anything fallen from the sky recently?"

Silence.

Finally, a bout of laughter comes from the audience in reply. He hadn't been wrong, it is a stupid question. And yet he doesn't seem to understand why.

He frowns. "Sorry, have I said something funny?" He receives no response. "It's just... there's this thing I need to find. Would've fallen from the sky a couple of days ago."

The mournful wail of a siren sounds and I watch, amused, as everyone around me hurries for the exits.

"Would've landed near here, " he turns his gaze towards the ceiling as the sirens continues, "with a very loud..."

The propaganda posters catch his eye.

"Bang."

—

I follow him down the street, tugging my thick coat around myself as a particularly harsh wind forces against me. My feet ache from running. If I had known that this would happen, I wouldn't have worn heels.

"Rose!" the man yells, racing down the alley. It is empty, save for a stray kitten curler up in a crate. He sighs and carefully lifts it. "You know, one day... just one day, maybe, I'm gonna meet somebody who gets the whole 'don't wander off' thing. Nine hundred years of phone-box travel, it's the only thing left to surprise me!"

"Might I say, you don't look half bad for your age."

He freezes. Placing the kitten back down, he watches tentatively as I emerge from the heavy shadows. His eyes scan over me with a deep interest and curiosity. "You were in the bar. Wait, shouldn't you be in the shelter?"

Shrugging, I dig my hands into my pockets and dare to take another step towards him. "Probably. Shouldn't you?"

"Probably."

"I couldn't help but overhear what you said. And I think I might be able to help. That thing you're looking for? I know exactly what you're talking about."

A deep quiet descends over us. I can tell that he doesn't believe me. Not yet. "Do you, now? What 'exactly' do you know?"

"I know that something fell. I know that it wasn't a bomb. Oh, go on, give me a chance! I'm Inara, by the way. Inara Luscinia."

He accepts my handshake with a little too much vigour, hope shining in his eyes. "Jolly nice to meet you, Inara! I'm The Doctor."

It's my turn to frown. My head tilts in a questioning manner. "The Doctor? That's an awfully strange name. Doctor what?"

Before either of us have the chance to speak again, a shrill ringing echoes throughout the alley. The Doctor's eyes narrow and he finally removes his grip on my hand. I follow his astounded gaze to a wooden box behind us, coated in deep blue paint. A sign above the double doors names it: POLICE BOX.

I hurry after him, heels clicking quietly against the ground. A small hatch on the door now swings open to reveal a telephone, which continues to ring urgently. "How can you be ringing?" he mumbles. "What's that about — ringing? What am I supposed to do with a ringing phone?"

"Well, it is a phone. I suppose you're meant to answer it."

"Don't answer it." Both of us turn, startled, our gazes falling on the young girl stood a few metres away. She fearfully eyes the phone. "It's not for you."

The Doctor steps towards her, wariness showing through his friendly mask. "And how do you know that?"

She shrugs. "'Cause I do. And I'm telling you, don't answer it."

"If you know so much, tell me this — how can it be ringing? It's not even a real phone, it's not connected, it's not..." He trails off. The girl is gone.

After a brief pause, he unhooks the phone. "Hello? This is the Doctor speaking. How may I help you?"

His smile vanishes as a faint voice replies. I shuffle a little closer, straining my ears to hear what the other person is saying.

"Mummy?"

We look to each other, bewildered. But I can see it in his eyes. He is scared. "Who is this? Who's speaking?"

"Are you my mummy?"  It sounds like a little boy.

The Doctor tries again, "Who is this?"

"Mummy!"

"How did you ring here? This isn't a real phone, it's not wired up to—"

"Mummy?"

And with that, the line dies.

Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot to relieve the aching of my feet, I clear my throat. "How do you know that's not a real phone? I thought you said you were a doctor, not a policeman."

He shrugs dismissively and begins to pace around the cobbled alley. "It's mine. Rose?" Peeking through the windows of the police box, he calls out again, "Rose, are you in there?"

A loud clatter causes both of us to jump. Within seconds, he is gone.

Great.

—

I find him halfway up a garden wall. Below, a family hurries into their shelter of old stone and corrugated iron. Finding a hole to place my feet, I rely on the strength in my arms to keep myself from slipping on the damp stone.

"Arthur?" the woman bellows, ushering her son inside. "Arthur, will you hurry up? Didn't you hear the siren?"

A plump man storms into the garden, his face raging red. "Middle of dinner, every night. Bloomin' Germans! Don't they eat?"

"I can hear the planes!"

"Don't you eat?!"

She tuts quietly and drags him along behind her. "Oh, keep your voice down. It's an air raid!"

Our attention is quickly drawn to something else as the door clatters shut behind them — a  girl creeping through the garden, towards the house. The same girl.

Waiting patiently as she goes inside, we hear a shrill whistle. I swung myself over the wall with little effort, offering the Doctor my hand as he clambers after me. "Care to accompany me, sir?"

—

Children stream into the house, all dressed in tattered clothes and smeared with grime. There must be a dozen of them.

Not one glance is sent our way so we remain crouched to match their heights, taking the last two seats at the dinner table. They are to busy gawking at the banquet in front of them to notice.

One of the boys licks his lips, staring wide-eyed at the roasted chicken, its skin crackled and golden. "It's got to be black market. You couldn't get all this on coupons."

"Ernie," the girl huffs, "how many times? We're guests in this house. We will not make comments of that kind. Washing up!"

The hearty laughs from the children around us seem so strange to hear, a stark contrast to their sallow faces and dirty clothes. The girl's lips twitch into a faint smile before she turns to another smaller boy. "Haven't seen you at one of these before."

A bruised finger points to the child sat next to him. "He told me about it."

"Sleeping rough?"

"Yes, Miss."

"All right, then." She passes the ornate plate of chicken slices around with a stern glare. "One slice each. And I want to see everybody chewing properly."

Each child takes a slice with a cheerful muttering of thanks before the plate landed in the Doctor's hands. He grins and helps himself before passing the plate to me. "Thanks, Miss!"

Several gasps break through the warm atmosphere. The children finally see us, stumbling as far away from us as they can get. The girl's shoulders slump and she lets out a weary sigh, "It's all right, everybody stay where they are."

"Good here, innit?" the Doctor cheerily says. "Who's got the salt?"

"Back in your seats. They shouldn't be here either."

Smiling nervously at the group, I pass the chicken on and reach for the bowl of boiled potatoes. The Doctor pours a generous amount of gravy over his plate. "So, you lot, what's the story?"

Ernie frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You're homeless, right? Living rough?"

Another sends a cold glare out way. "Why d'you wanna know that? You a copper?"

"Course I'm not a copper. Can't speak for this one, though. What's a copper gonna do with you lot anyway? Arrest you for starving?"

I force a smile whilst the rest chuckle at his remark. 'It's 1941," I speak up. "Shouldn't you all have been evacuated at this point?"

One of the boys nods reluctantly. "I was evacuated. Sent me to a farm."

"Why would you come back?"

He quickly averts his gaze. "There was a man there."

Suddenly feeling quite sick, I set my fork down.

"Yeah, same with Ernie; two homes ago."

"Shut up!" Ernie snaps. "It's better on the streets anyway. Better food."

"Nancy always gets the best food for us."

A pained look comes across The Doctor's face again as he looks to the eldest. "So that's what you do, is it, Nancy?"

"What is?"

"Soon as the sirens go, you find a big, fat family meal, still warm on the table with everyone down in the air raid shelter, and — bingo — feeding frenzy for the homeless kids of London Town! Puddings for all! As long as the bombs don't get you."

She sighs impatiently at his words, "Something wrong with that?"

"Wrong? It's brilliant! I'm not sure if it's Marxism in action or a West End musical."

Nancy glances at me, despairing. "Why'd you follow me? What d'you want?"

I offer her a weak smile. "I just followed him. I suppose it's about what you said: if that wasn't a real phone, why did it ring? Why couldn't we answer it?"

"I did you a favour. I told you not to answer it. That's all I'm saying."

"Great, thanks!" the Doctor chimes in, all worries forgotten. He catches a glimpse of my expectant glare. "Oh, and I wanna find a blonde in a Union Jack. I mean a specific one, I didn't just wake up this morning with a craving. Anybody seen a girl like that?" Another round of laughter. Scowling, Nancy storms over snatches up his plate. "What've I done wrong?"

She won't meet his eyes. "You took two slices. No blondes, no flags. Anything else before you leave?"

"Yeah, there is, actually, thanks for asking. Something I've been looking for. Would've fallen from the sky, but not a bomb. Not the usual kind, anyway. Wouldn't have exploded. Probably just buried itself in the ground somewhere. And it would've looked something like... this."

He holds up notebook with a very untidy scribble of a soft-edged oblong with bars across it.

A knock sounds at the window. "Mummy? Are you in there, Mummy? Mummy?"

Everyone at the table stiffens, rigid in fear. The Doctor creeps over to the window. Brushing back the curtains, he peers through at the gas mask-covered face of a little boy. His small hand presses against the glass.

Slowly looking to Nancy, I see her face rapidly drain of any colour. "Who was the last in?" she whispers.

"Him."

"Nah, he came round the back. Who came in the front?"

The boy next to Ernie stifles a sob, "Me."

"Did you close the door? Did you close the door?"

"Mummy? Mummy? Muuummy!"

Nancy leaps up from her seat, racing over to the front door and hurriedly sliding across the bolts. Stumbling back, she catches herself just before   bumping into us.

The Doctor frowns. A fragile shadow has darkened the door's frosted glass windows. "What's this? Never easy being the only child left out in the cold."

"I suppose you'd know."

"I do, actually. Yes."

Pausing, she quickly clears away any curious thoughts and glances at the shadow again. "It's not exactly a child."

"Muuummy!"

Within an instant, Nancy is back in the dining room. "Right, everybody out. Across the back garden. Now! Go! Move!" The rest of the children grabb their coats, bounding out of the back door. One stays put, her eyes glued to the window. "Come on, baby," Nancy desperately chides, "we've got to go. It's just like a game, just like chasing. Take your coat. Go on. Go!"

"Mummy? Mummy? Please let me in, Mummy."

Fingers pulling lightly on the hems of my coat sleeves, I approach the door. The Doctor doesn't try to stop me, so I don't. Step by step. Closer and closer until there isn't much besides the door to separate us.

My voice catches. Grimacing, I try again. "Hello? I'm Inara. What's your name?"

He reaches for me through the letterbox. The back of his hand is scarred and dirty. "Mummy?"

"Sorry, darling. I'm not your mummy. Are you far from home? Do you know what Mummy is called by the other grown-ups?" He tries to reach me again. "Please, I want to help you. I promise I'll do what I can to keep you safe. Is everything okay?"

"Please let me in."

My hand is mere millimetres from his. Static sends my skin crawling.

Without warning, I am pulled back and something shatters against the door. Scrambling to my feet, I find The Doctor's hand still resting on my shoulder. He removes it, turning his gaze instead to the broken shards of an empty vase that lie across the doormat.

Nancy tries to move us away. Her face is ashen, her eyes wide and panicked. "You mustn't let him touch you!"

"He's just a kid who needs help. What could possible happen if he touches us?" I snap.

"He'll make you like him."

The Doctor shifts uneasily. "And what's he like?"

"I've got to go."

"Nancy, what's he like?" This time, his voice is commanding.

She hesitates. A quiet, shaky sigh escapes her. "He's... empty."

The phone rings.

"It's him." Her voice starts to tremble. "He can make phones ring. He can. Just like with that police box, you saw."

The Doctor answers but does not utter a single word. He just stares at the shadow, determined.

"Are you my mummy?"

Snatching it out of his hands, Nancy slams it back into the cradle. No sooner has she done so, the radio clicks on and we hear his voice again over the music. "Mummy? Please let me in. Mummy?"

I turn the radio down but the toy monkey in the corner of the room starts to clap its little cymbals together. "Muuummy! Muuummy! Muuummy!"

"You stay here if you want to," Nancy whimpers, racing out of the back door to leave us alone yet again.

"What in the name of Tartarus is going on?"

Striding towards the front door, the Doctor sends me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I should've told you to go home. If you leave now,  you might make it out all right."

I firmly shake my head. "No. Maybe Nancy's right and we're in danger. But what if she isn't? What if this little boy needs our help? I'm not going to risk it."

"Bloody hell. You sound like me."

The boy's hand edges further through the letterbox. "Mummy? Let me in, please, Mummy. Please let me in."

The Doctor crouches down by the door with a sigh, "Your mummy isn't here."

The noise stops.

"Are you my mummy?"

"No mummies here. Nobody here but us chickens." Chuckling at his own joke, he glances back at the dinner. "Well, this chicken."

The scar on the boy's hand is deep, its slanted y-shape covered in a layer of dirt. It looked old; old enough to have gotten infected. Maybe I should take a look at it. "I'm scared," he mumbles.

Crouching next to the Doctor, I look to him for some kind of sign. He doesn't notice. "Why are those other children frightened of you?"

"Please let me in, Mummy. I'm scared of the bombs."

"Okay, I'm opening the door now."

Staggering away until the back of my legs collide with a small table in the hall, I watch anxiously as The Doctor unbolts the door. It creaks open.

No one is there.

A/n:
This has been in my drafts for a year. So glad I've finally been reminded of it because I've been meaning to come back to this.

So, that was the first chapter! Might be a little patchy in places, lol. Thank you so much for reading. What are your thoughts so far? ❤️