Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 01

******

She awoke as the sun dipped low in the sky, with an ache in her muscles and a tingle in her pussy. Her long limbs had splayed wide in her sleep, the grass immediately around her having been flattened into a rather comprehensive imprint of her body. She blinked, her eyes focusing slowly, adjusting to the light, as the memories of earlier swept through her mind.

Gwen was exactly where Amy had left her, still soundly sleeping, her back turned to the redhead. She sat up, leaning back on her hands, the dampness up her back leaving her with no doubt that there were grass stains running the length of her shirt, and probably plenty of other places besides. She wouldn't have been overly shocked to look in a mirror and find grass stains on the skin of her ass.

Though her clothes were ruined, of far greater concern to Amy was Gwen, and what they had done together. The desires she had experienced... they weren't new, but at the same time, she had never dared share them with anyone before, let alone a complete stranger. She wasn't even sure she could be attracted to women... what had come over her?

It hadn't... hadn't been right...

Nobody had seen her, that was the main thing. She had been allowed to sleep uninterrupted, and she knew from experience that, though there was little danger in napping in public, any given citizen of Leadworth would wake her up without thinking anything of it. Sometimes it seemed like genuine concern, but most of the time, Amy had pegged the interruptions as simple nosiness. And sleeping here beside Gwen, a newcomer, would definitely have aroused the gossip monger in anyone.

No, she was safe. Nobody but she and Gwen knew what they had done.

But Amy still couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't been acting herself. Gwen was a stranger, after all... Who knew who she really was. Had she drugged Amy somehow? Perhaps as she dozed in the sun, happy to find a fresh piece of ass? Who was she, anyway?

Instead of trying to find out, Amy stood, eyeing the Welsh woman with suspicion. She didn't want to- couldn't- stay here. She had to go. Before Gwen woke up, she had to go. She had to... not be here.

Was she afraid that all that hot, sexy, mystifying stuff would come back if she was still here when Gwen woke up? Yes, especially if it turned out Gwen had engineered it in the first place. But she was more concerned with what it meant for her; the fact was, it all felt like it had come from within herself, but try as she might, Amy couldn't discern precisely what had sparked it all. And now, in the warm light of late afternoon, all she could feel was subtly wrong, like everything inside of her had been taken out and replaced just a little bit differently. She felt off kilter, like if she tried to walk she would just slide sideways off the face of the earth.

But more than that, she felt an undeniable urge to run. She was full of energy, it screamed at her, run. Her muscles still ached with the memory of their previous tenseness, but run. Gwen still slept there on the grass, insensible to the world, so run!

Which was what she did, feet pounding at the grass, taking her away from Gwen. She laughed. For now, in this moment, just for a little while... she was in that no place, where there was no earth to hold her down. Where Leadworth was but a distant memory, and she needn't concern herself with what the people there might think. For now, she was free. She had experienced something that simply didn't happen in the quiet English village, and as confusing and strange as it had been, it had disconnected Leadworth from her, at least for a little while.

It felt like a big blue box had crash landed on the shed in her garden...

Amelia Pond ran, keeping herself parallel with the row of hedges, seeing their end fast approaching. She spun as she turned at the end, giggling madly, knowing the time for repressed sexual guilt would be later, in her room tonight, when she would ask herself what kind of woman would actually want those kinds of things? But for now, she could run.

Toward Leadworth.

And nestled in the grass, all but forgotten, lay the small, palm sized device Gwen had had with her. It was a Torchwood thing, of course; Gwen wasn't exactly here for pleasure... well, she hadn't been originally.

It was an alien thing, of course; salvaged from the wreck of a ship Jack had identified as a Judoon prison-carrier. Some kind of scanner, used to detect anomalous temporal and genetic signatures. Apparently the Judoon were like space policemen, and they hunted...

Other aliens, really.

Which was why it was important that this particular scanner was flashing an alert tone. Jack had tweaked the preferences, made it work for the English language, and this one was currently displaying three English words. Words that would have been very important to Gwen, had she been awake to see them: "Extraterrestrial presence detected."

At least, that was what it said, until Amy had fled the scanning range...

**********

That night, for the fourth time in recent history, an alien appeared in Leadworth.

For the briefest of moments, the field just beyond where Gwen and Amy had met lit up with an amber glow, skittering traceries of light threading their way through the grass as it dispersed. The glow left behind a humanoid figure.

It was swearing.

Or rather, he was swearing, a deep voice spewing out the kind of salty language that could make anyone blush. The kind of language he reserved only for special occasions, like anniversaries, or complex spacio-temporal events. The fact that he was currently aflame with temporal discharge quite possibly aided in giving his words an appropriately urgent tone, as Artron energy and other vortex-related elements sloughed off of him in waves, congealing in the grass like cooling candle wax before dissolving completely.

When archeologists come to excavate the ruins of Leadworth in several thousand years time, they will find that everything within a meter radius of where the figure now stood, extending for several hundred meters straight down, appears to be substantially older than the surrounding countryside. Time energy leached into the soil, prematurely aging more than a few unsuspecting earthworms, and an extremely startled- then extremely dead- mole.

The figure shivered suddenly, drawing his arms in close to his body. It had been daylight mere moments prior, and now he found himself in the middle of someone else's night. Moreover, it had been tropical where he had been, a marked difference from chilly England. He wasn't dressed for it.

He cast his eyes around, but none of the landmarks were familiar, of course. But that was fine; there were plenty of places he hadn't yet visited on his moon, he might have just...

It was then that he looked up, and saw the unfamiliar stars. Saw the moon, for the first time in his life. He took a long, deep breath, and slid his hands into his pockets. Sander Hackett took in the stars, and sighed.

'Well, shit.'

To be continued...

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