Space Dementia || The Companion Chronicals

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When Rose awoke, her head was pounding and her ears were ringing. Not that shrill whine one usually hears but it sounded more like someone had a microphone too close to the speaker and it was that deafening shrill feedback she was hearing. She covered her ears with a whine as she sat up and looked around, trying to get her bearings and remember where she was. That was when she noticed her hands were filthy and her clothes were different from what she recalled. It was an over-sized baggy grey one piece work uniform.

"What's going on?" she murmured as she tugged at her uniform in disgust. There was a serial number sewn to the front that read 'RT0010-13'. She finally pushed to a stand, her blond hair a filthy disheveled mess like she hadn't washed for days.

Before she could fully wrap her head around what was going on, a few others dressed the same as her gathered around her. "13, what are you doing? Get back to work or the foreman will give us all a lashing." Rose pushed their hands off of her as they tried to usher her out of the corner she'd awoken in. "My name's Rose. This.. This is just some big mix up. I was travelin'. Have any of you lot seen this man walkin' about? Tall, blue eyes, leather jacket? Calls himself 'The Doctor'?"

The other workers looked at her in dumb silence before one of them uneasily whispered "I think 13's got Space Dementia. Should we get The Foreman?". But Rose just shook her head irritably. "No, hang on! Stop calling me 'Thirteen'! My name's Rose Tyler." The group backed uncomfortably away from her and another whisper went through the group. "It's not contagious, is it?"

---

But one unfortunate circumstance or another, Clara and Ace found themselves in a similar situation, unable to remember how they'd gotten to their current location with strange uniformed workers addressing them by a number that was stitched on their jumper. For Ace, she was labeled as 'DM7085-07' and being called 'Seven'. For Clara, it was no different, her serial being listed as 'CO1167-06' and likewise, everyone simply addressed her as 'Six'.

A booming voice crackled over the intercom that seemed to echo deafeningly though the area. "Is there a problem?.. No?... Then get back to work. The lot of you!"

[TAG || @snow & Ace McShane - others may join upon invitation]

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It was like high school all over again... But louder. Clara's head was splitting. Which was never a pleasant feeling to wake up to. Maybe her time traveling through space and, well, time, was catching up to her... Maybe her head was going to explode or something. Doctor never mentioned that... Then again, if you were going to travel with someone, you wouldn't really, want, to mention it. Nevertheless, she felt like hell... "Doctor..."

"Get up, Six! Now!" That didn't sound like the Doctor. Clara forced herself to open her eyes, and take a look around. Besides the matted mess that was her hair, she was being glared at by two workers. There were more, but the others seemed too busy to care. "We're not gettin' a lashing cause you wanna take a nap!" The man offered Clara a hand, but the woman seemed bitterly against her. And... What in God's name was she wearing? Was that a serial number? CO1167-06?

Focus Clara, that's not important... How'd you get here? What's going on? Who's in charge? How do you contact the Doctor? There, you got your objectives. Follow along. "Right, sorry. And my name's Clara Oswald, not Six. I'm from London."

"Six, what're you talking about?" "Maybe she's got Space Dementia. I say we give her the boot." "Nobody's got Space Dementia. Just shut up, and get back to work." "I wasn't the one gettin' some beauty sleep." "We'll be gettin' more than beauty sleep if we don't start working."

Clara watched the two of them bicker. If the Doctor was here, what would he do? Make a lot of noise? She didn't have a sonic or the TARDIS to help her. Go along with it? "Sorry. Let's get to work." Oh, Doctor, where are you?

[Ace McShane]

Even though her eyes were closed, the light that radiated through Aces eyelids felt like someone was sticking pins and needles through her eyes and out the back of her head. Opening her eyes up Ace groaned a little and sat up slowly and looked around, she didn’t know where she was and there was this god awful ringing in her ears that wasn’t helping the pounding in her head any. She felt like she’d either A. gone nine rounds with a cyberman and lost or B. Drank someone under the table and was no paying for it.

Her hair fell into her face a little as she looked down not recognizing what she was wearing with the name tag DM7085-07 stitched into the front “Umm, ok?” “Get up Seven or the Foremans gonna have your ass in a vice.” Wincing cause to her it seemed like he was screaming at her; Ace looked up at the voice half expecting to see The Doctor standing in front of her, she having caught the bad in of a can of Nirto 9, ready to explain what’d happened to her.

Gingerly Ace pushed herself to standing, she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten were she was and that scared her slightly “My names not Seven, it’s Ace. Where am I?” “Look, quit mucking about and come on we gotta get back to work.” Ace pushed more “Look, have you seen a fairly short man running around? Normally wears a ridiculous jumper with question marks all over it, question mark umbrella and a panama hat goes by the name The Doctor?” Ace raised an eyebrow when they all looked at her like she was crazy.

“Look, I’m serious. Stop mucking about.” “Maybe she’s got Space Dementia?” “No one’s got Space Dementia. Get back to work Seven.” Ace’s tempter flared “Look! Stop calling me Seven and just point me in the direction of The Doctor!”