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When Gallifrey fell, his connection to his people was severed. He was amazed he was still alive as he was fully expecting to perish along with both sides and the planet. But the brand new face coupled with the utter silence that followed was the scariest moment he’d experienced. Whenever he reached out for the timestreams that usually swam about him, it hurt. A nerve ending had been singed and everything about him felt raw. He was adrift with no sense of time.
There was a muscle all Time Lords had that the Doctor had to relearn how to use. But when he nudged the TARDIS and she asked for a where he drew a blank. Rather than wrack his brain for a specific time, he flipped the random switch.
It felt so good to hear the wheeze of his TARDIS again. In a moment she’d settled somewhen with a thud. He hovered over the console to shake out the tension he carried. The timestamp was on the display, and he checked it before heading out. There were years of trips where he just bolted out the door without so much of a glance, ready to get his hands dirty and impress his companions.
It was a cold snowless night in Boston, late enough for the streets to be deserted. The low tide stench hung in the air. The Doctor pulled up the collar of his jacket as high as it would go as he walked alongside squat warehouses. He wanted to attract as little attention as possible. In a pinch he was good at sneaking along.
At the end of the alley the Doctor found himself in a small wharf area with three ships moored. All carried the Union Jack. During the day this area would be bustling with sailors passing through, merchants checking on their wares, and of course tax collectors making sure every fee was levied. But for now it was as dark as possible with clouds hiding the moon and stars from view.
Tonight, unlike most nights, a knot of people milled about at the water's edge. The Doctor could only make out a few by the embers of their pipes. He approached them slowly, not wanting to startle them.
"Alright. Tonight's the night then?" He whispered as he slid up to the group, keeping his voice low more to hide his northern accent than anything else. It'd be embarrassing to be accused as a British spy without anything to prove that he wasn't other than his psychic paper.
The group nodded or grumbled in agreement but mostly they ignored him and kept to their pipes. They stood huddled in the wind and the cold for a few more minutes, obviously waiting for some sort of signal.
Suddenly another group appeared on the wharf. Some of these men were dressed in Native American costumes, complete with headdresses. The Doctor burst out laughing then quickly shut up when he received some glares. To the Doctor they looked ridiculous but to everyone else they were just disguises.
Coming into the center of the crowd was Paul Revere. The Doctor knew he was one of the leading Sons of Liberty in the city, who would one day ride out to Lexington to warn the militia and farmers of the advancing British. But for now Revere stood amidst the crowd of men. Someone quickly produced a wooden crate for him to stand on to be better seen by everyone. A torch suddenly appeared and was lit.
"Alright alright!" Revere held up his arms over the crowd. He was the first to break the silence that had settled upon the wharf. "I'll make this quick. You all know why we've gathered tonight. So let's make those white bellied ninnys in Parliament regret this bloody tea act they've imposed on us!"
"Hear hear!" They roared in response. “No taxation without representation!” The Doctor nodded and gave a half hearted yell. Those in Native American costumes had spread out to the edges of the circle. They carried axes.
Paul Revere jumped off his crate and led the charge to the first boat. The group split into thirds to board each boat at the same time. The Doctor found himself in the same group as Paul Revere and a few other famous Sons of Liberty like Sam Adams.
They got to work hacking at the tea crates and moved swiftly. Once they were opened, two men hefted them over the edge of the boat, dumping the tea out before chucking the crates into the harbor. The wharf was filled with the sounds of wood breaking apart and hitting the water amidst the yells and whoops of the men. They were taking out their pent up anger over the new taxes on the crates. A few containers split open before making it to the water, tea leaves spilling out onto the deck of the boat.
The Doctor glanced up and noticed a few lamps lit in windows across the wharf. The noise had woken up the neighbors who had come out in their dressing gowns to see what the commotion was about. They didn't stay long, because of the December cold. But before they went back into their houses, some men shouted out, "Down with taxation!" loud enough for the patriots to hear. The group on the closest boat paused in their work to cheer in response. "Huzzah!"
Amidst the flurry of axe swings and splashes, the Doctor could feel the welcome pull of the timeline. Tonight was a powder keg.. In 18 months and across the harbor on Bunker Hill, the advancing British wouldn't be fired upon until the ragtag group of farmers and militia saw the whites of their eyes. They would manage to hold off the well-trained military machine until the third advance, when they would fall because they ran out of ammo.
Boston would burn.
A year after that and down the street, the Declaration of Independence would be read off the balcony of the State House.
225 years later, and the original boat will have been long-since decommissioned, but a replica will be moored in one of the many piers of Boston. (Not the exact spot as the Doctor and a few historians knew, since the original waterfront had been built out and changed numerous times.) The anniversary would be celebrated in December with reenactors and musket fire. An entire Freedom Trail would guide tourists through the highlights of colonial history.
An angry patriot nearly bumped into the Doctor in his haste to get to the few remaining crates of tea. The Doctor shook himself out of his musings as he shifted away and helped another man heft a crate into the water. The work was frenzied as the group wanted to be gone before the harbormaster or the ship owners arrived, with only the tea leaves floating in the harbor as evidence. The boats themselves were left alone, save for a stray axe hit or two.
Soon the last crate was chucked over. The group, as energized as they were, quietly disembarked. Colonial Boston was a labyrinth and it didn't take long for the men to disperse, and go their separate ways. The Doctor made his way back as well. He halfheartedly tailed Paul Revere to see where the silversmith was headed, but it was just to his house in the North End, another landmark-turned-museum in the future.
The Doctor trekked back to the TARDIS which he parked in an alleyway off of Faneuil Hall. He needed to leave before the early morning merchants arrived to open their stalls and shops. As unassuming as his beloved ship was, the city would be on high alert soon and he didn't want anyone to stumble upon a blue police box.
For a moment the Doctor thought about paying a visit to Bunker Hill further down the timestream, with a bag of musket balls and some powder to contribute to the cause. Then the natural progression of the timeline tugged at the back of his mind. No, he should leave that point in time as it was. After all, he thought as he unlocked the TARDIS and slipped inside, the Patriots would end up alright in the long run.