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Chapter Text

An inner chamber of some kind, looks like a store room. Unknown time and place.

Vhowarp vhoarp vhoarp WHUUMP!

The Tardis materialized a few inches off the floor, then fell to the ground. Inside, Rose was still trying to pick herself off the floor.

The Doctor, who had practically bounced back to his feet the second after getting knocked off them, was already back at the main console, frantically pulling levers and twisting dials.

"Doctor," said Rose, "what happen-"

"Not now, Rose," he snapped. He had taken out his sonic screwdriver and was playing it over a smoking section of the console, his face drawn up in a worried frown. He rapped tentatively on the section, then jerked his hand away with a hiss. "That can't be good," he muttered. Using an edge of his jacket to protect his hand, he pried up a corner of the section and looked in.

"Blast," he said, dropping the panel back in place. As he turned to Rose, his face went from deep concern to wide grin. "Well, we may be here for a while. Might as well get out and see the sights! What do you say?" He reached down to help Rose to her feet, gave his lapels a tug, and started for the door.

Rose ran to keep up. "So where are we?"

"Hmm, I'd say...," he did some quick calculations. "Planet Krantos, Third High Stellar Empire." He reached the door, pushed it open, and bowed. "After you, Rose Tyler."

She smiled and stepped through, not noticing the worried glance he shot toward the console as he followed her out of the TARDIS.

Rose smiled uncertainly as she stepped out into a dark, dusty storeroom. "Um, Doctor, this looks hardly alien to me..."

The Doctor piled out after, grin still fixed. "Come on! Not all of every planet is a glamour spot! I mean, look at some of the dumps I've been in on your planet!" Under his breath, he muttered, " Like your mum's place."

"What was that?"

The Doctor once again had the screwdriver in his hand, playing it over nearby boxes. "Hello, what's this?" His hand latched onto a small lever in the wall. He turned and grinned "Another step into the unknown. Would you like to do the honors?"

"No, you go ahead," she said.

"Right!" He yanked hard, then leaped back as a large section of wall slid aside with a grating rumble. Behind it was...

"An old Earth car?!" said Rose incredulously. "Doctor, are you sure you sure your calculations were correct? For crying out loud, that thing looks like it's from the nineteen twenties at the very least!"

The Doctor was past her before she knew it, screwdriver extended and an unnerving scowl on his face. "This is wrong. She - this shouldn't be here. Get back a moment..." He played the blue light over several parts of the bright yellow touring car for several minutes, then stood back with a grim expression. "That's impossible," he said flatly.

"What-what's wrong?" said Rose. She really didn't like the look on his face...

He turned to her, confusion and anger plain in his bright blue eyes. "Rose. I guess I should explain." He seemed to think hard for a moment, then started again.

"Rose, I'm not the... first person to have the name I have now. I think that..." He suddenly cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "Get back to the TARDIS, it's a trap!"

He whipped around...

to find both of them faced with several aliens of various descriptions holding heavy weapons. The Doctor sighed, and raised his hands. Rose, glancing nervously down several ugly barrels, did likewise.

"So," said the brown, blue-horned fellow in front, "it seems the high-and-mighty council of Gallifrey received our message earlier than we expected. A rescue team? For the so recently pardoned renegade?" He chuckled. "So, I assume that you've brought the ransom we asked for?" He prodded the Doctor with the barrel of his weapon.

"Ah. Well, you see..."

Chapter Text

UNIT headquarters, early 1970s(?)

The white-haired Doctor, flamboyantly dressed as usual, walked alongside the UNIT commander, Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart.

Sergeant Benton followed a few steps behind.

"It looks like we really might need your help on this one. I'm glad you were able to return, Doctor," said the Brigadier.

"So am I," he replied

They walked down a narrow corridor, turning numerous times, until at last they came to a heavy steel door. A sentry stood on either side of the door. They snapped to attention and saluted as the group approached.

Sergeant Benton came forward with a ring of keys and began to open several locks. He soon had them open, and the group strode into the room, the Doctor acknowledging the sentries with an absent wave and the Brigadier with a nod. After the latter, both dropped their salutes and returned their rifles to ready.

"This arrived from one of our contacts in a research station in the Yukon a few weeks ago," said the Brigadier. "An innocuous-looking piece, but they did mention that four men had died soon after it was shipped, all from various cellular malignancies."

"I see," said the Doctor. "Well, let's have a look."

He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wrapped it around the handle of a screwdriver, and reached over to press a green button on the front of the strange device. As he pressed it, there was a sharp 'click'! and a panel slid aside on top. A mechanical arm came out, holding a vial with a blue glowing liquid.

The Doctor gasped.

"What's wrong, Doc-" began Sergeant Benton, but he was cut off as the Doctor turned and started running for the door, pushing both men ahead of him.

"Get out!" he shouted. "Now!"

Benton complied, still stammering. The Brigadier, however, had wasted no time, putting on his own turn of speed in diving out of the room. As the Doctor left the room, he slammed the door behind them.

The Brigadier was already pulling himself back to his feet. "Your analysis, Doctor?"

"Yes, well," said the Doctor, catching his breath, "I did recognize the type of radiation it was giving off. I could deal with it if I had to directly, but that specific kind can cause rapid onset of several cancers in humans."

The Brigadier's eyes widened at this, but all he said was, "I see."

"Yes, I believe we'll need to have radiation suits to be able to further research this device," mused the Doctor, starting to walk back down the corridor. "I'll make up a serum to deal with any radiation sickness, first. That should be a simple matter."

They turned a corner, and entered the Doctor's laboratory. He walked over to his worktable, and began to busy himself with various chemicals and burners, occasionally helping the process along with momentary passes of his sonic screwdriver.

The Brigadier and Sergeant Benton stood discreetly over near the Doctor's TARDIS in the corner. The sentry at the door had already been ordered not to let anyone in or out - standard quarantine procedures.

An hour later, the Doctor held aloft a tube full of an orange liquid. "I believe this will do it!" he announced. He poured half into another tube, and extended them both to the men. "Drink up," he said. "This should deal with any... oh, dear."

Both the Brigadier and Benton lay sprawled on the floor, in various states of agony. The Doctor rushed over.

"Drink this. Quickly!" The Doctor grabbed each man's head in turn, and poured the contents of one of the tubes into their mouths, making sure they swallowed. He stayed crouched by their sides, face lined with concern. After a few minutes, they stopped thrashing about. The Brigadier was the first to prop himself up.

"Do I need to declare a base quarantine, Doctor?"

"Not yet," said the Doctor. "Just to be safe, though, perhaps you should order all personel away from that sector until we have this thing worked out." He produced a radio from his pocket, keyed in the proper frequency, and held it to the Brigadier's mouth.

"This is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. All personnel are to evacuate Sector Twenty-Five-Gamma-Twelve. Repeat, evacuate Sector Twenty-Five-Gamma-Twelve. This is not a drill!" He slumped back down.

"Don't move too much," said the Doctor, removing his ever-present cape and forming it into a pillow, then after a moment's thought, doing the same with his coat. He placed them beneath the two men's heads. "Just get some rest. I'll be back with a full report." He stood up and started out the door, but found himself rapidly back-pedalling as the two sentries, already in bio-hazard suits, pressed the muzzles of their rifles into his chest.

From behind him, the Brigadier's voice weakly rang out. "Biohazard protocol countermand seven seven alpha genia. Now let him through!"

The Doctor managed to find the armory, flashed his ID card and let himself in. He pulled on a radiation suit, buckling it carefully and fastening the latches, then making his way past the suited guards and back to the store room where the strange box sat. The arm had retracted itself, but it looked no less menacing to the Doctor as he laid out a set of tools and pulled several small items from a pouch at his belt.

"Well, now," he said softly. "Let's see if we can find out just who hates people this much."

------------

"Well," said the Doctor, pulling off his leaded gloves, "I believe I' ve established what that was. Here's an exact list of the other toxins, radio actives and weapons I found in that box."

The Brigadier took the list and gave it a cursory look. "All of these?" He studied the list closer. "I don't think I'll pretend to understand half of these, Doctor," he said. "What have you found out about these?"

The Doctor gave him a very tired look.

"The first bit of bad news, Brigadier, is that every single one of those items appears to have been custom-designed to attack humans. In fact, some are so specialized that even species and races very similar to yours would suffer no more than a sunburn or a bad cold, while any human in range would die painfully." He took a shaky breath. "A most horrible genocidal mix."

The Brigadier seemed to take this in, nodding thoughtfully. "And the second?"

"The construction of the box itself, and the devices inside, are a most haphazard collection of alien technologies, from three entirely seperate empires," said the Doctor. "That's not the most disturbing part, though.

Alistair, the unifying technology, the construction of the box itself - it's human."

"What?!" said Sergeant Benton. "Who could have done this?! Have the Russians-" The Brigadier cut him off with a chop of his hand, then turned back.

"That is a serious point, Doctor. Who could have kept this to themselves, built this..."

"Not from here," said the Doctor quickly. "According to my findings, both the techniques and the metal themselves date from the future. Now, the adaptation and melding of the alien technology has blurred the signatures somewhat, but I believe I can nail it down to the middle to late twenty-first century."

The Brigadier stood in thought for a moment. "Thank you, Doctor. If not for your help, this invasion from the future would have taken us completely unawares." He turned to the sergeant. "Benton, get together anyone trained in radio actives and bio hazard disposal. They are to meet at briefing room Gamma in half an hour!"

"Yes, sir!'" The sergeant saluted and trotted out the door.

"Really, I don't think it was an invasion item," said the Doctor. "If it had been intended as such, it would have been targeted at the major population..."

"Doctor," snapped the Brigadier, "I do appreciate your scientific aid, and your defusing of this mess. But you are not in a position to decide the military footing of this base!" He turned, and began to walk off.

"Wait!" said the Doctor, catching up with him as he strode down the hall. "Look, I can appreciate your need to deal with this mess. I've seen lots of military action myself. But please, before you send in your men, at least allow me to investigate!"

"And how would you go about that?"

"Well, I could follow the time signature to its origin point," said the Doctor. "If it is an invasion, I'll be back here instantly to warn you."

And may God help us if it is, he said under his breath.

"Hm." The Brigadier stopped a moment. He turned to the Doctor. "Very well. I'll order emergency preparedness, and we'll wait for your word. But we will not wait long!"

"Just a look is all I ask," said the Doctor. "Thank you, Brigadier."

The Doctor, back in the TARDIS, started working the dials and knobs carefully, occasionally pressing buttons. He pushed up two levers, then looking carefully at the main screen, pushed up a third...

Vuarp vuarp vuarp...

The Brigadier stood watching the TARDIS disappear as Sergeant Benton returned. "The briefing has been readied, Brigadier," he said, saluting.

"Very good," said the Brigadier, giving one last look towards the empty spot. "Benton?"

"Yes, Brigadier?

"Get a call in to the main research laboratories, and have them send over some bio-warfare men. We may need their assistance in this."

----------------

Vwarp vhoarp vhapfazz

The Doctor jumped back as the console began to spit purple sparks, then staggered as the TARDIS landed rather heavily.

"Blast and botheration!" he snapped. " I hope I've at least landed near where I aimed this time! Drat these memory holes..." He straightened his cape, walked over, and opened the door of the TARDIS.

Outside, it was pitch black. He took a step forward to see better...

He felt the muzzle of some weapon press against his spine.

"Been looking for you, I have, Doctor."

The Doctor slowly, grimly, raised his hands.

Chapter Text

The Doctor frowned. "Well, you see," he said," I'm not really sure what you mean." He glanced over at Rose and winked. "Don't you worry, Rose," he said. "Everything's going to be just fine."

Rose took another look around, keeping her hands very still. As in, oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-there-are-HUGE-guns still. "Doctor, are you really sure-"

"Doctor?!" said the horned fellow. "So we did get the one we were looking for?" He stepped closer. "You don't LOOK like the Doctor, but I've heard he's looked different bef-"

The Doctor stepped forward suddenly, mouth in an indignant line, eyes flashing. "You are mistaken! This girl is my patient." He stepped quickly over to the creature's side, causing him and several others around him to flinch. "She's a little slow, her mum asked me to watch over her. Calls me 'Doctor', gets annoying sometimes but what can you do?"

Glancing over the creature's shoulder, he said, "Wow. Is that what I think it is?" He took a few rapid strides and in one fluid motion, had a large, humming rifle out of a lizard-skinned creature's hands. The others suddenly backed off, hissing, growling and making other threatening sounds as they brought their weapons to the ready.

The Doctor didn't even seem to be paying attention; his whole focus was on the rifle he was holding length-wise and studying. "Rose, would you look at this! It's..." He looked up for a second and gave an annoyed tsk. "Rose, would you look at me when I'm talking to you?" He shot the leader of the aliens an eye-rolling 'See?' look, then turned back.

"Alright Doctor, I'm looking, what is it?"

"I haven't seen a piece like this in centuries! You see this inscription here, and these iridium etchings here," he said, holding it up to show her a plate on the side of the barrel (with the muzzle toward his chest), "this was one of only ten thousand sesso-blasters ever turned out by Baloias of Occar! You just can't get one in this condition anymore. Fantastic!" He turned to the lizard man and handed it back, at the same time running amongst the others and examining their weapons. "A Throkian Thunderblaze Mark Fifteen!" "How were you able to get a Valtran-made seismo-beam? I thought they were all destroyed!" The creatures, while still flustered, were starting to look a bit pleased at such open and frank admiration of their weapons.

"Doctor!" Rose said. "I thought- I mean, you hate war and stuff, right?! What are you doing?"

"Oh come now, Rose!" The Doctor looked up from a bell-flared firing apparatus. "I don't have to like war to appreciate good craftsmanship!" He stepped back. "That's right, gentlemen," he said, beaming, "this is one of the finest collections of compact siege weaponry I have seen in hundreds of years. And that's saying something!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" shouted the horned alien. He stepped forward, but suddenly found himself face to face with the Doctor. His friendly demeanor was entirely gone.

"That's right!" he said, his eyes only inches away from the other's and like to be boring holes through him. "Siege weapons. Even one fired off in this room would turn it and everything else in a twenty-yard sphere into molten rock and vapor. Could you imagine what twelve at once could achieve?"

"This is crazy! Men-"

"You're damn right it's crazy!" shouted the Doctor.

Rose just stared. His face had turned red, and his hands had curled into white-knuckled fists.

"It's crazy to try to kidnap Time Lords. It's crazy to carry armed siege weapons indoors. And it's crazy to think that no one would notice that of all of you, you're the only one wearing a personal force field!"

During his tirade, the Doctor had pulled his sonic screwdriver from his jacket. With his final words, he flashed his hand forward and trained it on the creature's wais t.With a WRRRR, and then a screeching and a PLKAM!, a flash of sparks and a puff of brilliant green smoke came from the horned ones midsection. It fell back with a harsh gasp, landing solidly on its bottom.

"You make me sick. Planning all along to kill off your own men, were you? How much were you going to get for... ah, forget it." He turned toward the others. "Deal with him however you want. And for God's sake, put the safeties on!"

Rose was still standing there, shocked, as the Doctor brushed by her. He took a few more steps, turned, and gave an exasperated sigh. "Rose!"

She shook herself and turned around. "Um, yes Doctor."

He elaborately pointed with both hands, and gave a nod toward the TARDIS. "Time to go?" He grinned suddenly, beckoned, and stepped over through the doors.

"Right!" She hurried after him, as the sound of angry argument grew louder in the hallway. There were the sounds of several small-caliber guns being armed just as she slammed the doors and locked them. She leaned back against them, gasping for breath, then walked into the main console room. The Doctor had already pulled off several panels from the underside of it, and was digging amongst the wiring.

"Doctor, is there something I can do?"

He paused, sticking his head out from under. "Actually, there is. Could you give that thing two good pumps for me, then press the second blue button to the left when I say 'now'?"

"Um, okay," she said, positioning herself. She coughed. "What did that... er... man mean that you had looked different before?"

There was a snort from below the console. "Humans. Running for our lives in a damaged ship and they want to know about somebody's inane comment. Look, I'll explain later, really," he said. "Just hold on... Er. NOW!"

Rose blinked, then hurriedly gave the two quick pumps and pressed the button. There was a shower of red sparks from another panel as the Doctor rolled out from under the console, and a klaxon from above went off. The Doctor dove for the controls, pushing her aside as he gave several knobs a twist, pumped five more times, then ran to the other side to punch in some keys. Rose opened her mouth to say something, but the ship lurched, and she staggered. When she straightened up again, the klaxon had died down, and the familiar whoop and dancing green light of travel suffused the room.

"There we go," said the Doctor. He wasn't smiling. "We should be fine for the moment, but there's some things that could use looking into- Gah!" He fell half to his knees, clutching his head. Rose stepped forward, but he waved her away. "N-no, I've got- I must have gotten the neutron polari- no!" He lurched against the console, hands racing amongst the controls. "Must..." His hand found and pulled a switch.

Almost immediately, he was back to his feet, piloting the ship. "Emergency counter-psychic protocol," he said over his shoulder. "Look, I know you won't understand half of this, so I'll try to explain as we go along. All I can say right now is someone's mucking about with my time lines. I don't know why, but I have my suspicions..." He turned another knob, then brightened. "Ah, I think I know just the place to start looking."

He turned to Rose. "I think you'll like this." He grinned, pushed up a large lever to the half-way mark, then turned two dials at once.

"Hang on!"

Chapter Text

Rose was wandering into the TARDIS' galley when she heard a muffled curse. At least, she thought it was one; she didn't understand the language, but the voice tone suggested that a scathing, peel-the-paint kind of word was intended.

She entered the main food preparation area. The Doctor was standing with his back to her, over a sink. He seemed to be scrubbing vigorously at something.

"Doctor?"

He turned suddenly, eyes wide. The shocked look on his face swiftly morphed into a wide, semi-toothy smile. "Rose! Up already?"

"No, just up for a midnight snack," she said. She stared at the sink. "Um, what were you preparing? I don't know what Time Lords normally eat, but..."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "We don't eat very much," he said, "we- that is I - don't have to..." The smile slipped away and his eyes assumed an introspective cast. "It's mainly the experience of the thing," he finished.

Rose nodded. "So!" she said. "What new 'experience' are we trying today?"

"Actually," he said, reaching down into the sink and lifting something out, "it's your dirty dishes. Honestly, Rose, what were you thinking leaving them in there? This is a working ship, not a luxury liner! Do you do this all the time at home? Or is it just that being away from your mum makes you think there are no rules at all?" He set the offending items down on the counter and leaned back and folded his arms, looking stern.

"Aw, come on!" Rose said. "I always clean up after my meals. I was just knackered after that last bit of running and went to bed early!" She glared into the Doctor's eyes. Her gaze started to falter, then, and she began to shrink back...

The Doctor let out a chuckle, and shook his head. "Ah, Rose, Rose Tyler," he said, "don't worry about it. It's been an interesting day for the both of us, and I'll admit it's probably been quite intense for you. Go ahead and get your snack. I'll see you when you're up." He tousled her hair, straightened up, and strode out of the galley.

Rose looked after him, torn between relief and rampant curiosity. What had he been so upset about? Should she...

Nah.

She turned and started looking through the refrigerator.

-----------------------------

Out in the hallway, the Doctor was pacing along in a foul mood.

"She nearly caught you out that time, old man. Need to be more careful." He ducked into another room, shut the door, and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He began scanning it over his left hand, checking carefully and switching settings from time to time. Finally, he nodded and shut it off.

"What a play. Why the hell did I choose that one?" He took another look at his hands. No gun oil, no metal shavings, no radiation or chemical residues of any kind remained. And yet, he felt the stain. The stain of destruction.

And the pain of the realization that the only thing that had stopped him from simply grabbing one of those weapons, pulling the trigger and ending it once and for all... had been the presence of the girl behind him.

"Steady on," he said softly. "It's not like the fate of the Universe rests on her shoulders."

But yours might, said a whispery voice in his head. He looked up, startled. He left the room rather more quickly than he came in, and in a few moments was back in the control room, checking gauges, monitors, every sensor.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

And he began to laugh.

Chapter Text

The Doctor stood with his hands raised, feeling the muzzle pressed into his back. Light streamed from the open TARDIS door, illuminating what he now saw was a forest clearing.

What he needed to see, however, was just who had gotten the drop on him.

"So, do you still need a minute to gloat?" he said. "Or can we get on with this?"

"Very funny, Doctor," said the voice. "Just start moving, eh?" The barrel pressed a bit harder into his back.

The Doctor suddenly stumbled forward, and as the barrel slid a bit along his side, his hand shot back to grasp the man's wrist.

"What-"

"Hai ya!"

With an expert yank and trip, the Doctor was suddenly holding the weapon in his hand, and his attacker was sprawled on the ground in front of him. He tossed the weapon away, back into the TARDIS, and assumed fighting stance.

The man, he saw now, was dressed in serviceable black trousers and boots, with a battered brown leather jacket. He hitched himself to his hands and knees, still facing away.

Suddenly, unaccountably, the figure began to laugh.

This wasn't a nervous laugh, or the laugh of a man whose gang was about to jump you from behind.

It was the full, hearty guffaw of one who's just found out the joke's on them.

The man stood, brushed himself off, then turned to face him, wiping his eyes.

"Oh Thete," he said, "you really got me a good one that time! Venusian Karate, eh? You've gotten a lot more hands-on this time 'round!"

The Doctor looked startled, but couldn't keep a smile from his face.

"Drax?! What in blazes are you doing here?" He grinned and offered his hand, which was immediately and enthusiastically accepted.

"I heard on me own personal grapevine that you'd done a runner, been caught and..." here Drax scowled. "Been done in."

He smiled again. "Heard you'd been given your freedom again, though, so I set up a tracker to let me know where you'd show up, and here we are!" He gave the Doctor a bear hug.

After he'd extricated himself, the Doctor set his face in a grave expression.

"While it's wonderful to see you in such good spirits, old friend," he said, "I have come here on serious business."

"Wow." said Drax. "You're a lot more straight forward than-" he slapped a hand over his mouth.

"I do hope you weren't going to say what you might be going to say," said the Doctor in a rather icy tone.

"Aw, come on, Thete!" said Drax. "I've been jumping all over time to deal with things. The Council 'emselves told me that I needed to help you here. Come on!"

The Doctor had already turned away in disgust.

Drax blinked, looked worried. "Please, Thete..."

"No. I already have been subject to their games, and I expect I'll be dealing with their little messes in the future," said the Doctor. He turned a tired eye to his old friend. "Please, Drax. Please let me out of their latest game. I expect I'll catch up to it in time."

"Not now!"

Drax suddenly looked in a panic.

"Please, Theta, if you value our friendship. If you value our race, if- ErAuAaAugh!!"

He suddenly vanished in a column of varicolored flame, to ashes, then to nothing.

"Jehosephat," said the Doctor, stunned. "This - this can't be... I need to- I should let someone know -"

Suddenly he stopped. "Wait a blasted minute,'" he said."Did he actually die or just disappear? I remember he's done things like this before."

He took out his sonic screwdriver and walked back outside playing the humming device carefully over the surrounding clearing. "Hm mm," he said, "There does appear to have been some kind of temporal disturbance, but I do believe I'm going to need something a bit more accurate to trace this down than a simple screwdriver."

He re-entered the TARDIS, pausing a moment to scoop up the weapon Drax had been holding when he took him down. Odd that. Why would Drax even have threatened him with a gun, when he know that he hated them? He studied the weapon closer...

He gave a sudden bark of laughter.

"Why you old devil! This is nothing more than a multi-phasic drill! Admittedly, it's your drill so I'd wager there have been some quite impressive upgrades, but-"

His monologue cut off abruptly as the drill began to whine and several lights on it began flashing. A hearty whistle came from the two rear ports, but the Doctor had already sent it sailing away. It ricocheted against a wall, then a doorway before landing near the console. The Doctor hastily backed away. A hum came from the drill, then a flickering image sprang up.

"Hello,Thete," said Drax. "I'm guessing something unpredictably nasty has happened to me. My luck done ran out. or whatever, then."

The figure chuckled. "Well, it's that, or I've gotten incredible butterfingers and lost my favorite drill. Either way, I'm probably for it, and out of luck as far as regenerations."

Drax sighed and rubbed his eyes, leaned on an unseen console.

"Wait a moment, you knew I would find this? How?"

"I'll bet you're wondering how I'd name you, Thete. Well, it was luck of the draw you'd find this, instead of those prissy little kids the Time Controllers send about. So, I made one message for them." The figure gave a roguish grin. "And another for you. Come on, you nosy devil, you know I'd counted on the possibility of you at least finding some of my stuff!"

The Doctor knew this was just a recording, but before he could stifle it, an, "Excuse me! Watch your tone!" shot from his lips.

"Anyway, not to take up too much of your time, but there is one last thing I want you to do. At the end of this message ,a control sequence will show up on the drill that will recall my TARDIS." His voice cracked. He took a swig from a flask, and paused before resuming. "I've programmed her to allow you to enter one set of coordinates. Send her back home, Thete. I think we both know what reception she'll get there."

Probably junk her, just like so many 'obsolete' types before her, thought the Doctor. What a waste.

"But before you do, go ahead and get as much as you can of the stuff I've been working on from the store room; I think you could use it, and I don't want it to meet the same fate."

The Doctor smiled, and nodded. "Don't you worry there, Drax." he said. He knew how much the Council and some other 'independent contractors' from across Time had hungered after some of his friend's more inventive gadgets. "I promise I'll put them to good use."

"I know you will," said the flickering figure.

The Doctor gave a start.

The holographic Drax's features softened. "Don't worry about me, Thete. We've both had a good run, and I know you'll have more crazy mishaps to come. I know this, because," he gave a sigh, "this isn't the last you'll see of me. Lots of earlier stuff - for me at least." He grinned. "You're in for some wild times!"

Before he could respond, the holographic Drax turned toward him, and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Deca forever," he whispered. "Give 'em hell, Thete."

The holo-Drax flickered, then disappeared.

"There's no mistaking it, then. That was no illusion. He's actually - he's really..."

The Doctor turned, the lines of his face and jaw-line standing out harshly, a strange contrast to the soft lights and white walls of the console room. He stood a while. There was a crunch.

He looked down, and found the body of his screwdriver had broken.

"Oh, dear," he said absently, noting only slightly the blood that dripped down fingers, marring his gloves.

"I suppose I will need to fix that, too..."

Tears began to flow down his face. He drew his handkerchief from his pocket, absently dabbing at his eyes, before wrapping it around his hand as a bandage.

The TARDIS doors closed. He didn't seem to notice this anomaly.

He put his face in his hands, and for the first time in years, began to weep.

Chapter Text

With a shuddering thump, the TARDIS landed once more. The Doctor ran around the console anew, closing switches and turning a few dials.

"I think this will get our heads together on what's going on. Just try to be polite, and don't mention any movies that came out after, oh, 1975, alright? It's-" His hand came down on two switches.

Crunch.

The Doctor pulled his hand back and gaped as a shimmering blue switch skittered down the console and fell with a plink to the grating.

"That's not good, is it, Doctor?" said Rose.

The Doctor glared over at her. "Please, Rose, let's not get into the stupid questions bit, it really doesn't become you."

"Well, excuse me!"

He sighed. "No, it isn't good." He leaned down and snatched up the switch just as it was about to fall into one of the grated floor's many holes.

"I really don't understand it, either. I mean, sure she's an older model, but I thought I'd been maintaining her better than this."

"Well maintained." Rose looked around at the hanging hoses, the ill-fitting controls on the console, and the scaffold-looking stairs and platforms of the main console room. "If I hadn't seen other parts of this ship myself, Doctor, I'd have ta say it looks like you never got around to finishing it in the first pla- "

"Oi!" The Doctor scowled at her. "Get some sense of perspective, there! With all the running about we've been doing, only natural some things slip my mind..."

There was a bleeping sound, and the Doctor was suddenly frantically digging about in his pockets. He pulled out a small squarish device with a handle on each end. There were several red and yellow lights running down the sides which were flashing in an odd, whirling series of arcs. He tapped some buttons in a complicated sequence, then took a closer look at the screen. "Well," he said.

Rose couldn't help but note that his face, while not changing expression, had gotten slightly redder.

"Doctor?"

"Hadn't expected this thing to start pinging, but I guess it's a given, considering," he said. "It's an anomaly detector. It scans about, finds something odd, then cross-references back into the Matrix to compare it to the various known spacial and -" He let out a ragged gasp.

He dropped the device and spun around. His face was a study in stark terror.

"NO!"

He dove for a section of the wall, whipping out his screwdriver as he ran. He swiftly played it over the edges of one section, then with a wrench, yanked it off and threw it aside.

Rose jumped back as the panel caromed off the decking in front of her.

"Doctor!" She ran over to his side.

He didn't reply; his full attention was on running the screwdriver over various lines and conduit boxes, which were fizzing out with great gouts of sparks. "Come on, come ON!" said the Doctor in a terrified, pleading tone. The screwdriver didn't seem to be working fast enough for him; he dropped it and dove in with both hands, pulling cables and jamming on buttons.

Finally, he seemed to be done. He dropped to a sitting position on the floor, gasping.

Rose, by this time, was huddled in a far corner of the room, eyes wide. A few tears streamed down her face.

The Doctor looked over at her, then hung his head with a sigh. He grabbed onto the edge of the hole he had made and pulled himself to his feet. He walked slowly over to her, crouched down.

Her eyes tracked his every movement.

"I'm so sorry, Rose. It was just... well, just..."

He stood up again, offered his hand. There was a second before she took it, and was helped to her feet.

"It's just that if that device could contact the Matrix, it would only be a matter of moments before the contents of the TARDIS' data banks would be fed back into it."

He looked into Rose's eyes. "If that happened, and the Time Lords learned the particulars of the last 'Great' time war, well..." he rubbed at his face. "The paradox generated, as far as I can see, could wrench reality apart in ways worse than the war itself."

Rose was silent.

The Doctor sighed again, then walked back over and retrieved his screwdriver. He then went back to the console, starting in again on looking over the parts, trying out different dials. After a few minutes of trial and error, he had at least managed to re-attach the broken switch.

"Big mess you've left over here."

He looked over at the smoldering, scattered remains of the service hatch, and grinned. "That I did." He laughed. "I certainly did a job on that one, eh? Fantastic!"

"So how are we going to fix that one up? Those things could be a safety hazard," said Rose, eying the still-sparking cables.

"I'll get to them shortly," said the Doctor, turning back to the console and pulling up a corner of one of the console service hatches.

-----------------------------------------------------------
A small cafe in 1920s New York City, USA

-----------------------------------------------------------

Martha Jones took a sip, then looked down at the small china cup in some surprise. "Doctor, to be honest, when you said this was one of the best places to get tea, I thought you were joking." She stopped, and took another sip. "This stuff is great!"

"Yeah, I do know how to pick them, don't I?" The Doctor ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, leaving it in what looked like someone had taken haphazard to a fine art, and then gelled it in solid."Of course, there are a couple of other places that do better, but I don't know if Tamerlaine would be too hospitable if we just popped in on one of his war councils. He..." He trailed off. Frowned. "Something isn't right."

Martha set her cup down. "Not right?" She looked around nervously. "What do you mean not right?"

The Doctor fidgited. "I dunno," he said. "It's like something at the edge of memory coming out. If I could just... NO! "

The last word was uttered in a shriek of horror, as he leapt to his feet, upending his chair. In his mad dash to get out of the cafe, he knocked down two members of New York's Finest, the deputy mayor and a couple of young flappers. Martha dashed out close on his heels, both trying to apologise and avoid being grabbed.

The Doctor himself was no help. He was just a blur of brown suit and blue trainers, trailing a repeated shout of "No no no no no!" in his wake.

She rounded the last corner into the alley where they'd concealed the TARDIS, just in time to see it disappearing.

"Doctor! Wait!"

It was no use. The TARDIS was gone.

___________________________________________________

"Cosmic angst, I called it last time," said the Doctor as he raced about the console. "This time I know what it means. Someone's mucking with my timelines!"

He paused from turning two cranks to answer the suddenly ringing cell phone. "Yes?" He suddenly held it away from his ear at the stream of vitriol that poured out.

"Martha, calm down! I'll be back right away, promise!" He paused, punched in some keys, then turned a globe carefully. "Constellations..." he muttered.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Martha. You're alone with no money in 1920s New York. Yeah," he said. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, well, the longer you talk, the longer I take. So just cool off a moment, eh?" He pressed the 'end call' button, then got back to entering coordinates. He turned one final switch

BaWHHOOOM!

"Whaaa!"

The TARDIS lurched sideways, then the entire room turned on its side. The Doctor managed to just catch onto a railing to avoid falling into one of the walls.

A loud siren sounded, then another.

"What?!"

He grunted as he struggled to find feet- and hand- holds in climbing back up to the console. Flailing around, he slapped two buttons. The TARDIS flipped in an interesting fashion, and a third klaxon started.

"Whoops! Not those."

He tried again, and managed to pull two more switches. The TARDIS righted itself, and two of the alarms ceased.

"Right!" he said. "Now, what the heck just happened back there? I was sure I got the temporal coordinates right! If I could just see..." his voice trailed off as he pulled the main screen toward him and took a careful look.

He stared."What?!"

It seemed a good, fitting word, that one. He tried it out a few times, in different inflections. "That's impossible!" seemed to fit, too, so he used it. It came out a bit shriekier than he meant it to.

"How could those coordinates be behind the lock on the Last Time War?!"

He tried fudging the coordinates forward. Nothing. Backward. Nothing.

He leaned against the console and hammered at it with an impotent fist.

___________________________________________________
Vuarp vuarp vuarp

The TARDIS reappeared, just as a nasty-looking crowd of street thugs was descending on Martha. A brown-coated hand reached out from the doorway, grabbed her by the jacket collar and yanked her inside.

The door slammed shut.

Vuarp vuarp vuarp

___________________________________________________

She had been shouting at him for four minutes before she noticed that he was just quietly looking at her. How tired-looking he was, too.

She started to speak again, but he just turned back to the console and calmly, methodically, began to plot a new course. The TARDIS main engine began to pulse at a steady pace.

"Er, so, where are we off to now?"

"There's a rather nice little pub I know on Nellus V, about 78,000 years from your time," he said. "Good food, good drinks, some of the best entertainment you could hope to find. Well, best you could hope to find in a nice little pub on another planet, anyway."

"But what about our tea?"

The Doctor turned and gave her a look. An impossibly ancient look, tinged with pain and worry. She gave a small gasp, took a step back.

"Doctor Jones," he said heavily, "if you knew just what I've been through, you would know that what I need right now..."

He turned to the console, flipped a switch. The landing was quite emphatic.

"...is something a little stronger than tea."

Chapter Text

"So you mean to tell me that the emissaries simply fled?"

The blue-horned man looked down at the floor and nervously adjusted the sling on his arm. "Well, yes, but- they turned my own men against me!"

The figure just stared at him.

He fidgeted again.

"Were you armed?"

"Of course!"

"And you held them at gunpoint, didn't you."

The horned man backed up a few steps, looking even more distressed.

"You said, expect anything! How could we defend ours-"

"Who asked you to defend yourself!" shouted the figure. "What should have been a simple drop has now been bollixed up beyond recognition!" Striding forward, the figure seized the other by the throat.

"When I retained your services," he said softly,"I was assured by your boss that you were their top man in this field. Would you like me to express my disappointment? By, say, sending you back to him in seventeen different boxes?"

The man gurgled, but managed to shake his head emphatically no. On his release, he dropped to his knees, gagging and coughing.

"Get back out there. Try to clean the place up, and I'll try another tack. I just hope you haven't muddied things beyond recovery!" He turned and began to stalk away. "You had better hope nothing's happened with our prisoner, either!"

The blue-horned man babbled something conciliatory and exited as fast as he could.

The masked man continued on, past a sentry-held door, through three gates and finally, removed a glove to palm through a security lock on a heavily-sealed blast door. He entered a small cell. With a hiss and kerchunk, the blast door closed behind him.

The figure seated at the far end of the cell looked up.

"Oh, it's you."

"Indeed it is, Doctor. I had hoped to be arriving with the news that your ransom had been paid, but it appears that good help really is hard to come by."

The man gave a sigh.

"I'll have to do some re-negotiating, but I will get what I came for."

The Doctor got to his feet and dusted himself off. He then took hold of his coat and glared. "And what would that be?"

"Not that it is really any of your business, Doctor," snapped the man,"but I may as well tell you. All I want are a couple of art objects from the Gallery of the High Council. A small price, I should think, for a fellow Time Lord. Especially one of your notoriety."

"Hm. Nothing in that gallery is minor," mused the Doctor. "A more telling point is that you know of the existence of the Gallery at all..." He paced the width of the room a couple of times, shuffling occasionally. The man simply watched him. His actions betrayed nothing.

Suddenly the Doctor stopped and looked up, a troubled frown on his face.

"What really puzzles me," he said slowly,"is why you would offer me for ransom to the Time Lords in the first place. They have never negotiated that kind of thing in known memory, and I'm not really the kind of person they would value that highly..."

His expression changed to one of shock, and he slowly went to a crouch, as if his legs had suddenly gone weak.

"Oh dear," he said weakly. "Oh, my giddy aunt."

"Oh my," said the masked man. "Whatever is the matter, Doctor?"

The Doctor turned to stare at the man, his face still a mask of astonishment.

"You- you never had any intention of ransoming me," he said, his voice close to a whisper.

The figure barked a laugh, and gestured in invitation. "And?"

"You're turning me in, demanding a reward before I'm handed over," said the Doctor. His face had come back to a calmer expression, but his voice hadn't.

"Correct!" said the man, sounding jovial. "I knew you could figure it out!"

The Doctor straightened anew, and gave the man a baleful stare. "Answer me this one thing, then," he said.

"If I can."

"Why get your precious art objects this way? If they had caught up to me on their own, I probably would only stand trial for intervening. At the most, I could be exiled, or marked. But with this," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "this is much worse. They would have to justify the loss of several irreplaceable artifacts."

He paused, as if horrified at the prospect of such a loss himself.

"They would seek the maximum penalty."

The masked man nodded. "Now that you've illustrated it for me so succinctly," he said, "they might, at that."

The Doctor pressed his fingers to his temples, and took a few deep breaths. He looked up again.

"Since you've just passed a death sentence on me either way, would you mind telling me what it is you're after?"

The man seemed to consider this. "I believe that would be fair," he said. "The items I have been commissioned to retrieve are the Twin Founder paintings. The portraits of Rassilon and Omega."

"What?!" The Doctor stared, his look of bemusement topping even that shown earlier. "How could you know about those? Who are you?"

"Silence!" The figure raised a hand, and the Doctor staggered back. The door opened smoothly behind the masked man.

"I have been patient enough. I go now to re-negotiate." He stepped out, and the door began its descent.

"Wait!" called the Doctor. "What about my friends? They have no part in this!"

The blast door hissed shut.

"Oh, bother." The Doctor slumped against a wall with a sigh. He started to rummage about in his pockets, and soon produced a striped recorder.

"Jamie, Victoria, I am so very sorry," he said softly. "I had no idea things might end like this."

He put the recorder to his lips, closed his eyes, and began to play.

Chapter Text

The Doctor stepped from his TARDIS door, closing it behind him. He had exchanged his blood-stained ensemble for a green coat and black trousers, with deep green leather gloves.

He held Drax's multi-phasic drill in one hand, regarding it with trepidation.

"One push of this button, and his TARDIS should show up," he said. "But which one? Will it be this future Drax's ship? Or will I be faced with having to explain this to his present incarnation?"

He frowned.

"A promise is a promise."

He ran his hand down the side of the drill, and pressed the gleaming yellow-green button.

VARP VUARP VUARP VUARP

He looked about him in some surprise.

"So it triangulated on the drill's position? I suppose I should have triggered it remotely. Ah, well."

Filmy walls began to appear in the air on every side, growing more opaque by the second. Another TARDIS was arriving - around him!

He spun in place, looking back at his own ship as the new arrival cut off his sight of it with a final, solid tshhTHUD.

He turned back around, surveying the area he had ended up in.

It was a TARDIS main console room.

The walls were a gleaming, liquid amber-gold, with several ebon flat screens inset. The floor was clad in shining cobalt-veined marble.

The central console... well, it was amazing. Cutting edge, even by jaded Gallifreyan standards. Liquid conduits pulsed like glowing arteries through several sections, while buttons, knobs and various-other-dimensioned controls adorned the surface, and other-positioned points, of it.

There were several readouts going across and down the screens, as to where and when the ship was, present mission (which screen flared out with the words TEMPORAL SECURITY LOCK DOWN when the Doctor approached) and various engine and device function readouts.

The Doctor began to peruse one of these with great interest.

"Ah, wonderful! You've upgraded dimensional feed, converted the Hasaron crystals to level five! How did you ever manage to do that, you old devil?" His finger traced down the readouts. " Vortex manipulators, antimatter conversion units..."

He gasped.

"Tachyon pulse ship-to-ship, ship-to-planet blast emitters? Stellar fusion cluster torpedoes?!" He read down the rest of the list, then hurriedly stepped back.

"Jehoshaphat!"

Suddenly, as one, all of the screens flickered. All data readouts, pictures, were replaced by a computer-simulated young woman with burning scarlet hair, silvery-blue skin, and eyes that gleamed a molten gold.

"Master code key detected," it intoned. "Insert key into indicated console slot." There was a whirring, and a panel slid aside.

The Doctor stepped forward, inserted the drill, and stepped back.

"Perhaps now I'll get some answers," he muttered.

A holographic Drax flickered to life. He looked quite unsteady, rocking a little from side to side and making occasional steps off- camera in attempt to stay upright.

"Well, Thete, you kept your part of the bargain," he said.

He seemed to have finished the flask in-between recordings, as it was no-where in sight... yet Drax himself was quite red in the face, and looked... well, no way around it; he looked extremely drunk.

"Shorry for my present state, but ya really don't have time to messh about. Oh, yes, she's been battle-converted - you'll find out why later," he continued with an impatient wave. "Now, to get my stuff to your ship fash... fash... now."

The hologram 'walked' over to the console and began to 'work' the controls. Before the doctor's eyes, two buttons depressed, a slide moved, and the computerized voice said, "Ship-to-ship transmat initiated."

The holographic Drax grinned.

"Didn' think I would make you lug it all yourself, did you?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"I suppose-"

"One last thing. I'm setting the ship to auto-destruct."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "What?!"

"Just to be clear on this, Thete, we can't afford to let them get their hands on a working TARDIS. Ain't gonna bother telling you who 'they' are, but rest assured; they're gonna deserve the bang we'll be givin' em!"

His eyes suddenly bright, his moves sure, the holo-Drax's hand came down again and punched in a series of codes. He threw a lever, pressed a knob into the panel, and a much younger, more fresh-faced Drax hologram appeared.

It began to speak.

"TARDIS auto-destruct countdown initiated. Evacuation is advised. You can stay on anyway and sight see, if you don't mind being crushed into the Vortex. Fifty rels(2), and counting..."

The Doctor looked about. The door was nowhere to be seen!

"Forty-seven rels."

He began to feel his way along the walls, looking for a seam, a switch, anything.

"Thirty."

He pulled his sonic screwdriver, and began to play it along the walls, the cracks, every view screen. His teeth ground.

"If I'm such a good friend, if you're depending on my help," he said, in an irritated tone, "why are you trying to add me to your funeral pyre?"

He glanced back at the solemn face, counting down.

"Twenty-six."

He pounded a fist against the wall, then turned back toward the console.

"Blast you, Drax, I want no part of your fight, or your ship's suicide run! Now let me out!"

The older hologram flickered alive once more. "Oh, yes- almost forgot. Sonic screwdriver to setting 66543alpha on the northernmost panel will get you out."

"Twenty-one."

The Doctor ran to the northern wall, thumbing in the settings. He dove out as the door slid open and hit the forest floor rolling.

He sprang up, screwdriver already to a new setting, and pointed it at what right now appeared to be a rather scrawny pine tree.

The screwdriver hummed, and the tree was soon matching its frequency. It started pulsating at a familiar rate, and began to dematerialize.

VUARP VUARP VUOrrARRrr-

As the TARDIS grew more indistinct, its shape shifted from pine tree to that of a large American-made 'muscle car' from the nineteen-fifties. It seemed to begin to streeetch...

The Doctor held his breath.

-ARP bing

The TARDIS vanished.

The Doctor let his breath out slowly, and began to turn-

The air rippled.

"No!"

The Doctor blanched, and tried to brace himself-

Ba-WHOOMP

A wall of force slammed into him, picking him up and hurling him out of the clearing.

Chapter Text

The Doctor stepped back, switching off and removing his head-light. He gave his work a narrow eyed critical look.

The panel now leaned against the wall beneath the hole. Most of the wiring had been stuffed back in, re-attached, to some degree. The Doctor poked at a junction box, then drew his hand back quickly.

There was a greasy yellowish residue on his fingers.

"Oh, blast," he said, stepping back and looking around. "Rose!"

"Yes?"

"Go grab me a towel or something. Quick!"

As she raced through a door deeper into the TARDIS interior, he looked back at his hand, gritting his teeth.

It was smoldering a little.

"Owww."

Rose ran back in with a towel, which the Doctor whipped away from her. Before she knew it, he had it wrapped around his hand and was wiping it off.

"Should I take it back to the wash?'

"Don't bother," he said. "It'll take care of itself." He dropped it on the floor, then took another look at the sad state of the panel. "Sorry, old girl. I'll get back to fixing this up as soon as I can." He gave it another once-over with his sonic screwdriver, then slipped it back into his pocket.

"What part was that to, anyway?" said Rose. She glanced back at the towel, then gasped. Where it had been, was a puddle of some bluish substance, which drained out through the grating to the floor below.

The Doctor glanced back over where she was looking and shrugged. "Yeah, it'll do that. Better your towel than my hand. I already told you what the other was, by the way."

She scrunched up her face in thought. "A communications... thing?"

"In a way," he said. "Think of it like this: if you were about to scream, and doing so would bring all kinds of trouble down on us, like usual, what do you think I would do?"

"You'd... put your hand over my mouth, I guess. Is that what you did to the TARDIS?"

"Not exactly." He walked back over to the console, and pulled out a keypad. He pressed in a code, pushing up two slides. He ran over to another section, pumped three times, then looked up at a screen. "Huh."

"Doctor!"

He looked over at her. "What?"

"Is that what you did to the TARDIS?"

"Nope. 'Fraid what I did was a little more drastic. The equivalent act would be..." he tapped his chin, then gave a small, mirthless smile. "Her larynx. Yep, ripped out the old girl's voice box."

At Rose's startled squeak, he looked at her with a frown. "What? Never said I would do the same to you. I can fix my ship."

He turned back to the console. "Now that all that other stuff is out of the way, we..." he raced over and turned a knob, "can..." he ran back and clicked a large switch up and down. The green light began to pulse faster. "Get to where we can get some answers." The glow slowed, then stopped. He came back around the console, and faced Rose.

"We're here to see some old friends of mine, but since this isn't my time frame, I'm going to give you a few tips." He held up a finger. "Only gonna say this once, Rose, so pay close attention, and no questions or interruptions."

She nodded.

He took a deep breath. "My people, the Time Lords, had a civilization millions of years old before your race even developed lungs," he said. "So don't act all surprised when I tell you this.

I am not the first to be named... the Doctor."

Rose just stared at him, a confused look on her face.

"No interruptions. Good. I'll go on then. Not easy for me to say this, anyhow." He looked away a moment, then back at her. "We're all pretty different, mind. Only thing we share, really, is the name, and this ol' TARDIS," he said, reaching over to pat the console. He looked off, lost in thought.

Rose opened her mouth-

"Ah, ah," he said, raising a finger. "Not finished yet. You are doing a little better at this, though."

She closed her mouth, looking peevish.

"Now, then," he said, "don't get me wrong, there's another thing we have in common." He grinned at her. "We're all bloody brilliant."

"Is this like, handed down from father to son or something?" said Rose.

"Rose!"

"Sorry."

"The temporal mechanics involved are too complex for you to understand, but the gist is that we're close enough in temporal resonance that we each need to keep to our own time frame. Meeting up with another Doctor generally means heavy temporal meddling - paradox even."

"Reapers?"

The Doctor frowned. "No, not in this era. Remember how I told you how my people kept that under control before?"

She nodded.

"Well, before is now. So, no Reapers. The main problem will be staying off of their radar ourselves, so we don't get captured or wiped out before we can figure out a way home."

"So, we're going to meet another Doctor?" Rose asked, as both walked toward the door. He paused, giving her a grim look.

"I don't think so. At least, I don't remem- I mean, well," he said, catching himself, "if we do run into one of my predecessors... just be polite, ok?"

He got to the door, opened it -

Rose looked past him. They were in a mid-sized room, with an old-fashioned laboratory setup at one end. More pressing, however, were the three men in front of the TARDIS. They looked like military; the two flanking were armed with rifles. One had started to bring his up, but the other was in process of pushing the barrel down so it was aimed at the floor. The man in front of the other two looked like an officer, with black hair and mustache. She glanced over at the Doctor -

Who was grinning so wide, she thought the top of his head might fall off!

He practically leaped forward to grasp the officer by the shoulders.

"Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart! Oh, this is fantastic!"

He whirled to one of the other soldiers, and began shaking his hand with enthusiasm. "And Benton! Good old Sergeant Benton!" He looked over at Rose. "Very dependable man, could always count on him. Both of them." He stepped back. "Great to see you both again! R-"

"What the blazes is going on here?!" The officer had found his voice now, and though a bit confused, the anger in it was quite apparent. "Who are you, and where is the Doctor?"

The Doctor blinked, and stepped back. "Oh." He shook his head, then raised his hands. "Sorry, sorry, introductions. I'll go first." He rummaged about in his pockets. "Where did I put that.... Ah, here we go." He pulled a tattered ID card from his pocket and showed it to the men. "That should account for me. Now, Rose Tyler, may I present Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, Sergeant Benton, and..." he glanced at the other soldier's name tag , "Dowles, of UNIT. One of the best, and sometimes most pig-headed, groups I've worked with on Earth. Gentlemen, this is Rose."

The Brigadier put his palm to his face. "Oh, blast. Not another Doctor," he said. He looked back up at the Doctor. "Can I hope you at least found out where that box came from?"

"Eh?"

The Brigadier stepped forward, and spoke very carefully. "Are-we-being-invaded, Doctor?"

"Wait a minute," said the Doctor. "I just left from here, then, didn't I..."

"Yes," said the Brigadier. "We really do need to know what's going on; the planet could be in grave danger."

Rose stepped forward, opening her mouth, but the Doctor raised a finger."I already explained, Rose. No time for repeats." He turned back to the Brigadier.

"You'll have to excuse my ignorance in this case, Alistair," he said, pointedly ignoring the quick look of annoyance that crossed the Brigadiers face. "For me, personally, it's been at least a couple centuries since I saw you last."

Benton looked startled, while the Brigadier stayed carefully blank.

"Anyway, do you think you could see clear to re-brief me in your office? Perhaps let me see the old notes?" He grinned again. "Fantastic to see you both, by the way. Bears repeating."

"I don't see that we have much choice in the matter," said Brigadier. "Very well. Come along, Doctor, Benton." He started out the door, the others following-

The Doctor heard Rose gasp, and whirled to find the soldier with his rifle trained on her.

"Sorry miss, no civilians allowed-"

Benton stepped forward. "Dowles, stand dow-," he began, but the Doctor was already past him and yanking the rifle from the stunned guard's hand, a furious snarl on his face.

He threw the offending firearm across the room, then rounded on the man, grabbing him by the collar. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" he shouted. "You stupid ape! If you ever try that around me again, I will personally see to it that you eat that popgun, stock to barrel!" He then released his hold, letting the stunned guard stumble back.

Benton and the Brigadier looked on in astonishment.

The Doctor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Right." He straightened his jacket, then beckoned to Rose. "Come on, then."

He walked past the stunned UNIT men, Rose in tow, then stopped and turned back.

"Alistair."

The Brigadier shook himself. "Right," he said. He turned to the Sergeant. "Benton, get Dowles here over to Sergeant Cayle for punishment detail, then meet us in my office."

"Yes, sir."

"Doctor, ...Miss," he said, "this way." He started off, the Doctor and Rose close behind.

Rose looked up at the Doctor as they walked, but he steadfastly just looked straight ahead.

"Well," she said quietly, "here we go again."

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the Yukon, late 21st century

"Unhhhn..."

The Doctor blinked, then bit his teeth together. The sky above him was cloudy, and trees rose blurrily to touch it all about him. He could feel dirt, small plants, and bits of wood under his back.

"Must have been... quite a blast... to generate that much recoil."

He pulled himself over to a nearby tree, and levered himself to a sitting position. He looked off toward the clearing with a wince.

He had apparently hit a small tree when thrown from the clearing; it was canted at a slightly crooked angle, strips of bark and scattered wood splinters hanging off. He slowly turned his head, wincing, and noted that many of the trees had sustained similar damage. He blinked, then hauled himself to his feet.

He was almost back to his TARDIS when he noticed what had really happened.

The trees had not been knocked sideways; they were twisted, some into disturbingly unnatural configurations. A winged shape darted past the Doctor's head with a harsh cry. He whirled around, speeding his perception of time with a frown of concentration, and studied the creature more closely. A moment later he started, breaking his focus and allowing normal time flow to resume, which also let the creature disappear into the trees.

"A Pellus scorpohawk?!"

He quickened his pace, and entered the clearing. He looked around in growing alarm. Shimmers and sparkling tears of various colors were dancing in the air. The grass, where it had remained Earth-type grass, had turned a brackish gray. The rest was a variety of hues; one particular patch caught his attention. It a long, bluish strain resembling nothing more than a collection of reeds; they were waving languidly about, despite the fact that the air was still.

"Temporal and dimensional disruption on such a scale," he said. "Good heavens!" He covered the remaining yards to his ship at a run. Behind him, from the bluish grass, there was an aborted yip of pain, and then a crunching noise. He didn't even glance back as he got the door open, strode in and slammed it shut behind him.

Several lights were blinking on the console, and a whooping alarm was going off.

"Let's see now..." he said, turning two dials and sliding open a panel in the center of one of the console's faces. "I didn't realize I would be back on temporal patch-up detail this soon after my reinstatement," he mused. He grasped a small yellow lever with one hand, punched in a sequence on a small key pad, then reached across to another area of the console to turn and hold a switch. "I certainly hope this old thing still works." He looked over at the main screen, back at the controls, then pulled the lever.

Outside, a pale pink energy began working its way outward on all sides from the TARDIS; as it passed over the ground, there was a a tangible twist in the air as the ground and air shifted back to how it had been before. The energy walls stopped moving ten feet from the ship on all sides, holding steady.

The Doctor stared at the screen, and scratched his head. "Well, that's gotten some of it stabilized, at least." He stood in thought for a second, then brightened. "Of course!" He walked over to a section of wall, feeling along, and found a small pull-tab. He yanked and stepped back. A thin panel of wall came down. As it did, a screen flickered to life and two keyboards and several other controls emerged from the inner side (now the top) of the panel.

"Ah. So this Type 40 was fitted with a field agent console." He stepped forward, removing his coat and putting it up on the coat rack. "I haven't touched one of these since my post-graduate decade! Let's see if I still remember..."

He began typing in on both keyboards, watching the smaller and main screen with equal intensity. He stepped back, studying the dials anew, then cracked his knuckles and went back to work, his hands a dancing blur across the entire console.

Bolts of directed white flame began to extend from the light on top of the ship toward the edges of the clearing. It wasn't a smooth progress. They seemed to be balked in some cases, striking invisible barriers, being pressed back in others. They wound around those areas and pressed forward, alien landscapes starting to fade into normal Earth view.

BLAM!

A wall panel blew off, with a great gout of blue flame and pale orange smoke. The Doctor staggered back.

"Blast it! Not now!" He noticed a screen flashing on the main console, and glanced over at it.

TARDIS ARRIVING TARDIS ARRIVING TARDIS ARRIVING

"What in blazes?!" His hand slammed down on the comm controls. "This is the Doctor! There is a Class VII Epsilon disruption here, repeat, a Class VII Epsilon disruption! Reverse your course immediately!"

He looked back at the main screen.

VHARP VOARP VARP- The air in the clearing began to shimmer in a new way, as another ship's arrival became more and more apparent.

The idiot hadn't listened! He pressed on the button again-

"THE DOC-TOR?"

He started, whirling around. The voice had come out of the main speakers- from outside!

He stared in shock. "What?! It can't be!"

Outside, amidst the strengthening vestiges of interposed space-time, stood the largest Dalek he had yet seen! Its burnished-copper carapace gleamed, and it turned toward his ship with surprising speed. The Doctor took a belated double-take when he saw the reason for the turn of speed, and some of its apparent size.

This Dalek was hovering several feet above the ground!

"TEMPORAL WEAKNESS SUCCESSFULLY EXPLOITED. TARDIS DETECTED."

The Doctor turned back to the smaller console, working it frantically. Not enough power... He had to stall the thing until he could shunt it over from the main engines.

"How did you get your... hands on time travel technology, Dalek? And from which space-time frame did you arrive here?"

"THAT IS IRRELEVANT. YOU WILL GIVE US THE PASSWORDS TO THE SHIELDS DEFENDING GALLIFREY. YOU WILL GIVE THEM TO US OR BE EX-TERMINATED!"

He had gotten back to the main console, and had pulled up a panel. Amidst his frantic rewiring, he said, "That itself is irrelevant, isn't it? You'll try to exterminate me anyway- and I'm safe here in my TARDIS. You can't touch me, Dalek." He reached over to a small keypad, increasing power to the shields by as much as he dared. He then finished the last of his connections.

He stood up and glared at the screen. "I'll have this damage fixed soon... you can go back to your proper space and time by choice, or by force!"

"IT IS YOU WHO ARE MISTAKEN, DOC-TOR. I WILL NOW DE-MON-STRATE."

The Doctor saw the Dalek train its weapon on the TARDIS, and he whirled back toward the small console. His hands flew across the controls. Just a few more seconds and this mess would be-

The Dalek fired. The beam struck the shields, which held. The Doctor smiled grimly.

"POWER INCREASE INITI-ATED."

He watched in horror as the beam sliced cleanly through the shimmering energy wall- and slammed into the outer hull of the TARDIS.

BOOM

The blast sent him staggering into a door frame, then into a heap against a wall!

He got back to his feet, staring about him in horror. Smoke rose from two sections of the console, and sparks cascaded from the nearest panels. One spot on the wall was visibly red hot.

That thing had actually been able to damage his TARDIS!

He stumbled back over to the smaller console, and breathed a short sigh of relief at seeing it still intact.

"YOU WILL GIVE US THE PASSWORDS TO THE-"

"Yes, yes," snapped the Doctor. "I heard you." He saw that the Dalek was moving forward, positioning itself for what would doubtless be a much more devastating attack.

He glanced back at the main console. Three-quarters power transferred... it would have to do. He finished entering the data, then re-activated the device.

"YOU HAVE FAILED TO RESPOND, DOC-TOR. YOU WILL PAY THE PENALTY. YOU WILL BE EX-TERMINATED!"

"I'm afraid not," said the Doctor, as the white flames shot out across the clearing with renewed vigor. He noted something he had not counted on - in moving forward, the creature had brought itself the border between three different invading sections of reality.

"Move, you fool! Get back!"

"WHAT IS - THIS?" it said, as burning lines of yellow-golden Vortex energy suddenly traced themselves in cross-sections across its carapace. "UNDER ATTACK! UND- SCRREEEARRCH!" It shrieked this last as the vanishing space-time sections vanished, taking with each a chunk of surprised Dalek. It finally disappeared with a crashing explosion that drove the Doctor stumbling back from the main screen, one arm thrown across his eyes, as it flared out.

-----------------------------------------------

"...and that's what happened. I have sealed the rip as best I could, and have included all readings and settings with my report."

The Time Lord Controller on screen looked off-screen at the displays that adorned the various computers in his office. "Well, Doctor, your report, and your readings, certainly corroborate the one we have from that area." He typed something on a keyboard, then looked up. "This one part of the strange Dalek certainly is disturbing, but not a concern."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss it," he said. "His speech indicated others. If more of those kind of things-"

"Doctor, you have already reported the circumstances," said the Controller. "It was obviously a fluke. Those creatures would never be able to gain such power here."

"Well, I certainly hope you're right."

The Lord's manner on-screen suddenly became chilly. "I am right, Doctor. If you would bother to do your own research, you would find that there is not a single other mention of that type of Dalek anywhere in the Matrix."

The Doctor simply shook his head. "I stand corrected," he said.

"Your report has been noted and filed, someone will be out as soon as feasible to ensure any left-over activity is taken care of. Frankly, Doctor," the Lord said, "it's a refreshing change to see you fixing temporal trouble spots rather than causing them." The transmission ended abruptly. The Doctor stared at the blank screen for a long moment, then smiled.

"Well, there's certainly no love lost there." He turned to survey the damage to the interior of his TARDIS.

He glanced into the hole the falling wall panel had left, then walked over and opened the top of the field agent console. He stepped back in a hurry when a gout of smoke and sparks erupted from it, causing him to drop the lid back in place. "Blast, I don't think I'm going to be able to use that again," he said.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe I could convince the Lords to replace it for me?" He thought a moment, then shook his head. "No, I doubt it. And, do I want to give them another chance to put me on a shorter leash?"

He paced back over to the door, turned, and again surveyed the console room. "My goodness, what a mess." He began to laugh. "Why, there's almost as much wrong now as when I first got her!"

Still chuckling, he pulled a small tool kit from his pocket and stepped over to the wall to begin his repairs.

Chapter Text

UNIT headquarters, early 1970s(?)

In the Brigadier's office, the Doctor was looking over the list his predecessor had left. His scowl deepened with every line he read.

"Where is this being kept?" he said. "And why haven't- hasn't the Doctor done anything about this before now?" He sneaked a glance at Rose to see if she had caught the slip.

It looked like she hadn't; she was glaring at the Brigadier herself, stubborn resolve etched on her face.

Good girl.

He turned back to the Brigadier, who returned his gaze with aplomb. "He left just a few hours before you arrived, Doctor. He seemed to be in a hurry."

"Hold on, hold on," the Doctor said. Inwardly, he cursed. Why couldn't he remember any of this happening- this box full of death, for instance?
Blasted timelines falling apart- it has to be. Better get it under control, fast.

"Why would he leave so quickly, if he just found out..." He stopped and stared at the Brigadier, a look of suspicion growing on his face. "You didn't say anything about using it yourself, did you?" He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. "Please tell me you didn't do anything that... well, just that you didn't do anything that stupid."

"As I recall, he was very keen to head off a possible invasion!" retorted the Brigadier. "Perhaps you'd like to take a look at the items yourself?" He leaned forward on his desk, his hands coming to rest amidst piles of papers and files. The Doctor's glance noted one off to the side that read OPERATIONS SURVEY UN44D51 - MISSION DEBRIEFING - PROJECT BAD WOLF. "I have a meeting with several of the finest medical, bio warfare and nuclear safety experts the U.N. has to hand. You're more than welcome to attend that, as well."

"When is that?"

The Brigadier checked his watch. "It is set for this evening-"

"Postpone it. Or cancel it."

The Brigadier looked like he was starting to lose his temper with this 'new' Time Lord. "Doctor," he snapped, "I am in command of this base, and international security concerns in this area are under my jurisdiction! I don't care how many years it's been for you, but you work for me, not-"

"And I don't care what Earth authority you hold, or how many shiny badges and pretty colored ribbons you have on your shirt, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart!" said the Doctor hotly."You let those stupid apes run loose, poking their monkey fingers into that mess, and I guarantee that you'd not only have written their death warrants, but everyone in the surrounding countryside for at least fifty miles. And I don't care what precautions you'd be taking, none would be enough!"

"How dare you!..."

The Doctor held up his hands, and his tone became much quieter. "Listen, Alistair. You only survived your prior encounter with that box because the Doctor was there with you. You probably didn't try to touch it yourself, correct? You waited for his analysis."

The Brigadier looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, yes, but..."

The Doctor stepped closer, studying him. "Even then, you nearly bought it, didn't you?" he said.

"Well, yes, but y-" The Doctor cut him off with a slight shake of his head and a glance toward Rose out of her eyesight. "But the Doctor was wearing a standard radiation suit when he went to inspect it. Surely that means they would be enough protection?"

"He probably performed some additional decontamination before seeing you, as a precaution," the Doctor said. He took another look at the list, then sighed. "I'll tell you what. I don't know that I even have the resources to dispose of some of these; they're a bit volatile. I can take another look at the box, though- see if there's any way I can at least contain it until it can be moved off-planet, somehow."

He started out the door.

"Don't you want to know where the store-room is, Doctor?"

The Doctor stopped and grinned at him. "My memory hasn't gone that bad, Alistair." he said. He grabbed a radio from a table near the door. "I'll keep in touch with you on this."

"What about me?" said Rose.

"I want you to stay here and out of trouble. I know how hard that second one can be for you," he said with a half grin, "but if anything goes wrong, absolutely do not come after me. The things in that box might make me a bit queasy, but they would kill you stone dead in a matter of moments."

Benton had returned by this point. "Don't you think you're being a little dramatic, Doctor?" he said.

"You tell me, Sergeant. What did you and he," he jerked his thumb toward the Brigadier, " go through a few hours ago? By the looks of things, the two of you shouldn't even be on your feet, let alone on duty." He gave the three of them a pointed look. "I'll be back as soon as I can, and be giving you regular updates in any case. Let me know if the other Doctor turns back up, as well." The Doctor looked uncomfortable. "I don't know if I should be seeing him, but the way things are going..." he sighed. "Anyway, be right back!" He strode out the door.

He found the armory without any trouble, got a radiation suit and put it on. "No-where near enough," he muttered. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and played it over the various joints and connections. He then flexed at them experimentally, then nodded.

He made his way down the deserted corridor and keyed himself through the heavy steel door. Apparently, Alistair had cleared the area; a smart move.

He closed the door behind him, then turned toward the box, sonic screwdriver at the ready. He flipped on the radio and placed it in a pocket near the mouthpiece of his suit. After a moment's thought, he ran over it with his screwdriver. "Right," he said into it. "I've proofed this thing against radiation and jamming, so you should be hearing me just fine."

"Loud and clear, Doctor," said the Brigadier.

"Good." He switched off his screwdriver for a moment. "Maybe I should go from where I did before," he said thoughtfully. He pulled out the tool kit at his belt and looked at it. He rolled his eyes. What limited supplies I had to put up with when I was stuck here before, he thought. He put the kit aside on the table, and brought his sonic screwdriver back online, which he then began playing over the various panels and visible switches on the box. He stopped after a few minutes.

"It's worse than I thought. There are several hidden recesses my predecessor must have missed, as they have no outside access panel. I've sealed up all I can find; now I have to see what- eh?"

"What is it, Doctor?" said the Brigadier.

"Just a second, I thought I heard something," said the Doctor. "I'll be right back." He switched off the radio, then switched it back on. "Radio silence for now." He flipped the switch back to the 'off' position.

Back in the office, Rose rolled her eyes. "Typical," she said. She turned to find the Brigadier looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eye.

"He does this a lot, doesn't he."

"Yeah," said Rose. "Your Doctor do that, too?"

"From what I've seen so far, none of the Doctors are very keen on following rules or procedures," he replied, frowning slightly. "It has caused some... friction."

Rose laughed. "That's him, alright!"

----

The Doctor sighed.

"All right," he said. "Kinda pointless, you lot trying to be stealthy, with your big clunky boots and all. Come on in."

The heavy steel door swung open, and two figures rushed in, rifles trained on the Doctor, who simply raised his hands and took this moment to study them.

They were wearing Altarian deep-space mining suits, altered to fit humans; the rifles in their hands screamed 'reverse-engineered blaster,' and to the Doctor's experienced eye, could just as easily blow up in the user's hands as be an effective weapon. The Doctor sneered.

"Oh, fantastic. More 'collectors.' Who sent you, Van Statten? No, wait," he said, waving them off, "he probably isn't out of diapers yet."

"I don't know how you're still alive wearing just that, UNIT boy," said one figure, "but that's a mystery we can save for later. We'll be taking that box now."

The Doctor laughed. "UNIT? Oh, that's funny!" He slid his arm out of the sleeve of his suit and reached into his pocket, pulling out the psychic paper. "How about I just show you my papers, hm? I'm wearing a wire, by the way," he said, indicating the radio, "so thanks just so much for blowing my cover." He slapped the paper, face out, onto his faceplate, where it would be visible to the others.

He grinned in the silence. As they continued to just stand there, his grin slowly faded. Then one of them spoke.

"Right. A blank badge. A psychic trick, maybe? We're trained to resist psychic tricks." The one on the left leveled his rifle anew at the Doctor, flicking a small dial in the side. There was a rising whine.

"Now get your hands where we can see them!"

His grin vanished, and he shrugged. "Worth a try." He gave them a small, bland smile as he got his arm back into the sleeve, and raised both hands. "Guess I'll have to try something else, eh?"

Without replying, the other one shoved him aside and grabbed at the box.

"Hold on!" said the Doctor angrily. "If you really have any idea what's in that box, why the hell are you taking it? What country are you planning to wipe off the map?"

The two men had wrestled the box down from the table and had it between them, keeping him covered. "Would you rather we left it in UNIT hands, then?" said one.

"Yes, actually. I don't know who-"

The other had slapped a large green button on his wrist, and with a shimmer, both the men, and the box, were gone.

The Doctor stared at where the two had been standing, and the position of the box, and shook his head, and flipped the radio back on. "Alistair?"

"What was the noise, Doctor? And why the radio silence? You said you would be keeping us-"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "You seem to have a little problem with security," he said. "Perhaps something that you meant to mention to the Doctor, but never got around to it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Some local group, collecting alien technology it looks like. I think we should have a little chat about them when I get back over there."

Silence. Then, "I suppose we could do that. What about the box? Did they take that?"

The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the point where the box had been, made a few adjustments, then activated it. A transmat shimmer showed up, along with the box- and two empty suits, which collapsed to the floor.

"The box is fine, and so is the area," said the Doctor. "It's safe enough to send in some men to get this thing to my TARDIS- but do it quick; I'd like to have it out of here before they decide to come back."

A pause. "I've just ordered three squads into the area to secure it, and I've lifted the lockout," said the Brigadier.

"Good." The Doctor opened the door, removed the helmet of his suit, then with it under his arm strolled into the corridor. He was passed on both sides by soldiers running back to their stations, along with a group of them in heavier combat gear who stopped in the general area of the store room, one small group entering with a dolley while the rest lined the walls, looking alert. The Doctor watched this for a second, then, shaking his head, resumed his walk back towards the office.

Chapter Text

The masked man adjusted his collar as he punched in the coordinates for communications relay that had been set up between his hideout and the Grand Council of Gallifrey. He sat back down in his chair and waited.

Soon, the screen was filled with the image of one of the Council.

"Cardinal Borusa, isn't it?" said the man in a quiet, friendly voice.

"Just one more mystery to uncover, how you know that," said Borusa, frowning. "Why have you contacted us again?"

"I'm sorry to say that, though the drop was attempted, I didn't receive the package," said the man. "Sadly, the fault was mine; be assured, those responsible have been disciplined." He sighed and shook his head. "However, I cannot release the Doctor until I get what I asked for."

Borusa raised an eyebrow. "We sent no envoy," he said.

"What?"

"Any Time Lords showing up there would have been acting entirely on their own. However," he said, leaning forward,"there are much more serious terms to discuss."

The man sat back, nodding, with his fingertips pressed together in what seemed to be a thoughtful manner. "I'm listening."

"First of all," said Borusa,"the one you hold, or claim to hold. The Doctor. I believe you wanted a 'reward' for turning him in, correct?"

"Those were the terms, yes."

"The one you hold," said Borusa carefully, "is not the Doctor."

-------------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor sat cross-legged, playing his recorder. Or, at least trying to; every few seconds, he would hit a very bad note.

He stopped and took a hard look at it. "I cannot tolerate this!" he said. "I need to quiet my nerves. How can I quiet my nerves with a bad instrument?" He sighed. "I just got this one, too..."

He stood up, and started taking a closer look at the mouthpiece and body. "Seems to be just fine," he mused. "Perhaps the acoustics of this cell are wrong." He pouted. " That's just unfair."

He played another experimental set of notes on the recorder, then stopped. "That wall. Why does it echo different than the others?" He walked over and rapped on it with his fist, quickly drawing it back. "Ow! Yes, it's quite solid!"

He held the recorder very close to his eyes, looking into each end. "Maybe it's dirty..." He pulled a large handkerchief out of his shirt pocket, threading it through the instrument and pulling it out. Then, he gave the outside a quick polish before eying his handiwork."Hmmm." He stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket, then pulled it back out again, shaking it out. He began wrapping it around his injured knuckles, while holding the recorder in his good hand.

It began to slip-

"Oh, no, no, no!" The Doctor spun in place, grabbing at the recorder, which just evaded his fingers. In lunging for it, he over-balanced, tripped over his oversize shoes and went stumbling headlong toward the wall.

The recorder hit the ground end-on, flipped toward the wall- then with a vwip! went right through.

The Doctor flailed through right after it, landing with a solid thud in a small hallway on the other side.

"Whoof!" he remarked. He hauled himself to his feet and caught his breath.

Fortunately, nobody else seemed to be around. He got back to his feet, dusting himself off, before scooping up his recorder. He turned to regard the wall. "Hm!" he said. "Nega... force wall, I believe it was. Only solid to one who is actually trying to leave." He prodded it with his recorder. It was solid again. "Or possibly trying to get in. My, my."

He straightened his coat, looked up and down the hall. "No one here, then. There's a lucky stroke and no mistake!"

He started off at a trot, looking at each locked door in turn. He paused before each one, reading the strange alien script embossed there, then continued on, muttering to himself.

He stopped finally before a metallic-blue door. He listened carefully at it, tapped it lightly with his recorder, then opened it. He gasped.

At the far end of the room, Victoria sat slumped in a corner, head lolling off to one side. The left sleeve of her dress was torn, and a streak of blood ran down her cheek. She was pale, too pale...

He started forward-

Her head suddenly snapped up, eyes wide. "Jamie, no!"

The Doctor turned and fell back as Jamie lunged forward and swung a pitcher at the place where he had been standing scant moments before.

Jamie checked his swing and gawked. "Doctor!" He turned to grin at Victoria. "Yeh see, I told you he would ge' out himself!" He then reached over and gave the fallen Time Lord a hand in getting to his feet.

The Doctor gave Victoria a quizzical look of his own. She blushed, though it hardly showed through the heavily-powdered 'pallor' she was wearing. "The leader of those creatures showed us the cell where you were held, and bragged about how nothing could escape it," she said. "He was very convincing." She paused. "How did you get out of there, anyway?"

Jamie groaned inwardly. The Doctor was full of the most long-winded explanations, and was usually more than happy to share the confusing details. This time, however, was different.

"I would be glad to relate it," he said," but I'd be more glad to relate it somewhere much safer and, preferably, a long way away. Come along, I believe I know where they've stashed my TARDIS." So saying, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

----------------------

Back on the TARDIS, Jamie was feeling that something was maybe more wrong than usual. The Doctor's expression hadn't changed from its troubled frown, and aside from short answers to their questions, he had kept mostly silent as he locked the door and bustled about the place, moving various buttons and knobs about on the surface of the console.

"Doctor," he said, a note of uncertain humor in his voice, "are ye sure we should be going on another jaunt so soon? I din nae think we know where we're going to go, yet-"

"That's just what I'm counting on, Jamie," said the Doctor.

He pulled aside a small panel, turned a knob, then began to press up a large switch next to it. The rotor in the center of the console began to rise and fall.

"Far away from here in space and time, and in such a random direction they can't trace us again. Dear me, what a mess that was!"

He turned away from the console, and took hold of the lapels of his coat. There was a relieved smile on his face.

"Well, then! How about we freshen up a bit, then put a spot of tea on? I think that, after all we've just been through, we deserve it!"

----------------------------------------------------------

The masked man stared at the screen for a long moment, then laughed. "Of course he's the Doctor," he said. "Don't try to change-"

"That is not the Doctor. The Doctor has been judged, his sentence carried out. He has since been reprieved. You have snatched that particular Time Lord out of his proper time stream, violating our most basic law. And you ask us for a reward?"

The masked fellow stiffened in his seat. "Ah," he said.

"Indeed," said Borusa. "Not only will we not be giving you a reward, ransom, or anything else, the fact that you have abducted a Lord of Time has placed you in the status of an enemy of Gallifrey. You will return him, or be wiped from Time itself!"

To Borusa's astonishment, the man started to laugh.

"I assure you, we are quite serious-"

" 'Course you are," said the man. "Thing is, though, that you've tried that, haven't you? Retrieval, even temporal wipe or reversal. Nothing! All the attacks on my shell organizations over the last three years - I anticipated them all. Face it; you have nothing!"

"So you say," said Borusa, the menace in his voice tinged with frustration,"so you say. But you have been but a casual annoyance, in comparison to what you are now - you are toying with forces that threaten the fabric of the Universe itself." He fell silent.

The masked man looked up as four men brought in a large crate. "Ah," he said. "My newest shipment."

"Do not mock me!"

"Let's see what we've gotten, shall we?" said the man, pointedly ignoring him. Two men stepped forward with pry bars, and began removing the slats. A metallic box was being revealed-

There was a commotion from the screen, and the man looked up. A Citadel worker was purposefully pressing himself into the room, held back by two guards. "Lord Borusa!" he shouted. Borusa turned to look at him, and his face took on a lighter shade. He quickly turned to look back toward where the crate was being opened.

The man had been released by the guards at a wave of his hand, and was now whispering into Borusa's ear. "What- this isn't possible!"

"Oh, you assumed that because I asked for them, that I couldn't get them myself?" The man seemed to be smirking beneath his mask. "Subterfuge... wheels within wheels, Cardinal."

"Indeed," said Borusa, eyes glued to the crate, "indeed. There is one matter, though."

"Which is?"

"Oh, customs, smugglers, criminal organizations..." Borusa sat back and raised an eyebrow. "Did you think that because 'Time Lords are all high and mighty', we wouldn't get involved with the criminal element?"

"I didn't think you would get involved with either side, really."

"Oh, that would usually be true." Borusa turned and nodded to someone off-camera. "However, we are talking about defense of our own planet, the nexus of realities, and of our legacy. We are willing to not only get our hands dirty, but steeped in the blood of worlds, to defend it." He paused, and gave another frown. "I trust I am making my point,"

"I trust you'll get to your point, if you have one," retorted the man. "Keep in mind that I don't have hundreds of years to waste while you run off at the mouth."

"Finish your 'presentation', and you shall see my point soon enough."

The man was silent, but motioned for his men to continue. When the slats were all off of the box, he produced a small remote control, and pressed the main switch. The sides fell away with a dramatic CRASH...

It was empty.

The room was silent for a long moment; several of the masked man's underlings were giving the room's only exit longing glances, particularly the lieutenant who had gotten the crate in in the first place.

Borusa's voice broke the silence. It fair dripped with contempt.

"Wheels within wheels, you said." "You puffed up, meddling idiot. All of time and space, and you think there is a single trick you can try against us, that we have not seen to its end? Enjoy your empty box, and cherish whatever seconds you have left, for those may be your last in existence."

The screen went black.

Quiet pervaded the room.

With one quick movement, the man stood up...

and sat down suddenly.

"Heh. Ahahahahahahahaha!"

The men wore various expressions of shock and bemusement. Had the boss finally lost his mind completely?

A few took this opportunity to edge closer to the exit.

"Oh, Borusa," he said finally. "I know you're one smart fellow, and I'm sure you've got some of the best intelligence ops around. But for all your cleverness," he said, raising the remote again and pressing another button, "you are such a gullible prat!"

The bottom of the crate slid open... and two large flat rectangular cases rose out of the flat bottom; those around it gawped at the impossiblity of the scene. The masked man seemed to take pity on them.

"Another piece of Time Lord tech," he said. "The inside of the panel is able to hold much more than the outside would suggest.."

Just then, a guard walked in, stiff with terror. The man turned toward him. "I can see you've drawn the short straw," he said, "so let's hear it."

The words came out in a mad rush. "The Doctor and his companions have escaped!" The guard stood there, shaking. A swift death, he hoped....

The boss surprised them all, yet again. "Really? Oh, well. He was a fun guy to have around, but I'm willing to let bygones be bygones." He shook his head. "Forgiven. Just make sure none of the others get out; that'll be a different story."

Even as the man began to sag in relief, he was striding past him.

"All right, clear out!" he shouted. "Back to your stations!"

The men complied with such enthusiasm, that in barely a few seconds, he was entirely alone.

Chapter Text

The Doctor felt the TARDIS touch down, and checked the readouts again with a smile. "It looks like the repairs worked, and it seems I've landed on target this time," he said.

He patted the console. "Now, what can I tell the Brigadier to convince him to call off his war footing?"

He stepped from his ship, and blinked. "Where- oh, wait, this is UNIT headquarters after all." He looked over to the main doors, then down the road. A soldier jogged past, rifle held over his head, while a sergeant drove slightly ahead and to the side of him in a jeep, shouting at him.

The Doctor shook his head. "These military types and their concept of discipline," he said.

He scanned the area once more. "That's odd. I suppose I'll need to calibrate the landing sensors again. Still, I'm not too far off." He strode up the main steps, and walked down the corridors to the laboratory.

"Brigadier, I do believe-" he began, as he walked in.

He stopped, and stared.

A blue police box was sitting right there!

He shook his head. "That's impossible..." He walked over and looked out the window.

His TARDIS was sitting outside, right where he left it.

He walked back over and studied the strange ship more closely. Could somebody be posing as him?

There was one way to find out. He pulled out his ship's key, inserted it into the lock and-

"Doctor!"

He turned his head. "Ah, Sergeant Benton," he said.

He withdrew his key from the lock and turned to him. "I was going to ask after the Brigadier, but it appears I have a more pressing concern."

He gestured at the box. "Who does this belong to?"

"You, Doctor. I mean, another you. He's with the Brigadier in his office at the moment."

He looked rather surprised at the Doctor's furious expression. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

"It's nothing to do with you, old chap," the Doctor replied, patting him on the shoulder. "The Time Lords, on the other hand, have got their nerve in crossing my time lines yet again. I wonder what their problem is this time?"

Benton scratched his head. "Well, if it helps, he seemed to have little idea of why he was here himself, and seemed relieved that you weren't, at the moment."

The Doctor sighed. "Which means it could be far more trouble than it appears, if the Lords haven't mentioned it to me already," he said.

"Let's get this over with."

He straightened his coat and walked out the door, setting off toward the Brig's office. Benton fell in a few steps behind him, matching his stride.

The Doctor paused. "Aren't you on sentry duty there, Sergeant?"

"Oh, no," said Benton. "The Brigadier had me stationed there in case you showed up." He smiled. "He figures your box generally takes good enough care of itself."

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The Doctor, Rose again by his side, shook the Brigadier's hand.

"It's been awfully good to see you again, Alistair," he said.

"It has been... interesting," said the Brigadier finally. "I do hope you will be all right," he said, looking at him meaningfully.

The Doctor laughed. "Don't worry about that box," he said. "I'll just nip over to the nearest star and drop it right in."

Rose looked less certain. "Are you sure that's safe, Doctor? Even in the TARDIS?"

"Of course it is!" he said. "My people have been dancing around those things for millions of years. How do you think we could deal with time and space travel if we couldn't dodge a little thing like stellar radiation?"

"So, you started the meetings without me? Odd choice of delegates," said a voice from the door. All in the room turned to look.

"It appears I'm just in time," said the man, walking into the room.

Rose took this chance to look him over.

Her first impression was of lace. Lots of lace on his cuffs, and the front of his shirt.. The rest of his clothes were only marginally less, well, old-fashioned and fancy; a silver-gray coat and trousers, all topped with a loose burgundy ribbon-tie. Her eyes finally got to his face. He had a head of unruly white hair, and a creased, uncle-ish face that was looking back at her with a smiling, faintly curious expression.

It would have looked more dignified, but for a mischievous look about the eyes; it gave him the slightly unsettling air of a much younger man with a big secret.

"I don't believe we've met," said the man, breaking the spell. He extended his hand. "I'm the Doctor. And you are..?"

Rose took his hand. "Rose. Rose Tyler." She looked back into those startlingly twinkling eyes...

"You look so complicated!" she blurted out. She reddened and quickly pulled her hand back.

The man (another Doctor!) looked startled, then smiled. "Well, I suppose I am. You're a very perceptive young lady- excuse me," he said, eying the leather-jacketed Doctor, who had started laughing at her comment, " is there something funny that I missed?"

"Oh, no," said the Doctor, "I quite agree. Just didn't expect her to hit the nail on the head that fast."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Well done, Rose. That was very good."

She was still blushing, but smiled back at him.

"Brigadier," said the other Doctor, "about that box-"

"Don't worry about it," said the Brigadier. "This other Doctor was quite persuasive. It looks like you got what you wanted after all."

The fancier Doctor swiveled around and stared at the Doctor in surprise. "What? You're the Doctor whose TARDIS-"

He shook his head. "Pardon me." He strode over to get a closer look. Rose saw him look him up and down, a vaguely disappointed look on his face. He gave a small tsk!

'Her' Doctor rolled his eyes, and sighed.

"All right, let's hear it."

"What sorry set of circumstances caused you to start dressing like a thug?"

Rose gasped, Benton's mouth quirked at the edges. The Brig kept his face stony, and waited for the explosion, or at least a heated reply.

In any case, all eyes were on them now.

The Doctor closed his eyes, and shook his head.

"Blimey. I just don't remember you being such a shallow oik," he said. "I mean, I could expect a reaction like that from Rose here- kids these days, fashion and all that- but you?"

He stood up and tugged at his collar. "I mean, you and Dickens. Really, what is wrong with this jumper?"

He said this last in a rather mournful tone.

The other Doctor looked flustered. "Well, it's not that- I was just- oh, bother!"

"Well, in answer to your question," said the Doctor, all business once again, "I found it practical. Lots happening at the time, easy to keep clean."

He looked him in the eye. "There's more important things to discuss than haute couture, though. I shouldn't even be here, for one thing."

"Hm. The Time Lords-"

"I don't think they had anything to do with it; at least, not the ones of your era," the Doctor said. "Matter of fact, it would be best they not know I'm here."

"Why is that?"

"Well, for one thing, they'd sell out just about anything to get- actually, you mind if we take this somewhere a little more private?"

The other Doctor looked around, and frowned. "That would probably be for the best. Brigadier, Sergeant," he said, nodding at them, "very sorry, but this is strictly Time Lord business. Won't be a moment." He started for the door.

Before she even got a chance to speak, Rose felt the Doctor lay a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"He's right. I'd let you along otherwise, things having turned out as they have, but this really needs to be kept between... between us Doctors."

"But why?"

"That would be telling, eh? You let us keep some of the magic behind the curtain."

He winked at her, and followed the other Doctor out into the hall.

Chapter Text

--------------------------------------------------------------

The Doctors stepped out into the hallway closing the door behind them. The younger Doctor turned to face the new arrival.

"So you claim to be me. A future regeneration, then, old chap?"

"Yes," said the other, glancing at the door, then back to him. "As I was saying, it's important that the Council not know I'm here-"

"I don't want to hear any more than that!" said the Doctor sharply.

The other stared at him. "Look," he said, saying each word with care, "I don't know what's going on, I don't remember any of this. Which means, it must have gotten fixed up right somehow, whatever happens. You really think I'd be so stupid as to imperil my own time lines?" He crossed his arms. "Did all your time stuck with the apes rub off on you? Glad it's worn off by when I show up."

"That was uncalled for," said the Doctor. "You know your presence here could shift matters considerably, even bring the Time Lords back down on my head." He paced over to the opposite wall, then turned. "So you have information of the future time lines which you claim that the present - my present - Time Lords would be willing to violate the Laws of Time to obtain, is that the gist of what you were saying?"

"Basically, yes. As a matter of fact-"

The Doctor gave him a look of warning.

"Oh, for the love of...Look. There's a Time Lock in place, stronger than the usual they'd set up. Stronger than that, really. That should keep me from being here, prevent any of this. It makes no sense! I'm on the wrong side now, and the lock's still up. I can't get back!" The other Doctor sagged against the wall, holding his head. "Ergh..."

The Doctor stepped forward, helping him up. "Steady on, old man."

The leather-clad man chuckled. " 'Old man' is right. Ow." He clutched at his head and grimaced. "I was just getting used to it, and now they're all back, all back, but I can't..."

"Here, now!" said the Doctor. He gripped the fellow's shoulders. Great Scott, do I go mad? Regeneration can be such a tricky thing...

He paused, considering the options.

"I think we need a more conducive place to meet than this hall."

"Good point." The other straightened back up, opened the door. "Rose?"

The girl's voice came out. "Yeah?"

"The Doctor and I are just going to nip down to the canteen for a cuppa, maybe you could get yourself a tour of UNIT or something while we're gone."

"Out of the question, Doctor!" The Brigadier's indignation came through loud and clear. "You are UNIT staff, but she is a civilian. She stays in the front areas, supervised."

"Blimey, you make me sound like I'm seven or something," said Rose.

The Doctor saw the other glance over and smile, presumably at the girl, then look back toward the Brigadier. "Yeah, good luck with that," he said. He shut the door, shaking his head.

"Humans, eh?' said the Doctor with a smile and a companionable hand on his shoulder.

"You got that right," said the other. "Let's see if we can at least get a cup down before the base gets attacked by a giant platypus or something. I swear, it's like the Time Lords were sending them in on us as part of their punishment or something - other than that time with Omega, of course."

The Doctor gave a polite shudder. "I'd rather we not talk about that part right now, thank you," he said, as they strode down the hall.

"Oh, yeah. Getting your childhood illusions shattered by having one of your heroes a raving madman."

"Not to mention having to deal with that midget hobo again. I'm done with being him now, I shouldn't have to be reminded anymore!"

The other Doctor glanced over at him, a wide, close-lipped smile on his face, then shook his head with a chuckle. "Ah, the carefree days of youth," he said, "when I could be so petty with myself." His eyes darkened. "Before we actually deserved recrimination. Before we-"

The Doctor, eyes narrowed, lashed out with an open hand. The other staggered back, staring at him.

"What the bloody hell-"

"I believe I told you not to discuss those kind of things," said the Doctor.

The other stepped forward, eyes hard and a finger raised. "You can't imagine what I've been through - what we've lost! What we've - "

He reeled back as the Doctor slapped him harder this time, but rallied enough to grab his arm at the elbow.

The Doctor twisted back - Kata 242 - and sent the other spinning face-first into the wall with a thump. He stepped back, dusting his hands off. "Seems your Venusian Karate's gotten a little rusty as well," he said.

"Listen, you ape-addled fancy boy-"

"No, now you listen, you- you- good Lord, man, what made you regenerate into this self-hating, depressing mess?" He held up a hand. "That was rhetorical."

"You'll see," said the other Doctor, a sullen look on his face. "Oh, you'll see."

"I don't doubt it," said the Doctor, his face grim. "But that hardly helps us deal with this mess here, does it? I'm surprised your assistant can stand for this nonsense, myself."

He paused, giving him a suspicious look. "Hm. We can go over that later. Now," he said, "we can either go ahead and get our tea, formulate a plan and solve this mess, or," he said, stepping closer and absently rubbing his left hand in his right, "I can see if some good physical 'exercise' can get some some sense back into you."

The other Doctor, who had simply been staring at him, open mouthed, during his speech, began to laugh.

"I'm quite serious. Which shall it-"

He started laughing harder and harder, finally bending over holding his stomach.

"Hm."

Finally the other Doctor spoke, between gasps and laughter. "And - and what am I supposed to say while you're giving me this savage beating?" He let out a fresh burst of laughter. " 'Stop hitting yourself'?"

"I can see - heh, heh! - I can see your point. Heh, heh, ha, ha ha!"

After a few more minutes of laughter, both recovered enough to regain their balance. The other Doctor clapped him on the shoulder, looked him in the eyes, and gave him a brilliant grin.

"That, right there," he said, "was fantastic. Thanks a lot, you have no idea how much I needed that."

"Oh, I think I do," said the Doctor, wiping at his eyes with a handkerchief. "It looks like I needed that, too."

Chapter Text

The Doctor and his younger counterpart, now much refreshed from their bout with the first real gaiety he'd had in far too long, strolled down to the canteen.

"Really," said the Doctor, "I'm thinking, between us, we should have this thing licked in no time. I mean," he said, giving a casual 'luck' knock to a table as they passed, "I'm brilliant- We're brilliant. What you were able to do with just Earth tech - and for the TARDIS, even without a demat circuit, or Academy knowledge - "

"Please," said the younger Doctor. "You'll make me blush - and I rather don't think I did much that I could control, anyway."

"Oh, really," said the Doctor.

They entered the canteen. Both looked up to see -

"Jo!" said his younger self quickly. "When did you get back? Are your parents well?"

Jo Grant turned from the tea service, a beaming smile on her face. "Doctor!" She set down the pot and cup she had been pouring. "Yes, Father is doing fine, though Mother is still getting over - " she paused, looking with a curious expression. "I'm sorry, but who is this?"

"Oh!" the younger Doctor looked nonplussed. "Jo, this is..."

The Doctor decided to save his younger self the work. "Colonel Joseph McCrimmon, on loan from UNIT New York," he said, pulling the psychic paper and a brilliant grin simultaneously.

"New York?" said Jo She studied the paper, then nodded, as he swept it away. "But your accent..."

"Yeah, they're doing the whole 'international' scheme. Popular over in the States." He extended a hand. " 'Course your father sent me his personal instructions to watch out for you, Miss Grant."

"Did he," she said, eyes narrowed for a moment. She flashed him a sunny grin. "Just call me Jo." She studied him with an appraising eye as she took his hand. Late thirties, at most, lean muscle, a little gangly. Lovely smile... "I'm sure you'll do just fine here."

"Don't doubt it. Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart's doing a fantastic job, by all accounts." He gave her a cursory, disapproving glance. "Really, though, does the Brigadier know that you're dressing like that - on a military base, no less?"

His younger self stepped forward, all ruffles, properness and indignation.

"Colonel, I believe you've overstepped your bounds. Miss Grant is my assistant, and quite outside your jurisdiction."

"I never said I didn't like it," said the Doctor, amusement dancing in his eyes, "just making a comment. I think Miss Grant's dress the height of fashion.: He shot a look at the younger Doctor, along with a more personal message. HALL. NOW.

"Jo. How much tea is left?"

"Um, I'd hoped to leave a full tureen for the rest-"

"Good enough," said the younger Doctor, patting her on the shoulder. "We've a few guests, you couldn't have known, but could you do me and the Brigadier a favor and round up an orderly and another tea service?" He clasped Jo's shoulder a moment longer. "Trust me, Jo," he said. "we make it through this, and it should be... educational." He turned, and began to walk off.

"Educational?" Jo looked after him in confusion. "Doctor, is everything all right? Do you need me to - "

"I'll explain later," said the Doctor, as he left the room. To himself, more quietly, he said, "That is, if there is a later."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rose kicked her feet against her chair for the hundredth time, it felt like. She glared over at the irritatingly hardcore officer something-Stewart, and the Sergeant Benton, who were busy with other duties.

Soldiers. She rolled her eyes, and sighed loudly.

The Brigadier looked up again from his paperwork, and sighed.

"Miss Tyler."

"Yeah?"

"I really do understand that ... youngsters don't really like the paperwork that has to do with the real business of this kind of thing," he said.

Rose bristled. "Youngsters?! I've a job, you know? High street an' that!"

The Brigadier levelled a chilling look into her eyes. "Military, Miss Tyler. Minimizing how many have to die."

To his astonishment, Rose turned to look right back. "Are we talking about soldiers, sir," she said, "or planets?"

Alistair blinked, then returned her gaze. "Honestly," he said, " I have no way of knowing. Please bear with us, the Doctor often lets us know least of all."

She looked suddenly abashed. "I guess you're right," she said.

"Yes, indeed." He turned to Benton, motioned him close.

"I don't think she's hardened as she claims.""

"I agree."

"Get her to the canteen, a sandwich and a cup of tea, and into some side office. Before now, my office may have been 'out of the way' enough, but if this latest Doctor's companion gets hurt, or worse, there's no telling how he'll react. Keep her out of danger, as well as you can."

Benton looked frankly worried. "But-"

"That's an order, Sergeant."

He sighed. "Yes, sir."

He followed Rose out into the hall.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rose strode down the hall, looking around. Benton ran along side.

"Miss, the canteen is this way--"

He caught a fleeting glance of a superior officer coming in the opposite direction, then felt a touch on his mind as those eyes met his...

His hand lashed toward his holster, too late.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rose was looking for a sign., then heard that handsome Sergeant Benton.

"Miss, the canteen is - "

She didn't catch the rest.

She saw that his eyes were fixed to... where ever they were. His hand hovered over his holster (and shook, Rose noted, like a band of steel held him back). She quickly looked away, staring fixedly at the wall.

"I get it," she said to the figure out of the corner of her eye. "You've got a hypnotic thing on humans, yeah? So I guess you're looking for the Doctor, then."

"Yes," said the man. " You're an interesting one, though. I've not seen you, but somehow you aren't looking me in the eye."

"Yeah," said Rose, "my Doctor's not from around here, but I've learned enough not to trust-"

She felt a cold influence close in on her.

"I don't need eye contact," the voice said. "I really mean no harm, young lady." It quieted, so soothing. "Just a message-"

Crash!

Benton's hand flashed up, pistol in hand, as Rose dove away.

Both found themselves facing the Doctor, struggling to keep a short-haired Ninth Doctor from strangling a UNIT colonel.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You," gritted the Doctor, as he held the Master up by his throat, "tell me what you're here for. Something that will keep me from making you regenerate here and now."

"Ghhrk."

"I'll deal with - let him go - oh,blast it all!" The younger Doctor suddenly used a Venusian Karate move, flipping his older self into a sitting position against the wall opposite. The others looked suprised at this sudden move, not the least being the leather-clad Doctor himself.

Rose hurried over and helped him to his feet.

"Doctor! Who is this? Why are you...?"

The Master rubbed at his throat, and glared.

"It's nothing to do... well, perhaps it is. It's a message the Council has asked me to deliver. No more, no less. It pains me to be a messenger boy for anybody," he said, standing and giving them a heated glare, "but I have to admit, this is something that would endanger my own plans as well."

"Really," said the younger Doctor cooly.

The Master gave him a mirthless smile. "Really. The thing that gives me pleasure in delivering this one, Doctor," he said, "is that your fingerprints are all over this one. Rips in time, in dimensions, that could kill us all..." He smiled again at the younger Doctor, then looked over at the man who had attacked him. His expression changed; he actually looked confused, and a little alarmed.

"I wish it was me they were blaming. By Rassilon, by Omega... by the Other..." He looked back. "Doctor,what have you done?!"

He paused, then gave them all a small smile. "I wish I could stay and chat, but I have places to go, and peoples to rule".

Before they could react, he hit a button on his coat, and with a transmat fWHooSH, was gone.

Chapter Text

The Doctor glared at where the Master had been a moment before. "All the more reason to find out what's really - AIGH! Bloody HELL!" He staggered forward, clutching his head.

The voices sang.

Rose looked at him, concern etched on her face. She actually stepped back a few paces.

Uh-oh.

"Doctor," she said, "you're... you're scaring me." She took another step back.

"Rose, please, I'm okay. We just need-" he said, wiping an arm across his mouth and trying to assume (giggle) a grave expression...

Scream scream screams guilt pain burn life all dead all living twisting failing falling

What was happening?!

Faces swam across his vision, Romana, Ian, Leela, Peri, Ace, Jaime, Tegan, Susan, Grace, Sarah Jane... all burned, all screaming (alive they're all alive please some not even yet born, live die alive dead alive burn pain tearing tearing pain)

"Emergency protocol- hrrk - not designed to sta - stand up t- t- Rose, I'm sorry..." After a moment, he realized it was him who had just said that.

"Too much..."

Whump.

-------------------------------------

The Doctor looked over, having just recovered from the disappearance of the Master. "Sergeant", he said, "could you..." He stopped, and stared in shock, as his future incarnation went redder in the face, his eyes glazed, and he fell to the floor. The burst of psychic agony that hit him across the room at that moment made him stagger, but he managed to keep his feet.

"No! Doctor!" Rose ran forward, falling to her knees beside him, lifting and cradling his head. She looked over at the Doctor, tears in her eyes. "You're the Doctor too, right? Help him!"

Blast it all, why was he always stuck with the difficult decisions for this lot? Mind you, he usually had the answers to hand. Primitives couldn't be expected to...

He shook himself. This wasn't what he'd encountered before, by a long shot. Sure, he'd been saddled with his younger, and older (and in some cases, wiser) incarnations in a couple cases, but here he was on unfamiliar ground. None had seemed so self-destructive, so angry.

Where had the Master gone, anyway?

He drew himself up. One thing at a time.

"Sergeant," he said, "could you please lend me a hand in getting this fellow to his TARDIS?"

Benton nodded crisply, put the girl aside gently and lifted one side of the fallen man while he took the other. Once they had the future Doctor supported between them, they started forward-

"Doctor!" Jo raced out of the canteen. "What's happening?" She spotted the fellow they were holding up. "What's happened to Colonel McCrimmon?"

He was about to speak-

Rose stormed forward with balled fists, still in shock, unfortunately. "That's the Doctor, you blond tart, and what are you-"

The Doctor was able to catch Rose' s shoulder just in time.

Jo looked bewildered at the scene, but not so much that she didn't shoot Rose an 'I'll deal with you later' look. "Doctor, what is-"

"Jo, we really don't have time for this," he said. "Let me give you the very short version. 'Colonel McCrimmon,' is, indeed, another me. Miss Tyler, here," he said, giving the girl a warning look, "is his... assistant. What we are doing now," he said, indicating Benton and himself, "is getting him back to his TARDIS, before he suffers a complete mental breakdown."

He saw the confusion still in her eyes, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Jo. I'd give a better expl - "

Rose pushed him. "Come on, we've got to help him!"

He turned, and gave her a cold look. "Miss Tyler," he said, "that was uncalled for. If you've been traveling with him," a nod of the head, "for any length of time, you should know that we don't take well to being pushed." He looked back to Jo. "You should come along - never know if we'll need an extra set of hands."

"Now," he said, shifting his shoulder to better balance the weight, "let's get this fellow to my laboratory."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor and Benton set the unconscious Time Lord in a chair, then the Doctor, getting his TARDIS key out of his pocket, walked over to the front door.

"Chameleon circuit seems to be stuck on the same setting. Hm." He stuck the key in the lock, only to find that - it didn't fit?!

"Either my own TARDIS doesn't recognize me anymore, or things have changed by his time far more than I'm comfortable with."

Benton looked concerned. "Doctor?"

"It's not important. What is, is getting him inside." He rummaged through the other's jacket pockets until he produced a common-looking Earth key. He frowned at the shape, but nodded, then went over and opened the door, quickly turning then to help the Sergeant carry his later incarnation into the Tardis, Rose following along after.

He dragged/ carried the other Doctor in, looking around for a seat of some kind, and almost dropped his older self with surprise. "Gracious," he said, "it looks like it's been through a war - "

"Yeah," said Rose, before she could stop herself.

He glanced over at her, and gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't be concerned at giving away too much with that little statement," he said. "Even I know I'll be mixed up in quite a few more conflicts than whichever one is on your mind."

Jo was staring around , round-eyed. Not so much at the dimensions, she was used to that... but... "Doctor, how could this be your TARDIS? It looks so much different!"

"It seems to be a little unsafe, with all this grating and hanging wires," said Benton. "That thing in the middle, with all the green and strange bits... is that really the TARDIS console?"

"Most of this different look is just a desktop theme," said the Doctor absently, half-noting Jo's and Benton's confused looks, and Rose's surprised one. He propped the other doctor up as best he could on the grating, then approached the console, pulling out his sonic screwdriver. "What really concerns me is the amount of raw damage and haphazard repair that's been done in here; it's like he's tried to rebuild the old girl from scratch with alien technology, more than once. Mind you," he said, studying the console, "I imagine that some of it is quite clever improvising - this is me we're talking about. Now, where is that... Ah, here we go..." He lifted a small hatch, and frowned. "Oh, dear."

"What's wrong?" said Rose.

"What is it, Doctor?" said Jo, in a near-chorus. They glared at each other a moment. The Doctor seemed oblivious.

"The primary psychic circuits are burned out. That must be why he mentioned the Emergency Protocol... let's see..." He went over to another part of the console flipped a couple of switches, then stepped back scratching his head. "It should have been there; it's like everything's been switched around." He glared up at the center column. "And I really wish you would be more helpful. I know it's been a while since you've had me here like this, but we've done this kind of thing before!"

Benton's brow furrowed. Jo said, "Doctor- are you talking to the TARDIS again?"

"Yeah, he does that," said Rose. "Guess it's not just old age."

The Doctor chose to ignore this, instead focusing on the controls again. "Let's see," he said, moving a slide up and turning a knob. A squeal came from a nacelle on the wall, and the Doctor turned it back. He walked over to the round coral protuberance, and with a flick of the sonic screwdriver, had it open.

"Primary communications with Gallifrey... off line, with extensive damage!" he said in alarm, after looking over the readouts on a small recessed screen there.

"Um, yeah, said Rose, brushing her hair back nervously. "He, uh, kinda did that on purpose."

"Did he say why... no, I don't suppose he would." He paused a moment. "Unless it was to prevent some kind of connection, someone from finding out he was here?" He looked over at Rose.

"Yep. That's exactly what it was," came the other Doctor's voice.

They turned to see the leather-jacketed man struggling into a standing position against a railing, panting heavily. Rose ran over to his side. "Doctor, you're all right!"

He grinned at her, but they could see the strain in his eyes. "Not quite, Rose," he said. "The TARDIS is doin' what she can to help, but there's still a million dead people screamin' in my head. We need that circuit fixed." He pointed over toward the console. "The Emergency Protocol's a few inches down and phsd% from where it used to be."

The Doctor nodded, then, tracing a finger down the console, punched a few keys and moved a circular slide. A small hatch opened and a panel raised to view.

"What was that, Doctor? I couldn't-"

He was in too much pain to roll his eyes, but he did manage a shrug. "Not all concepts can be translated into English, Rose, not even by the TARDIS translation circuits. Don't worry about it; your race has about another few thousand years of evolution before it starts to get a grasp of that concept, anyway."

Before she could reply, he got himself over to the console, stood next to the Doctor, and peered down to the circuitry.

The Doctor finished going over the circuitry with the sonic screwdriver, and fished a small device out of his pocket. He jimmied it open, and began looking through the inner workings. "I think I can find a couple of circuits and wires in here to replace the overloaded-"

The older Doctor, who had been doing his own examination, shook his head. "It didn't just overload. It was sabotage."

The Doctor looked up sharply, stepped in closer. "Do you think," he said, stealing a glance at Rose, "that-"

"No!" said the other, rather louder than he expected. "No," he said more quietly. "Absolutely not."

"Then who-"

"I'm thinking maybe someone working for... an enemy did this when it was first installed; haven't had to use it before now." He sat down, his back to the console. "Go ahead and patch it up, though."

The Doctor nodded, and set to work. After a few minutes, he stepped back to study his work. "Here goes," he said, and re-activated it.

"Aigh!" The other Doctor suddenly cluched at his head. Before Rose could react again, though, he shot to his feet, grinning.

"Well, that's a relief!" he said. He started to look over the console again. "Right. Now, we need to track down-"

"Just a second, old chap," said the Doctor. "You've just had a nasty experience, and there's still more-"

"It can wait," said his older self, turning back to the console.

"No, I don't think it can," said the Doctor. "There's some information in my TARDIS I think might be relevant, but I can't get it over here with your comm-link severed. I also may have a replacement psychic circuit. Possibly one even better than what was there before."

"Oh, really," said the other in a sarcastic tone. "Grabbed on the fly on your way off of Gallifrey to be dumped here? Or did the Time Lords try to bribe - "

Jo suddenly stepped forward, and slapped him. He took a step back, hand going to his face in surprise.

"That's enough! From what I can see, he just saved your life, and you just stand there and- and- talk to him like this? How dare you!"

"Oi!" snapped Rose. "You don't know what-"

"No, and you don't either, you little brat!" Jo shot back, and turned back toward the older Doctor "If this is the way you and your 'companion' act to people who help you..." She looked back toward the Doctor himself, her expression softening a bit, "then I'm sorry to see what time and whatever else will turn you into."

She then turned, and stumbled out of the TARDIS. Sergeant Benton shot a questioning look at him in turn, and at his nod, followed her.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor watched them leave, Jo's words still stinging in his ears, and her slap on his cheek. He slumped against the console, just knowing his younger self was giving him some kind of reproving look.

"Yeah, and don't come back in here, you little-"

He looked back up. "Rose!"

"Huh?"

"Stop it. She's right." He straightened up and turned toward his younger self. "I've always felt a bit of a prat, having to apologize to myself," he said, "but there you go. You're right, of course; going off on the spur of the moment has gotten me in some bad spots." He then grinned. "Keep in mind, it's been handed down from you in any case. Hard habit to break, eh?"

The velvet-clad Doctor chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it is; we can't always plan for everything. It is good to be as prepared as possible, though." He started toward the door, The Doctor falling in behind him.

Rose just stood there, seeming unable to take in this turn of events. Typical.

"Rose," he said, "you coming?"

"Nooo," she said, drawing the word out in her uncertainty, "I think I'd better stay in here for a while."

"Suit yourself. Jo's a forgiving sort, though; you decide to join us later, should be all right." He turned and left the TARDIS on the heels of his younger self, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

The workshop smelled of oil and ozone and old light. A quiet kind of decay that clung to cloth and clung to memory, like the echo of something that had mattered. Jo hadn’t missed it. Not really. It had always smelled like waiting.

The Ninth Doctor was hunched over the workbench, sleeves rolled, face tight. One shoulder higher than the other, that old, unconscious way he got when his mind was spiraling in on itself. Tension radiated off him like heat from a just-fired weapon. Jo leaned in the doorway for a moment, arms folded. Watched him pick through a scatter of parts that were a mixture of Gallifreyan precision and ramshackle improvisation.

“You do realise you’re hiding,” she said finally.

“I’m working,” he replied, without looking up.

“Sure you are.”

From the shadows behind her, Benton emerged with two steaming mugs. He raised one slightly. “I assume, sir, this counts as one of your famous ‘tactical retreats’?”

The Doctor reached out without a word, took the offered mug, and sipped. Made a face. “Needs more sugar.”

“It’s tea,” Benton said. “Not a jelly baby.”

“Not with that attitude, it’s not.”

Jo snorted. Benton rolled his eyes, pleased.

“Still,” the Doctor said, quieter now, “thanks.” They lapsed into a silence too heavy to last.

“She didn’t mean it,” Jo said, eventually. “Rose.”

The Doctor stared down at the half-wired feedback core in his hands. He was threading copper wire through a port that had been fused half-shut years ago, maybe centuries. It was pointless. They both knew it.

“She’s young,” he said. “She lashes out when she’s scared.”

“You never did that,” Benton muttered. Jo snorted again.

“You saying I was subtle?”

“I’m saying you were terrifying,” Benton said. “Still are, some days.”

Jo shrugged. “Comes with the job.”

The Doctor smiled. Small. Absent. The kind of smile that didn’t touch his eyes. Jo stepped closer, serious now. “This is about more than Rose.”

He didn’t answer. Just kept fiddling with the wire, as if maybe if he got the angle just right, the truth would make less sense.

“I’ve seen you like this before,” she said. “After Inferno. After Axos. When you’re thinking ahead and trying not to be afraid of where the thought goes.”

That stopped him. Just for a second. Then he placed the wire down, carefully. Like it might explode if he wasn’t gentle.

“There’s someone,” he said, low. “Someone I never told UNIT about.”

Benton leaned in, serious now. “Another Time Lord?”

“Not exactly.”

The Doctor turned one of the bench tools over in his hand. Then put it down too. “He was made from me. Or made of me. It gets harder to explain the more I try. He thought the way I think, but colder. Sharper. Like a mirror, but one that only reflects the worst bits.”

Jo watched him, lips pressed tight. “And you think he’s involved in this?”

“I think someone’s setting the board. Step by step. Detail by detail. They’re thinking like me, but the way I used to. When I was tired. Angry. Done listening.” He finally looked up. “And I think they’ve been watching for a very long time.”

That settled like fog in the room. Benton spoke first, but quietly. “Why not tell us before?”

The Doctor exhaled. “Because if I gave him a name, he might start listening again.”

Jo stepped closer, touched his arm. “I was hard on Rose. Too hard. I was scared too, and I aimed it in the wrong direction.”

He met her eyes. Not judgmental. Just... old. “It’s alright,” he said. “You just wanted things to make sense. That’s all any of us ever want.”

Jo’s lips quirked, just barely. “She’s imprinted on you, you know. More than I ever did.”

The Doctor looked away. Said nothing.

Benton gave a short laugh. “You do have that effect.”

“Apparently,” Jo said, dryly. “Still doesn’t explain why she keeps throwing herself into transdimensional war zones for you.”

“She’s trying to protect me,” the Doctor murmured. “Even when she doesn’t understand what she’s protecting me from.”

The room shifted. No one moved, but something moved around them. The light dimmed by a fraction. A low vibration threaded through the floor — subtle, but undeniable. Like a note you couldn’t hear, only feel.

Jo straightened. “What was that?”

The Doctor didn’t answer.

Benton glanced at the far wall. “That felt—”

“Wrong,” Jo finished. “It felt wrong.”

The Doctor’s jaw had gone tight, sharp with alarm. His eyes snapped toward the far corner where his TARDIS stood, and then he was moving.

The Ninth Doctor’s TARDIS was quiet. Not the usual low thrum she gave off when she was idling happily. No, this was deeper — more like breathing than humming. Like she was listening. Waiting.

The room was bathed in a bronze-and-blue half-light, shadows pooling between the coral struts of the walls. The floor grilles clicked softly underfoot as heat cycled through hidden conduits, carrying stories between the bones of the ship. There was a smell, too; that strange alloy of old metal, warm circuits, and ozone, like a storm just barely restrained.

The central console stood like a machine built by memory more than design — panels mismatched, switches archaic, levers and wires fused together with the desperation of someone who rebuilt their home in a war zone. She looked rough. She looked defiant. She looked loved.

The Third Doctor had removed his velvet coat and folded it with precise hands, laying it over the curved railing like an offering. His shirt sleeves were rolled neatly to the elbow. He was elbow-deep in the innards of the console, crouched at an angle that looked far too elegant for someone ankle-deep in cabling.

He murmured to her as he worked, just a low, affectionate stream of sound. Half-diagnosis, half-reassurance. He tapped the edge of a glowing panel twice with his fingers, and the lights shifted slightly, brighter, warmer. She was responding.

Rose Tyler sat cross-legged on the floor beside a parts box the Third Doctor had carried in. The pieces inside looked like they’d come from dreams that had gone wrong: spindly rods that shimmered like mercury, crystals shot through with veins of copper and something that pulsed like a heartbeat. A few of them buzzed faintly when she touched them, and one had blinked at her. She left that one alone. “She always this temperamental?” she asked, turning a sliver of something that resembled a spine between her fingers.

“Only when she’s feeling neglected,” the Third Doctor replied without looking up. His voice was calm but fond.

Rose gave the console a small pat. The panel was warm under her hand, like sun-baked stone. “She does sulk, doesn’t she?”

The Doctor smiled faintly as he adjusted a pressure valve and peered through a cracked observation lens. “She’s allowed. She’s been through more than most ships ever will.”

Rose glanced around at the burn-scars near the floor vents, the frayed wires, the faint echo of something missing; something that had been torn out and never quite replaced. She gave a small nod.

“Same as the bloke who flies her,” she murmured.

That earned a flicker of a curious glance from the Third Doctor. There was a lull then, not awkward, but something hung there — a ripple in the stillness.

Rose shifted where she sat. Cleared her throat. “I was kind of awful to Jo.”

The Third Doctor didn’t speak right away. He pulled a spanner from his pocket and tightened a joint with a practiced flick of the wrist. The TARDIS gave a satisfied humph.

“I just—got possessive, I guess,” Rose continued. “I’ve seen him through... a lot. And when I saw her, and you... I felt like I was being replaced before I even knew I’d gone.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Didn’t mean it like it came out.”

He looked over at her, eyes sharp but not unkind. “She’s not hurt,” he said. “She’s seen worse. She knows better.”

“I still feel like a cow.”

The Third Doctor chuckled. “Well, perhaps a slightly overzealous cow. But one with good instincts.”

Rose gave him a look. He raised both hands in mock surrender, a twinkle in his eyes.

“It’s not easy,” he added, tone softening, “sharing the Doctor.”

That drew a crooked smile from her, weary but real. “No. S’not.”

He turned back to the console and reached for one of the parts she’d laid aside — a strange crystalline component that seemed to hum just slightly off-key. Rose watched him handle it with unusual caution.

The crystal was copper-veined, roughly shaped, and seemed to vibrate with something that wasn’t quite time energy or maybe was, but badly remembered. It pulsed when he touched it, like it was waking up.

“Drax said this one would keep her from folding in on herself,” he muttered. “Assuming he wasn’t lying, of course.”

Rose snorted. “Big assumption.”

“Oh, very big. But useful parts often come from liars, in my experience.”

He fitted the crystal into a cracked housing slot near the temporal stabiliser. There was a sharp click, and then the entire console let out a soft chime, bright, clear, almost... pleased.

Rose blinked. “She likes you.”

“She always did have good taste,” he said, stepping back and brushing dust off his sleeves. He glanced down at her again. “Besides, I suspect she rather enjoys being spoiled again.”

Rose laughed. “He’s always fixing her in a panic. Like she’s a burning car about to fall off a cliff.”

“Yes, well,” the Doctor said with a small smirk, “that is one method of TARDIS maintenance. Not one I recommend.”

They grinned at each other.

But under it, under the laughter, under the tools and the warm lights and the shared fondness, something else stirred. Not fear, not yet, but that feeling you get when you’ve almost forgotten something important. Something waiting just behind your next thought.

The TARDIS shifted, just slightly. A pulse in the deck plates. The lights flickered once.

The Doctor frowned.

And then the light changed.

Now, the Ninth Doctor heard the sound. It was almost the engine sound of a TARDIS startup, but something was deeply wrong. This was deeper. Lower. Out of phase. A slow, grinding heave of reality, running jagged across his senses.

He was across the lab in seconds, scattering tables in his path, kicking over a tower of calibrated isoscopes, ignoring Benton’s startled shout behind him. His boots hammered against the concrete, coat flaring behind him as he barreled unheedingly across the lab.

“No—nonono—WAIT!”

His TARDIS stood there — humming, shimmering around the edges like it was already halfway gone.

The doors snapped shut just as he reached her. He slapped his palm against the door. It didn’t budge. “C’mon, please, don’t start now—” He yanked the sonic from his pocket, flicked it to emergency bypass. Tried the primary lockout. Then secondary. Then internal systems handshake.

Nothing.

“No override?” he breathed. “No handshake?” The TARDIS was ignoring him.

That was impossible. She’d locked him out. “Come on,” he hissed, stabbing the sonic against the key slot, flicking up the resonance to burn through local shielding. “Don’t do this—don’t you dare—”

The engines wailed. Not in the usual way.  She was... running?!

The Ninth Doctor pressed his forehead to the wood, hands spread against the doorframe. He felt her under his palms; warm, electric, familiar. And leaving.

“STOP!”

The wind kicked up as she phased fully into the vortex. Her outline blurred into blue light, then static, then nothing at all.

He was alone. Staring at an empty patch of concrete.

His arms dropped to his sides. The sonic still hummed faintly in his grip and he crushed the emitter shut with one flick.

Behind him, Benton skidded to a stop.

“Doctor? What the hell was that?!”

The Ninth Doctor didn’t turn around. He stared at the empty floor. His breath came short. The sonic dropped from his hand and clattered against the ground.

His legs gave out and he collapsed to his knees with a kind of finality, like something in him had buckled.

He pressed both hands flat to the concrete, the exact place where the TARDIS had stood. His head bowed, his shoulders hunched forward, and for a moment he simply stayed there — silent. Like he was listening for a heartbeat that had vanished.

“She wouldn't stop,” he said. He looked up at them, his eyes haunted. "They're gone."

Inside, the central column began to rise and fall in that steady rhythm Rose had grown used to. The problem being, they weren' supposed to be going anywhere.

Rose frowned. The lights had shifted, turned a shade too blue, too sharp. The hum in the walls had deepened, grown teeth. Then came the sound, a low, resonant churn, like metal remembering how to scream.

Rose shot to her feet. “What the hell’s going on? Why are we taking off?”

The Third Doctor was already at the console, coat off, hands flying over the switches. His face was set, sharp with alarm. “That wasn’t me,” he snapped. “I didn’t touch the controls.”

The rotor climbed again, faster now. The inner mechanisms shimmered with pulses of distorted light. On the monitors, data scrolled too fast to follow, coordinates she didn’t, symbols that that were that weird circle writing that the Doctor said was his language, but not anything she’d seen before.

Then the alarms began to go off. Sharp, discordant tones that echoed from the overhead speaker, two, then four, then all of them at once. Red warning glyphs flared across the console’s readouts.

“Someone’s overriding her,” the Doctor muttered, adjusting a dial, flipping three toggles in quick succession. “But from where? From when?”

The lights flickered. The room lurched, a jagged, twisting yank, like something had hooked the TARDIS by the spine and was dragging it sideways through time.

He reached under the console and yanked open a maintenance hatch, plunging his arm into the wiring. Sparks flew. The rotor responded, hesitated, glitched, then pulsed faster.

The Doctor hissed through his teeth. “Come on, come on, let go—!”

Rose gripped the railing tight as the floor dipped beneath her, stomach turning. “Can you stop it?”

“I’ve tried!” he barked, flicking the sonic override, spinning the directional controls manually, even going so far as to slap the dematerialisation circuit casing with the heel of his hand. “It’s locked me out three times already. Every countermeasure just gets folded back in. It’s recursive. Intelligent.”

“You mean it’s alive?”

“I mean it’s planning! Something else is in control now!”

The rotor screamed now, a high-pitched whine threading through the room. Sparks spat from the ceiling. One of the panels cracked with a snap. The walls trembled, and the air was starting to thicken, charged with raw time energy. The Doctor stepped back from the console, breath caught in his throat.

Rose looked at him. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at the column , the pulsing green light casting deep lines across his face, and for the first time, she saw fear.

“I have no idea,” he said, quietly.

Chapter Text

The Ninth Doctor didn’t wait for permission. He shoved open the doors to UNIT HQ’s garage with a snarl on his lips and a fire in his chest.

Behind him, Jo kept pace, high-heeled boots clicking, while Sergeant Benton trotted to keep up. Benton had that look, half duty, half what-the-hell-are-we-doing-now, which made him the sanest person in the room.

"Doctor!" the Brigadier barked from the corridor. "You can’t just—"

"There's been a raid under your damn nose," the Ninth cut in, marching straight to the Third Doctor’s TARDIS, stoic and clean blue in the gloom. "TARDIS hijacked. Doctor missing. One of your own."

"You’re being hysterical," the Brigadier snapped. "We’ve got twenty nations breathing down our necks and half the sky listening. I need every—"

"You need to shut up," the Ninth said, spinning on his heel. "This is a galaxy-level threat. You want to argue? Great. When the sky turns inside out, I’ll let you pick the colour of the funeral bunting."

Jo had already unlocked the doors. The Doctor nodded, swept inside. The console room gleamed like bone under white light, cleaner than any TARDIS had a right to be. The roundels hummed quietly, like they knew something was wrong and weren’t allowed to say.

Benton stepped in after them and muttered, “Feels like a museum.”

“Feels like a warning,” the Doctor replied.

He spun a few knobs, let his hands fall into rhythm. The central column rose, caught light, and fell again.

Destination: Krantos. The Doctor frowned; the place where he first hit this mess with Rose. Bessie. The first attempted kidnapping. This couldn't just be a coincidence.

The TARDIS shuddered at materialization—shuddered hard, unfamiliar alarms shredding the calm. When they finally landed and emerged, they were outside a large, opaque, glassy dome.

"We’re outside the target coordinates," the Doctor said, frowning. "Should’ve landed inside."

Jo peered at the scanner. The dome loomed in icy curves of reinforced shimmering glassine, nestled in cracked desert. Beyond it, nothing but ruin.

"Could be interference," she offered.

"Interference? That's one way to put it. This is top of the line chrono shielding." The Doctor shut the door to the TARDIS, cracked his neck. "They know we're coming."

Outside, the air smelled of static and scorched time. The sand shifted in loops that didn’t match the wind. Benton had pulled his sidearm and wielded it like it might help. Bullets often didn't, but it helped him feel a bit better. The Doctor glanced at him and snorted, but didn't comment.

They made their way around the curvature of the dome. The structure was old but functional - pulsing slightly. Breathing. It remembered being alive. They came to a set of main doors: hexagonal, black-veined, unnaturally smooth.

Two guards stood flanking the entrance. Their uniforms were pearl-white with geometric patterns that slid across their sleeves like fluid. Their eyes didn’t blink. Their hands didn’t move. As the trio approached, one of the guards looked up.

“You are expected,” it said.

The Doctor stopped dead. Jo took half a step forward, then faltered.

"Expected?" the Doctor asked. “That’s new. Not ‘Who are you?’ or ‘Drop your weapons’ or ‘Time Lord intrusion detected’? Just… expected? Suppose I shouldn't be surprised.”

The other guard tilted its head, like a dog learning sarcasm. "Your arrival aligns precisely with Schedule 9."

The Doctor blinked. Then grinned. "Schedule 9? Really? And I thought I was dramatic."

He stepped forward. “Alright, then. Let’s not keep the ominous host waiting.”

They were led through corridors that didn’t connect. Every hallway curved inward. Every door opened into a room that seemed just slightly older than the one before it.

"No sign of power cables," Benton muttered. "No junction panels."

"Because this place isn’t built for humans," Jo said.

"No," the Doctor replied, softly. "It’s built for something far different - holding TARDISes. And worse, if I'm any judge."

At the end of one long corridor, the guards stopped.

The Doctor looked at the door. It was plain. Circular. Seamless.

It dilated open.

He turned, said quietly to Benton and Jo, “Stay behind me. If I stop moving, run like hell.” Then he walked inside, and came to a halt.

The room was dark; low ceiling, metal walls with no seams, lit from somewhere that didn’t exist. A table. A single chair.

And sitting in it... Well. That was him.

But older in a way the body wasn’t meant to be. Shaved head. Broad-shouldered, like he’d dragged his way through a thousand wars without armor. Veins like wire ran along his forearms. The kind of face that looked carved instead of born. Quiet rage built into every line.

The eyes were the worst part. Just… done. Like the fury never left, it just got cold.

He looked up. Smiled without warmth. “Hello, Doctor,” he said. “Took you long enough. Not exactly the one I was expecting, but you'll do just fine.”

The Doctor didn’t answer. He stared at the twin founder paintings on the wall behind, one charred and blackened, one cracked like old porcelain, and the third still shifting, still unreadable. Rassilon. Omega. The Other.

He let out a slow breath through his nose. Of course.

Of course it was him.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said quietly.

The Valeyard smiled wider but there was nothing friendly in it. “That’s the spirit.”