Chapter Text
The Shadow Proclamation had made it clear that he should not be here. Actually, it was clearly outlined in a few of their rule books and articles and whatever else it is they had to keep people in line, it was clearly stated that nobody should be at this specific place on this specific day. But the Doctor had never been one for following rules or laws or any type of guideline. He found it useful to abide by the Shadow Proclamations rules at times, especially when those times were in his favor, but he never particularly cared to truly and faithfully put in the work for it.
So that’s why he decided to be here. He doesn’t have anyone distracting him–not that he thought his companions were distractions in a bad way, he loved that they took his mind off of things like major events he’d explicitly been told he’s not allowed to be there for. But he’d been far too curious for far too long and now that he’s lost them all in devastating ways he most surely should not be thinking about, he had all the time in the world. Well, universe. Currently, this one is a desolate wasteland that pains him to think about.
Earth. 2021. Technically, two years late to the actual date set, but close enough.
The scenery was painfully familiar to him. Destroyed buildings, ash and soot and smoke covering him and getting into his lungs, sticking to him like they’re parasites and he’s the host. He shoved back the memory and pulled out the bandana he saved from traveling with Martha that he had forgotten to give back to the owner. He never thought it would have much of a use other than remind him of bittersweet memories.
The Doctor tied the bandana around the bottom half of his face and set off to inspect the dreary remains of the Earth. So many people he knew… all officially dead. Guilt claws at him. How many of his friends here had seen the end of the world coming and he’d done nothing to stop it because of a rule he was dumb enough to follow? The only rule he even bothered to follow, that was set up by a giant corporation that didn’t care for anything but order in the universe.
He whipped out his sonic screwdriver and fiddled with the controls of it and scanned the area to distract himself. He always thought too much. If only he had someone to talk to, he wouldn’t have to think. He could just yammer on and on about nothing and everything and neither him nor his companion would bat an eye.
When he brought the screwdriver up to his ear after scanning the environment, it came back with little information on what caused this. Strangely comforting. Very little radiation was in the air, so that means the humans weren’t so depraved to end the world in nuclear war. That was about it for what he could learn at the moment, unfortunately. He’d just have to do a little bit more digging the old fashioned way before he could figure out how to circumvent the Shadow Proclamation and return the Earth into a much better state than it is now.
* * *
He had only been there for maybe 10 minutes, which felt like an hour with his impatience, before he could sense another presence. He was startled by it. Everyone should be dead. Everyone is dead, considering the amount of rotting and disintegrating bodies he had walked past. He had tried not to count all the ones he saw, but habit showed that he couldn’t bear not to do that. 247 bodies until he felt the presence of someone who is alive. Not only that, but his senses were picking up a distinct distortion with them that just didn’t feel right.
And then he realized another thing. This person was watching him.
He turned slowly, having little doubt in his mind that any sudden movements would scare them. Trapped in a wasteland like this as the only survivor for about two years would put anyone on edge. He just hadn’t expected them to be aiming a rifle at him. He also hadn’t expected them to be so small. Then again, there probably isn’t a lot of food, but still. They were small. Probably a child.
“Urm… Hello?” He called out, as friendly as he could. He kept his tone from being too chipper as it usually was. The last thing this person needs is some random person popping up and acting as if nothing is wrong.
The figure did not respond. The Doctor tried to take a step forward, but they fired a warning shot at him. Rude. Fair, but rude. It was only natural that a human might respond like that to this type of situation.
“Look, I won’t try and harm you. See? Completely unarmed,” he raised his arms in the universal sign of surrender and tried to show with his eyes he meant no harm. It’s incredibly difficult to communicate when half your face is covered with fabric to protect yourself, but maybe this person is forgiving?
Apparently not. They stepped forward, they’re grip on the rifle tight, and the Doctor could clearly see a cold look in their eyes. It’s to be expected, obviously, but it’s still concerning. He’s surprised when they speak, and absolutely pained at the sound of a strained and very young sounding voice coming from them.
“H-how did you get here?” His voice cracked and sounded rough, most likely from inhaling ash and smoke, along with a probability for dehydration. The Doctor can’t imagine the boy would be able to find much, and what he did find was probably all rationed out. No child should have to live through this.
“Bit of a complicated thing and you probably wouldn’t believe me anyways,” he hopes that he doesn’t sound too dismissive. He has the strong urge to rush up and drag the kid with him and tell him that everything will be okay, but that wouldn’t be very well received and those instincts should be long-gone. “But, I could get you out of here, same way I came. How did you survive the event?”
He can’t tell if the lack of response he received was hesitation or just the kid processing having a real conversation. “I was–I got here after.”
Interesting. Maybe the boy hadn’t been here for the full two years. And that just begs the question of how he had gotten here if it wasn’t during whatever it was that caused the apocalypse in the first place.
“Well, I guess that’s… my offer is real. You can put the gun down, I can save you. Help.”
He could hear the boy scoff in disbelief. He would, too, if the roles were reversed. The last thing he wants is the kid to continue living in this wasteland or die. Whichever is worse from his point-of-view. Considering he’s lived for so long, he most likely doesn’t want to die.
The Doctor sighed and put and pulled the bandana down and smiled as best he could to provide the child with some comfort. “I’m telling the truth. My machine travels through space. That’s how I ended up here.”
The kid lowered the rifle a little. He considered that a win. While he doesn’t think the boy will trust him at all, at least he’s earned himself a few points.
“I don’t need help. Unless you can time travel, or have the equation to do it, you’re useless.”
His words were harsh and biting, which wasn’t too surprising, and neither is what he said. But the way he said it made the Doctor think that the kid has to know at least a little bit about time travel. Or had somehow gotten his hands on a device that allowed him to do so and that’s how he ended up here. Maybe a vortex manipulator?
“And if my machine was able to travel in time? Would you let me help?”
The boy seemed to consider it briefly. He’s probably doubtful of the validity of the statement, but it also looked like he’s about ready to accept any help he can if it means escaping this place. He lowered the rifle completely, keeping his grip tight just in case, but nodded and held up his hand to tell the Doctor to wait as he turned to go and retrieve something.
The alien waited patiently, briefly wondering about what the boy could possibly want to save from this place, but if he was living here for long, he probably found a few things that were worth his time and energy to keep himself sane. He replaced the bandana on his face; though he could probably survive longer without it on, it probably would not be the best idea to stay exposed if he could help it.
When the kid returned, he had a small pack across his back and was carrying a mannequin in his arms. The Doctor would ask, but he can’t blame him for getting attached to a non-sentient thing in order to keep himself in check. The Doctor turns and leads his new acquaintance back to the TARDIS. He can’t help wondering why the Shadow Proclamation would want to keep him from coming here. He reasoned with himself that they probably didn’t know that someone was trapped and trying to survive off of so little, but if they really hadn’t, why would they care if someone came?
* * *
It was a short walk to the blue police box, and the Doctor could almost feel the doubt radiating off of the kid. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other, mostly out of courtesy for the fact that there are no real words that can be said to help this situation. He took out his key and unlocked it, gesturing the kid in and taking off his own bandana.
“This is the TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space,” he grinned a little, focusing on the reaction he loves to get. To his disappointment, the boy doesn’t actually give much reaction, but his eyes do widen in wonder. A good sign that maybe he can be saved in more ways than just one.
“It’s… smaller on the outside,” he noted, and the Time Lord could hear an obvious attempt to keep his voice from showing too much wonder. He scoffed–the little deviant is trying to be different. It’s kind of nice, though.
“Yes, it is! Well, I’ll bore you with all the details you want to know later, but first, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He gestured to the kid to follow him and took him through the winding halls of the TARDIS until they reached a guest bedroom. He showed him how the showers work and where the clothes are and anything else he’d need for the moment. The boy was hesitant, of course. Stranger danger and all that, but also the only stranger he could really trust at the moment.
“Yell if you need me,” the Doctor smiled kindly and just as he reached the door, he paused. “Oh! Names, silly me. I’m the Doctor.”
The teenager doesn’t react to it, he probably just didn’t care that it wasn’t normal. He does seem to relax a little bit now that he can put a name to the face of the adult that is pretty much kidnapping him until he proves to actually be helpful.
“I’m Five. Hargreeves.”
“Wonderful to meet you, Five Hargreeves,” the Doctor closed the door gently and walked off to the console room, leaving the boy with as odd of a name as his own to wash up.