Space Dementia
Summary: The north wind blows, and as a full pale moon shines through the clouds, a low howl answers... What if after the encounter with the Scottish werewolf, the Doctor had been the one on the receiving end of its bite instead of Queen Victoria? Will he ever find a cure, and how will Rose cope with his abnormal secrecy as he tries to protect their weakened relationship? After all, time waits for no man, not even the Doctor himself…
Follows up ¾ through Tooth and Claw. Wikiquote was handy here, 2006 was a long time ago… XD
Hope you enjoy, I haven't written an AU in a loooong time…
And yes, all chapter titles will be Muse songs- idk, the songs seem to fit the WhoVerse so well, it's kinda scary! ;D Or maybe that's just my weird mind at work again…
Chapter 1- Intermission
They were running, running like headless chickens in this godforsaken place, as the furry, snarling nightmare bounded after them. This was one of the few moments when the Doctor would actually concede his fear. His hearts beat a violent tattoo against his ribcage, whole body thundering with the brilliant rush of adrenaline.
And it was gaining on them, wickedly sharp claws gouging the wooden floors as its weight traversed the corridor in mere leaps –not even an effort for the creature despite its panting grunts, raised to fever pitch.
Well, they were past the stairs now, at least. That only gave the beastie (the snarling, about to rip the-flesh-off-his-very-body beastie, not the equally terrified girl in front of him) the upper hand, sharp senses homing in on the three fleeing figures.
Specifically his fleeing figure.
The Doctor, oh, he hadn't a clue. He could practically feel the beast's growling breaths on the back of his neck, and then, oh, it launched itself in a single spring towards the coop-
His nerves fired with pain, synapses sparking as the feeling congealed in his arm, spreading outwards in throbbing pulses. The terribly beautiful man-wolf had just claimed him as its next victim, cutting a bloody swath in his forearm. Its entire essence surrounded him as the thing struck him down, bowed over his body, huge in comparison, maw gaping and bent to his throat—
"No!"
A single gun-shot, and the beast was pulled off of him by some invisible force, clutching its side and careening backwards into the wall. The Doctor felt some iota of sympathy, hearing its pained grunts, but that was soon overtaken by the numb feeling in his upper wrist-
Wait a minute. His wrist? But the werewolf had injured his-
Oh.
This was good. Extremely very not good. His entire being shivered with the sense of something very wrong, something very alien having entered his system. Conforming it.
He stared dazedly at the whimpering mass of fur, horrible realization dawning. If that thing bit him…
"Ohmygod…Doctor, Doctor, are you alright? 'K, stupid question…God, please not this…" Rose's hand, damp with the sweat of pure fear, gripped him steadily.
Had a Time Lord ever been infected with the strain of werewolf syndrome before?
"Doctor…?"
Oh…Rassilon. He really didn't know what to do this time.
Right. Back to reality. Rose, Queen Victoria, British monarchy in danger, snarling menace.
"Yeah –I'm fine, fine. Nothing the tissue rejuvenator can't fix…" Still the Doctor hissed, cradling his injured arm.
As he hurried forward into the immense library, screams and snarls and ripping flesh echoed behind him, the Wolf still not satiated.
He lied through his teeth, stating would-bes and possibilities, but inside he was quaking. Agony seared through his arm as he struggled turning the ancient telescope-light chamber wheel, all the while hissing that he was fine. Just as he always did.
"Doctor-"
"Just…keep…turning." He grunted each word out, muscles protesting at the work he demanded.
Fear powered their every motion now. He couldn't risk anyone else being lost to the same fate.
He squinted at the rising column of the chamber, willing it to focus. Just a little bit more…
Rose's scared eyes flicked to his as the death scream of Robert forced itself into the Observatory. He tried not to imagine them filled with an even greater fear as the werewolf towered over her, easily able to tear through skin and bone like a succulent Sunday roast—
Not that, you idiot! Focus on the positive!
Yes –of course. Don't die, that was his motto. Protect Rose, otherwise Jackie would flay him alive, wring his guts out before his eyes, then roast them—
"But what if this thing doesn't work?" Rose's voice was strained, coloured with desperation, eyes flicking back to the trembling monarch.
"It doesn't work, it's not a telescope, it's a light chamber. It magnifies the light like a weapon- we've just gotta power it up."
"With what –there's no electricity!"
Humans, was all he could think about with that remark. After all, why were they straining and panting to move this huge thing?
Then the penny dropped. She glanced at the first hazy rays of the lunar globe, and it clicked.
"Moonlight. It doesn't need moonlight, it's made by moonlight."
Change of tactic. "You're 70% water, but you could still drown." Another tug. "Now come on!"
Light began to align with glass, starting the dusty beginnings of a beam. But his hope was quashed by the angry tumult the wolf unleashed on the door.
"Come on!" He urged, mostly to himself rather than to Rose.
And then: finally. He could breath, watching with some trepidation as the light chamber did its magic, a narrow pool of brilliant light on the floor.
Now they just needed the last part of the equation. But his senses tingled, his Time Lord-ness on red alert; the moon looked…warm and inviting. His skin tightened for a few brief moments, making him wince.
Then: cracking, splintering wood, as the beast made its entrance. It spotted its ultimate target- the one that would lead to the Empire of the Wolf- and growled in triumph.
The Doctor, meanwhile, sprang into action, launching himself forward onto the floor; landing on his bad arm and sending the precious diamond skidding very nearly off-course. But the room glowed bright as the trap was set- the wolf captured by the very stimulus that began it.
How ironic.
Make it brighter. Let me go.
Gladly, but with a tinge of some odd remorse, he obliged, the wolf-man scattering into a blue haze of light-dust, naught but atoms in the air. The howl that reverberated about spoke volumes –its pain, its anger at being usurped. The resonance shook the Doctor to his core.
It was something he never forgot.
There was Victoria, fiddling confusedly with her wrist. He approached warily, recalling her fiery outburst last time he'd alarmed her and severed their fledgling trust.
"…Your Majesty?" A passing glance to Rose, to which she just returned a worried smile.
She knows.
"Did it bite you?"
Oh no. Please not this. After everything…after it…after him and it…not her…
"No, it's…it's a cut, that's all." Her hesitation confirmed his theory.
Still, he prodded.
"If that thing bit you…" If that thing had bit him…
"It was a splinter of wood when the door came apart, it's nothing." Okay, now he didn't like her dismissive tone. Monarchs weren't exactly known for disclosing personal information…except maybe the Emperor of Minus 13, now there was a nice bloke…
His curiosity urged forward. Interesting how he received his blow on the wrist, and she may have too…
"Let me see..?"
An insulting slap brushed the proffered hand away, which he withdrew guiltily.
"It is nothing."
Later, after knighting and banishment –the latter he certainly did not see coming, and wondered what repercussions it would have on his future timeline- the Doctor began to feel ill. He didn't speak a great deal on the hay-strewn wagon back to the TARDIS, mulling over the day's events, his thoughts chasing their ragged tails.
Okay, so the passing of the wolf line happened, but, like with the haemophilia, maybe it was meant to be? Even an event in flux…he and Rose deduced it certainly explained some things about the Royal Family…
"Oh my god: they're werewolves!"
He managed a faux-howl before breaking into a series of coughs, bracing himself on the console and almost forgetting his injured arm.
"Your –Doctor!" She reached out to steady him, wincing at the dried and congealed ichor encrusting his suit arm. He looked at it and blanched himself.
"Well…you know what they say, it's worse than it looks-" He broke off at another gut movement, stomach roiling.
She didn't respond.
"Oh…right. I'll just go and…" He could feel his gorge rising, skin heating as a tremulous current began to rage underneath, "just –go and- medical bay…" He paled, suddenly dashing out of the room, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to reach the nearest receptacle.
Rose just watched on in bewilderment. Something wasn't right, not at all.
And she was convinced it had something to do with the werewolf…what else?