With a painful wheezing groan, a blue box materialized out of nothing into a seemingly endless sea of red grass. The silence that followed the appearance of the strange structure would have been eerie, had anyone been around to hear it. As it was, the box stood alone for miles and miles, and only the gently nodding stalks acknowledged its sudden manifestation.
The door to the box was thrown open with frustration, in sharp contrast to the still and peaceful silence of the infinite field. A figure emerged and stood surveying his surroundings. He squinted pale blue eyes in the brightness. The sun shone gently on his auburn curls and refracted brilliantly across the surface of the citadel dome several miles away.
After a moment of contemplation, the Doctor hung his head and sighed gustily though his nose. He turned to look at the blue police box sitting behind him, and stoking the doorjamb, addressed it with the familiarity of a close friend.
"Tricky girl," he said, "I guess those repairs can't be put off any longer." A small crash resounded from within and echoed out at him from the open door.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you," he reprimanded "you've put me in a most uncomfortable situation…again. But I guess I can't have you crashing out of the vortex when I least expect it. I just wish you had warned me before dropping me off at home. Do you know how many people are going to demand my time? And all for useless, trivial matters of state or attempts at presidential nomination. it's ridiculous really."
The silence that followed convinced the Doctor that his TARDIS didn't care.
"Oh alright," he conceded, "let's get this over with as quickly as possible." The Doctor ducked inside still chattering to his silent companion,
"I guess it was polite of you to break the news to me outside of the citadel instead of in Romana's private quarters or some such nonsense."
As soon as the door shut behind him, the awful wheezing began again and the field was left as it had been. The only addition was a compressed patch of red grass just a few feet in diameter.
Any attempt at concealing his arrival in the citadel would have been impossible. No one else's TARDIS had quite so characteristic a shape or needed such tedious labor. The Doctor was caught between amusement and insult at the terrified look in the technician's eyes when the Doctor made his request for service. He further tortured the poor technician by refusing to leave, hovering concernedly over everything he did. The Doctor hated the idea of anyone else tinkering with his precious machine, but after several hundred years on his own in deep space, there were one or two things he simply could not repair without specialized equipment. After chastising the mechanic enough to make the poor man's hands to shake, the senior technician approached the Doctor and finally asked him to leave. The Doctor bit his tongue and settled for exploring the rest of the hanger, unwilling to stray too far from his TARDIS.
News of his arrival spread fast and, much to the Doctor's dismay, a directive was delivered to him in the supply room he had been investigating in the service hanger. Seeing as how even the supply rooms were bigger on the inside, he had found quite a few interesting tidbits that he thought no one miss. He was again surprised at this regenerations fondness for taking things that didn't belong to him even as he was putting them in his pockets.
He almost dropped the ancient ball-peen hammer he was stealing when a young aid in junior senatorial robes entered the closet and nervously cleared his throat.
"Doctor," he began, his eyes taking in the dusty closet interior and the man in a green velvet coat who had frozen, caught in the act, holding the antique metal working tool mid-movement.
"I have a summons from Lady President Romanadvoratrelundar. She asks that you report to her main office in half a span, to account your recent activities."
The Doctor closed his eyes briefly,
"Not even the pretense of a social call?" he asked. The aid looked uncomfortable and pursed his lips. The Doctor, replacing the hammer with a pang of pack rat regret, clapped the aid on the back and led him out of the closet.
"Thank you, young man," he said as the aid moved stiffly under his guiding hand, "you are an excellent and efficient barer of bad news.
Romana sat at her impressive presidential desk in her impressive presidential office, wearing her impressive presidential robes, and the Doctor was quite bored by it all. He loved Romana dearly, but she had always been a bit too stuffy. Now, with the responsibilities of her position, the stuffiness factor had been set to maximum. All that tiresome accountability was one of the reasons he had run from the presidential office. Well that, and he just liked running.
The Lady President smiled brilliantly at him from the business side of her great desk. Her blonde hair shone under the illumination meant to highlight the Shield of Rassilion that hung on the wall behind her.
"Hello Doctor," she said cheerily, "I was hoping you would return home soon, so I could chastise you for all your recent meddling."
The Doctor smiled back reveling a dazzling row of teeth and two deep laugh lines that resembled parentheses on either side of his mouth.
"My dear Romana, most of my meddling is entirely necessary and all of it is done with the best interests of the universe in mind. Besides you have never been able to stop me, why try now?"
Romana's smile faltered for a mere moment.
"Cheeky, this regeneration, you know you often remind me of the first doctor to sport those curls." The Doctor continued to smile as Romana looked for a way to continue to the matter at hand. Her eyes moved away from his nervously and she shuffled several stacks of paper on her desk, attempting to look busy. The Doctor felt his hearts kick up their beats when he realized that Romana was anxious, uncomfortable even.
"Small talk aside," he said, suddenly serious, and leaned across the desk towards her, "what is this about? You didn't really just call me to reminisce. This is official business," he paused until she made eye contact again, "and you're scared."
"Doctor, I'm sure you know…I'm sure that you've felt…"
The Doctor's hearts ramped up their pounding another few notches and he swallowed hard, but waited for Romana to say the words.
"Something terrible is coming."
Romana waited for a response. She wanting the Doctor to take the lead just as she always did, she realized with more than a little self-disgust.
"Yes" he said quietly after a long moment, and raised his fingers to his lips. His eyes no longer appeared to see what was in front of him.
"I've come to that same conclusion. What do you and the rest of the council plan to do about it?"
"We are…taking precautions, but until the cause of the temporal disturbance is uncovered, we can do only so much. I suppose I called you here to…well I was wondering if…" the Doctor's eyes suddenly snapped back into focus, finding hers in an instant and the intensity in their pale depths caught Romana's breath in her throat for just a moment, but only just.
"Will you help us Doctor?" she continued. "I don't think there is anyone I would feel more comfortable with handling this situation as it currently stands-" she wasn't given the chance to finish.
"No," he stated firmly and stood from his chair, as if to distance himself from the very idea. He began pacing in front of Romana's desk, arms gesticulating as he spoke.
"You know how I feel about these things. I abhor government involvement and I will not be party to any arms development in an attempt to defend ourselves from the unknown."
"Even if it could save your own people?" Romana asked quietly. He stopped moving and turned to look at her.
"No. Not yet, not until we know what we are dealing with."
"If you would let me finish, Doctor," she reprimanded, attempting to take back the control of the room, "I am not asking you to build a doomsday machine for the Time Lords, only to assist in the temporal research; to discover the root of all of this. Interesting though, that this frantic outburst about military escalation should be your automatic response. It makes me wonder what you already suspect about the circumstances."
The Doctor sank back into his chair and wrapped his arms around himself absently. His eyes betrayed a flash of shame that was quickly replaced with new resolve.
"I suppose" he began, suddenly much more gently, "I could put my time on Gallifrey to good use." When Romana began to respond, relieved, the Doctor raised a hand to cut her off,
"Only with the solemn promise that you will not employ any of my research for military use, and that you don't happen to have any 'doomsday projects', as you put it, currently underway."
Romana smiled and swore, and hoped the Doctor could not tell she was sweating. She thought of the silly custom of earth children who cross their fingers behind their backs when making a false oath. As if a silly physical gesture could somehow nullify something as important as a promise to an old friend.
As the Doctor left her office, she crossed her fingers behind her back, just to feel a little better.
The Doctor supposed his time on Gallifrey was being put to good use. He hated every minute of it, but he guessed it was good nonetheless. He slaved away under the watchful eyes of the council and their top ranking scientists and time agents. He would return to his TARDIS at night, flagrantly ignoring the quarters provided to him by Romana herself, collapse in his reading chair, fire off an insulting comment about how this was entirely the old bucket's fault, and fall asleep with an H. G. Wells novel still resting on his knee.
He often dreamt about his old companions. He missed them all terribly, even in his dreams, which was disconcerting. Not quite as disconcerting, though, as the darkness that hovered just out of reach of his conscious mind. During the day he could almost forget the menace. He could look at it clinically as a problem that needed to be solved, or a riddle that needed to be decoded. In sleep, however, logic departed and he was left only with an intense dread and an even more unfamiliar fear for his own mortality. Something giant and universe shaking was coming on fast, that much was undeniable.
He would awaken and try desperately to clear the clinging cobweb-like feelings from his mind before returning to the grind of his temporary position. The only thing he looked forward to now was spending time with his new assistant.
Young Time Lords often reminded him of human beings. They were full of untapped potential and unbridled emotion. Unlike humans however, the power of change was much more encapsulated within them. Where one Time Lord could grow and transform over the centuries, attaining enlightenment or pure unchecked evil, it would take humans multiple generations and the laying of foundations on which others would have to build to make the same sort of progress. Both were beautiful, but it often tickled the Doctor's sense of irony that Time Lords were so much more linear in that respect.
Orpolonyworsamtheran, or Sam as he preferred to be called, was just that; a young Time Lord in his first regeneration, and not very far into it by any means. He had all the optimism of youth, straight out of the academy, and totally in awe of Doctor. When they had first been introduced, Sam had barely been able to raise his large, dark eyes to the Doctor at all, preferring to speak to the floor or possibly his shoes, with deliberate concentration. This method of communication posed a problem the first time he bumped into one of the laboratory tables sending a very important piece of timey-wimey equipment crashing to the floor in an explosion of expensive little fragments. The boy just stood very still and turned an alarming shade of purplish-red. Only when the Doctor let out a bark of unintentional laughter did he return to his normal shade and the threat of an early regeneration was narrowly avoided. Then he raised his eyes to the Doctor for the first time, and when he saw the angular face was softened with a wide smile, he smiled back.
Working with Sam put into sharp focus how much the Doctor missed having a companion. It was good to have someone to talk to and, he thought secretly, someone to look up to him. He found Sam to be exceptionally bright, which the Doctor admired, but his unassertive nature had led him to find a place for himself in the science labs where he could be left alone to do his job in peace. Imagine his shock when Sam, who had always tried to divert any and all attention away from himself, received orders to assist the legendary Doctor in his empirical pursuits. He knew he had been given the job because no one else had wanted it, and although sitting in a quite lab listening to the man mumble and hum to himself wasn't the most glamorous job for a young scientist, Sam found he could think of nothing else he would rather be doing.
Sam liked watching the Doctor. He seemed to have a million thoughts and plans all swirling uncontrollably inside his head at any one moment. Sam was smart, but the Doctor seemed to be operating on an entirely different level. His only hope was to observe and occasionally hand him things.
The Doctor barely ever addressed Sam except when it was unexpected. Sam would be sent leaping into the air as his name was suddenly shouted several times, as the Doctor made some sort of discovery that required his attention. There was never any discomfort in this strange relationship, however. The Doctor liked having him there, Sam could tell, he was just busy. They barely had any conversations at all until one seemingly boring day. The Doctor had sat pondering a few ancient texts and had taken some readings on vortex activity, when suddenly, he stood up as quickly as if someone had set a bomb off under his chair.
"Useless!" he cried with a look of incredulity playing across his aristocratic face. He snorted and placed a hand on his forehead and turned to look at Sam. Sam had frozen, speechless.
"Sam, Sam, Sam," he said taking a step towards the uncertain youngster, "don't you see? They are building a weapon…somewhere. I should have guessed sooner."
"Excuse me?" asked Sam, brown eyes wide and mouth open just a bit.
"It's so simple. Romana was going to ask to me to assist in a military operation, but she changed her tactics when I refused before she could actually pose the question! All these useless readings, and only allowing me access to historical records. There is nothing dangerous or even remotely important here. I think they thought they could play it off as not wanting me sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, but this is too much. They must have at least a few people smart enough to have already collected this information. They wouldn't waste my expertise on so much useless malarkey. I don't like it. Something's going on here and they want to keep me away from it."
"I'm sorry?" asked Sam, still not entirely sure what had just happened.
"You should be," the doctor responded, choosing not to acknowledge the shocked look on his assistant's face, "because it's not fair." The Doctor smiled mischievously.
"You think the council is withholding military information from you?" Sam questioned hesitantly. When the Doctor nodded ardently, Sam continued tentatively,
"I'm not sure it's my place to question you, Doctor, but isn't that what government is suppose to do? They don't just spill their secrets to the general public."
"I'm not the general public, Sam, and Romana told me specifically that there were no experimental weapons in production at this time. She lied to me." At this, his eyes went wide and he shook his head gently.
"This is total conjecture, if you don't mind me saying; you have no proof of any of these allegations."
"No proof yet, Sam," there was a gleam in his eyes that Sam wasn't sure he felt good about.
"I have decided that you shall assist me in a new project, we are going to find the proof." The Doctor beamed, and Sam suddenly felt sick.
Although Sam had always admired less confirmative members of Time Lord society, he had never really been a very brave or daring person himself. That was part of the reason he was so content to run tests in some forgotten lab, left alone to dream about adventures he would never have, interrupted only by the occasional need to press a button or two. Never had he dreamed of standing in the shadows outside a security-enforced wing of the experimental research facility waiting for the perfect moment.
It had started innocently enough. After the Doctor had decided the entire council was involved in some sort of conspiracy, he had dashed about for a few minutes before excusing himself saying he needed a few things from his TARDIS. He told a flustered Sam that he would meet him back in the lab in a span or two. Sam had not even had the time to respond before the Doctor was gone in a mess of coat tails and curls.
With nothing to do, the previous research now scattered uselessly across the table and floor, Sam decided to take a break. Grabbing the manuscript he was studying, he set off in the direction of the lifts down the long white corridor. Taking the elevator all the way to the ground floor, he emerged in a long deserted portion of the science complex. It had been used for the development of some new technology that had been abandoned after a series of setbacks. It would soon be converted to serve another purpose, but for now it provided the perfect haven for someone not wishing to be disturbed. It had crossed Sam's mind that spending time reading alone in a deserted lab was a little antisocial, but the windows had a view across the central courtyard and he could open them just a crack and tell himself that he was getting a little rest and some fresh air.
On this particular day, when Sam felt he needed the peace and quite a little more than usual, he was assailed by the sounds of sirens and running feet. A medical crew had arrived and was entering the building at a point across the courtyard. He peered out his sliver of open window as a scientist he didn't recognize wearing protective gear was carried out on a stretcher by two medics to a waiting ambulatory pod.
Sam watched until the pod had lifted off towards the medical complex and the crowd had dispersed. He was about to return to his text, when the sound of footfalls echoed in the hall outside. They were moving quickly towards his location. Sam ducked behind a debunked particle accelerator, the impulse coming more from the fear of being caught there then from any thoughts of covert action. It was a lucky instinct. A moment later, the door to the lab was thrown open, and a Time Lord scientist bearing a high-ranking insignia nearly dragged a second man in behind him and closed the door.
"Take care of this now," the scientist snarled. Sam peeked out, his hearts racing uncontrollably in his chest.
"It was just an accident, the project was unaffected sir, the work will continue as planned. I'm not sure what you want me to take care of-"
The scientist growled low in his throat.
"It is not the progress that concerns me, it is the attention. Do you know who is here in this complex today?"
When the other man didn't answer, the scientist continued,
"The Doctor, in all his officious glory. I have orders from the Lady President to keep him as far away from this as possible. If he asks about the accident, if he begins to suspect that there is something going on…well I don't think you would like to suffer those particular consequences."
Sam could hardly breathe. The Doctor was right, and he now had the proof they were looking for. He had to get to the Doctor as soon as the room was clear and hope he didn't get caught in the process. Escape plans halted in Sam's mind as the men began speaking again.
"Move the project," the scientist demanded.
"But sir, that will take time to do properly, and what if someone sees…"
"The staggering inefficiencies of your department do not concern me, Kern. Move the project. Get it as far outside the citadel as possible before the Doctor begins prying. He could destroy everything, and you know he would not hesitate to do so should he discover the nature of our work. Go now and begin the process right away, I will intercept the Doctor and distract him for a time. If we are lucky he won't even have heard of the accident in the first place."
"Yes Sir," said Kern, and Sam heard the door to the lab open.
"And Kern," the scientist added, "wipe the memory of the injured lab tech while you're at it. Blame it on the explosion. We don't want the Doctor showing up with any well wishes and uncomfortable questions."
The lab door swung closed and Sam waited a moment or two before he even dared to peek around his shelter to see if they were really gone. It took him a few more moments to decide what to do. They were moving the secret project to a more remote location. Should this happen, he and the Doctor might never find it again. However, the other scientist was going to distract the Doctor. Should he go after him, try to get to the Doctor first, and warn him of what he had heard? This option, although far more appealing, did not seem to be the priority.
"What would the Doctor do?" Sam whispered to himself, feeling sweat beginning to break out across his brow. Unfortunately, the answer was easy; follow Kern, find where the project was located, and maybe even get a glimpse of whatever it was before it disappeared forever. The realization dawned on him in its finality, and Sam closed his eyes, feeling fear rush over him. The fear was soon replaced by a swift mental kick to his own backside as he realized he would need to hurry up and actually follow Kern if he had any intention of determining where he was headed. Sam stood and peered out the window. He saw Kern hurrying across the courtyard. He opened the window a little wider, and peered down the five or so feet to the ground. Making sure no one was close enough to really notice, he made the rather ungraceful tumble from the window to the ground below, and stood just in time to see Kern enter the easterly wing of the science complex. Sam stood and sprinted as casually as he could across the distance hoping to close the gap between them.
So here he was, standing in the shadows down the hall from the secured entrance. He had watched Kern move to the door and inform the guard that there was to be a lot of movement, as the entire team had to be assembled, and to be mindful. This seemed like a death knell to any plans Sam might have had to infiltrate this section of the building. He found he was relieved. He had turned around and was about to leave and find the Doctor, when he noticed a figure coming down the hall.
Another junior lab tech, wearing the same type of protective gear Sam had seen on the injured man, was walking towards him talking into the communicator on his wrist. From his insignia, he was only a rank or so above Sam. Physically they were similar enough, with the same height, broad chest, and brown hair. To make matters worse, he was informing the person on the other end of his communicator that he would be heading to assistant's lounge where he would take a break for a span before returning to the lab. He joked to his unseen friend that the lounge was awfully quite this time of day and he might be inclined to catch up on some sleep. Sam almost smacked his forehead. The universe was practically handing this to him.
His palms felt slick as he accessed the hall directory and found the location of the assistants lounge. It was outside the secured area, and he figured if he entered and found others to be there, he would simply sit for a while and then leave. He was an assistant too after all.
Sam opened the door and passed into the main chamber of the lounge. Of course, the only person in sight was the lab assistant he had followed. The man was currently in the process of shedding his protective gear in favor of the more comfortable cloths underneath. He turned to look at Sam as he entered, and smiled cautiously.
"Hello," he said in that uncomfortable way that comes from suddenly sharing a small but public place with a stranger. Sam smiled and took a seat on one of the benches and took out his book, trying to look as if he belonged.
"I haven't seen you around before," the young man said, "did you just transfer in?'
"Yes," replied Sam, trying to keep his voice steady, "from the applied sciences department. It's my first day."
"Welcome," said the tech with a halfhearted smile, "too bad you didn't stay in applied sciences."
"Why is that?" asked Sam, genuinely intrigued.
"I know working for the restricted lab seems prestigious, but as an assistant…" the tech rolled his eyes and shook his head, "we know nothing, we just perform the physical labor and go home. I have barely used my brain since I started here."
Sam laughed amicably trying to appear unconcerned as his mind whirred, devising a way to continue.
"Maybe, if you have some time, you could show me around a bit. I just arrived and I have a span until my shift starts and I meet with my supervisor."
"Of course," the young tech smiled, "who's your supervisor? We might be in the same unit."
Sam sputtered for a minute before throwing out a random name that he thought might have been his mathematics professor in primary school. He cringed internally, waiting for the response.
The tech looked confused, but then shrugged,
"Well they do keep everyone pretty isolated. I'm sure there must be supervisors here I haven't met. I can take you around the green sections of the secured lab. Do you have your ident card?"
Sam had stood and was only about a foot away from the tech, preparing to follow him, but at the last question, he froze. The young man's brows furrowed as it dawned on him that something wasn't quite right.
"Hold on…"
Sam panicked. A hot flash of adrenaline and never before used survival instincts suddenly flared within him, and almost as if his brain and body were receiving two very different sets of chemical signals, Sam punched the tech square in the face. The man crumpled and Sam found himself murmuring sorry over and over again to the unconscious form before him. He had never hurt anyone in his entire life.
What a way to start.
He would definitely be fired, if not imprisoned, should he be caught, and there was no doubt he would be caught. He had spoken with his victim for a good fifteen microspans before clobbering him.
It was too late now. He supposed there was no reason not to continue since, at this point, he would be prosecuted no matter what. He took the techs protective gear and, as he suspected, it fit him almost perfectly. He also swiped the young man's ident card and a small skin sample for a genetic match using the tissue multiplier he carried for use in the lab. His final chore was to stuff the body of the unconscious tech into the nearest closet and close the door.
Disguised and armed with false identification, Sam wondered back to the hallway and took up waiting outside the entrance to the secured section of the lab. He had spent enough time looking at the biometric scan on the door to have determined a way to use his tissue sample to get him in. He only needed to distract the guard for mere moments. His salvation came in the form of a delivery; a shipment of biolitic gel. Strange, thought Sam. Biolitic gel was used in tissue formation and regeneration, often in conjunction with looming, but it was an older method almost entirely outdated by the advancements Time Lord reproductive technology had made in the past few centuries.
The guard was diligently arguing with the scientists making the delivery about proper credentials. Obviously he had taken his instructions about increased security to heart. While the scientists shuffled around the giant barrels, looking for orders and authorizations, Sam fished around in his pocket for another common tool he knew he would find there. His laser spanner felt cool and comforting in his hand. He looked around for a moment, and then covertly aimed the beam at the barrel closest to him. No one noticed the small red ray with their noses buried in official paperwork, but then the barrel started to leak. The first slimy, blue glop landed on the shoe of the guard, who turned on the innocent deliverers with frustration.
Sam immediately took his opportunity, striding up to the door as confidently as he could, concealing his tissue sample in his sleeve. He pressed it to the biometric sensor, and the door beeped the most beautiful affirmative and slide open. He was only a few steps down the hall when he heard the guard call out to him.
"Hey, let me see some identification!"
Sam turned mid stride and flashed the appropriate badge. The guard was too busy to look for more than a moment and his similar appearance to the man he was impersonating belayed any doubts in the guard's mind.
"Thank you, sir."
Sam just waved, not wanting to speak and turning the first corner he came to, collapsed against the wall breathing so hard he thought his lungs might explode.
The Doctor emerged from his TARDIS, still ensconced in the maintenance hanger, his head filled with facts gleaned from his rather unorthodox computer system. The TARDIS had a certain fondness for hacking into inappropriate systems. He liked to think of it as a hobby they both shared.
He was speeding, as usual, in a hurry to return to the lab and inform Sam of the more curious readings and shipment manifests he had come across in his investigation of the science database. As he burst out into the harsh sunlight of the Gallifreyan day, he toppled the distinguished looking gentleman who was in the process of opening the same door the Doctor was exiting.
"So sorry, that was careless of me," said the Doctor extending a hand to help the man he had sent sprawling to the ground. The Doctor caught sight of the emblem pinned to the man's collar, glimmering in the sunlight as he stood and brushed himself off, and his mind began racing.
"Ah, Supreme Commissioner, again very sorry. I'm in a hurry and wasn't paying proper attention."
"Quite alright, Doctor", said the Commissioner raising a hand to stop the Doctor's apology mid ramble. "I hope I'm not interrupting any important business you must rush off to."
"No, no," replied the Doctor, running a hand through his curls, "just late meeting my assistant. Linear time always seems to get away from me."
The Supreme Commissioner of Science just smiled patronizingly, his grey eyes sparkled with cold amusement.
"Yes, it must be difficult for you to adjust to our more civilized way of life, no miscalculated time lines and frantic scurrying about to worry yourself with."
The Doctor smiled back unfazed,
"Yes it is all so dull and dependable. I'm amazed your brilliant minds don't explode with the tedium. But I suppose it's much more comfortable for those of your department whose days of adventure and difficult calculations are so far behind them."
The Commissioner's smile fell, replaced only by the cold glitter in his eyes. "Indeed," he purred. The Doctor continued smiling.
"Well I should be going, Commissioner, much to do today; readings to take, reinvention of the wheel, I may even have to use my head a few times, although perhaps only as a paperweight."
Before he could continue on his way, the voice of the Commissioner stopped him in his tracks.
"Aren't you curious as to why I am here, Doctor?
The Doctor wanted to say that he knew exactly why the Commissioner was there. He was checking up, policing him, calculating how much trouble he was creating, which meant something must have happened. The Doctor grinned internally. He wasn't sure what stroke of luck had befallen him just yet, but he knew the Universe was smiling. Of course, he could not let on to any of this. Instead he adopted a wide-eyed stare, the one that often got him out of trouble, and waited expectantly for the Commissioner to continue.
"Please, enlighten me."
"I wanted to contact you myself, on behalf of the entire temporal science research department, to thank you for your contributions to this project." The Doctor gave a little bow in response and the Commissioner continued, "and to offer you the chance to advise us on some more…delicate…assignments." The Commissioner's voice took on the air of forced compliment, "you have so impressed us with your current results."
The Doctor's brows shot up, and he almost laughed. They both knew he had made no significant advancements to anything they were doing. This was simply an attempt to placate him, to stop him from nosing about. He kept his cool, though, lowering his voice conspiratorially and leaning in,
"What sort of…delicate…assignments, Commissioner?"
"Of course I am not at liberty to say in such a public setting, but I would be happy to set up a meeting between us and the Lady President to discuss the details. As soon as possible would be best."
"Perfect" replied the Doctor with a smile, "how about noon tomorrow, my assistant and I will be glad to meet you in the President's office"
Your assistant…?" the commissioner began incredulously.
"Oh yes," interrupted the Doctor happily, "I have really become quite attached to him. I could not have accomplished my numerous feats of cerebral gymnastics without his aid."
The Commissioner's face betrayed in no uncertain terms that he was seething beneath his forced calm, which in turn made the Doctor's smile widen impossibly. He reached out a hand to shake, which the commissioner took with about as much enthusiasm as grasping a slimy Gastropod appendage. The Doctor pulled him into one of those strange male hugs, and was thrilled to feel Commissioner's entire body stiffen with unconcealed disgust. The Doctor thumped him a bit harder then necessary on the back. He pulled away, finally releasing the hand he had been holding hostage, which the Commissioner then wiped up and down on the front of his robe. He glared at the Doctor, who began to walk past him.
"So noon, tomorrow, Romana's office, can't wait!" The Doctor called over his shoulder. The Commissioner was still standing perfectly motionless as the Doctor turned the corner of the boulevard leading back to the science complex. He chuckled to himself and stared down at the official looking ident access card he had pick pocketed from the Commissioner during their awkward embrace.
"Sorry Sam," he said, "I guess I won't be meeting you any time soon. I should find out just how much access this gives me before anyone notices it's missing." Examining the card closely as he walked, he redirected himself away from his usual path and towards most certain danger.
"This is it, this has to be it," thought Sam to himself. He had spent the better part of a span sneaking around what he assumed to be the minimally secured green sections of the lab where his silly disguise was enough. He was grateful for the face shield on the protective headgear and for the fact that he had seen several techs walking around with them lowered. He kept his down with his stolen identification card displayed prominently on his chest. He had been exploring relatively unchallenged. Now he stood outside a door he hadn't a prayer of getting through, face shield or no.
He had seen entrances to many restricted areas, but none seemed as foreboding as this. For one, the giant locks, security field generators, and even quarantine filters were all placed on the outside. It was obviously less important to keep people out then to keep something in. He had passed the door purposefully several times, trying to appear busily on his way from one place to another. Now, he stood a ways off, a data pad held in front of his covered nose, the screen completely ignored. He was waiting for someone to go in our out of the great black door.
So far, no luck.
As he sat pondering his current predicament, he heard a sound overhead. Scraping above and to his right caused his eyes to turn skyward. He had barely enough time to locate the source of the noise, coming from what appeared to be the ventilation shaft, before the high pitched hum of a sonic device and the tinkling of loosened screws falling to the ground sent him scurrying for cover. From around the nearest corner, Sam watched in terrified silence as a grate in the ceiling was lifted from its position and a familiar figure leapt lightly to the ground.
The Doctor straightened his frock coat, and tried in vain to brush the black dirt from the knees of his tan slacks. He looked up in disgust at the dark opening from which he had just descended. Sam's hearts almost burst with relief, and he tumbled out from around the corner. Raising the protective shield away from his face, he hissed the Doctor's name. The Doctor whirled in response with his sonic screwdriver held before him menacingly.
The Doctor's eyes grew wide with surprise, and he opened his mouth, but no sound escaped for a few moments before he shook his head as if to clear it, and uttered a shocked "Sam?"
"Doctor, what are you doing here?" asked Sam, feeling alarmed that he might collapse with relief.
"I have just spent a great deal of time climbing around above the facility. This part, however," he indicated the lavishly protected door behind him, "seems to have its own ventilation system. I assumed this must be the place." He suddenly frowned, "what are you doing here?"
"It's a long story Doctor, but I think you're right. This has to be the place they are building the weapon."
The Doctor crossed to him, and spontaneously gripped his shoulder affectionately, "I have to say, I wouldn't have expected this from you, Sam, but I'm glad you're here."
"Thank you Doctor, I'm not sure I would have expected this from me either. But we don't have a lot of time. We need to figure out a way to get in there. Whatever this thing is, they are going to move it, and soon. They are adamant that you don't find it."
Sam's breathless concern touched the Doctor, and he smiled reassuringly at the young Time Lord.
"Leave that to me, Sam, I have a great deal of experience getting in and out of places I'm not welcome." He turned, sonic screwdriver held at the ready, and began passing it over the unyielding door.
"Nice work, by the way," he continued not taking his eyes away from the blinking of the door's override controls, "I couldn't have done it better myself."
Sam, grateful the Doctor's eyes were averted, blushed uncontrollably. He suddenly felt that all the day's misadventures and the coming penalties were worthwhile.
The door emitted a defeated series of beeps and whooshed open. The Doctor rubbed his hands together expectantly.
"Right, shall we?" he asked turning to Sam. His blue eyes were bright as he disappeared into the darkness of the chamber beyond. Sam swallowed hard, thought of the Doctor's praise, and bravely followed after him.
They entered the darkened space on the second level, on a metal catwalk suspended thirty or so feet above the ground. From their vantage point they were given an amazing view. The lab was huge, stretching off into the distance until it was obscured in darkness. Lacking all elements of comfort, it was strangely industrial; metal and bulkheads lit with green, purple and red specks of light blinking from the massive towers of machinery below them.
The main source of illumination came from the most striking element of the cavernous space; twenty cylindrical tube-shaped tanks, all glowing a soft blue from the fluid that filled each one. The Doctor couldn't help but think of giant phosphorescent stalagmites reaching towards the blackness of the ceiling. A huge network of cables and tubes extended from the top of each capsule, coming together in the center of the ceiling like a giant black tornado of wrapped wires. The mass hung ominously above everything, pendulous and heavy.
"What are they, Doctor?" asked Sam quietly, almost reverently. The Doctor did not answer for a moment. He just stared across the expanse, his blue eyes reflecting the similar pale radiance of the tanks below.
"I'm not sure, Sam," he answered. "We should take a closer look."
They descended to the hard grey floor below via a grated metal staircase halfway across the gantry. The Doctor examined the enormous computers, brows lowered, mumbling equations and personal opinions to himself. Sam, understanding it would be better to let the Doctor work things out on his own, walked on past the towering machines and began examining the empty blue tanks. Each tube was about seven feet tall with a three-foot base. They loomed above Sam, humming gently. Each had a readout screen in the center of its respective foundation. They were all dark, only blinking the word "input" every second or so.
He passed between the rows of columns, feeling like a trespasser in some dark, but gently glowing forest. Something about the matrix inside each cistern tugged at his mind, something he should remember but couldn't. As he neared the end of the first two rows, something caught his eye. The blue light shining through the gel and the rounded glass refracted off an object in one of the tanks. It took Sam a moment to realize it was a body.
"Doctor," he called into the darkness beyond the blue aura. "You should take a look at this."
Faster than he would have thought possible, the Doctor was beside him. He heard him sigh in defeat at the site before him. The body of a woman, clothed in a body suit made of a pearlescent white semipermeable dermamatrix, floated suspended in the blue gel. A network of cables emerged from the back of her neck, connecting to the lid of the tank. She was motionless. Her eyes were closed and her dark hair gently fanned about her pale face. If the readout panel had not displayed the rhythm of two powerfully beating hearts, one might have questioned whether or not she was even alive.
"Biolitic Gel," breathed Sam in sudden understanding, "I saw them bringing a shipment of it here. I couldn't think why they would need an organic substrate, but I guess I know now.
The Doctor still had not uttered a word. He continued to stare up at the unmoving form. Sam could see sadness in his eyes, even in the dark. When he finally spoke, his voice rumbled darkly like distant thunder,
"They can't do this, this goes against everything we believe. We're better than this."
"Apparently not, Doctor."
At the sound of the voice behind them, Sam and the Doctor whirled to see the approaching Supreme Commissioner, along with the man Sam recognized as Kern, and six chancellery guards armed with sonic disrupters.
"Commissioner," said the Doctor. Sam was startled to see and hear the change in him. His voice was suddenly smooth and sharp like untempered glass, and he had taken on a solid, confident stance, daring someone to challenge him. His eyes, usually sparking with delight or wonder, had gone deadly dark. Sam was glad he was not the recipient of that cold gaze.
Kern seemed uncertain, withering noticeably under the Doctor's palpable aura, but the Commissioner stood firm and unaffected.
"Not very clever, pick-pocketing me, Doctor. It didn't take me long to realize my ident card was missing and what must have happened to it. You should have known I would find you with very little difficulty."
"I only needed enough time to uncover your little pet project. I was unconcerned with my discovery."
"And what about your young assistant? Maybe he hasn't the heard stories about your other unfortunate companions? How they often take the blame for your brazen disregard for laws and customs. So like you Doctor, to judge us for the manipulation of one life, when you yourself have destroyed countless many."
Sam tried to appear confident, throwing out his chest and taking a step closer to the Doctor,
"It was my choice to be here," he said, glad that his voice held firm. The Doctor glanced at him sidelong with a moment's reassurance before turning back to the Commissioner.
"I take full responsibility for Sam's actions despite his loyalty to me."
"That is very kind of you Doctor, but I am afraid both of you shall be going to the detention center until we decide what to do with you."
"Of course, Commissioner, lead on. I have already gotten everything I need."
Sam sat on the cold, hard floor of the detention center, his head rested in his hands. "How has my life come to this?" he thought to himself. To think that yesterday he was content holding test tubes and recording information and today he was being held hostage by his own government was incredibly surreal.
The Doctor had not seemed concerned when the guards roughly pushed them into the small holding cell below the science labs. Once they were alone, locked in and awaiting judgment, the Doctor had placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, reassuring him that everything was going to be all right. He then took a seat on the floor with his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Sam could not imagine how the Doctor could even think about resting at a time like this. It made him certain that the Doctor must have experienced far worse than this ordeal to respond so casually to their imprisonment. Sam suddenly felt a strong curiosity for the Time Lord who shared his cell.
Although the Doctor appeared completely relaxed, when the security controls were activated on the other side of the door, he was standing alert almost faster than Sam himself. The heavy door swished open and Sam was shocked to see the Lady President standing silhouetted in the frame. Sam had seen her only once, at his graduation from the Academy, and that was only at a distance. Now here she was, standing in his prison cell, looking more then a little put out and totally focused on the unreadable face of the Doctor. Sam was beginning to believe that this day couldn't get any weirder if it tried.
The President stood before them. She opened and closed her mouth a few times but said nothing. The Doctor stood perfectly still, which seemed unnatural for him and that much more flustering for the outraged Romana.
"Doctor…" she began
"You lied to me, Romana." The Doctor was quick to interrupt. Sam felt as well as saw the power struggle between the two commanding Gallifreyans. The Doctor was trying to unsettle her, and seemed to be doing a good job of it for a moment before the President regained her composure. Perhaps understanding what the Doctor was trying to do, her resolve hardened ten fold and her eyes darkened. The room nearly crackled with the palpable energy that rolled off the two Time Lords engaged in a battle of wills.
"I did what I had to do, Doctor." She responded with self-possession.
"You are experimenting with living beings. It goes against everything we believe. I thought I taught you better than that, Romana."
"All you ever taught me was how to run away from any problem too difficult to deal with; that, and how to get others to do your dirty work for you. I am taking responsibility for our people. I am trying to save us, Doctor, no matter the cost. It is a decision that I will live with forever, but I will sleep better knowing I did everything I could to protect our great society."
"There is nothing great about a society that would sacrifice the sanctity of life for its own peace of mind. And as for all the running I have done in my lives, it has always been in an attempt to distance myself from this so obviously corrupt civilization."
"Come now Doctor, you are not without failing. As they say on your beloved earth, 'may he without sin cast the first stone.'"
The Doctor just shook his head sadly,
"I will admit to my faults and my crimes, but I have always endeavored to protect life. Can you say the same now, Romana?"
Sam was amazed to hear the defeat in the Doctor's voice. It was Romana who now stood tall and self-assured, while the Doctor's anger had fled, replaced only with despair.
"What is the fate of that woman? How shall she bring about the deliverance of our people? Please, tell me."
Romana stared at him for a moment. Sam could tell she was debating whether or not she should answer, whether or not he even deserved to know. But there was something so devastating in the Doctor's disappointment, something that made her feel very young and ashamed. She swallowed hard before speaking.
"The Eve project is a step towards a more integrated organic TARDIS. It is, or will be, a living central processor and vortex manipulator."
The Doctor's brows lowered as Romana continued,
"We loomed a new body using primitive Time Lord DNA, to correct the modifications now inherent in our own bodies that make us less sensitive to temporal anomalies. It will have the ability to assimilate directly with the central control and power systems of any TARDIS. All of time and space will become available to us with ships that contain the power of a living Time Lord brain, with intellect and instinct. Far superior to the machines we use now, and far better equipped to handle whatever our future may hold."
"And how do you expect a being with that sort of power to stay sane?" asked the Doctor incredulously, "what's to say that she won't fall into the same behavioral pattern of every other Time Lord who has accessed the Vortex? A God complex has proven to be quite dangerous not to mention extremely destructive. And in the very best of circumstances, if she doesn't decide she wants to become the ruler of the galaxy, her brain will simply burn up and explode with the enormity of it all. How are you going to avoid those drawbacks?"
"Simple Doctor," said Romana, "we remove the parts of its mind that allow it independent thought. It will be left with the power inherent in a living being as well as instinct and intuition, but there will be no emotional power to put it all together. In essence a living machine, but with the best of both the organic and the mechanical."
"So you have created a new life only to remove the very thing that makes her alive. How very kind of you, Romana."
"Please, Doctor, with the mind we had to use as a template, it will be a kindness to remove any emotions."
"Whose mind did you use?" asked the Doctor, suddenly getting closer to Romana.
"An excellent strategists and military expert, and once we remove the emotional centers, it should be a brilliant addition to any TARDIS."
"Whose mind, Romana?" the Doctor growled, inches from her now. Sam resisted the urge to cringe.
"Vorta Deray," she replied quietly, but she met the Doctor's intense gaze. "We gave her the memories of Vorta."
The name was unfamiliar to Sam, but the Doctor's response was immediate. He backed away from the President, stunned. Romana continued,
"We have no idea how much influence the memories will have; the looming process was too unique. It does have its own mind. We simply over-laid the mental patterns from Vorta's remains in the matrix."
"I met him once," The Doctor said quietly, his eyes distant. "He was brilliant, but completely mad, and miserable. Romana, what were you thinking?"
"He was gifted."
"I agree, but you have to know you're taking a very dangerous risk." He rested his hand on his forehead and began pacing about the cell with feverish energy.
"Well then I suppose it is fortunate that I have given the order to deactivate the emotional centers of its mind today."
"When?"
"As we speak, Doctor. As you pointed out, we can not be too careful with the mind of Vorta on the loose."
The Doctor sank to the ground and placed his hand over his eyes.
The team of scientists had been working without rest since the intrusion of the Doctor in top-secret weapons lab. Now that the project had been leaked, everything had to be accelerated before any more freak accidents doomed it to failure. The delicate computations had been made, everything had been set, and Kern was sure they were ready to proceed.
He checked the readouts for the thousandth time and looked up and the woman suspended before him. He smiled at her, and placed a hand on the glass that surrounded her still form.
"Good luck my dear," he said his voice barely more than a whisper, "hopefully this won't be too painful for you. When next we meet, you shall be slightly less burdened, although that much less alive." He sighed staring up at the face he had come to know so well. He looked down to the controls at the base of the tank and keyed in the last few instructions. Over his shoulder, he called to his colleges that all was prepared for the mind wipe and to start the countdown.
He looked back at her and felt his skin go cold with terror.
Her dark eyes were wide open and they were looking at him.
His last thought as a fist burst through the glass and grabbed him by the throat, was a memory of nightmares from his childhood. The look in her eyes reminded him that there were still monsters in the universe. The world went black around him as sirens and men began to scream.
The Doctor had not moved for some time. Romana wasn't sure what she should do. She was caught between leaving him to contemplate her authority and kneeling to comfort him. Instead she stood there, doing neither, until the lights dimmed and flickered, and then went out.
"What's happening?" called Romana into the darkness.
"Perhaps the Universe doesn't take kindly to your meddling, Lady President," The Doctor's voice floated out grimly amused.
"The door is jammed, Doctor," she said, "the emergency power hasn't been restored."
"Here let me help you- oof sorry Romana."
There was the high hum of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver and the door whooshed open. In the hallway beyond, the red emergency lighting cast strange shadows over the three time lords as they exited the cell. The guard had departed, most likely to assist with whatever crisis had befallen.
"They let you keep your screwdriver, Doctor?" asked Sam. "They must not have wanted to keep you here very badly."
"No Sam, I'm sure the Lady President just knew I wouldn't try anything without some clarification."
"Yes, you're terribly predictable sometimes, Doctor," answered Romana without humor. "Now let's try to determine what has happened."
Romana strode purposely to the wall console down the hall and activated the com.
"This is the President; report"
There was a crackle of static and a voice responded.
"Lady President, the Eve Project has escaped. We are unable to communicate, three units down, and it's managed to cut the power to the main science building. We are attempting to…"
There was a commotion over the com; the sound of sonic disrupters and suddenly the communication was cut off.
"Come in…anyone" Romana made eye contact with the Doctor, knowing there would be no response. She swallowed and turned,
"We need to get up there. We need to stop it."
"Her," the Doctor corrected. "And you should stay out of the way. Despite the fact that I am angry with you, I would hate to see you come to any harm. We may need your guidance in the near future. It would be a pity to cut your presidency short."
"Absolutely not, Doctor, I am going up there to…" she wasn't given the chance to finish as the Doctor picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Sam watched in stunned silence as the Doctor returned Romana to the cell they had just exited. He heard her cry out as she struggled against him, but it was only the Doctor who exited again. He shut the door and locked it firmly with his sonic screwdriver.
"And that is why I refuse to wear those ridiculous robes. They make it so hard to be quick on your feet."
"Let me out this instant, Doctor," cried Romana from the other side of the heavy door. She banged her fists against the unyielding surface.
"No, I don't think so Lady President, you will be safest here." When she began to fight back, the Doctor tisked and responded,
"I'm just doing my civic duty, Romana. Please don't argue with me."
He turned to Sam with a smile. The President began to yell about the terrible punishments she couldn't wait to inflict upon him once she was released.
"Ready, Sam?" he asked expectantly.
Sam stood for a moment, mouth agape, and nodded his head numbly.
"Fantastic, let's go catch a doomsday machine."
Sam felt his legs obey against his will as he followed the Doctor down the hall, Romana's indignant cries echoing after them.
No one seemed to have a problem with the Doctor and his assistant entering the restricted labs now that there was a monster on the loose. In fact, everyone seemed rather relieved. Sam realized with growing respect that the Doctor's reputation was well earned.
They returned first to the source of the disturbance. They passed scorched walls and several unconscious guards, all of whom the Doctor cursorily examined before moving on, and then entered the giant cavernous space where the Eve Project had been born. Here, several of the tanks had been destroyed; shattered glass and blue liquid splattered everywhere. The Doctor secretly bemoaned the state of his shoes as he squelched across the floor. Grace had given him these shoes and they fit perfectly.
The Doctor gave the order for Sam to check the few scientists who lay crumpled on the hard floor as he made his way over to the epicenter of the disaster. He recognized the form of Kern, collapsed against the pedestal of the shattered cistern that had once held the Eve Project. Above him, jagged glass stuck up from the base like a row of sharp teeth. The Doctor reached down to check Kern's pulse and the man groaned. His eyes fluttered open.
"Steady," said the Doctor, placing a hand on Kern's shoulder. He observed the collection of wires still hanging into the space the tank had once occupied, which seemed to be coated in drying blood.
"The Eve Project," Kern moaned, "where is she?"
"Still missing," replied the Doctor, trying to remove some of the larger shards of glass that had caught in the folds of Kern's robes. "Causing mayhem wherever she goes, unfortunately."
"I have to find her," said Kern with sudden force, attempting to sit up."
"I'm not sure you should be up and about just yet," replied the Doctor eyeing the finger shaped bruises that encircled Kern's throat.
"You don't understand. The mind wipe was never completed. There's no way of telling who or what she is right now. She has two separate brain patterns competing inside her…"
"And one of them is from a criminally insane mass murderer," finished the Doctor quietly.
"Nothing like this has ever been attempted. There is no telling how much sway the overlaid mind has on her actions. But she is obviously confused," he groaned as he tried to sit up, "and dangerous."
"Well no one seems to have been killed yet, so there may be hope," the Doctor said. "Do you have any idea where she might be headed?"
Kern frowned, trying to gather his thoughts.
"I can only guess, but in her current state, she would be running on instinct. That would mean she would be trying to fulfill her primary function. She would be trying to connect with the central processing unit of a TARDIS. Although with her mental functions intact, that would be devastating. It is fortunate that the emergency system was set to lock down the military hangers if anything tripped the lab's security. The TARDISs on Gallifrey should be protected.
A cold fear thrilled though the Doctor. He had the only unofficial, "privately owned" TARDIS in the citadel. Even though it had originally been stolen property, he had possessed it so long and it was now so outdated, no one seemed to care.
"What about the repair facilities in the citadel," he asked feeling his panic rise.
"There aren't any TARDISs in external repair facilities. All TARDISs are maintained in their designated hangers…" Kern trailed off as understanding dawned on him. "Doctor, where is your TARDIS?"
"Not secured, most likely, a maintenance hanger on the outskirts of the city." The Doctor had sprung to his feet.
"Doctor, we need to get to your TARDIS immediately!" Kern said getting shakily to his feet.
"We?" asked the Doctor already starting towards the exit."
"Yes," Kern said stumbling after him, "This is my project, and I know her better than anyone. You may need my assistance."
"Fine, but only if you can keep up! Sam! We're leaving!" The Doctor was running now, with Sam and Kern struggling to keep pace.
The Doctor felt his chest tighten as he skidded to a halt in the entrance to the maintenance hanger. The lights were out and in the illumination from sparking cables that had been ripped loose from their connections, the Doctor could see several prone figures in regulation jump suits. Standing alone, at the back of the hanger, sat his TARDIS.
The door was open.
"No, no, no" breathed the Doctor as he moved carefully towards his beloved ship. He felt Sam come up beside him, still panting from the mad dash across the citadel.
"What are we going to do, Doctor," he asked, his eyes wide.
"We are not doing anything, Sam. Kern?" he whirled to look at the older man behind him. "The Eve Project was designed to take orders from the primary pilot of whatever TARDIS she was connected to, correct?"
Kern ran a hand through his hair nervously,
"Yes, but she is still independent. I'm not sure that part of her programming will be in effect."
"Well, I'm just going to have to hope that it is," said the Doctor. "Sam, Kern, I need you to stay here and keep a look out. I'm going to see if she will listen to me."
"Someone should go with you, Doctor," Sam protested.
"No Sam, she might obey the pilot, but I don't want to confuse her with any more people than necessary." When Sam looked as if he was going to disagree, the Doctor patted him on the shoulder,
"I'll be fine Sam, trust me." He went to leave, thought of something else, and turned back.
"Kern, why is she called the Eve Project?"
"Earth mythology, Doctor, Eve was the fabled first of their race. I think the President must have had you in mind when she decided on a name."
The Doctor smirked, but in his eyes there was no humor,
"Wish me luck then, this is first contact."
With that he disappeared into the darkened door of the TARDIS that loomed open silently like a menacing maw.
The TARDIS bleeped quietly, almost in relief, as the Doctor entered.
"Shhhh" he cooed, stroking the central console lovingly.
"Where is she, old girl?" He brought up schematics on the closest display and began looking for anything unusual. There was a power drain in the cloister room. Without hesitation, the Doctor turned and headed down the darkened hallway.
The giant wooden door stood open. In the grey light filtering through the stone arches above, he could see her. She was kneeling and pulling at a mess of wires she had liberated from one of the control panels that surrounded the eye of harmony. The wound on the back of her neck, as well as several disrupter burns, were being healed by the dermamatrix suit she wore. He noticed, with a sickening feeling, that she had already inserted several cables from his TARDIS into the quickly closing gash at the base of her skull.
"I'm going to have to ask you to stop what you're doing"
Her head shot up, noticing the Doctor for the first time. He thought she would have lunged at him immediately if not for the tenuous connection she was trying to establish with his ship. Instead, her hazel eyes fixed on his while her hands continued their work, moving without supervision.
"This is my TARDIS, and you will obey me. Stop what you're doing."
There was a slight pause; the woman's hands slowed for a moment, and a flash of uncertainly crossed her face. Then, when the Doctor did not approach, she began again.
"I'm not finished…" she growled. The voice was husky, unused, and tentative.
"Yes you are. There is no need for this…Vorta."
At the sound of the name, the woman stopped all movement. Her entire body shuddered and, for the first time, she looked at the Doctor with more than just primal aggression. The Doctor thought it might be safe to begin moving closer. She tried to get away from him, around the eye of harmony, but she was tethered to the console now, and her movement was limited.
"You know that name, don't you? Vorta. You're confused. I can help you, but you must stop what you're doing. Please come away from there."
"The vortex…" she almost whispered, and her eyes betrayed her fear, "all the answers are there, you can't help me."
"Yes I can, you know how dangerous the vortex will be. You have memories of a life, knowledge. You know what connecting to the vortex will do to you, to everything. Try to remember."
Her gaze had become unfocused, perhaps trying to remember, perhaps considering what he had said. He was just glad that her hands had stopped moving. The Doctor waited patiently, and after a few moments, her eyes snapped back to him.
"I…know you," she said uncertainly. The Doctor took a few more cautious steps towards her.
"Yes," he replied, "from a long time ago, right here in this city."
"How is that possible?"
He was standing only a few feet away now. The Doctor could see she was shaking. She scrutinized him for a few more moments before her eyes lit up with blissful recognition,
"Theta Sigma they called you…but you wore a different face…"
"I'm the Doctor now," he replied, "but, yes, that was me."
"You asked me about fear, the great motivator. You were young and I was…different." She suddenly looked down at her own hands, as if seeing them for the first time. She touched the small bundle of wires protruding from her skin and looked back at the Doctor in horror.
"What is this? How is this possible?" The Doctor felt her panic as more and more realizations dawned on her.
"It's alright, everything will become clear, but you have to trust me."
She was no longer listening. She pressed her palms to her temples and closed her eyes, shaking her head back and forth. The Doctor moved to her side, sensing her vulnerability. He was about to reach out for her, but before he could, she ripped the wires from her skin with a cry of anger and pain. Her knees buckled, and the Doctor caught her halfway to the ground awkwardly under the arms. She stared up at him, her eyes were over-bright with unshed tears.
"What am I?" she gasped, and her head sagged as she sunk into unconsciousness.
"I'm going in after him," Sam said, surprised by the conviction in his own voice.
"The Doctor told us to stay here. It could be dangerous if anyone other than the pilot interferes" said Kern sternly.
"And it could be dangerous for the Doctor to be left alone with a crazy killing machine who wants to meld with his ship."
Sam started towards the TARDIS but was stopped in his tracks when the Doctor appeared in the doorway. The unconscious woman was draped across his arm. Her dark hair spilled down almost to the Doctor's waist, and there was a slowly spreading stain of blood on the sleeve of his frock coat.
"We need to get her to the medical unit" said the Doctor wearily.
"What happened?" asked Kern
"Some of Vorta's memories resurfaced. She collapsed when I reminded her." Kern looked concerned,
"This could be very bad. I'm not sure she can handle the strain of two separate minds inside her. She may not recover at all if both are active, and if Vorta's mind resurfaces completely…."
"Well, we will just have to see who pulls through," said the Doctor moving towards the exit, the women still held gently in his arms.
When her eyes finally opened she thought she knew who she was, but before she could fully grasp the memories of her past, they were suddenly gone. She was alone, left only with a clouded mind and an aching body. She was miserable, she was exhausted, and she was no one.
Without even the energy to struggle now, she looked around, accepting her fate. The room was white and clean, and the air smelled fresh. There were a few monitoring devices next to her in which she caught a glimpse of her own reflection. Pale with dark hair and eyes, and female. Strange, she thought, that that would surprise her. The man's face though, reflected behind hers, seemed much more familiar.
She turned her head, finding it was all she could move. Her ankles and wrists had been strapped down to the bed on which she lay. The man smiled cautiously. She knew him, but from where? She took in his handsome ageless face, the pale almost luminous blue eyes, and the kind smile…
"Good morning," he said and his voice too seemed known to her. "I hope you're feeling better, you were a bit touch and go for a while."
She just stared at him. She could not form the words to describe the questions that floated in her mind.
"Do you remember what happened?" he prompted gently. She slowly shook her head.
"This might be hard for you to understand right now, but you escaped from the labs here on Gallifrey. You ended up in my TARDIS. You collapsed and I brought you here." He spoke each sentence slowly, giving her time to interpret the meaning of each one.
Her mouth worked for a moment, uncertain, before she made any sound.
"TARDIS…?" was all she managed, her throat felt parched and sore, he nodded in encouragement. "I don't remember…" but even as she spoke, flashes of a cathedral-like room and an eye of harmony ran through her mind. The man seated beside her had been there, he had spoken gently and quietly. She had wanted to trust him but she had been so afraid… "Doctor?" she asked. He smiled again; she decided it was a nice smile.
"So you do remember," he said.
She shook her head, "No, just the TARDIS… and you."
"You remember nothing else? Nothing about your life before you ended up in my ship?"
She lowered her brows, her gaze travelled downward. The Doctor could see her mind working furiously. After a few moments her eyes sought his. She was terrified.
"There are images, feelings, but they aren't mine. I see someone, but it isn't me. I don't remember anything about who I am, nothing about my life. Who am I, Doctor? Please," her voice broke and she almost whispered, "help me."
The Doctor was trying to come up with some way to tell her that she had no real memories of her own, when the door to the room was thrown open and the Supreme Commissioner stormed angrily inside. Without pretense or introduction he strode over to the bed and took the woman by the chin. He ran a scanner around her head, watching the results on the small readout display. He frowned as he worked. She strained to look in the Doctor's direction with her jaw held roughly in the hands of the Supreme Commissioner.
"Doctor?" she squeaked through the forceful grip on her face. The panic in her voice spurred him to action.
"What do you think you're doing, Commissioner?"
The Commissioner stopped scanning and released his hold on the woman.
"The Eve Project is ruined. The memories of Vorta have been almost completely submerged. Her own mind has taken over. There would no point in performing the wipe now. And after her recent escape and the damage she has caused, I am ruling the project too risky. She will be terminated."
"What? What does he mean, Doctor?" She looked frantically back and forth between the two men.
The Doctor marched straight up to the Commissioner. Although he was rarely insecure, he did wish at that moment to be just a bit taller.
"You can't be serious! There she is, right in front of you, a living breathing Time Lady, and if it wasn't murder before, this would be worse. I won't let you."
"And how do you intend to stop me, Doctor?"
The Commissioner snapped his fingers and five armed Chancellery guards entered in a crash of heavy boots and over sized weapons. Two broke off and restrained the Doctor's arms, he struggled against them but they were each about twice his size. The other three unstrapped the woman's limbs and dragged her from the pallet where she had been laying. Her legs barely supported her, but she tried to fight back, all the while calling to the Doctor for help. He managed to wrench an arm free, but before he could make a move, the butt of sonic disrupter was brought down savagely on the back of his head. He felt himself crumple, the world swirling into blackness. The last thing he knew was the sound of her voice calling his name.
He awoke with a splitting headache. He was back in a holding cell, which figured, but this time he was alone and someone was trying to get his attention.
"Doctor, wake up" a voice hissed at him through the door. The top of someone's face appeared in the small barred window at the top of the door. The blonde hair and blue eyes that peered at him clearly belonged to Romana.
"Romana?"
"For goodness sake, yes it's me. Stand up, Doctor."
He got gingerly to his feet.
"Romana, they're going to kill her, you can't let them."
"Yes I can, I have to," the president sighed but all the Doctor could see were her eyes closing momentarily.
"I have a responsibility to our people, Doctor. She has proven to be a threat and there are protocols to follow. I can't go around breaking any rule I wish. " She paused, "that's your job."
The Doctor recognized the whine of his sonic screwdriver, and heard the locking mechanism of the door release. The Lady President stood on the other side, Sam behind her. The Doctor exited into the dimly lit hallway, slightly flabbergasted. She handed him his screwdriver.
"I can't help her, Doctor. It would weaken my political position, but you can. I don't agree with murder any more than you do. You must save her, get her away from Gallifrey, and take care of poor Sam. He's a wanted man now, thanks to you."
"Romana," he began still a little shocked, "why? I mean thank you, I mean…"
"Go Doctor, time is running out. Get back to the lab. Here is my official seal. It should get you past most of the guards and through the security systems. I'm going to say you stole it from me, just so you know."
She stepped back inside the cell he had just vacated,
"Now lock me in Doctor, we are going to pretend this happened again when I came to see you."
"Thank you, Romana," he said, and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I'm not sure when I will see you again, so goodbye…for now."
He shut the door and locked it. Romana stared out at him on her tiptoes.
"You see, Doctor, you taught me better than you think." She smiled, "and I'm pretty good at getting others to do my dirty work for me. You should be proud."
"I've always been proud of you." He smiled at her one last time and with a knowing glance at Sam, took off down the hallway. She chuckled as she heard Sam grumble,
"again?"
"It will be the best time of your life, Sam", she thought wistfully. Then she sunk to the ground and waited happily for someone to come and find her.
True to her word, Romana's presidential seal allowed the Doctor and Sam to pass by the few uninformed guards who did not know the Doctor should have been locked away. The few that were keen, however, were dispatched with a few well-placed Venusian Aikido moves.
As the two Time Lords stood panting outside the great black door again, the Doctor smiled,
"Feeling any Déjà-vu, Sam?"
Sam rolled his eyes,
"If I never see the dreary old place again I couldn't be happier."
"Well I think after all the trouble we've caused today, that shouldn't be much of a problem. I'm sorry, but I believe I may have ruined your chances of a promotion."
Sam looked worried, although it seemed to have nothing to do with the danger that awaited them beyond the door. The Doctor felt a pang of pride mixed with familiar guilt at the changes he was beginning to see in Sam.
"Doctor," he began hesitantly, "the president asked that you take me with you…do you…I mean…do you think I could…"
The Doctor saved him any more embarrassing stuttering,
"Of course you are coming with me, Sam, if it's what you want."
Sam's face lit up like a sun, obviously relieved. He smiled,
"I would be honored, Doctor. Now let's get this over with so we can get off this crazy planet."
"My thoughts exactly."
With little trouble after so much recent experience, the Doctor opened the door to the lab just a crack and the two crept inside.
From their perch high above the ground, the Doctor and Sam observed the proceedings below them in silence. The Eve Project was strapped to a cot next to a bank of blinking equipment. The three guards that had taken her from the medical unit stood at various positions nearby, keeping watch. The Supreme Commissioner was overseeing the progress of two technicians who were busy taking readings and mixing a beaker of a vile-looking yellow liquid.
"Has her brain scan been uploaded to the matrix yet?" snapped the Commissioner to the nearest engineer.
"Almost, Sir. Her mind is jumbled. It's taking longer than expected."
"The condition of her mind is inconsequential. Just be sure that everything is uploaded to the matrix properly so we can perform the appropriate studies after the disposal of the body."
The Doctor could see the woman was awake. There was fear in her eyes, but she seemed to have given up struggling against her bonds. The Doctor eyed the yellow serum bubbling away.
"Reslix toxin," he whispered to Sam as the two crouched. "Looks like they are planning an execution by lethal injection. We probably have only a few more minutes before they finish with the upload." The Doctor, still hunched over, made his way silently across the catwalk to a control panel on the wall. Sam followed warily. The Doctor had his sonic screwdriver in hand, and after a brief glance at the panel before him, quickly began pulling wires free.
"What are you doing?" Sam whispered.
"If I can wire my screwdriver to this power coupling I can create a sonic feedback loop. Nothing too permanent, but it should stun everyone for a few minutes. I'm going to need you to cover your ears and get ready to run. We will only have a few moments before everyone starts coming around again. Try to restrain as many of the guards as possible, and I'll free the girl."
"Doctor, hurry," Sam whispered frantically. The Doctor turned in time to see the Commissioner filling a wicked looking syringe with the nerve toxin. The women's eyes went wide and she strained against the braces that held her. The Commissioner approached her slowly, the thick gauge needle held high. As she thrashed, her eyes landed on the forms of the Doctor and Sam, who stood above and behind the Commissioner. Her prone position gave her a better view of the skywalk overhead.
"Finished!" the Doctor hissed to Sam. He made eye contact with the girl below, and pointed to his ears, hoping she would understand what was about to happen even if she could do nothing about it. Her sudden stillness and upturned eyes tipped the Commissioner off to the presence of something behind him. He began to turn.
"Now, Sam," said the Doctor. Sam plugged his ears with his fingers, and watched as the Doctor activated his sonic screwdriver, his free hand already covering one ear. The noise that was emitted was less of a sound and more of a physical wave of sonic energy. The air shimmered and pulsed and everyone below cried out and either fell to their knees or collapsed against the nearest unyielding surface. The Doctor and Sam were already moving. Sam felt dizzy. The pain in his head was intense, but at least he was still standing. He stumbled down the narrow stairs to the nearest guard who had toppled where he had stood. Sam found the guard's own restraining cuffs and fastened them around the stunned man's wrists. He quickly moved on to the next guard to do the same.
The Doctor, meanwhile, had knocked the beaker of Reslix toxin to the ground where it shattered. A yellow, foul smelling smoke hissed into the air as the liquid hit the cold floor. He stepped over the fallen Commissioner and crushed the glass syringe underfoot. With his screwdriver, he released the bonds holding the girl who was also stunned. Grabbing her by the wrists he threw her over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Turning he found Sam finishing up with the last guard.
"Good work, Sam, now let's get out of…"
Before he could finish, something grabbed him by the ankle and he fell hard. His chin hit the floor in a blinding starburst of pain. The girl's weight crashed on top of him and he felt her roll off his back and land next to him. The Commissioner, although still mostly stunned, had managed to seize the Doctor from his position on the floor and was now attempting to crawl towards him, mumbling angry, incoherent nonsense. Sam was on him in an instant, kicking the Commissioner's outstretched arm away from the Doctor and helping him hurriedly to his feet. The Doctor returned the girl to his shoulders, noticing she was still unconscious. The commissioner, more resilient than the others, had rolled onto his back and was using the cot to hoist himself to a seated position.
Without further conversation, Sam and the Doctor took off as quickly as they could up the stairs and out the door. They dashed down the white hallway, in the direction they had come.
'What's the plan now, Doctor?"
"Ah, well, that…" he said between breaths
"You mean you didn't think it through this far?" Sam panted incredulously.
"I did. We just need to avoid the guards the Commissioner will no doubt summon when he regains the ability to speak, which to his credit does seem to be much faster than I would have expected…"
"Doctor!"
"Right, avoid the guards and get back to my TARDIS without getting shot or captured. The only problem…" he was cut off by a sonic disrupter blast that zinged past his face. He and Sam ducked around a corner and continued running.
"Well, that," he said nodding behind him in the direction of the fired shot, "and I'm not sure my TARDIS is repaired yet."
"What!" cried Sam as several other bolts sang through the air around them.
"That's why I came home in the first place, Sam, my TARDIS was malfunctioning. Unfortunately, as it's no longer considered a military vessel, I have to settle for commercial repair and for an antique type forty that can be quite a challenge."
"I don't believe this!" cried Sam. "You're suppose to have a solution for everything!"
The Doctor snorted,
"No, Sam, I just seem to be extraordinarily lucky!"
They had reached the exit to the restricted science labs. Without a pause they flew through the door past the startled guard who had willingly let them in when shown the President's emblem.
"Hey…" exclaimed the shocked guard, standing from his post.
"Sorry," yelled the Doctor over his shoulder, "you may want to secure that door, a pack of mutated weevils just broke loose, very nasty blot on your guarding career if it ever got back that it was your fault they managed to escape and ravage the citadel! There's a good man."
The guard was already fiddling with the door's controls, initiating a lock down. The Doctor smiled as he heard the first of their pursuers slam in to the unyielding door.
"Open up!" he heard someone cry.
"Can't sir, not with the weevils on the loose."
"That should buy us a few minutes," said the Doctor as they retreated out of earshot.
The women on his shoulder groaned,
"Put me down…" she gasped, "this hurts…" the Doctor stopped his brisk jog long enough to lower her to the ground. She blinked a few times and was caught between holding her head and her stomach, both of which seemed to be killing her.
"You again," she said still a little stunned, "why is it always you…?"
"Sorry, I wish I could explain everything now, but we need to keep moving." He reached down and offered her a hand, "can you walk?"
"I think so," she said taking the proffered help gratefully. Suddenly, the sound of heavy footfalls echoed down the hall.
"Correction," the Doctor said with chagrin, "can you run?"
"What?" she cried.
But the Doctor was already pulling her along behind him. They flew through the science building. Everywhere they went they were attracting more and more pursuers. The Doctor was beginning to feel like a poor fox in a hunt. He had always hated that barbaric custom, and now he remembered why. He could tell Sam was tiring. He couldn't tell if the girl was flagging. She was still behind him, grasping his hand fiercely, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the path before him to check. One thing was certain, without another distraction, there was no way they were going to make it all the way back to the hanger.
The three burst into the waning daylight of Gallifrey. At least out here there would be more indirect routes to traverse on their way to the TARDIS.
"What did you do, Doctor?" shouted the women behind him, as she barely managed to shut the heavy exterior door before a sonic blast thumped into it, buckling the metal in a convex bubble.
"I rescued you, Eve!" he bellowed back, "now let's work our way back to the hanger a little more discreetly."
"They will know that's where we're heading," said Sam breathlessly.
'I know, I know, let's just worry about making it there first."
They had started sprinting along the empty road, ducking around buildings, and attempting to stick to back alleys. The Doctor knew that the entire sector would soon be on alert, if it wasn't already, and their luck would run out. He would have to think of something fast. As his mind whirred, turning over scenario after scenario, he was suddenly aware that the hand he had been gripping was gone.
"Sam," he started, suddenly on alert, "where's Eve?"
"Eve?" asked Sam, and the Doctor realized he had assigned her a name whether she liked it or not. Sam looked around the quickly darkening alley where they were standing, confusion registering on his face,
"She was here a minute ago."
The whine of a small repulsorgrav engine cut through the quiet evening. It was fast approaching the alleyway's end where Sam and the Doctor were headed.
"Here come the reinforcements," said Sam defeated. The Doctor was aware there was nowhere to hide in the straightaway.
"We'd better turn around," he said already moving.
The craft was coming closer, and as they made to turn, the Doctor and Sam heard the sound of shouting and running feet indicating the approach of a squadron rapidly closing on the other end.
"This is why I hate alleyways!" cried the Doctor skidding to a halt, "but they always seem like such a good idea when you first start down them."
The sound of the small craft's engine suddenly rumbled and echoed across the high walls surrounding them, and the Doctor heard someone call his name. It only took a second to realize the pilot of the hovercraft was his missing Eve. She frantically beckoned for them to move, and the two obeyed. The Doctor, not even bothering to open the small passenger door, hopped into the front seat of the open-air transport. Sam was about to do the same behind them, but hesitated at the site of the previous driver laying unconscious across the backseat.
"Sorry, no time to dump the body, get in" she said. As Sam climbed in tentatively, the Doctor inquired as to the state of the man behind them.
"He's fine, Doctor," she replied, "just a bump on the head." They sped away just as the first of the armed troops entered the other end of the alley.
"Sorry if I scared you. I saw an opportunity I couldn't pass up." She smiled then, and the expression seemed to surprise her, though she kept her eyes on the red, dusty road before them.
"I'm not sure how I know what I'm doing, but I'm going trust my instincts for now."
"A sound plan," replied the Doctor as they sped away into the crimson-purple twilight towards the TARDIS.
They stashed the land cruiser a short distance away from the hanger in one of the ubiquitous scrap heaps that tend to build up behind repair facilities. The three then began creeping cautiously towards the large domed structure that housed the TARDIS. The Doctor felt his mental connection with his ship strengthen as they neared its location. She was calling to him.
They drew nearer to the rear of the building, still hidden behind piles of cast away mechanical junk and random flotsam. Three guards had been posted outside the back entrance. Their disrupters were drawn and they seemed alert.
"How are we going to get past them?" Eve asked.
The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, but it was Sam who spoke,
"I think I have an idea." The Doctor and Eve turned to find him holding several chunks of synthetic polymer that had been sitting in the garbage around them. He gathered up as much of the dark material as he could find, and then took off back through the junkyard the way they had come. Eve sought the Doctor's eyes questioningly and he shrugged. She shook her head, uncertain, and the two waited together in silence for several minutes until Sam returned.
"Sorry," he said breathlessly, "it will just take a few minutes. That's a thermosetting polymer that should decompose violently at high temperatures. I packed it into the power conduit of the cruiser and left it running. Hopefully we're at a safe distance."
"Hopefully you removed the pilot from the backseat," the Doctor exclaimed, panicked.
Sam looked horrified,
"Of course I did!" his response was equally as stunned at the accusation.
Then the cruiser exploded behind them.
A plume of fire and debris shot at least thirty meters into the air above them. Sam could feel the heat on his back and he watched the three guards from the rear of the hanger and several who had been stationed out front, begin scrambling towards the scrap yard. As Sam tore off towards the now defenseless hanger, he heard the Doctor laughing beside him as he pulled Eve along by the hand.
The Doctor was the first to reach the TARDIS, and turning the key in the lock, sprinted into the control room with the others close behind. Sam slammed the door and, leaning his back against it, sunk all the way to the ground.
"We're not out of the woods yet, Sam," said the Doctor at the center console flipping switches and pulling levers seemingly at random.
"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath as he tried various combinations of buttons and knobs.
"It isn't working, is it Doctor." Sam said sadly.
"Hold on a minute, Sam. She likes to make me nervous but she never really lets me down…too often." He switched on the scanner as part of a series of movements his hands made as they blurred across the controls. He spared a glance only to see a mass of fresh guards entering the hanger who were taking up positions around the TARDIS. He also saw they carried a dematerialization neutralizer. He tried not to think about it.
"Doctor," Eve said quietly beside him, "I think I can fix it."
"What? No offense my dear, but my TARDIS is a unique piece of machinery. No one knows her quite the way I do. Why do you think they haven't been able to fix her in all the time I've spent in this miserable citadel? No, you had better leave this to me."
She placed an arresting hand on the Doctor's own.
"I was connected, at least partially, to your TARDIS. I think I can find malfunction. Please, let me try."
The Doctor looked at the view screen, at the almost completely powered dematerialization neutralizer, and back to the sincere eyes of the woman next to him.
"Two minutes," he conceded, "it's about all the time we have."
She moved purposefully across the console, and began playing with the temporal displacement filters.
"It wouldn't be that," he said, "those were in perfect working order when I landed."
She glanced up at him, too aware of their situation to be exasperated, but pretty close to it. She moved on across the panel, the Doctor biting his tongue at every new system she touched. He only stopped trying to correct her when he realized she was speaking to the TARDIS softly under her breath.
"I'm sorry," he heard her whisper, "I won't try anything like that again. I want to help now." She paused, as if listening to something he couldn't hear, and ducked under the console. Not wanting to be left out, the Doctor ducked down too. He could see her around the thick pedestal that held up the central console. She made eye contact with him in the dusty gloom and gently shook her head.
"I know what I'm doing, Doctor. Please relax." She rolled onto her back for a better look at the TARDIS's inner workings and disconnected a few wires that sparked dangerously close to her face. He was seriously considering crawling over to bat her hands away, when with a wheeze, he felt and heard the time rotor begin its rhythmic rise and fall above his head.
He sprang up to see if it was possible, and clapped his hands together with a massive grin when he saw that it was. Sam let out a whoop as Eve crawled back out from under the console. Her white dermamatrix bodysuit was now grey and dirty in most places.
"May I recommend a thorough dusting under there once ever century or so, Doctor." She said, brushing at her arms and knees.
"Of course," he replied and almost incredulous to the fact he was truly about to say this to another living being, continued "and while I'm under there, would you be so kind as to show me what you did?"
She smiled but her eyes conveyed an exhaustion that was bone deep.
"Yes Doctor, right after you explain everything that's happening to me, just like you promised." She held his gaze, desperate and quickly unraveling right before his eyes. He gently steered her to his favorite chair, where she sank gratefully and rested her elbows on her knees, forehead on her palms. She was trembling.
"Sam," the Doctor said, addressing the man behind him but never taking his eyes off Eve. "Go and find the nearest kitchen and put a kettle on, would you? I think we might all need a hot drink."
He tried to explain what he understood of her creation. He tried to tell her that it was lucky she had escaped with her mind intact, and that if not, she would have been a mindless automaton piloting a TARDIS somewhere. He briefly touched on the fact that they had overlaid another mind onto her own, which would explain any vague, shadowy memories. He silently hoped she wouldn't ask for more details.
She took it all in silently. Her eyes downcast on the china cup she clutched, white knuckled, in both hands.
"So that's it then?" she said when he had finished. She looked up for the first time in a long while and the Doctor was taken aback by the anger that burned in the depths of her green and brown patterned eyes.
"No past, no family, just a stolen childhood and someone else's memories. What am I Doctor?" her voice was steadily rising, "Who am I?"
The last question struck close to home. He remembered a time he hadn't known who he was; the fear, the distrust, the longing to understand. But he had persevered. He had known there was something out there for him, something he had only needed to find. He had known he was worth saving…
"You are who you want to be." He replied quietly. "This is your chance, Eve. You were strong enough to save yourself. You had a desire to live, so live. Start here, with me, you'll find who you are as we go along. That's how most of us do it, you're just getting a late start."
"I'm scared," she whispered, "there's nothing, I'm nothing, just here and now. I'm an isolated incident, a nonentity. How do I just pick up and move forward?"
"With help," the Doctor said simply, "no one should have to be alone when they're scared." She looked back, lost.
"Let's start right now, Eve. Do you mind if I call you Eve?" She shook her head. "Well, Eve, from this moment on, you are a person. A Lady of Time in your own right. And the first thing you need is some new cloths."
She looked up at him, and if she hadn't been so drained she might have asked him if he was crazy.
"I often find after a regeneration, picking something new is a purgative ritual. It's the first step in finding my new identity, sometimes even before I know who I really am."
Taking her hand to help her up from the chair, he led her down the winding corridors of the TARDIS to the wardrobe. He opened the giant double doors and heard her gasp. The space went on for what seemed like miles. Row upon row of never ending cloths, shoes, and accessories in all shapes, styles, colors, and, it seemed, for all races and genders.
She was staring in awe at her surroundings, "I'll never make it through the whole thing" she breathed.
"No, and I suspect no one ever will. Still, take all the time you need. Go on, start finding some identity."
The Doctor and Sam sat in the control room. The Doctor had, with great pleasure, added a few extra chairs back to the seating area that he had sectioned off in the main chamber. Suddenly, everything seemed as it had before the discovery of the doomsday machine that was currently changing in the wardrobe; comfortably quiet. The Doctor was reading an H. G. Wells novel for the millionth time. Sam was looking through an earth travel magazine he had found among the scattered belongings of the Doctor. He was currently reading about some place called "Fiji" which seemed like absolute paradise if not for the strange green vegetation.
Eve entered and stood in the doorway. She quietly cleared her throat. Both men looked up expectantly. She had chosen dark pants with a stately pair of brown leather riding boots fitted almost to the knee and a white blouse under a tailored hacking jacket. She had brushed her long mahogany colored hair, and pulled it back into a low ponytail. She looked down shyly, unaccustomed to the scrutiny.
"What do you think?" she asked nervously.
"I think it's perfect," replied the Doctor with pleasure. Sam smiled and looked her up and down. She tried to hide her pleasure, a flush creeping up her neck to her cheeks.
"And now," said the Doctor, moving to the console with that impossible speed he seemed to posses, "a little life experience is in order for both of you young Time Lords." As if on queue, the time rotor ground to a halt. The Doctor stared at his two companions, arms crossed over his chest, looking positively pleased with himself.
"Well," he said expectantly, "isn't anyone going to open the door?"
"I think I'd feel safer if you went first, Doctor," said Sam. Eve chuckled.
The Doctor strode to the door and threw it open with a dramatic gesture. Sounds of people talking and laughing filtered in as Eve and Sam crept closer for a better look.
"Left bank, Paris, France, boulevard Saint Germain," he sniffed the air and furrowed his brow, "1921, I believe."
The three Time Lords stepped out of the police box that stood on a shady street corner, two looking around in amazement, and one smiling confidently and silently brushing up on his French.
"How would you like to visit Café de Flore for lunch, and then we can pop over to see La Tour Eiffel?" He turned to his companions, his eyes sparkling in the midday sun. Eve met his gaze and felt the Doctor's earlier words sink in for the first time.
You had a desire to live, so live. Start here, with me, you will find who you are as we go along…let's start right now.
"Let's get started Doctor," she said with a sudden sense of peace. He tilted his head knowingly and offered her his arm. She took it as they began walking.
"The first time I came to Paris was in the year 3050. By that time, only a holographic projection of the Eiffel Tower remains, to memorialize the real one, which collapsed in 3027. Almost every night, these disrespectful young Parisians would alter the visual parameters so all sorts of lude things would show up instead …"
The Doctor continued to ramble on, the green grass fascinated Sam, and Eve just smiled.