adjective & adverb
adjective:
having no one else present; on one's own
without others' help or participation; single-handed
isolated and lonely
adverb:
indicating that something is confined to the specified subject or recipient
used to emphasize that only one factor out of several is being considered and that the whole is greater or more extreme
Cold air brushed his cheek as one button after another, The Doctor flew around the console. He pulled metal levers here, flicked tiny switches there, and turned bright flashing dials everywhere. There was no particular destination in his mind - just anywhere. It was one of those days. Single-handedly, he navigated aimlessly through the vortex of time and space, pondering nothing, and feeling nothing but effervescent freedom. The polished shine from his shoes tangoed in the brilliant blazing glows of the console whilst the ends of his coat whipped around in The Doctor's dance - his bow tie, as ever, remained straight, and most importantly remained cool.
It had been a moment of frivolity that led him to his newest venture. Having just been to Victorian Yorkshire and been judged by simply far too many people in the space of twenty-four hours, as soon as he had dropped Clara - oh Clara, lovely Clara (he had lost count of the times he had had to say 'it's complicated' to explain Clara) - off at home, he decided to partake on a little 'me time'. He had the strangest feeling that the TARDIS agreed with his decision, as she took off rather enthusiastically and was much easier to fly than she had been in the recent weeks. He had no idea where he was going, only that he was getting there fast.
The TARDIS landed with her usual jolt just a few moments later. The Doctor went to check the monitor to discover where he had landed, then stopped himself. Sating his appetite for surprise, he left it alone. Instead, he had a quick glance in the mirror. His eyes looked tired, but his grin hid it well. With quite literally a hop, skip, and a jump, he catapulted himself towards the door.
He was immediately overwhelmed by the stench of methane and ethane clamouring into his nostrils and jamming his senses. He staggered backwards slightly, grasping the TARDIS door for support. The air was dense, pressing down on his shoulders like rock. And it was cold. Freezing cold. The Doctor looked into the skies through watering eyes and realized immediately where he was. A huge gas planet with surface the colours of sand and dust loomed overhead - Saturn. And judging from its positioning and the time of day, The Doctor realised he was walking on the moon. Well, one moon in particular. Titan.
By all logic, the TARDIS shouldn't have been able to land on the surface. It was less dense than water last time he checked, and the shields weren't at full capacity (although he probably ought to have after the previous incident…). It was a mystery.
He loved a good mystery.
Unfortunately, however much he loved mystery, mystery clearly didn't love him. He realised this as the impossible ground rushed up to meet him following a sharp blow to the back of his head. He tasted blood in his mouth, then darkness enveloped him and he felt nothing.
A booming metallic rhythm stirred her from her slumber. Opening one eye, she saw she was still alone. She yawned widely, rolling her shoulders back and stretching out her arms. She rose. The bolts on the door began to scratch against the iron. Light flooded across the straw-ridden floor for a brief moment as two Dakari guards - huge bulking humanoid warriors with their metal armour sown into their skin - threw a large black bundle onto the ground, shutting the wooden door with a heavy slam and a raw gritty grunt. Darkness snaked back into the room like a pot of spilled ink. The sound of their metal boots crashing against the floor slowly faded away, leaving her alone with the bundle. She crept towards it, watching carefully as the bundle became not a bundle at all, but a figure, then a human figure, then a man - half-dead by her reckoning. With a curious hand, she pawed at his shoulder and squinted at his features, barely visible in the slivers of the artificial moonlight that crept through the bars of her window. Her head titled to the side.
A strange feeling suddenly stabbed her in the skull as she stared down at his unfamiliar features. The sensation was not quite physical, yet not entirely psychological either. It was…recognition, but she was sure she had never seen this man before. She scanned every peculiar angle of his face, trying to dig away at this gnawing feeling. Her digging produced nothing. She was convinced she had never seen him. But-
Suddenly, he burst to life, going from sleeping soundly to bolt upright and gasping in less than the blink of an eye. She scurried back into the shadows, the concrete floor scratching her palms, and watched from afar as best she could as she squatted awkwardly in the corner.
She could hear his laboured breathing as he scrambled to his feet. His voice crept through the silence. He kept asking if anyone was there. Perhaps she should…
An unusual green glow, accompanied by a reverberating screeching sound, illuminated the walls slightly. She covered her ears and waited for it to pass. As the light faded, she slowly took her hands down.
'Wood,' the man mumbled, 'how typical.'
She tried to speak, but then remembered, and was silent. Summoning the last ounce of courage she had left, she crept out of the blanket of shadows, being careful to keep her distance from this strange creature.
The Doctor's eyes widened as the face began to emerge from the blackness. He took fright for a moment, but he could tell this woman meant no harm. Her eyes were wild, but exhausted. Her skin was pale and sunken, and her knuckles were bruised and bloody. Her white blonde hair framed her face in a tangled mess. She titled her head at him, confused. She looked like a lost animal, frightened and alone. But there was something else about her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something-
He sat upright. 'Hello, there,' he said softly. The Doctor reached out to shake her hand, but she recoiled with a jump back into the shadows. 'It's alright,' he whispered, 'I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know your name.'
There was a pause, and then she re-emerged. She looked at his hand suspiciously, and looked him up and down. Carefully and cautiously, she eased her bloodied hand into his.
The Doctor lifted their hands up slightly towards the slits of the false moonlight filtering in from the window. 'Now what happened here, then?' he mumbled. 'Who did this to you?' She said nothing. The Doctor looked up and saw her touching her throat with her other hand in an almost apologetic manner.
'You can't speak?'
She shook her head. Her hand withdrew slowly from his as if from shame. She pulled her left leg out from under her and pointed at an ankle bracelet hanging loosely around her foot. The Doctor squinted at it. The titanium caught the glistening of the lights on its surface, revealing:
Registration Number: 1963201311
Earth Name: April Green
Official Title: The Tetra
Medical: Tumour pressing on Broca's area of the brain, preventing speech. Neoplasm ended to stop tumour growth, resulting in a smaller-than-average second heart.
He had to go back and read it twice, three times, four times just to let it sink in. His suspicions were confirmed.
'So,' he said, 'April Green. How did the Dakari manage to recreate a Time Lord?'
