This is a collaborative effort between Julianna Calavicci (on both whofic and ) and asearcher. It is a prequel to an upcoming crossover that the authors humbly offer as a labor of fandom love. Hope you enjoy and please review! We like reviews! Almost as much as we like bananas!

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Diverging Timelines: The Five Stages of Grief

Chapter 1

Somewhere, Sometime

Sparks of electricity came up intermittently from around him as the Doctor lay on the floor of his TARDIS, his Edwardian garb in tatters on his thin yet muscular frame. He coughed as he took a breath, his respiratory bypass system having worked overtime just to keep him from suffocating. Slowly, as if just the thought of moving was painful, he crawled into a seated position and looked at his surroundings while trying to figure out exactly what had happened.

The TARDIS was in shambles. The "desktop theme" he had preferred since sometime late in his seventh life, an odd mixture of a Victorian sitting room and a Gothic cathedral, was now flickering in and out of the white default that was inherent in all TARDISes. The console itself was buried under the arches that once housed it.

The despair on the Doctor's face was evident as he carefully got to his feet and stumbled to the mangled console. He could feel the TARDIS struggling and knew in his hearts that she was doing so only to keep him alive. He roughly pushed the arches off of the console and perused the damage. It wasn't as bad as he feared but the TARDIS was going to need some serious R&R and some tender loving care before she could be back in form. She would need replacement parts but the Doctor knew that he could easily acquire everything he needed from the shipyards…

He froze at the thought. The shipyards. On Gallifrey. He hurried around the console and literally punched a button – just to get it to work properly – bringing the viewing hologram up. He wished he hadn't turned it on as what he saw brought everything back. The Last Great Battle of the Time War. It had already been given the nomenclature before the battle had even begun. The battle had come to an impasse. Either the Time Lords would destroy the universe, effectively destroying the Daleks and staying alive themselves or the Daleks would destroy the universe with roughly the opposite result. Only the Doctor had the universe's health in primary focus. When it became obvious that the Time Lords would do literally anything to win the war, he was forced to make the final decision, the decision which destroyed everything, Dalek and Time Lord alike. However, the universe survived.

He leaned against the console, feeling the weight of what he had done bearing down on him, wishing that the emotion was more physical and would literally crush him. Why was he still alive when the rest of his people were dead? He had fully intended to die in that last destructive act and yet here he was, standing in a wrecked TARDIS. He mentally searched for another Time Lord mind, hoping that what he was feeling was a lie. The silence that he got in return was overbearing, causing him to collapse to his knees.

"Why?" he questioned aloud. He blinked at the sound of his voice. It was far different than any he had had before. The closest he could compare it to was the accent of someone from the northern part of England, his favorite country on his favorite planet. Raising his hand, he noted that the appendage, once smooth like that of a gentleman, was now rough as if he had worked with his hands the last twenty years. "I regenerated," he commented. "Damn it, I regenerated!" He punched the side of the console with fury before slumping to sit on the floor again. "You did this, didn't you?" he accused his timeship. "You knew I wanted to die with my people. Why did you do this to me?"

There was no answer from the ancient vessel, making the Doctor feel all that more alone in the universe. The Gallifreyan swallowed tightly. He couldn't exist like this, the last of his kind because of his own actions. What did the humans call it? Survivor's guilt. Well, he certainly deserved the guilt, in his opinion. He was guilty of genocide, twice over. The only thing he felt that he could do was finish the job.

Slowly standing again, he sniffed back his emotions and tried to make sense of the damaged console. There were still enough left of the timeship's controls to set a course. But, where to go to end this torment? He set the controls without even thinking about it, sending the ship into time and space. As he did so, he realized that he was shivering from lack of proper clothing. Without even being aware of his actions, he carefully made his way into the back rooms of the ship, somehow finding the wardrobe amongst the wrecked corridors. He quickly picked out a set of clothes that seemed to fit his new personality – black jeans, a long-sleeved jumper, and a beaten leather jacket – before making his way back to the console room.

The TARDIS was in the process of repairing herself, as was evident in that more of the default white was starting to make itself known. The Doctor just shook his head as he passed through to the main doors. He really couldn't understand why she was even bothering when they would both be long gone from the universe soon.

A hard, jarring shake indicated that they had rematerialized somewhere. The Doctor didn't bother even trying to check the readings to see where they had landed, going towards the doors.

"Goodbye, old girl," he said to the timeship, his blue eyes gazing sadly on his oldest living friend. "See you on the other side. If there is another side." The TARDIS' protests filled his mind as he stepped out of the ship, believing that it would be for the last time.

He hadn't expected the island paradise that he saw before him. Still, if he had to pick a way to die, being surrounded by beauty wasn't a bad position to be in. But the golden sands and blue waters did nothing to ease the guilt he felt in his hearts. He certainly hadn't expected to be helping the natives on the island to escape the fury of Krakatowa. The Doctor himself had barely escaped the deadly eruption, though why he didn't just stay and let the volcano bury him and his TARDIS under molten rock and ash he didn't fully understand, only that it was likely habit. He'd really have to get better at ignoring his instinctive impulses to live. Neither did he know that his presence there had been immortalized in a charcoal drawing by one of the natives.

This time, as the timeship traveled through the Vortex, the Doctor had no control of his destination, the TARDIS having taken off the moment the Time Lord slammed the door shut against the upcoming havoc. Another jarring landing left the Doctor's teeth aching as he looked at the time rotor.

"Where are we?" he questioned. Getting only a wave of sadness from his ship, he forced himself away from the console, this time determined to follow through with his intentions.

He found himself on a grass covered hill, the sound of cheering catching his attention. Following the sound, he saw the large crowd of humans, all of them looking in one direction. Well, at the very least, he knew he had landed on Earth. And judging from the wardrobe the humans were wearing, it was either the early 1960s or late in the forty-seventh century during the Great Revival. Regardless of the year, his curiosity of what they were watching was eating at him. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to take a peek before planning his own death.

Carefully pushing his way through the crowd, he froze at what he beheld. In an instant, he knew exactly where and when he was. November 22, 1963. Dallas, Texas, United States. In only a few more seconds, he knew shots would be heard coming from the Texas School Book Depository and the President of the United States, one John Fitzgerald Kennedy, would die. He could taste eddies of time growing stronger as the event came closer. A single fixed point in time.

As the President's motorcade passed his location, he turned his head, sensing an oddity. At that moment, someone on the other side of the road snapped his picture. Not Kennedy's, not Jackie's. His picture. He frowned at the oddity, wondering who would take interest in him. After all, he hadn't been to Earth in this incarnation before. He wasn't even sure that the interest was in him particularly. All he knew was that there was something wrong here that had nothing to do with President Kennedy's assassination, which was happening right at that moment. Shaking the odd sensation away, he turned from the scene. As he walked away, he felt a different sensation as if an eddy in time... something not quite fixed had changed course. It gave him pause but he figured that it was just a result of the energies surrounding the death of this man. He turned and considered the car that now sped off away from the grassy knoll as the people around him screamed in shock and terror from the event.

Across the street, a man from the 51st century, far older than his appearance, walked away from the scene of chaos in much the same way the Doctor did. He shook the Polaroid film, encouraging it to develop quickly, despite knowing that shaking the picture didn't do anything to make the development go any faster. He looked at the picture and then sighed in frustration. It was the Doctor, all right, but it was the wrong time. He could tell by the look in the Time Lord's eyes. They screamed self-hatred. What was more – he wasn't sure how he knew – Jack Harkness could tell that this Doctor hadn't yet met him. For one, it was obvious that he could sense his presence but didn't understand what he was feeling. Sighing, he dropped the photo on the ground and went on with the assignment Torchwood had given him, knowing that it was better than spending his immortal life in a prison cell.

As the Doctor walked from the scene, he wondered why the TARDIS had materialized in one of the Earth's darkest moments. One thing was certain; it certainly helped to deepen his already black mood. All he needed now was someplace quiet to end his existence. No doubt UNIT would take on the case once they found out that the Dallas police had an alien body in their morgue. It would only be a short time later that they would find the TARDIS…

He stopped in his walk when he remembered that UNIT didn't exist in 1963. It wouldn't exist for another five or six years, in fact. What would become of his body? Of the TARDIS? He certainly didn't want to become a curiosity, dissected as the scientists in charge tried to find out what he was. He wanted a proper burial – even if it wasn't Gallifreyan – something he knew the Brigadier would provide. Well, that wasn't going to happen in 1963, especially since Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart was still Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart at this time and they hadn't even met yet.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled. "Can't even commit suicide properly."

Even as he made the comment, he heard a quiet sob coming from the bushes he was marching past. The sound was so soft that, if the Doctor hadn't been right beside the hedge, he wouldn't have heard it, especially with the noise of confusion and panic coming from the other side of the grassy knoll. Stopping, he followed the sound to its source, lowering himself a few feet away.

"Hello?" he called out gently. Hearing a sudden rustle, he hurried forward verbally. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Come on out where I can see you. I only want to help. Promise."

Slowly, a small female child came out of the hedge, obviously lost and frightened. Everything about the girl told the Time Lord that she was completely out of place. Her clothes, her hair, and her shoes weren't the height of fashion for the early 1960s, especially for a human girl her age, which the Doctor guessed to be about twelve or thirteen years old.

"You seem a bit lost." He didn't move from his crouched position.

The girl sniffed, wiping away some tears as she looked around furtively. Her lyrical speech pattern, indicative of a resident of Ireland, came through loud and clear. "I can't find my mummy and daddy. We were going to the ship but I stopped to watch the sailors and then there was a bright light and they were gone!" She sniffed again, her voice growing more agitated as she spoke. "And this place is so scary! Everyone dresses so strange and there's so much noise!"

The Doctor looked at the girl with concern. The bright light description reminded him of some sort of teleport. As for the ship and the girl's obviously out-of-time clothing… well, the Gallifreyan needed far more information than the girl had given him.

"It's okay," he assured. "We'll find your mummy and daddy together." He extended his hand to her. "I'm the Doctor. What's your name?"

"Eveleen," she answered softly. "Eveleen Daniels." She tentatively accepted the Doctor's hand, allowing him to shake it before he slowly stood up.

"Nice to meet you, Eveleen. Now… what ship were you going to before you got lost?"

Her forehead creased. "It was a Titan something. I can't remember."

The Doctor's brow furrowed at her words. "How about we try a different tactic? Do you remember what date the ship sails?"

She smiled. "Of course, I do. Today."

He smiled patiently. "And that is?"

"The tenth of April."

"What year?" the Time Lord pressed gently.

"1912, of course. Are you daft?"

He froze at her words, his eyes darkening slightly while he ignored her implied insult. "You weren't in the city of Southampton, were you?" he questioned, the knot in his stomach growing.

"Why, of course we were. You wouldn't expect the ship to sail from Devon, now would you? Mum and Dad said we had to go to the docks to get on the ship. It's going to be a grand adventure, you know."

"Going to the United States," he muttered, knowing now exactly what ship she had been going to board.

"Aye. That's where my Uncle Sean went. He's been there for five years now and we're going to go live with him."

"Terrific," he grumbled, though his tone indicated that he didn't think it was in the least bit. "RMS Titanic. Wouldn't you know it? Now I'll have to avoid myself." He turned towards the girl, who was looking at him as if he had just grown a second head. "No problem. We'll get you back with your mum and dad straight off."

"Oh, thank you, sir. I'd greatly appreciate it."

He offered his hand. "Come along, then," he instructed. With the girl accepting, he escorted her to the TARDIS and unlocked the door. "After you, Eveleen Daniels," he instructed. "Don't touch anything."

She looked up at him as she walked in. "Why are we going into a..." Once inside her eyes widened and she turned to walk out again.

"What's wrong?" the Gallifreyan questioned. Seeing the shocked look on her face, he nodded. "Okay, so it's bigger on the inside." He peered inside the vehicle. "And a bit rubbish looking but that's only because she's been through a lot lately. She's repairing herself but... well, you've got to give her a chance, don't you?"

"Her?" the girl asked.

"She's a ship. You call ships by a feminine gender, don't you? Besides, I think she likes being female. She certainly acts it sometimes. Stubborn." He stepped into the timeship and gestured Eveleen to enter as well. "Come on. Got to get you to your parents. You certainly don't belong here."

She once more looked into the strange room. Gazing up at the man and feeling by the sixth sense her mum always claimed she had that she could trust him, she walked into his so called ship.

The Doctor quickly closed the door and moved to the console, grimacing at the damage there. "Mind you, she really does need repairs done," he muttered to himself. "Might be a bit of a bumpy ride..." He froze at a thought. "The Eye of Harmony... it's gone. She can't travel through time without energy from the Eye. I'm going to need to find an alternate energy source and soon." He didn't even realize how his mindset had shifted automatically towards what was part of his nature, namely caring for all living creatures. All he knew was he couldn't leave this girl outside of her time and, if at all possible, he needed to make sure she was safe.

As he started pulling on different equipment, she stated, "I just don't see how a blue shed can be a ship."

"It's a police box actually..." he started. Seeing the confusion on her face - and remembering that police boxes weren't even around in 1912 - he rephrased his next words. "She just looks like a shed. In actuality, she's a highly-sophisticated state-of-the-art... well, state-of-the-art when she was originally commissioned... Type 40 TT capsule, capable of traveling to any time and any place in the universe. As long as she has power, that is." He moved around the console before dipping down to scrounge underneath it. "I'm thinking next configuration... grated floor so that I can see into your workings better," he told the ship.

"So... this box is sort of like the Titan... aahhh... ship."

"Titanic," he corrected her. "Remember that name, Eveleen. One day, you'll be telling your grandchildren about that ship." He pulled himself up from under the TARDIS console and flicked a switch, causing the interior to become completely white, roundels gracing the walls. "There. At least it won't give me a headache looking at you. Looks like there's enough power for a couple of trips. After that, I may have to adapt something, scoop up time vortex particles or something. Or revert to huon particles. Dangerous but at least it will give us power. Now, just have to set the coordinates..." he commented mostly to himself. "You might want to hang onto something."