Doctor Who: Requiem for a Doctor
Prologue
Doctor…
It is what he has been named for almost nine centuries. The name has become more familiar and comfortable than the one given at birth, a constant reminder of a lifetime forsaken to nomadic wandering. Time never meant anything to his race. It was something to be mastered, lorded over. It was something to experience and explore, beautiful like the different facets of a dimensional crystal. But even time could conquer its lords, surrendering their legacy into nothing more than a mere memory of the universes' prestige…
Hazel eyes flickered open, their sleep robbed by visions of fire and explosions beyond human manufacturing. The image of a dying planet faded back into the reaches of the man's mind, causing his sweating body to shift uncomfortably. It was rare for a creature of his kind to sleep, but even he needed a refreshing, unconscious state every now and then. Moving from his reclined state, the insomniac stared at the reflection that peered back at him from a polished bronze shield that hung on the wall. It was ancient despite its condition, having been acquired many, many years ago. The still sleepy mind wandered to its origin bemusedly, a small smile creasing at the formerly frowning lips. It still sparkled as the day he had received it as a royal gift. Perseus had been quite thankful for his help with the Gorgonites. The three aliens had crashed onto Earth during the Grecian Bronze Age, staying out of sheer pleasure of the ample feeding grounds the humans provided. Chuckling softly, the man thought of the legendary misconception that had sprung from the ancient myth. Stone inducing stare, what rubbish. It really resided within the snakelike appendages that sprouted from the cranium region. Staring blankly at the mirror-like shield, he narrowed his eyes at his appearance. Scruffy facial hair and sideburns…. Meh. In every reincarnation, there was one part of the physical appearance of his that he didn't care for. In the first, it was mutton chops; the third, unruly , curly hair… The ninth, a receding hairline…or was it the ears…? Now, it was hastened facial hair that had to be trimmed at least twice a week. Moving to his refreshment station, deft hands flicked open the shining steel of a straight razor. There were far more advanced ways of shaving now a days, but heck, he was an old fashioned kind of man. Literally. Seconds later he was patting on thick, warm foam to his cheek, enjoying the temperature of the familiar matt.
The sudden trembling of what seemed to be an earthquake threw him against the wall, thus the razor nearly slicing him but barely avoiding doing so only by quick reflexes. Confusion and worry clouded the male's face as he dashed from the room, abandoning the razor in the sink. The sleeping chambers opened up into a spacious control room, it's golden, streamlined walls giving the area an ethereal complexity. Within the center pulsed a plasma core, surrounded by various knobs, buttons, and configuring sensors that were not of this world. All of them were resounding in alarm as the structure had stopped it's sudden trembling. Wiping back a shock of light, brown hair, the owner of the jolted vessel began adjusting his machine feverishly at the controls. "No…nonono…what happened, girl?" The sound of voice outside the from outside the structure forced the man to look up from his task. Rushing down the metal, grate ramp, a curious ear pressed to the perpherated crease that belonged to the door of the auxiliary exit. Little did he know, someone else was doing the same on the other side.
….
She has seen it appear from virtual nothingness. The only problem was it had appeared only a few feet in front of her car. A flash of blue, and then the vehicle she had only just bought a week beforehand….was crunched metal. Hissing from the pain in her forehead, the woman unsteadily stepped from what was left of her street car. The blue object that had collided with the car looked like an old telephone booth from the 1950's, it sign proudly displayed above the top. Squinting dark blue eyes, the young woman began to wonder if she had hit her head on the steering wheel harder than she had first thought… Maybe she was seeing things? Reaching out to touch the metallic surface, the disoriented female shook her head. No, it was really there… Concerned people began crossing from the opposite street, shouting and questioning about her safety. But no..there was another voice, but it was coming from within the strange box. "No…nonononon…..what happened, girl?" A masculine, frightened voice vibrated from within the telephone device, forcing the woman to press her ear to the ocean pigmented surface in curiosity. Clearing her dry throat, she plucked up her courage as she knocked on the side. "Oi, are you alright in there?" What met her sight next was a young man throwing open the door. His hazel eyes were wide, light brown hair thrown in different directions. A white dress shirt was untucked and a tie slung over his right shoulder. To top it all off, his face was half covered with the white foam of shaving cream. The small, dumbstruck crowd had gathered behind the woman's crumpled car, murmuring in quiet shock and musings. The owner of said car did not seem impressed however. Folding her arms, an angry scowl began to spread across her pretty face. " I do believe, sir, that you owe me a new vehicle?" The female's brow arched despite the searing pain that spiked in her left temple. The man looked at a loss for words, a wild, perplexed look crossing into his handsome face. Blinking violently at her statement, he swallowed hard. "What?"
"What?"
"What?"
"WHAT?
Narrowing her eyes as she bantered, the frustrated female tried to focus. Her eyesight was getting …blurry….
…
He found himself launching forwards to catch her, the woman finally swooning from the head injury she has sustained. Rouge liquid trickled from a cut upon the pale forehead, smudging against his sleeve. Damn…was a good shirt too. Honest worry passed over the man's face, brow wrinkling as it knit together. "Are you alright, Miss…?" Clear, blue eyes fluttered, the woman within his arms trying to answer despite her faltering voice. "Smith, Dawn Smith." Dawn smiled weakly as the migraine that had been kept at bay by only mere adrenaline now coursed through to the back of her head. "You…you got a name, Stranger?" Smiling at her pluck , the man proudly grinned even as Dawn's view faded into blackness. "Why, me? I'm the Doctor."