Disclaimer - "Doctor Who" and the characters you know and love (or tremble at) sadly do not belong to lil'ol'me. The characters that you do not recognize, well, they are the product of my near catatonic state during my daily commute to work in the morning...only to be put to e-paper on the commute home in the evening.

Prologue

A sensation of tingling fluttered about inside of her head, dancing out a quick staccato of pressure on her temples and forehead and neck and eyes. She rubbed her temples tenderly and willed the feeling to cease and desist. If she had been missing her head, it would have been easy to chalk it up to something akin to phantom limb syndrome. She hadn't felt this pulsing sensation before and her body was nearly twitching as it escalated to something nearing pain.

Stifling the urge to gasp as a sudden focused beam of discomfort shot through her body, the woman straightened up and reached over to press a button. The centre console lit up, hues of green and blue filling the room. Usually, she found peace in those colours as it meant her vessel was operating at peak efficiency. Unlike herself it seemed, at least in the present.

She tapped out a quick message, unsure how long it would take for a response to be sent back to her. Groaning, she doubled over as the pain intensified. Blindly, she reached out and grasped at empty air, fingers futilely clutching for something to grab onto. She stumbled sideways a few steps and bumped into a wingback loveseat bolted to the floor.

If it hadn't been so fixedly affixed to the floor, she was certain it would have toppled over with the force of the collision. Eyes, unseeing from the pain, rolled into the back of her head as she stumbled onto the embroidered and well cushioned piece of furniture. Her sweeping hand knocked a book to the floor, its thud unregistered by her ears.

Gingerly, she curled up on to the love seat and rocked slowly back and forth, hoping to find comfort in the maternal motion. Time passed – how much, she knew not – and the pain did not lessen. Its presence filled her. Like an aura of agony, it tortured a white hot blindness through her very being. Not just her sight. Her hearing. Her smell. Her taste. Her touch. Her mind. All of her senses were rendered nearly catatonic from the torment.

What had started off as a mere tickle had escalated to a level of suffering she had never felt…ever. And 'ever' was a long time for her.

Eventually, the pain started to ease, ebbing from her mind as if there was shift in the mental tides. Cautiously, she opened her grey eyes and raised her head to survey the room. Nothing had changed. Nothing was amiss, but for the book on the ground.

She slowly raised herself into a sitting position before reaching down to pick up the book. It was a classic, an old favourite from her personal library, non-scientific and certainly not related to her academic quest, but books were one of the few luxuries she permitted herself. Thankful that the book was undamaged, she stood up and willed her shaking legs to stop.

Walking over to the console, she checked the time. A few days had passed if the chronometer was to be believed. That meant she had been on the couch, without food, drink, or bathing for that entire time. She shuddered to think what her appearance was and made every effort to avoid looking at her image in any reflective surface.

A soft beeping caught her attention. A message had been sent to her only moments ago. She frowned. The original message had been sent by her just before she had been rendered incapacitated. What if the recipient had been experiencing the same symptoms as she and was also disabled during the same time? What force in the universe had such power? What being could possibly have such ability?

"Your communication has been received. Similar occurrences here and across with all. Investigation pending."

That was it. No instructions. No guidance. No answers. It would seem that she knew as much as the next being…and that meant nothing was known. She pursed her lips in annoyance, hating not knowing. Her sense of curiousity and desire to know all was limitless, but right now there was no clue to follow towards an answer.

She sighed and turned to go freshen up. A few days on the couch had left her feeling rather…unkempt.

[] DW [] DW [] DW []

Time passed and flowed and swirled and eddied around her and the pain that had once felled her and her associates was forgotten. Investigations had led to no answers and eventually it was scribed as being one of those universal unknowns that perhaps they would come to understand in a future time. People moved forward – or backwards or sideways – forgetting that which had brought many to their knees. The powerful did not enjoy reminiscing on something that had bested them.

The past few days had been a gloriously stimulating adventure. The Great Library of Iveness had proven to be quite enlightening, its holographic viewing rooms allowing her to experience the Age of Illumination of a now-extinct aquatic species followed by the puzzling "Hundred Year Renaissance" that had occurred on a planet with two warring factions. The ability of the Great Library to allow people to experience the contents of its books in such a first-hand manner was quite breathtaking, even down to the sounds and smells of the experience.

Quickly, she inhaled, the nostrils on her pale-skinned face flaring slightly at the increased air flow. Ripping off her ribbon-bedecked safari-style hat, she gripped the edge of the console with one hand and pulled herself along towards the loveseat, its embroidered cushions still plump and welcoming to anyone in the area. Sitting down, she waited as the thrumming within her head increased and then, after several breaths, it strangely plateaued.

Puzzled, she reached up and patted her red hair, ensuring each strand was in the same place she had put it several hours ago. Convinced that her coiffure was in no way suffering, the woman returned her thoughts to the tickling that buzzed her mental acuity.

Running her palms over her paisley-patterned vest with its pewter and forest green and golden threads, she tried to not think about why her hands suddenly felt clammy. Her lightly coloured eyes surveyed the room and she listened, but for what she knew not, for she was alone in the room.

Wasn't she?

A soft beep indicated a message was waiting for her. A flick of her delicate wrist, still covered in beige gloves, resulted in an audio playback of the communication. A monotone male voice filled the air.

"It has returned to us all. You are the closest. Investigate and resolve."

She breathed slowly, trying to put up walls to keep the whispering tingle from tip-toeing through her mind. A sharp stab flashed through her head and she gasped, fighting the urge to vomit. The room spun about her and she cried out at the pain coursing through her brain. What felt like an eternity, but was just a few heartbeats in length, passed before the feeling once again ebbed back to a murmuring undertone of buzzing, like insects on a warm summer day.

She could ignore it no longer and, after a quick check of the directed coordinates, she flipped a few more switches, pressed a few more buttons, spun a few more knobs and hoped she would get there – where ever there was – in time to figure out what was causing such a sensation.

After all, she was the Professor, and if something was driving her mad, she needed to nip it in the bud as expediently as possible.