Message to the Doctor
The once short, cute little man was now a tall and handsome. There were no more safari hats, odd scarves or question mark vests. There were no more umbrellas or funny shoes. His face was younger and tanner. Dark circles surrounded his eyes making him look more menacing. His dark hair hid most of his face. A bit girlish for her taste, but with every regeneration came a new look. He was leaner and held himself in a way that reminded her of a Victorian soldier. She quickly scanned him starting with his grey boots. They were odd in design, with straps of leather and small pieces of metal keeping it together. Connected around his left leg was a holster holding an odd wound. It seemed too big to be a sonic screwdriver, but had a similar design. More holsters ran up his leg carrying different weapons and objects. She never knew her Doctor to be ready for a fight. This Doctor seemed born in a world of war. Over his dressy navy blue was a black armored vest. He laid his dark maroon coat on his lap and draped his leg over his knee.
"Ace," he said in a whisper.
Perhaps it wasn't the same doctor she had known, but she wasn't the same Ace he had known either. She had kept a profile of him since their departure and had tracked a few carnations of him here and there. San Francisco, a man in a Victorian outfit saves the city. The pictures of the man in leather from different time eras who arrives moments before disasters. The mystery man in the brown coat from the London Olympics who carried torch to the stadium. But she had never seen or heard of this Doctor before.
"You're in trouble?" she asked.
A smile crept on his face. He moved his long hair from his face and quickly tied it into a ponytail. He was much more attractive than he was before. She had always seen him as a father figure, but never as a love interest. He looked like he could be a few years younger than her.
"How long has it been for you? What carnation are you on?"
He smiled and shook his head. He looked back over his shoulder, at the old police box standing near her balcony overlooking London.
"Ace?" he said again.
"It's me Doctor," she said with great concern. "It's me."
She wondered what had happened. Had he regenerated and forgotten who he was? Was she the only memory left in his poor frail mind? Was he just in trouble and in need of a friend? He rose to his feet and stood over her. She felt her heart fluttered as he gently grasped her arms. He leaned in close to her ear. She felt his lips nearly touch her skin and for a moment had to restrain herself from shrieking. She felt his breath on her neck before he whispered,
"Just no you never had a chance."
She felt a sharp pain in her stomach and suddenly it became hard to breathe. She didn't notice the blade in her until her pulled it from her chest. She felt her legs give out and fell to her knees. She looked up to see him cleaning the blood from his blade with one swipe against his pants. Waves of panic began to overwhelm her. She touched her wound and saw her entire palm covered in blood.
"Doctor?" she whispered.
"I'm not the doctor sweety," he said over his shoulder. His voice sounded tired and frail. There was no enjoyment of what he was doing. This didn't cause him pleasure. "I'm sorry."
He walked into the Tardis and shut the doors behind him. She rolled to her back and quickly began to think of a plan. She couldn't remember where her cellphone was. She could call for help, but knew she didn't have the breath to call out to anyone. She couldn't feel her legs anymore. She felt light headed. Thoughts of her Doctor began to sprout in her memories. She heard the familiar sound of the Tardis.
WHOOOSH. WHOOOOOOSH. WHOOOOOOOOOSH.
She closed her eyes, not knowing who the man was, and what the doctor had done to him.
