Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who
This was just a completely random idea I thought would be interesting, it's obviously AU but I've tried to squeeze it into the canon timeline - started out as a one-shot but accidentally grew a multi-chaptered plot :) as you do. Written and edited in one day, so sorry if some of it's just awful. Feedback appreciated! Enjoy :D
Heroes
Child of Gallifrey
He was alone this time he died. He'd saved them all, but none would ever know, and here their saviour stood, bursting golden energy between lives. But he'd never regenerated alone, and as bright as he was he felt consumed by darkness; just a child before the Time Vortex in the moments before your atoms learn to run. And the child flees.
The new Doctor crumpled to the floor as the energy drained from him. He felt with a heavy hand to his hair, it was thick and wound itself bravely between his fingers. He ran his hand over new features, everything felt normal, fairly average, but with a young chin - he'd been hoping for older. He opened his eyes, half expecting it to still be dark, but the TARDIS hummed warmly and it all looked reassuringly familiar with the gentle lights illuminating the control room. He looked down at his hand and frowned, it looked small.
"That's…odd," he mumbled, and gasped when he heard his voice, it was high pitched. His hands quickly felt at his chest, no breasts, he sighed in relief. But as he looked down he noted how small his form was, his old suit lying crumpled about him, his open collar almost falling off his shoulder.
"Oh…that's bad," he scrambled to his feet, tripping out of his oversized trousers and converse, wearing his shirt like a dress. He moved swiftly around the TARDIS, his little feet padding on the metal grates. He sang the alphabet softly in a sing-song voice, and on reaching 'p' he grabbed the floor of the TARDIS and pulled open one of the grates. He leaned down, and pulled open a box, just within reach now, and brought out a handheld mirror. It was the mirror Picasso had used for his self-portrait, it had had a Warp-Unit stuck to it before the Doctor had fixed it, changes the perception and makes faces and shapes look odd - almost stole his soul, not much lasting damage though.
"Oh," he said as a child's face stared back at him. "I'm…I'm" the Doctor stuttered, "I'm a child!"
The mirror was thrown carelessly back into it's box, the Doctor crossed his arms, folded his legs and sulked. His chin sticking out, his mouth scrunched, the occasional huff escaping his button nose.
The TARDIS whirred.
"I am not sulking," he said, each syllable stressed.
The TARDIS vibrated.
The Doctor's face softened, he gulped a big breath, holding in a sob. He relaxed his tense body and leaned his head on the TARDIS controls, the metal felt warm against his cheek, wet with tears.
Soon he sat up, wiping the tears away he walked with renewed vigour towards the wardrobe room. As he walked the winding corridors he began to trail his hand playfully along the walls, feeling the bumps of the TARDIS and listening to the heart-beat rhythm as his fingers tapped lightly along the wall. Then he started to skip, so his fingers would beat faster, a small smile tickled his face and he began to run, his two hearts began to beat faster, his lungs breathed deeper, his muscles warmed to their first run and the child-Doctor whooped in joy.
He skidded to a halt outside the wardrobe room. He skipped in, and as children often do, picked the clothes indiscriminately from shelves. The children's section was smaller, but there had been need for it once. He grabbed a lime green long-sleeved shirt and placed a grey body warmer on top, long navy blue shorts and bright red pumps with odd socks, each of a unique shade of grey. He paused briefly to look in the mirror, he had thick black hair, spiked haphazardly in different direction with the remnants of the last incarnations hair-gel, and a handsome face that stared palely from beneath the shock of hair. He looked about eight, and he looked like he'd dressed himself in the dark. But it was still dark around him sometimes, when he was alone, when he blinked - there was nothing left. He breathed deep and ran out of the room as though being chased, back towards the TARDIS control room.
There were a few planets where the adult population looked like human children, distantly related to a human lineage. An evolutionary quirk, a defence mechanism so that the children were safest, growing immensely fast into adults and slowly reverting. He would adventure through these for a few years, until he got to an age where people would take notice of him, listen to him, trust him.
He began to run about the TARDIS controls, pulling at levers, pressing buttons, spinning dials. He smiled as he thought of some of his more dramatic moments, and how they would have gone differently had he been a child.
A figure silhouetted in the TARDIS doorway, framed by the powerful golden light, he holds out a hand. The face of an amazed companion stares down at him and their eyes narrow.
"Are you kidding?" they smirk and walk off laughing.
Just a few years, thought the Doctor. He stretched to reach the last few buttons at the top of the controls, on tip-toes. He couldn't reach them. He grabbed a hammer from the floor and tried to push them, but as the TARDIS juddered - he missed and pressed the wrong one.
"Oops," he said. The TARDIS shook again and he was thrown to the floor, it whirred loudly and began to scratch at time and squeeze itself through the empty atoms of space.
Then it stopped. The Doctor sat up and rubbed his head, not as strong as an adult's.
He crawled over to the consol and used his sonic screwdriver to change a few wires, it felt unnaturally big in his hand. He was going to change the TARDIS background setting to have child-friendly controls - ones he could reach. He put his screwdriver back in his pocket and peeped over the controls expectantly. The room was unchanged.
The TARDIS made a few beeping noises. He would have to leave and wait for her to reform. It would only take a few minutes.
"Right, well that's okay, I'll just go here instead," he mumbled as he stood up, casting an angry glance at the consol.
The Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, the last of the fabled Time Lords stomped his little feet angrily towards the TARDIS doors, and opened them onto a playground full of children. The doors slammed behind him and the TARDIS hummed a little as the settings changed.
"Oh," the Doctor said as he tried in vain to open the doors again, receiving a tiny electric shock from the TARDIS to remind him she was busy. He stared out on to a crowd of children.
To be continued... unless you hate the idea?