A/N:
Timeline - Doctor Who just after Planet of the Dead. Resident Evil before the first film.
This story is a whump fic involving dark, torturous and vile things happening to both the Doctor and the TARDIS that you may find uncomfortable, disturbing, and maybe even a little impossible. If that sounds like your cup of tea, then please read on!
Please know that I have seen only the first three RE films, I have not read any of the books or played the games. Hence this is an alternate universe story where the T-virus had not yet been developed. However, I did research certain points for both RE and DW, so if something seems off or 'not right', just shoot me a PM and I will be glad to share my source.
Happy reading!
The Doctor stood in the TARDIS just inside the double blue doors. He rested his forehead against them and tried to focus on the feel of the wood rather the internal storm of emotions that raged inside him.
Christina had pleaded with him to let her join him in touring the universe, but he had coldly refused her...and regretted it ever since. He had really wanted, very desperately so, to take her with him, but he just...couldn't.
All he wanted to do was see the universe and didn't want to see it alone. But every person that has traveled with him has ended up somehow destroyed. Rose, Jack, Martha, Donna, just to name the most recent few who dared step foot in the TARDIS. They wanted to see the stars and he took each of them by the hand leading the way to pain.
How could he let them get hurt and yet save entire planets? It just wasn't fair, the Doctor thought as he clenched his fist. Now he faced an ominous prophecy that his song was about to end and that terrified him more than anything he had ever faced. The not knowing how or when, he hated it.
He slammed his fist against the TARDIS door.
Drawing in a deep breath, he focused on controlling his emotions and turned around staring absently at the center console. The sight of it always calmed him. A weak smile played across his features as he gazed upon the soft glowing interior of his ship. His TARDIS. Always there for him. Always by his side. His best friend.
The Doctor nodded slightly as he made the decision that he was not going to dwell on these dark thoughts any longer. He shoved the pain of loneliness aside once again. Run. He's good at running and run is exactly what he was going to keep doing.
He shrugged off his long coat and flung it toward its usual resting place in the split of a coral support beam by the door. With a new sense of purpose, he rushed to the console. With the pull of a level, he sent the TARDIS flying into the time vortex.
Just the sound of the engines propelling the ship through time and space eased the Doctor's mind and shifted his thoughts toward the adventure that lay before him. He had no idea where the TARDIS was taking him and he really didn't care. What he needed lay just beyond those doors, that was the only thing that mattered.
Suddenly, the TARDIS lurched hard enough to knock the Doctor off his feet. He didn't remain sprawled out across the grated floor for long. He sprang back up in an instant. Holding on to a handle with one hand, the Doctor grabbed the monitor with the other and swung it around. Gallifreyan flashed on the screen as the time ship rocked back and forth uncontrollably.
The Doctor raised his left eyebrow as he stared at the information with a puzzled look. "What?" He scrunched the bridge of his nose as he spoke aloud to the empty room. "An energy beam? In the time vortex? Impossible!" Then the Doctor's eyes widened as he watched the TARDIS head straight for the beam like a moth toward the flame.
A fountain of sparks erupted from the console when the TARDIS struck the energy beam. The ship spun out of control. The Doctor was forced to let go of the console to shield his face from the fiery sparks and he was flung hard against the bench seat like a rag doll.
He landed face down on the grated floor and this time, he remained there. Pain shot through his back from being bent over backward across the bench and he whimpered involuntarily when he tried to move. But that was only one of his many growing problems.
Fire raged from the console sending a thick black smoke billowing into the air. Sparks snapped and popped out sporadically in all directions creating small singed holes in the Doctor's blue suit where they landed on him. The worst was yet to come, and the Doctor knew it.
The TARDIS was still in flight, hurtling toward... some when. Without seeing the monitor, the Doctor had no idea if he was still in the time vortex or not. All that he knew was that she had yet to land and he wasn't sure he was going to survive it this time.
A small explosion echoed through the console room as the fire spread through the wiring under the grated floor. The Doctor could feel the heat build and the stench of the burning wires filled his nostrils. With pain stabbing in his back like knives, he rolled over to his side. Through tear-filled eyes, he stared up at the console slowing being engulfed in flames, but he reached out and grabbed a hold on the console edge to pull himself up.
The blast that erupted from the console happened quickly and unexpectedly.
The Doctor was thrown back across the floor, scraping his exposed hand over the sharp edges of the grating. He flailed out his arms and legs in reflex as he flew between the metal bars of the railing. He cried out as his right arm and leg hit the rail. He heard the snap, felt the crack in his bones.
Once past the railing, the Doctor's limp body continued to slide across the floor until he hit the wall. His head slammed against the wall with a knock that resounded through his clouding mind and the pain in his back started anew. Darkness threatened to overtake his consciousness, but he fought it off with fierce determination.
The TARDIS was burning and he had to escape or he would burn with her.
He made an attempt to stand, but ended up drawing a sharp breath as pain shot through his arm, leg and back as if he were being electrocuted. Refusing to lie there and die, he screamed and forced his body to climb to his feet. At last he stood. Relying on his uninjured leg to slowly limp his way toward the exit, he coughed and choked in the thick smoke that hung so low to the floor.
As he neared the coral support beam near the door, he staggered forward and wrapped his good arm around it to remain upright. When he bent over in a fit of coughing, he noticed his blood dripping on the floor and couldn't deny how much it hurt to breath. He clenched his eyes closed as he realized that a rib or two must be broken.
That, however, was not the most pressing matter at hand.
The Doctor glanced over at the console ablaze with raging tongues of flame flickering from the floor through the grating. "I am an idiot," he said and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He aimed it at the console and the squealing of the sonic lasted only long enough to activate the ship's fire sprinklers.
Water and foam rained from the ceiling over the console making the fire sizzle and pop as it fought for life. The smoke thickened as the fire was slowly extinguished, but the persistent fire had one last explosion to give.
Parts of the console flew in all directions from the blast and the Doctor spun around the coral beam toward the door. He felt pieces of shrapnel embed all along his side like he had been peppered with bullets. As he sank to his knees, he reached for the door handle and pulled.
A bright white light filled the doorway and spilled over him, blinding him as he fell to the floor and succumbed to the unconsciousness that so easily claimed him.
.
Raccoon City.
A sprawling industrial metropolis serving as the workplace and home to tens of thousands of people. The residents of Raccoon City are an unsuspecting people living out their daily lives completely unaware of the danger that lurks underneath.
Known only to certain employees of the Umbrella Corporation and the company's military security group, the Hive is an extensive, multi-level complex built deep underground. Accessible only by a single subway line between the facility and a private mansion on the surface, the Hive is the highly top secret viral research and development center of the controversial mega-corporation.
In the upper levels of the Hive, office staff take care of the paperwork required by the company. Many go about their relatively benign daily work, relying on the computer controlled environment to simulate the outside world through giant video screens cleverly designed to look like windows.
Down in the lower levels, scientists work diligently day in and day out on the development of potential drugs and viruses that Umbrella can sell to countries around the world. Sealed in airtight laboratories, experiments are remorselessly conducted and test subjects howl for retribution.
Rarely do the employees leave the Hive and an even rarer few ever visit. Nothing marks the days spent in the underground facility as extraordinary. Except for today.
The main lobby of the Hive, designed to appear no different than the lobby of any downtown office building, was lit by pleasant fluorescent lighting inset in the vaulted ceiling with a beautiful view overlooking downtown displayed on the viewscreen windows. The central elevators were located in the lobby along with a young woman sitting behind a receptionist's desk busily filling her nails.
Two men dressed in the finest of suits entered the lobby and nodded toward the receptionist as they walked past her desk toward the elevators. One of the men sporting dark hair, was busily telling the other about the non-sequential day he'd spent pouring over reports.
Neither immediately noticed the lights flicker.
As the flickering lights worsened, the men paused and grew concerned. This was something out of the ordinary and considering that this was the Hive, the men were right to be concerned.
A wheezing grinding sound echoed in the lobby and grew louder with each passing second. Bolts of electricity arced out in all directions from the light fixtures sending sparks scattering everywhere while a breeze appeared from nowhere and began to swirl around the lobby.
"Call security now!" One of the men rushed to the receptionist, startling her into action.
"What the hell?" The dark haired man exclaimed and pointed to the ceiling.
All eyes looked up and watched a large blue box pulse in and out of existence until it finally solidified. The box screeched and wheezed like a creature crying out as it flew across the room in a downward slope. It slammed onto the floor with a shattering crash and slid across the smooth polished tiles until it came to a rest against the viewscreen window wall.
The swirling wind ended as suddenly as it began. One by one, the lights stopped flickering and stayed steadily on. The lobby fell into an eerie silence save for the sizzling snapping sounds emanating from the blue box.
The receptionist climbed to her feet and stared in disbelief, still holding the phone her hand. "Mr. Grey, what is that?" She asked in a whispered voice.
"Police public call box?" Mr. Grey shook his head. "I don't know." He motioned to his co-worker and the two men cautiously approached the blue box.
One of the double doors of the police box opened and black smoke pumped out. The men took a step back and coughed a moment. Grey buried his nose and mouth in the crook of his elbow and continued forward. He was determined to know what was beyond the smoke that concealed whatever was inside.
Then, a blood soaked arm wrapped in the sleeve of a tattered blue suit flopped out across the threshold. There was someone in that blue box and that person was hurt, badly.
"There's someone in there! Help me!" Grey said to his co-worker. Both men entered the box long enough to grab the body and pull him out. Coughing and waving away the smoke, they laid the injured man on the floor a few feet away from the box.
"Who is he?" The receptionist asked as she came from around her desk.
Mr. Grey shook his head. "I have no idea," he said. "But he's hurt pretty bad. Look." He pointed to the several shards of metal protruding from the unconscious man's arm, side and leg.
The quick stomping boots of the security team echoed from the corridor and in a matter of seconds, the lobby was filled with black clad, rifle carrying soldiers. The soldiers fanned out and surrounded both the police box and the intruder bleeding out on the floor.
The two men in suits were yanked away and the Head of Security knelt beside the injured man. With hard eyes, she glanced over the man's wounds. She sighed and tapped a button on her earpiece. "Sir. This is Alice. We have an intruder. Male in his mid-thirties with substantial wounds. There is also a large box that seems to be on fire. I don't know how he got in, sir." She nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll collect statements from the witnesses while we wait for the doctors. Out."
Alice rose to her feet. "I want the area secure. No one leaves and no one gets near that thing." She pointed to the box. As the soldiers carried out her command, she walked over to the two men and receptionist and began her interrogation.
A few minutes later, the medical team arrived and rushed immediately to the injured intruder. As they began their examination, they exchanged curious glances hinted with the excitement of a new discovery.
The man's blood was not the expected crimson red. It was orange red.
.
.
To be continued!