I own nothing but my words.

Luke Rattigan had always been clever. Not particularly handsome, or funny, or strong, but clever. From a logical standpoint, it seemed like the best way to be. He could use his intelligence to get out of problems that required strength or bravery. Physical looks didn't matter in light of what was on the inside, or at least that was what he was told. And being clever had to amount to some sort of wit, so he didn't have to worry about humor either. All in all, being clever seemed like the best option when one looked at it logically. But logic, Luke soon found, very rarely translated over into real life.

He had known for as long as he could remember that he was different, but it was only when he entered first grade that he realized how very different he actually was. The other children seemed to have nothing better to do than to splash colored paint on paper, recite the alphabet in a bored monotone, count things that didn't need to be counted. It didn't make any sense to Luke.

Why should he care about how many apples or oranges someone had? Why should he waste his time on children's books and fairytales when there was so much more to be read? Why should he put a puzzle together correctly, when something far more interesting could be made if he tweaked the pieces?

He saw things differently from everybody else. He connected the dots in better, more interesting ways; he saw connections where most didn't bother to look. He was, in every mental aspect, superior to all of his peers. So why did they treat him so badly?

It became more apparent as he grew older. He was the social outcast, the kid that everyone excluded. They feared him because he was clever, that was all. Their small brains couldn't comprehend the powers of the mind like he could. They were all so close-minded, content with their own small worlds. But the Earth was never big enough for him.

He showed them just a sliver of his capabilities when he invented the Fountain Six search engine at twelve years old. He awed them, soundly defeated them. It was like he had fast-forwarded into the future. Everyone knew that the clever ones always came out on top; he had just reaped the benefits a little sooner than most.

It wasn't hard to convince his parents to let him be homeschooled after that. He already knew so much, and what he didn't know he could teach himself. They moved to England, where there were more opportunities, and he bought several large estates. By the time he was sixteen, Luke lived on his own. His parents were too small-minded, just like the rest of them.

Then, he found the Sontarans. Well, they found him, but he regarded it as the same thing. And they showed him a whole new world, one filled with promise and possibility, where being clever would really matter. That was where Rattigan Academy came in. It was all part of the plan, the plan to start life over, but he probably would have done it anyway. It felt good to be superior for once, above people his own age. They were clever, geniuses in fact, but still smart enough to realize that he was above all of them. He was in control.

And then there was ATMOS. ATMOS, not ATMOS system. Because saying ATMOS system ruined the whole affect, destroyed the need for an acronym in the first place. He hated it when people did that, unknowingly ruining a little part of his pride. It didn't help that the technology wasn't completely his. The Sontarans had provided him with the means; he had simply built the product.

Still, everything was good. He was clever, and in control, and could manipulate the Sontarans with cold precision. It was such a rush, to have a life in his hands. To give the order, and know someone that would never have the privilege of meeting him would die. All synchronized, all perfect. Even those that were suspicious, those with doubts, could do nothing about it. He could simply have them terminated, and that was the end of it.

And then the Doctor came along, and ruined everything. The Doctor, with his 'commanding officers' and 'conditional clauses' and oh so funny jokes. He was different from all the others, better. And it was scary, because Luke finally met someone who was not only on his level of intelligence, but exceeded it. This was a man who looked at him, and understood. Understood what it was like to be different, to see things in a whole new way. Understood exactly how far he had gone in his quest for superiority, understood the real reason behind ATMOS.

And it was awful. Because this 'Doctor' could tear down all of his carefully constructed plans without even blinking. Could disarm a Sontaran soldier with just a ball and a witty remark. It shook Luke to the core, which is why he relished giving the order to have the Doctor terminated. The one obstacle in his way, and he removed it. And that was is moment of glory, standing on the Sontaran spaceship, looking down on the Earth that could never have been enough.

It was time to gather his warriors. To lead them to a new life, on Earth Point Two, to finally do something truly clever. Something that would be remembered for generations, something that would define him. And they laughed. They laughed, and scoffed, and all of his faithful students left him. They didn't have the imagination to see what he did.

But maybe they were more clever than he had thought, because after that everything spiraled out of control. The Sontarans had lied to him. They had tricked and manipulated him, and destroyed all of his clever little plans. He wept. He curled on the floor of his useless mansion and wept for all that he had lost. They promised him a new world, and he lost it.

The Doctor came again, with his allies. But they were more than allies; they were friends, something that had always seemed illogical to Luke. And the Doctor fixed it, pulled at wires and told him to do something clever with his life.

As he watched the Doctor disappear through the portal, watched the two women weep for him, he wondered. Would anyone weep for him one day? What would he be remembered for? Destroying the world, messing everything up. That was all that he had managed to do. Nothing worthy, nothing kind, nothing clever. And the Doctor had done all of those things. Would do even more of those things, if he could live.

Luke was never a dreamer. He doubted he would really change. Old habits died hard, and what future did he have anyway? Cells, prisons, wasted genius. Those thoughts accompanied him as he switched places with the Doctor, pressed the button, grave the victorious war cry that he had waited so long to give. Because he had finally done it. Something clever.