The Doctor held the three-pound hammer in his hand while he stalked through the trees behind the potato-headed dwarf alien. Because the Doctor had left his tan overcoat in the TARDIS, his blue pinstripe suit had retained some tears in it from the forest's branches. Going to have to go back to the brown one after this. He watched as the Sontaran fired randomly into the trees. A small bird fell from the branches into the 15th-Century forest. With that, the Doctor ran up behind the Sontaran and banged the hammer into the probic vent, knocking the potato soldier unconscious. He smiled, "Yep, still got it, eh, Donna?" The Doctor looked back, but then remembered that Donna was back home in Chiswick, with no memory of him.
A sad look passed over the Doctor's face as he grabbed the Sontaran and dragged him into the TARDIS. Donna…Opening the TARDIS doors, the Doctor continued dragging the unconscious Sontaran until he reached the console. Releasing the alien, the Doctor pulled some levers, twirled a spiral thing, and pressed a couple buttons. With a satisfied vworp-vworp, the TARDIS materialized away and entered the Vortex. The Doctor tried keeping the dwarf alien in his line of sight whilst simultaneously flying the TARDIS through the Time Vortex.
Upon another sound of a vworp-vworp, the TARDIS successfully landed in UNIT Headquarters. Hitting the Sontaran's probic vent again for good measure, the Doctor dragged the alien outside the TARDIS and left him lying on the ground. Placing a Post-It note on the Sontaran's armor that read "Last one", the Doctor re-entered the TARDIS and grinned as he began flying the TARDIS again, "Where are we off to this time, old girl?"
The TARDIS landed with its loud cloister bell ringing out. The Doctor grabbed the monitor to look outside, but all he saw was gray and wet. Frowning, he grabbed the overcoat and opened the door a smidge to look outside the TARDIS. He saw exactly what the TARDIS monitor said was out there. Stepping out into the wild wind and rain, the Doctor put his coat-covered arm in front of his face, hoping that it would help stop the rain from stinging his eyes. However, it did next to nothing. There was simply too much rain.
I should find some shelter. This, the Doctor realized, was easier said than done, as he couldn't see anything, the rain falling in almost literal sheets. Realizing his arm was doing nothing, he lowered it into his pocket, reaching for his trusty sonic screwdriver. Pulling it out, the Doctor turned it on, hoping it would give some direction in which to go. Then he realized he wouldn't be able to read what the sonic said. That's not gonna work. Turning around, he stumbled back into the TARDIS, sopping wet.
Running through various corridors, the Doctor found his wardrobe and changed into his brown suit quickly before running back up to the console. He plugged the sonic into the console, hoping what limited readings he got would register with the TARDIS. "Oh, I'm back at Earth? Brilliant. What time period?!" He continued to read, "Late 1700s…Islands off the North Americans. Oh! This should be fun. What's happening outside?! A hurricane. Gosh, haven't been to one of these in a while." He patted the TARDIS comfortingly, "But you'll hold up, won't you, old gal?" The TARDIS wheezed. "I knew you would," The Doctor said affectionately.
Sitting down, the Doctor pulled a box out from under the console. Emptying it onto the floor, the contents spilled across the TARDIS. Quickly, the Doctor began running his fingers through the Rubik's Cubes, flying through them all, his fingers a blur. An easy way to pass the time, solving one hundred Rubik's Cubes…Within five minutes, the Doctor had all 100 solved and completed. "Hurricane done yet?" The TARDIS made a wheezing noise. "Thought not." With that, the Doctor stood up, leaving the Rubik's Cubes scattered on the floor and grabbed something else from the box.
"Bop it! Twist it! Pull it! Twist it!" and other such sounds soon rang out as the Doctor tried to beat his record of 129585921 at this 51st-century version of Bop It! As the Doctor got into the groove, the TARDIS groaned again. The Doctor dropped Bop-It, "Okay, okay. Fine." Getting up, the Doctor ran towards the door and opened it once more. Noting the sun shining brightly, the Doctor watched as people emerged from various buildings. Suddenly, the Doctor felt a pang of wrongness, as if the hurricane shouldn't have happened.
Frowning, the Doctor followed his feeling of wrongness, running through the streets, trying to ignore the obvious mourning and grief in the air. I've got to find the disturbance. It's the most helpful. Not focusing on other people. It didn't help that many of the people were yelling, "Alex!" or "Alexander" as he ran through the streets. Wonder what that's about. The Doctor tried shaking it off, dashing around a corner, finding the disturbance.
The Doctor's eyes widened as an older teenager with whose face was very similar to his own stared back at him, almost blankly, buried beneath wood, blood dripping from his temple, his arms and legs all askew. The Doctor ran to him and started pulling the planks of wood off the young man. "What's your name?" The young man weakly formed the words, "Alexander Hamilton." The Doctor narrowed his eyes, "B-b-but, you're not supposed to…" Hamilton dies in a duel with Aaron Burr in the States, not during his youth in the Caribbean.
Hamilton's breath slowed to an almost infinitesimal rate. What do I do…I can't save him…But without him, history's going to be thrown all askew…The Doctor grabbed the TARDIS key and pressed it, hard. Immediately, with a vworp-vworp, the TARDIS materialized around the two. The Doctor immediately ran to the console and flipped a bunch of switches. The young Hamilton was encased in a time stasis bubble, freezing him and his injuries in time, so he couldn't deteriorate or die, but he also couldn't get better. Leaning against the console, tears welled in the Doctor's eyes as he began to think. I can't lose another one. And he's too important. If he dies…what about the Federalist Papers…and Washington's aide-de-camp…How'd this all get started…
That's when the Doctor realized what had happened. The supposedly theoretical butterfly effect actually happened. He slapped his hand into his forehead, "That bird. The Sontaran shot it. If the bird had stayed alive, it could have altered everything just a little, so then Hamilton wouldn't have died. But his life is fixed. So how…" The Doctor glanced back at the young man again…"Unless…No, impossible. That can't work, but it's brilliant."
The Doctor quickly ran to his wardrobe once again. He found his 1700s period clothing section and pulled out an exact replica of Hamilton's clothing at this time. Changing into them, the Doctor finally realized just how closely he and Hamilton resembled each other. I can't do this. But I have to. Only way for history to stay on track.
The Doctor grabbed his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the Chameleon Arch, changing the way it worked. He placed it on the Stasis-ed Hamilton's head before placing it onto his own. Suddenly the Doctor's mind was flooded with information of Hamilton's past and future. Good it worked. Knowing what happened to Hamilton and what should happen to Alexander will be very helpful in living his life the way it should be. That's when the Doctor realized something…Hamilton fought in the American Revolution. With guns. A dark, sad look passed over the Doctor's face as he realized what he would need to do.
The Doctor, or rather, Alexander Hamilton, sat at a table as George Washington, commander of the Continental Armies, dictated orders to him that he wanted sent to various other generals in the army. Upon finishing, George Washington scanned through the letter. He clapped the Doctor on the shoulder, "Hamilton, I am not sure how you became so good at writing so quickly and accurately, but I appreciate your services. No other human being I know of can do what you do." The Doctor's lip twitched. Well, as I'm not technically human…The Doctor just nodded, "Thank you, sir. Just the will to rise up, I guess." George Washington just smiled, "Take the letters immediately to General Arnold."
Even though the Doctor knew of Benedict Arnold's betrayal, he played his part, pretending the entire time to be shocked at Arnold's treason. And the Oscar goes to the greatest Time Lord in the universe. The Doctor smirked slightly before composing himself.
The Doctor stood on the floor of Congress and began proposing Hamilton's idea of a government. Moving across the Congressional floor, he eloquently explained his plan for a form of government. Many of the men in the room seemed thoroughly bored. Glancing at the nearby clock, he smiled to himself. One hour down, five more to go.
The Doctor stood back in the TARDIS, thinking about the next couple of events that would pass. He had successfully lived Hamilton's life, but not without a few shocks. He never realized how terrifyingly scarring the American Revolution was, and how many people Hamilton had shot. Tears welled up in the Doctor's eyes as he thought of all the people he had wanted to save, but knew he couldn't. Going through the memories implanted in his mind, the Doctor knew that what happened next would be the final duel between him and Aaron Burr.
Stepping out of the TARDIS, the Doctor exited the closet in his house. His wife, Eliza, kept trying to make him sleep. I can't tell her what's about to happen. The Doctor quickly wrote a note for Eliza before walking out the door. Eliza and Elizabeth…
Upon coming to the dueling site, the Doctor placed his glasses onto his face. Hopefully, my plan will work, otherwise…The Doctor inspected his gun. I've killed so many in recent years…But not today. The Doctor raised his eyes and looked at Burr. After the count of ten, he and Burr aimed and fired. The Doctor purposely missed his shot, but watched as the bullet from Burr's gun flew and hit him between the ribs. Immediately, he appeared back in the TARDIS, with the actual Hamilton back on the dueling grounds, dying from injuries he had gained from the hurricane way back.
The Doctor lay in the TARDIS before letting a little regeneration energy seep through to deal with the worst of the gun wound. The bullet left his body before the Doctor cut it off. Now, onto the Ood.
The Doctor now stood with Wilf's gun in his hand, pointing it at Rassilon. He never let anyone notice the pain from his bullet wound, not wanting them to know. Glaring at Rassilon, the Doctor began thinking through his next move. It would be so easy to kill him. And I've killed so many as Hamilton. Why would it be any different? Then he remembered the wound he had received from his fight with Burr. Taking it out on Rassilon, as much as I can't stand him, is wrong. But if I send Rassilon back…He let his gaze shift ever so slightly and looked at Wilf…No. No more guns. No more death.