Sparks flew all around him as the Doctor jumped around the console, trying to get his ship under control. The TARDIS was making a huge racket, whirring and carrying on as he frantically tried to get his ship to cooperate. He pulled levers and pushed buttons and spun wheels, but almost as soon as he did, the TARDIS flipped them back again.
"What are you doing? I want to go to the Cave of Pearls, I don't have time for this!" The Doctor shouted desperately, but the TARDIS was being as defiant as ever and refused to obey. Eventually she landed with a bump, making him stumble backwards and knock into a railing. He brushed himself off, saying "Well if that's how you're going to be, fine. We'll do it your way." He huffed and the Doctor walked out of the doors into a pristine alleyway of a futuristic city. She whirred, happy that she had gotten her way. "Oh, don't rub it in." He muttered, crossing his arms and stalking away into the depths of the city.
It seemed like a nice place, with friendly bikers passing by, and solar powered cars tutting along the narrow streets. He couldn't help but enjoy himself in the slightest. The buildings were all tall and mostly made of glass, save the occasional white foundation or walling where there weren't any windows. It was a cheery place, until, of course, it wasn't.
A little kid came racing down the sidewalk where the Doctor was walking. He had a blue backpack on, and a baseball cap pressed firmly to his head. A few reddish brown locks were tumbling out. He was wearing jean overalls and a white shirt, stained with red blood on one of his arms. The Doctor watched as he ran, dodging people to the best of his abilities. What was strange, was the fact that no one other than the Doctor seemed to think anything was wrong. No one stopped to help, no one said anything other than the occasional "Watch it!" as they were bumped.
The kid was going really quite fast, right in the Doctor's direction. He thought that was a little curious and didn't really notice until it was too late. Wham! The Doctor was pushed into the bike's special lane, sprawling across the concrete. He got up to brush himself off, when bang! A bike slapped him back down onto the ground, leaving tire marks across his tweed jacket and one heck of a bruise on the side of his head. The bike flipped and the biker skidded along the concrete for a few inches. He picked himself up, only to be hit again, having his shoulder ran over painfully. And again. And again. And again.
By the time the chain reaction had slowed to a stop, the Doctor was in a very sour mood, and covered in quite a few scrapes and bruises. He could almost hear the TARDIS whirring with laughter. When he could finally brush himself off, he was grabbed by the forearms, having them twisted behind his back, hurting his already aching shoulders. "Ow ow ow ow! What are you doing?" He asked his yet unseen attacker. A gruff voice answered him from behind.
"You're being put under temporary arrest for disturbing the natural balance of London." The Doctor's eyes widened slightly as he resisted harder against the policeman's unrelenting grip on his arms.
"This is London?" He asked. It sure didn't look like any London he'd ever seen, and that was saying something.
"Of course it is, numbskull. Now, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. So I suggest you shut up." He commanded.
"Well you're an upbeat bunch, aren't you." The Doctor quipped. In response, the policeman tightened his grip. He winced. "Alright, alright!"
The policeman roughly shoved him up the sidewalk. Everything had returned to normal almost instantly. The fallen bikers had gotten up and started riding again, bystanders went back to their errands and conversations like nothing had even occurred. You wouldn't have known anything had happened if it wasn't for the burly policeman shoving an odd, very bruised looking, man in a bow tie up the sidewalk. Frankly, to the Doctor, this was rather strange.
"So... this might be be a stupid thing to say... but you're sure this is London?" The Doctor asked. The policeman looked at the back of his head in disbelief.
"Well, I'd sure hope it is, considering I've been living here for 37 years." The man pushed the Doctor forward again, forcing him to continue walking as bikers rode past at various speeds and people walked by carrying bags and briefcases. Everyone was walking in the same direction on either side of the street. It was orderly, and calm. The sun shone in the sky and the air was more or less fresh to breathe. It had a peculiar smell to it, but otherwise, nothing seemed wrong.
"I've been to London before... and I've never seen it like this. Why all the cleanliness and glass?" The Doctor inquired.
The man sighed, and if the Doctor could have looked at him directly, he would have noticed the heavy eyeroll the policeman gave. "Let me guess, you're new here and you want the whole spiel? You're probably an American. Though your accent kind of throws me off."
"Oh right, my accent. See, I've been practicing that so that I'd fit in better." He switched to his obviously fake "American" accent, which ended up mostly sounding like a poor cross between a Canadian and a New Yorker, which is rather hard to type out and thoroughly harder to speak. "See? Complately Amurican, that's meh!" The policeman didn't look very convinced, "Er, fast food... and... uh, freedom?"
Rolling his eyes again and sighing with great disdain, the policeman finally gave in to the ridiculous story. "I'll buy your story as long as you cut that out." The Doctor willingly obliged, ceasing his terrible imitation immediately. The policeman kept speaking. "You, mister American sir, are in London, England. Since the royal lineage died out long ago, bless their souls, the government has changed drastically. We support a separate government from the rest of Great Britain now, and quite proudly, at that. We focus on cleanliness and the natural balance of the world around us. The whole city is in a constant state of peace, with specific places for each and everything. We are all different, and should be categorized accordingly, separated from those who are different from ourselves to avoid conflict." He sounded like he had rehearsed the speech many times before giving it to the Doctor.
"Can't the different groups mix at all?" The Doctor queried.
The policeman just shook his head, convinced that this "American" was absolutely insane. Then again, as far as he knew, they were all a pretty crazy bunch. "What good would that do? It causes things to be messy. Unclean and untidy. When everyone is surrounded by the same people, who are exactly like them, nothing could ever go wrong."
"What if someone doesn't fit into any of the groups?" The Doctor's voice was laced with concern. The policeman stayed quiet, forcing him to keep walking again before answering.
"We don't talk about that here." He said bluntly, cutting off the conversation.
"Well."The Doctor said, a little dejectedly.
The policeman seemed to be done talking, and the Doctor was getting a bit sick of having his hand twisted behind him, so he figured it was time to be off. While talking, the policeman had loosened his grip slightly, enough for the Doctor to twist around, yanking his hand out of the man's grip. "Thanks for the chat, mate, but I really must be going now!" The Doctor yelled back to the man as he took off down the street. The policeman seemed dazed for a moment, flabbergasted that the man had gotten away from him so easily. He quickly regained himself and ran after the Doctor, yelling "Hey!" and waving a hand, though it really didn't do much of Doctor had turned sharply down a random alleyway, hoping that he'd make it to his beloved spaceship eventually.
The policeman pulled out some sort of whistle, and blew into it. No sound came out, but 3 more policemen came out of seemingly nowhere and started chasing the Doctor too. The Doctor looked back in exasperation. "Oh, is that really necessary?!" He called, then he pondered it for a second, "Actually, it probably is! Well, I'd still rather you not!" They didn't respond and he ran faster, his jacket billowing out behind him and his hair flapping sporadically.
Still running, the Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver, pointing it at the side of a building and pressing the button. Super narrow sound waves were shot towards the structure, reacting to the Doctor's mental frequencies and hitting the building square on. The glass began to shake, and shattered, sending broken shards raining down into the alleyway.
The policemen chasing after the Doctor all gave shouts of alarm, throwing up their hands to protect their faces. He rounded a corner, spotting the TARDIS only a little ways away. With a satisfied grin, he sprinted towards it, unlocking the doors with a snap of his fingers and throwing them open, bolting inside and shutting them behind him with a bang. He clapped his hand, rubbed them together and jumped up to the console to take the TARDIS away from the weird version of London until things calmed down. He WAS trying to lay low, after all. Getting arrested isn't exactly the perfect "blending in" route.
He wondered why exactly the TARDIS had brought him there in the first place. He decided he'd jump forward a couple hours to the next day for this particular timestream, just far enough that everyone would calm down and forget about him. Flipping switches and pulling the take off lever, he smiled. Vworp Vworp. He'd never tire of hearing that noise.
As the TARDIS landed, he flicked down a stabilizing switch to make sure she wouldn't go taking off without him. He had forgotten to do that last time, which is partially the cause of this whole mess. He wasn't about to do it again.
He jumped down the steps in the TARDIS and to the door, poking his head outside to check for any policemen or bystanders. There were none and he stepped out, shivering slightly. The cold air was slightly misty, and it still smelled strange to him. He glanced at his watch, which he had recently purchased from the Annual Glodgeskin Slubmarket, a place where exotic and nonexotic things were sold yearly. Or at least, the Glodgeskin's idea of yearly, which in Earth years is about 3.65724 years. It would read the time correctly, regardless of where you happened to be, but only had a guarantee for about a year or so. It read that it was around 10:30 AM, the next day.
With a nod, the Doctor shut the door of the TARDIS carefully, marching down the alleyway. As far as he could tell, London was the same as the day before, but a little quieter, due to how early it was. Almost eerily quiet. There were some sounds, of course, but he was used to the bustling, noisy London from the past. Not this. This almost seemed like a different planet entirely, and if it wasn't for the local residents telling him otherwise, he would have thought it was.
He wandered around the city for a little while, stopping by a few stores and buildings. There seemed to be a lot of electricity in here, but a power source was yet to be found. There were electric fences, lights on everywhere, but no outlets. Indoors there might have been some, but not having been inside any of the buildings, he wasn't sure.
Having no other current course of action or intent whatsoever, he picked a direction (in this case, South) and walked along the fenceline, hoping to find whatever power source would be strong enough to fuel this whole place. He walked along, staring everywhere and taking in as much data as he could. After all, when you land in an unfamiliar place, the first thing to do is become familiar with it, and that's just what he did.
As he walked, the Doctor noticed the slight similarities to London, back when he visited most often. The streets were the same. Some of the old buildings were alike as well, even if slightly... revamped. Everything had changed on the outside, but on the inside, it was still London.
The sun was starting to light up the streets, and more and more people started coming out of their homes to go about their daily business like usual. The weird thing was, there were no kids. Yes, there weren't usually children about London this early in the day, but it seemed to the Doctor that there usually was at least a few kids running about, wasn't there?
This London got stranger by the minute. The Doctor decided to question someone (preferably not another policeman) about some things. He walked up to a cafe and sat down next to a lady sitting alone sat down next to a lady sitting alone outside. She looked up, a confused expression on her face and a magazine clutched in her hand. She put it down slowly, staring at him.
"Can I help you?" she asked coolly.
"Yes, actually. I was wondering if you'd answer some questions I have about London." The Doctor answered. The lady rose a brow in the same smooth way she moved. She blinked at him slowly.
"What kind of questions?" She asked skeptically. "Are you with the police?"
"No, no. Never with them." He waved off the accusation, readjusting his bowtie coolly. "I just noticed that there is a lot of electricity being used around here. Now, to power such a huge city, that would require a huge generator. But I haven't seen so much as a light switch. What's powering London?"
"Light switch?" The lady asked. "What are you talking about?"
"You know, light switch! It's a little switch on the wall that goes up and down and turns the lights on and off?" He noticed the confused look on her face. Obviously his description of a light switch was not helpful. "No?"
She laughed, "Control our own lights? No one is aloud to do that! All the lights in the city are either built on timers or turn on when you enter a room, if you're allowed, that is." She cocked her head, smiling serenely at him, in a manner that almost seemed eerily normal. "Everyone knows that! You must be teasing me." She returned to her magazine, picking it up and turning the page to a large picture of a white bouquet of roses. The Doctor gave up on trying to get answers from her.
By now it was getting closer to eleven, and London was bustling with people. The Doctor was strolling around town now. Finding the fence to be a dead end, unfortunately, he kept his eye out for another lead. The Doctor knew from experience that the best place to find something odd is to go where no one else does, so he went towards the outskirts of town. It was still nice, but not as nice as the center of London.
The Doctor stalked down another alleyway, slightly frustrated at the lack of any hints so far. The city was so strange, and warped, but everything ran smoothly. It didn't make any sense. Where were all the rebels? The original thinkers? The ones that change the world and make a difference? Ones waiting for an adventure? He sighed, continuing to walk in the same direction.
Just as he was about to give up on this part of town, he heard a crackling of electricity and a yelp of pain. He ran towards the source, out of the alley, and down the street a ways. He rounded a corner and spotted a little boy, darting across the width of the street, along a parallel road. Blood trailed along the pavement behind him and warning bells shot off in the Doctor's head. Only a few moments after, a pair of strangely dressed people followed behind, shouting and waving guns.
Always the guns. I hate guns. He thought. One of the people with the strange pistols aimed it at the boy again and pulled the trigger, releasing a bolt of what looked like concentrated electricity at him. He ducked just in time, but the bolt only missed him by a hair. The Doctor quickly thought a plan of action and headed down a side street, hoping he would be faster than the the two people. Luckily, all the running he had done on his adventures finally payed off, and he exited the alley ahead of the running people.
He wanted to help, but all that was around was an empty garbage bin and a few cables strung too high to reach. He wracked his brain. In a burst of inspiration, he whipped out his sonic screwdriver, hoping beyond all hope he hadn't taken out the wire cutter from its settings. Luckily, he didn't, and one of the cables fell to the ground in front of him. He tied it to the empty (but still rather heavy) garbage bin and ran across the street. It was obvious, but hopefully it would work.
The boy and his assailants came running around the corner, with the boy only in the lead by a few meters. The Doctor kept the cable slack as he came by, and quickly tightened it as the other two came near. Just as expected, they tripped and sprawled across the concrete, giving the boy some extra time to escape. Rather predictable, but it worked.
The child didn't look back as he bolted down the street. The two others were quickly gathering their wits and about to give chase again. I need to find that boy. The Doctor thought. He ran off in the direction the boy had gone, determined to find him.
It seemed to be no use, however. Whoever that boy was, he knew the city much better than the Doctor did. No matter how fast he tried to run, he couldn't spot where he had gone. He gave an exasperated sigh. Well this has been a rather unproductive morning. He thought, wandering back in what he hoped to be the general direction of the TARDIS. He found her soon enough, tucked back where he had parked.
He walked in dejectedly, flipped the switches and heard the familiar vworp of the engines filled his ears as he took off and landed again, stopping out in space, somewhere near the asteroid belt surrounding Kepler 22b. He sighed sadly, readjusting his bowtie so it wasn't Doctor dusted off his shoulders, scattering the dirt and dust from his recent adventure onto the floor of the TARDIS. His hair was still windswept and messy, but except for a ton of bruises and some slight scratching, he was otherwise rather clean kept.
"Well that accomplished almost nothing." He vented to the TARDIS, cranking a lever and pulling a few switches to make sure she was firmly put. She whirred quietly.
The Doctor went over to a chair near his console to ponder what he should do next, but had hardly taken two steps before a little child popped out of nowhere brandishing a sharp looking knife.
"Take me back!" He screamed at the Doctor in a heavy accent, the knife quite a few inches under his chin, barely reaching his chest. Frankly it wouldn't have been all that dangerous, but he didn't really want to risk it, with a familiar angry little boy only inches away from him.
The Doctor was obviously caught off guard. He stumbled back slightly before snapping out of confusion. "What? How did you- but- hey, wait! You're the kid who shoved me into those bicycles and was being chased by those policemen!" He realized. "How did you get in here?"
The boy just growled at him, readjusted his baseball cap over his hair, and shouted in a rather high pitch voice. "I said, put me back ya great lump! The Southies are gonna be worried sick 'bout me! Now put me back right now or I'll stick you like a pincushion!"
"Lump?" The Doctor seemed genuinely offended, but in the light of the situation, quickly forgot about it and questioned, "Southies? What are those?" The boy rolled his eyes heavily, and if he wasn't holding a knife to the Doctor's chest he would have facepalmed.
"The Southies. From the Underground. My crew! What are ya, thick or somethin'? You're prob'ly from Eden. Shoulda known by the dumb look ya have in yer eyes." The boy shifted a blue backpack over on his shoulder, adjusting it so it rested more on his left arm. The Doctor's sharp eyes noticed that his right one was still covered in blood, and that was the one holding the knife up. It looked rather painful.
He reached out to him, his eyes full of a genuine concern. "What happened to your arm?"
"Don't touch me!" The boy screamed in his high pitch voice, jerking his arm away a little too quickly. He flinched, dropping the knife. It clanged onto the TARDIS floors and the blade rolled out of reach. The Doctor couldn't bear to see children in pain, even children that were threatening to stab him. Slightly more timidly and slowly, he reached out to the child again. The boy flinched, but didn't protest further, letting the Doctor grasp his shoulder gently. The Doctor examined the wound, rolling up his sleeves to better see the gash in his arm.
The cut reached from his shoulder to his elbow, with dry blood caked around it. He could see it had become infected by the yellowish tint and redness of the the surrounding skin. The Doctor attempted to touch it, but the child let out a yelp, flinching away from him. The boy scrambled back suddenly, losing whatever trust they had momentarily formed. "That's quite the scratch you've got there. How did you get it?" The Doctor asked calmly, not wanting him to start screaming again. The boy just looked at him distastefully.
"Well it's none of yer business, that's what, ya big brute! Now take me back to my crew! Or I'll... I'll-" The Doctor raised a brow slightly, ignoring the half hearted threat.
"I can fix that for you, if you'll trust me." He said, extending his hand for him to grab. He seemed hesitant, but after a moment, the boy responded.
"Why would I trust you?" He asked quietly, but not unkindly. Something about this boy seemed a little bit off, but the Doctor couldn't put his finger on it.
The Doctor smiled, "Well, maybe you shouldn't. Maybe I'm a madman, well, I probably am a madman. You have to decide whether you trust me or not. Your call, but I can't help you unless you do." The boy smirked then, reaching out his left hand (his good one) to clasp the other's hand.
"Well... ya certainly don't look like no doctor, but i'll trust ya. If you can make me better, that is. Otherwise, well, I ain't gonna last long anyways." He says that like he's going to die... the Doctor thought, but rather than pondering over it he jumped straight into action. Pulling the child by the hand, the Doctor lead the boy to the other side of the console, positioning him in just the right place, then turning around to press a few buttons and flip a switch. He whipped around with a clap to see his TARDIS in action.
The boy gave a startled shout as lights leapt out of the console and the railing of the TARDIS, surrounding him in a blue light. The Doctor could see his eyes widen as his skin started to tingle as the TARDIS did her work. The cut on his arm began to seal itself up, the puffy redness going down and the skin knitting itself back together. Various bruises and scratches throughout his face patched themselves up as well.
The Doctor flipped the switch back and immediately the lights turned off. The boy let out a gasp of air, seeming to have been holding his breath that whole time. He looked himself over, grabbing his shirt to see if his arm had healed. Sure enough, the deep cut had patched itself up in under a minute. You wouldn't even know anything had ever been there if it wasn't for some faint blood stains (apparently the machine couldn't completely get the stains off) and a very faint line where the gash used to be.
"That mark should disappear by tomorrow at the latest." The Doctor leaned up against the console, arms crossed and smiling, awaiting the amazement and awe that he was sure would follow, like it always did.
The boy's mouth hung open in shock, and he quickly closed it, staring at the Doctor warily, mistrust glinting in his hazel eyes. There was a lot of life behind them, the Doctor could see that easily. Lots of defiance too, this was a kid who had seen a lot. Though just what, he wasn't sure yet.
"Who are you?" The boy said, dropping the strange slang from before. Ah, the Doctor thought. He was faking the accent. It must be some intentional segregating. Maybe because of separate learning? No. No, wrong. He's too stubborn for that. It's a sign of defiance. Against the city, quite possibly. Or the people in it. The "Southies" have something to do with it too. A gang of some sort, but who are their rivals?
"I'm the Doctor." He said smugly, giving no indication of his train of thought, flicking by in half of a second. He readjusted his bowtie, smirking slightly. He just waited for the child to say it. Come on, just say it. He loves it when they say it...
"Doctor what?" The boy said, and the Doctor's minor hopes were crushed, yet again. He hated it when they didn't say the thing. He breathed a miniscule sigh and pushed off from the console, standing up straight again.
"Doctor, Just the Doctor, but that's not important now," The Doctor fired off at a hundred miles a minute. "The important thing, right now, is you." The boy looked at him quizzically. "Why were you running? Why did they want you?"
The boy paused, debating with himself about whether or not he should explain. The Doctor waited in anticipation, trying not to outwardly show how eager he was to hear an explanation. After a while the boy sighed, readjusting his hat again after coming to a conclusion.
"You're... not from around Eden, are you?" He asked, rather bluntly. The Doctor, not knowing quite how to respond to this maniacal little kid running around his TARDIS with possibly another knife on hand, decided on the truth.
"Nope, afraid I'm not. I'm from out of town... quite a bit out of town. But enough about me!" The Doctor leaned in so he was right next to the boy's face, noses nearly touching, "Who are you?"
The boy reeled back at the sudden closeness, slapping his back against the railing of the TARDIS. He wrinkled his small nose, responding back in his slang accent, which the Doctor guessed to be some kind of insult, though why he wasn't quite sure. "Just a street rat. An urchin. Nuttin of importance to ya. Now put me back, so I can go home to my crew!" The Doctor was a bit surprised. He was normally the person with the secret name, not the other way around.
"And, who is your crew, exactly?" The Doctor asked, deciding against getting up close to the boy again as not to startle him. The boy rolled his eyes, irking the Doctor slightly, and at the same time managing to be amusing. He was a strange little one, that was for sure.
"My crew. The Southies. We live in the Underground, on the outskirts of Eden, but I guess since yer not a Utopian, ya wouldn't get that."
"Nope, not a word." The Doctor replied, "Care to enlighten me on the subject?" The boy gave an over exaggerated sigh, intentionally trying to get under the Doctor's skin. It didn't work, and he spoke again in his heavy slang.
"Boy, you is thick. The Underground is the place outside of Eden, where the Southie and the Norther crews hang. Northers in the North, Southies in the South, in case you was too dumb to get that."
Ignoring the rudeness for the moment, the Doctor continued his interrogation, "And why were you running?" The boy's eyes widened for a moment, and the Doctor could see he struck some nerve or other, but what was hidden behind the boy's eyes. Something like fear flashed across his features for half a second before he regained his snarky attitude, but not quick enough for the Doctor to miss it.
"I was runnin' from the Nobblers, that's what. Those dumb Utopians won't leave us Southies alone, and I really have to get back! They'll be thinkin' they'd finally got me! Get me outta this dumb box, clown face!" Clown face? The Doctor was visibly hurt by that comment, and so was the TARDIS. She whirred angrily. The Doctor stroked some knobs on the console.
"Oh don't worry, he didn't mean it." He cooed at the mainframe. "I don't recommend insulting the TARDIS. She doesn't take it very well." The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
"I don't know what a TARDIS is, but I wasn't insultin' it. You're the one who looks like a clown..." he huffed, but some of the sharp edge to his tone was taken away. His voice was still very pitchy though, even for a child. Possibly from nervousness? The Doctor could only speculate.
Still trying to comfort the TARDIS, the Doctor turned back to the boy, "I'm going to guess Nobblers are like policemen, but that doesn't explain what they wanted with you. The guns seem a little unnecessary, you're just a little kid!" The Doctor was half talking to the boy, half talking to himself. If the kid could have walked backwards, he would've, but he was still pressed against the railing, and forced to watch the spectacle before him.
"Nobblers are like pest control." He said plainly, his voice dead. "They find what doesn't belong, and they steal it away. They steal it to the Orphanage." The boy's voice was flat, all traces of his accent, all traces of his courage and rebellion, gone. His eyes sparkled with fear. The Doctor leaned in, hanging on every word.
"The Orphanage is bad then, I take it. Really bad."
"Eden runs on cleanliness. Or at least they think they do. It's supposed to be a Utopia. A safe haven, but underneath, that's a minefield." He breathed in a shuddering sigh, suddenly looking much younger than he did before. "Nobblers take children and people who don't belong, and they keep them sealed away, working for hours and hours on end. We're all slaves to the system, to the Orphanage, and no one knows. It's like they're all brainwashed. People are born of privilege, and if they aren't, they're nothing."
For once, the Doctor was speechless. "That's... terrible. Who..." His words tumbled into his thoughts. "Who's in charge of this... Eden?"
The boy shook his head, the black baseball cap wobbling precariously. "No one knows. It's all kept a secret. None of the thick headed Utopians even know what's down underneath them. All of the adults turn a blind eye. Children go missing and no one even notices. No one but the parents, and even then, not for long." He looked at the ground, sucking in a breath. "It's a nightmare waiting to happen."
"I'd say it already has." The Doctor's tone was dark, and his face was grim, full of anger and sadness and disbelief, all held back with the tiniest cork of self control. The boy spoke up again, coughing once to clear his throat and trying to resume his usual spunky attitude.
"Why do you think you're any different? You're just like them, aren't you? 'Cept from outta town." He mumbled. "How do I even know you're not a Nobbler waiting to nab me for the fifth time?" He spat out 'fifth' with disgust, and the number impressed the Doctor in the slightest bit.
"Listen to me. Would a Nobbler have healed that gash in your arm?" He asked, a plan already forming in his mind's eye. Well, not quite a plan. More like a rough plan. No, more like the essence of a plan waiting to happen. "Have you ever seen a Nobbler wearing a bowtie?"
The child smiled faintly. "No. I guess I haven't..." He looked down at his toes. "But... what can you do to help? I just want to go back home..." His voice was small, so very, very small.
"Oh, I can do more than bring you back home." A smug smile stretched across the Doctor's face, "I can save it."
END OF CHAPTER TWO
Hello there! Thanks for reading Chapter two of Eleven's Mercy! We're sorry it came so late, and we'll try hard to get the next one up earlier. ^-^ This one is actually 2000 words longer than we were aiming for, so next time the chapter won't be so long! Please leave a review so we know how we're doing so far! x3 Thanks again!