Welcome to my Doctor Who FanFic, Fourteenth. Some Author's Notes before we begin. The following story is set AFTER the present series of Doctor Who (Series Five – 2010, Matt Smith's first series), and takes place the death of the Thirteenth Doctor, hence the title Fourteenth. I have done this for several reasons. First off, I wanted to create my own Doctor, and I didn't want to upset fans of existing Doctors. I also wanted my story to remain possible for as long as possible...

Chapter One Notes: Enter my first OC, Dylan. Dylan is my protagonist. Alongside the new Doctor. However, I'm not treating the Doctor as an OC. I'm hoping this story has enough plot to keep people reading. Let me know what you think. Enjoy.

Fourteenth:

A Doctor Who FanFic

by Tony Hinton

Chapter One: Dylan

'Srry man, it's l8, I have work 2mrrw' appears on the small glowing screen of his mobile phone. Quickly checking it, he presses the 'send' button, sending his message to his friend. Flipping his phone closed, he pockets it, his hands remaining in his pockets as he wanders through the park. It was nearly 2am, and he hadn't planned on staying out even this late. Still, if he made it back to his flat before 2.30am, he could still get a few hours of sleep before his 6am start. The sight was nothing unusual. A long man like himself wandering through a park at this time in the morning was common sight. It would be even more common if he weren't sober. His jeans, although new, were tattered at the bottom of the legs, shred denim draped over his worn black trainers. He smiles, looking upward into the stars, the cool night was rather pleasant. But something above was wrong. In amongst the stars there was something that shouldn't have been. Something was stirring in the sky. Out of curiosity, the young man pulls his hands from his pockets and drops them by his side, stopping cold on the old stone path. His charcoal jacket flaps slightly in the wind, revealing his shirt underneath. He squints his clear blue eyes, focusing in on the tiny flicker of light in the sky. A star, an aeroplane? No, whatever this thing was, it was wrong. And, to his surprise, it seemed to be getting brighter. No, not brighter... it was getting closer. Out of surprise, he raises his left hand to his brow, and sweeps his messy black hair from his eyes. "...What the hell?" His low voice mutters aloud. With that, a thought occurs to him, and he quickly looks around. There was no one there, no one else to question about this phenomenon.

After a few seconds of looking, he turns and looks back up to the sky. His eyes widen in instant fear at what he saw. The object was closer, but way closer than he had expected. He could almost make it out as it penetrated the atmosphere and hurtled towards them. No... Not just them, but him. It was hurtling directly at him. Swallowing hard, he takes a step back, watching the object closely. It seemed like some kind of blue box. But why would a blue box be falling from the sky, hurtling straight for him? All this thought had wasted time, the speeding object now looked closer than ever, way too close. It was going to hit him! In panic, he turns and starts running, his arms pumping furiously by his sides, his chest panting heavily as he tries to run as far away from the object as he could. Yet the faster he run, the more it seemed to gain on him. His black hair is blown about by the wind, as he moves as fast as his legs could carry him. Finally, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he looks over his shoulder. The flaming blue box rips through the clouds, tearing straight for him. With a gasp of fear he looks straight forward, and moves faster than he though possible. Unbeknown to him, on his left trainer, the worn out shoe lace had began to untangle itself, and then, after one last jar, it slips free. A yelp of panic runs from his lips as his left leg is pulled back from under him, his shoe lace trapped under his foot. The boy is thrown forward, launched into the air. Instinct makes him hold his hands out, to catch his fall. The tarmac tears into his hands and cheek, cutting him and covering him in small amounts of black dust. With a groan, he rolls over, and looks up. The box races into the park, spinning furiously. His eyes widen further with his final realisation. It was going to hit him. He closes his eyes, and braces for impact.

A wave of dust, smoke and tarmac sweeps through the park, the collision making a small 'bang'. As the dust settles, and the air clears, silence resumes in the area. The park was now home to a small crater, right in the middle of the tarnished footpath. Strange components and parts lay scattered across the park, an impossible number of pieces. How could such a small box have left this much debris. In the middle of the crater lay the largest collection of obscure items and alien technology, all of it dull and silent. All of it dead. Beneath the rubble and wreckage, lay two bodies. The first was the boy. He lay on his back, his clothes ripped and torn, small cuts covering his body, his face covered in soot and dust. Yet, for some reason, he was still in one piece. The injuries he had sustained seemed far too minor for something of this scale. He had just been hit by a large wooden box that had fallen from orbit, yet he looked like he'd just fallen from his bike. Large circular components and glass tubing lay scattered over his body, parts that resembled some sort of console, or controls. At the other side of the small crater lay another body. This one looked much older. But the poor soul, lay destroyed under the ashes. His face burnt and torn beyond recognition. His body crumbled and broken, his burn clothes tattered and ripped. The two lay amongst the broken machine, is eternal silence. And then, a whisper...

Gold dust hisses from under the largest piece of rubble, running from its seams like a golden river. The tinted air flows from the wreckage, breezing over the two bodies, as if caressing their skin. And then, just as quickly as it had come, it had gone, fading into the night. Silence resumes. Only now, something was different. Something was moving. The chest of the young man was slowly rising, and then falling. Rising and then falling. He was breathing. One breath, and then two... and then finally... A gasp. The young man sat up, his eyes wide with fear as he scans the area. "W-What?! What... Just... What the?!" Was all he could think to say. Looking down to the debris he panics, and pushes himself out from under the large components. As the console rocks, the boy can see the other body, hidden beneath the rubble. With surprise, the boy jumps to his feet, his clothes now hanging off him, ripped and battered. Quickly he darts around the debris, and dives to the man's side, kicking broken components aside. Throwing his hand forward, he places his fingers to the man's neck. No pulse. He waits to be sure, but still... Nothing. The young man grits his teeth in annoyance, unaware of the blood that was trickling down his forehead. Pausing to think, the boy finally reaches into this pocket, and pulls out his mobile phone, flipping it open. Without looking at it, he presses the button '9' three times, and brings the phone to his ear. Silence. The phone was dead. In panic, he looks to his phone. The screen was black, with a large crack running down it. It was broken. In anger, he launches his phone at the ground, shattering it as it becomes just another part of the rubble.

"CRAP!" The boy snaps, looking around the park. It was dark, there was nothing left. No street lamps, no signs of life, nothing. The park was now a scrap yard. Without a thought, the boy turns and runs, sprinting down the path, stepping on the rubble as he ran, his shoes ripping to shreds as he ran, the metal cutting into his feet. He groans and grits his teeth, bursting through the park on his poor feet. Finally, he breaks the sea of debris, and tears off through the grass, running towards civilisation, towards the street lights and cars. Parked to the side of the road was a lone black car. A classic looking taxi. But more importantly, it bore on it's roof an orange light. The sign that the taxi was unoccupied. The boys breathing becomes heavy panting as his body struggles to function. Leaping from the pavement to the road, he literally jumps into the side of the taxi, scaring the hell out of the driver behind the wheel. Throwing open the door, the boy jumps inside. "You gotta get help, there's been an accident!! Call the Police, Ambulance, call the Fire Department!! Hell, call the AA, call the Ghostbusters, get EVERYONE!!" He yells, suddenly pausing. The taxi was spinning, it's black leather interior seeming to look closer, and closer, and then finally, it all went black.

"Heh, looks like you've had one hell of a night..." The taxi driver chuckles, leaning over his seat and pulling the kid into the passenger seat. With another stretch, he pulls the door closed, and then reaches into the kids pocket, pulling out the boy's tattered wallet. Opening up, he finds what he was looking for. A ten pound note. Taking the note, he puts it into his own pocket, muttering to himself. "That'll cover you to the hospital." With that, the black motor vehicle pulls out onto the street, alight with the golden glow of street lamps, turning around and slowly driving down the slight hill, vanishing into the valley of steel and glass that was the large city.

In the park, something more was happening. The broken corpse of the man, still buried beneath the once great machine, suddenly gives a violent twitch. His pale skin suddenly glows into a bright gold, and then dies. It pulses a second time, flashing as the body gives another twitch. The silence of the night is suddenly ruptured by a loud scream, a scream that echoes across the park. Rivers of gold burst violently from the body, searing it in a white glow. The screaming roars through the trees, wailing to the heavens as the corpse seems to burst back into life, flooding the park in a gold blaze. The sea of searing hot white washes over the man, replacing his features, scolding them into new ones. The pitch of his scream seemed to get lower, deeper in tone as his body twitches further, seeming to grow a little, underneath the tattered shreds that had once been his clothing. Finally, as quick as it had started, the glow vanishes, leaving darkness once more. But when the gold glow had vanished, it seemed to have left something behind. The man beneath the rubble was not the same man. The man left behind was slightly taller, with an average build, not nearly as skinny as the man who had apparently vanished into thin air. His hair was messy, and slightly long looking, draped over one of his closed eyes, and reaching just above his shoulders. The hair was a dark dirty blond colour, with a soft red tint. It also appeared to have greyed a little, giving his hair a somewhat dull look. But perhaps the most spectacular thing about him, was that his skin was untouched. There was not a scratch on him, not even a speck of dust. With the exception of his ripped and torn clothing, which were now clearly ill fitting, his skin looked like it had never even been touched. It was almost as if he had been reborn...

...Meanwhile...

"Dylan? Dylan, can you hear me?" The soft, calm words of the stranger echoed softly in Dylan's ears. Steadily, he opens his eyes, the piercing white light of the room causing him to squint a little. "There's a good boy..." The voice in his head continues. Towering over him in the bright light, there was a dark shadow. As he adjusts to the light, the man comes into a view. It was an average looking brown haired man, somewhere in his early thirties. "Just take it easy... I'm a Doctor."

"D-Doctor?" He heard his own voice say. Talking proved a little difficult, as if he'd been winded. His head ached a little, yet things were finally beginning to return to normality. The man stood still, a kind smile on his face. His clothing backed up his claim, the long white coat and name tag confirming he was a Doctor. "H-How do you know my name?" The Doctor smiles a little wider, giving a soft chuckle. "My name is Doctor Murray. I'm the Chief of Medicine here. You had your wallet with you, we found your Driver's license." Dr. Murray explains clearly. "You were in some sort of accident. There appears to be no serious injuries, just some minor cuts. You passed out in a Taxi, the driver brought you here. We've been trying to bring you around for the last thirty minutes." Dylan sat up, rubbing his head a little as this information ran through his head. He looks to the floor, looking away from Dr. Murray. He seemed to be trying to assess the situation. Something didn't feel quite right. "Wait... You say I'm fine? No injuries?" Dylan asks, his brow furrowing as he looks up to the Doctor. "Nothing serious." Dr. Murray comments with a clinical smile. "Then... if I'm fine, and there's nothing wrong with me... Why isn't a nurse doing this? If all I have is a few scratches, why have they assigned me Chief of Medicine?" Dr. Murray's smile fades, now becoming a straight and serious looking frown.

"... We need you to stay here. Our tests aren't complete, with a case such as this one, we need to be sure." He explains, somehow without explaining anything at all. "Case such as this?" Dylan repeats. "What exactly is a 'case such as this'? Tell me what's wrong, why are you here?" Dylan seemed a little wound up. Something was out of alignment here, and he wasn't one to let it go. If something was wrong with him, he wanted to know. "Calm down." Dr. Murray orders. "Look... You're a clever kid. That much is obvious. So I won't lie to you... There's something suspicious about your case." Murray seems to hang his head a little, giving a small sigh. "As far as we can tell, there is nothing wrong with you... But you're displaying certain symptoms. We have requested an expert in such things and we ask you to wait until we can properly examine you." Dylan sat up on his bed, watching the Doctor with a furrowed brow, taking in all he was saying. "Symptoms?" Dylan asks simply, his expression not changing. The question seemed to stump Murray for a second. He turns away from Dylan, towards a metallic tray, and then turns back to Dylan holding a syringe, who eyes the needle carefully. "...I'm not sure how to explain it. When you came in, we wanted to X-ray you, to see if you had any broken bones. But you were still unconscious, and we didn't want you waking up under the X-ray. If you'd have acted violently or confused..." He sighs mid sentence, realising what he was saying didn't matter, and decided to get to the point. "We tried to give you a light sedative. But..." Again, Murray looked stumped. "Let me show you." He takes a step closer, raising the syringe a little. Dylan pauses and tenses a little, but as the Doctor nears him, he eases up. Murray carefully takes Dylan's arm, and holds it, while his other hand positions the needle against his flesh. "Watch..." Murray instructs, finally pressing the needle against his skin. To the expectations of Murray, and the surprise of Dylan, the needle didn't penetrate. The Doctor presses harder, but still nothing. Dylan's flesh was compressing and flexing, and he could certainly feel the needle, yet it refused to break the skin. Murray gives one final push, and the needle snaps off, speeding across the room. Dylan's eyes were wide with amazement, he wasn't sure what to think. Murray looks up and catches his eyes, a kind and concerned look in his eyes. "Please Dylan... Stay."