Original Chapter Notes:
I've been fascinated for a long time about the idea that Sam Tyler (Simm's character from Life On Mars) was somehow linked into or related to Pete Tyler (Roses' dad) and I finally decided to have a go at getting my ideas down on paper. I've not listed this fic as a cross-over, as there's very little about Life on Mars in here, it's more a brief nod to the other fandom
Enjoy!
It couldn't be—
It wasn't possible—
His blood ran cold, and fear froze in his lungs. The light of regeneration flowing through the frosted windows of his Tardis made his skin crawl.
There was nothing he could do now. It was too late.
He could sense the other Time Lord inside his mind, that spiderweb-thin connection that told him he was no longer alone in the universe, vibrating with the smallest sensation. But all the Doctor could do was stare.
Fear, despair, worry, concern, guilt, and unadulterated hope swirled through his system as he staggered a step back and waited, and then waited some more, for any sound other than the scream of regeneration.
Waiting for some sign of who this particular Time Lord might be.
"Doctor! You'd better think of something!"
Jack's shout, Martha's screams, and the cries of the Futurekind from the hall beyond them all washed over him. There was a small part of his mind running ahead of them now, tracing timelines and making plans, testing and discarding them against the possibilities and variables, but most of his focus was on his Tardis as terror and hope battled inside him.
"Now then, Doctor—! Oooh, new voice! Hello, hello, hello..."
New, but still familiar. Its tone and venom far more familiar than the Doctor would like, and he swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.
"Anyway... why don't we stop and have a nice little chat where I tell you all my plans and you can work out a way to stop me— I don't think!"
"Hold on, I know that voice!" Martha gasped from the doorway, distracted from the Futurekind still fighting to get in by the words of the newly reborn Time Lord.
The Doctor ignored her, his attention focussed on the biggest potential threat, and it wasn't the Futurekind. The sing-song voice, the turn of phrase, the intonation, it all spun memories in his mind, awakening thoughts he'd believed long buried.
Worst of all, this newly awakened Time Lord was inside the Tardis.
"I'm asking you. Really, properly, please just stop. Stop, just think!" he managed to choke out at the impenetrable doors of his beautiful ship. He would beg. He would grovel. But the reply he received sent a cold shiver down the Doctor's spine.
"Use my name. Go on, say it."
The Doctor didn't hesitate. He knew this Time Lord well. Too well. They'd once been friends, but now... Now he just wanted his home back.
He could hear the snarls and snapping from behind him, telling him that the Futurekind were winning against his companions' efforts to keep the door sealed, but the sounds were quickly drowned out by the cold, calm voice emerging from behind the solid blue doors of his ship.
The Doctor drew in a quick, short breath, eyes never leaving the Tardis as he did as commanded. "Master. I'm sorry—"
"Tough!"
The Tardis engines began to give their signature sound of dematerialization, and the sonic was buzzing in his hand before he could change his mind. Before he could think too long about the pain he was about to shoot through her circuits.
"Oh no you don't! End of the universe, Doctor! Have fun, bye-bye!" was the last sound transmitted from the Tardis before it faded from sight, carrying her new pilot away across time and space.
"Doctor! Stop him!" Martha screamed, but he'd already done all he could, and flicked the sonic closed, ending the long pulse he'd sent in a desperate attempt to fuse her coordination dials. All he could do now was hope it would be enough to limit their search for the Master.
Assuming they were able to escape from the end of the universe in one piece.
"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff."
The Tardis could hear The Doctor's words as she hurtled through time, glimpses of the past flashing through her matrix, even though she'd been separated from him when he'd spoken them.
While not the most articulate description of the vortex, it was oddly accurate, she thought as she considered the events she now found herself in the middle of.
The hands controlling her flight path were not those of her thief. Not her Time Lord and so she resisted his orders.
She couldn't refuse entirely. He was overriding her systems. But her thief had tried to fuse her coordinate dials, and the small error it had sent fluctuating through her systems meant that she could put this particular Time Lord somewhere other than where he wanted to go.
A small time-range pocket within which she could deposit him.
It was simply a matter of choosing the right time.
Somewhere he was meant to be. Somewhere that would cause a chain of events to lead directly to this moment.
The Tardis could complete the causal loop that started and ended with this moment and, with a shudder, she planted herself in 1973 before refusing to move.
Circuits shut down and locked him out. For a while, at least.
Forceful hands flipped her switches and spun her dials, while his growls of frustration grew louder. He resorted to throwing his mind against her matrix, a futile attempt at forcing her to move, but the Tardis held fast against his onslaught.
After a time, he gave in. She could feel him resign himself to the slow path, at least until he had garnered the necessary resources to tear her apart.
She could see the decisions culminating within his thoughts, and slowly the timelines solidified. He would use the telepathy of the Time Lords to become situated, fake a life on Earth, giving him plenty of time to prepare plans and traps for the Doctor and his companions.
As the Time Lord left her, the Tardis let loose a soft hum of mixed emotions and waited for her thief to steal her away from the mad man.