I own nothing. Least of all this.
1:8
It took an entire week to wade through the entirety of the manual, but in the end, I got through it. No matter how much I wanted to tear into the absolutely marvelous library I knew the TARDIS had, first things came first. We were still drifting through the Void, and I needed to be at least semi-competent at flying the Old Girl if I wanted to avoid bouncing off whatever we hit next. I'm sure that would agree with Her even less than it would with me.
When I finally felt confident enough in my, well, I won't say skill, but competence at least, I allowed myself a little downtime. I came to appreciate just how marvelous of an idea it had been to put the swimming pool IN the library. I drifted for hours, letting the soothing sounds of the Encyclopedia Gallifrey wash over me. Let me tell you, it was a far better learning experience than any classroom I had ever been in.
When I wasn't listening to the Gallifreyan equivalent of an audio-book, or reading a treatise on quantum mechanics (something I was sure would prove useful later), I was planning. Planning exactly what to make of my life, now that it was what it was. I may have had about four or five severe mental breakdowns during said planning, and I think the TARDIS may never have orange sherbet ice cream in stock again, but it had to be done. Was I just meant to be a Drifter, bonking around wherever the TARDIS or Fate decided?
Was I going to be a Guardian, find one specific place to settle down and protect?
A Hunter, always on the road, with no life of my own beyond my work?
Or, maybe, I should try to become the story I had told the Doctor: the story of a man who would burn his own soul to save another's.
After all, in a way, wasn't that what had gotten me into this situation to begin with?
I sighed. I guess we'd have to see. For now, my plan was to be whatever was needed most where I landed, be that Guardian, Hunter, Witcher, or Doctor. And I had the available resources to be more than adequate at any one of them.
I went poking around to see if the Doctor's spare TARDIS keys had been copied as well, and managed to find seven before I stopped. Seven would be more than enough, both for myself and any companions I might end up captivating, in either sense of the word. One was promptly stored in my hat. In practically every piece of media I had ever seen, it was always the hat people forgot to search. The second went into one of the little side pockets of my boots. Good for cutting ropes while tied up, as well as transportation. And finally, a third went next to the psychic paper in my coat's inside pocket. That should be plenty of insurance for calling the TARDIS whenever I needed. No having my ride float away from the wrecked spaceship I was on with no way to get it back, thank you very much. The remaining four I scattered around the control room. Handy, but hidden.
If I'm being honest, after that first week, I kind of lost track of time. The changes to my sleep pattern that came with being a Time Lord had already disrupted my internal clock, and I'm sure the boredom of a journey through somewhere Time literally had no meaning didn't help matters. It could have been months for all I knew, but eventually, the thing I had been depressingly predicting and preparing for, happened.
We hit something.
Or, rather, we almost did.
All I can say is thank Gallifrey I wasn't in the pool when the TARDIS' sensors started going bonkers. Knowing my luck, I would have probably slipped while running on wet floor and hit myself hard enough to regenerate. It was still an inordinate amount of trouble to avoid going *SPLAT* on the side of another universe, but I'm inclined to believe it would have been slightly harder to do with regeneration energy rushing through me. Just a tiny bit.
As a general rule, while it is hard to get out of a universe, it is almost unbelievably easier getting into one. One you've actually found one, that is. After that, it's just a simple matter of finding a crack you can get through. Not Crack with a capital letter (had enough of those for awhile), just a small little tear in the fabric of reality. It took mere seconds to find one big enough for the TARDIS, and then I just… slipped through.
Now, you might be recalling a certain incident where the Doctor's TARDIS had fallen into another universe, and lost practically all power as a result. But since I was graced with foresight, I had already unplugged a few of the power crystals around the console, and insured they were full of energy. All I had to do was plug them back in and set them on a recharging cycle, and I should be right as rain.
We landed with a thud and a VWHOOOOSH.
Immediately I was plugging the crystals back in, hoping my plan had worked. It was mere seconds before they connected back up, but I only allowed myself to breathe after I knew the recharging was well under way. Once I was sure of that, I stood up, turned, and strode to the doors. Brand new universe, just out there. That made technically three so far for me. A new personal record.
I was sorely tempted to activate my brand-new sonic visor, just for a test spin, but I truthfully had no idea what might be just outside my door. And while a threatening visage might be useful in certain situations, it was also disastrous in others. I did, however, end up throwing a finger-less glove I found in a bin on my right hand. I knew just how much both dangerous and hot stuff the Doctor was forced to handle, and I didn't expect my luck to run much better.
The doors parted with a snap of my fingers.
I smiled. "Always wanted to do that."
I stepped out.
And was greeted with one of the darkest rooms I think I'd ever... well, un-seen.
"Okay. Wasn't expecting that."
I briefly turned to push the doors closed (yes, push you heathens), and then back to peruse my surroundings. No lights, no sounds, in fact, no signs of life at all. I thought it best to do something about that.
Two taps behind my ear, and I was rewarded with the golden glow of my sonic visor, layered over my face. A quick whirring, and we had light.
A white office greeted my eyes. Two lines of desks and computers, and between them, an aisle leading to a set of glass doors. Vaguely familiar glass doors.
I took a step forward, then swiveled to see what I had landed in front of.
Metal bars hung from the walls to my right and left, but the one to my front was completely blank. It rose higher than those at its sides, and seemed to have no visible seams to speak of. Its whiteness spoke of a sepulchre, with hidden bones and atrocities lying just beyond.
Oh yes, I recognized this wall. This entire room, in fact. Or at least its counterpart.
The crack I had used to enter this universe had been the closest one at hand. I should have known it would end up being something incredibly ironic.
This was the top floor of Canary Wharf.
I had landed in Pete's World.
In the middle of Torchwood.
"Bollocks."
A voice came from behind the Doctor. "Did you dance? Well, you always dance at weddings, don't you?"
The Doctor turned. "You tell me."
River simply smiled. "Spoilers."
A certain blue diary and vortex manipulator seemed to materialize in the Doctor's hand.
"The writing's all back, but I didn't peek."
River nodded. "Thank you."
"Are you married, River?"
"...Are you asking?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
"No, hang on, did you think I was asking you to marry me, or, or, or asking if you were married?"
"Yes."
"No, but was that yes, or yes."
She leaned in. "Yes."
"Ah. Well then. Suppose I should say thank you."
"What for?"
"Someone told me you helped today."
"Well now, who could have possibly done that."
"Spoilers."
"You're getting it now."
"...River, who are you?"
"You're going to find out very soon now. And I'm sorry, but that's when everything changes."
With a *BZZZT* and a flash of light, she vanished.
"...Nah."
