As I was writing this chapter, I began to realize just how much the music from Doctor Who has influenced the tone of my writing. So here's a list of all the wonderful creations of Murray Gold's that have been my inspiration thus far:

Song for prologue: The original idea for this scene came from several different pieces but the one that stood out the most to me was "The Doctor's Theme" theme from Series 4

Song for chapter 1: "Doomsday"/"Rose's Theme" (Series 1 and 2)

Song for chapter 2: in all honesty, I didn't have a specific inspirational song for this part but I did have "Madame de Pompadour" (Series 2) on repeat most of the time I was writing it so maybe some of that seeped in somewhere…

Song for chapter 3: "The Doctor's Theme" (from Series 1 and 2)

Song for this chapter: "This is Gallifrey, Our Childhood, Our Home" (Series 3)

Enjoy!

The Time of the Test

"Here." He handed her the glasses.

The Tool turned them over slowly in her hands. "What are these for?" she asked as she examined them.

He replaced his sonic screwdriver on his worktable before responding. "I told you if you worked hard, you'd get a reward. " The Architect said. "This is that reward."

She looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning. He only glanced back down at the glasses and crossed his arms, waiting. She looked down and back up again. She fiddled thoughtfully with the eye-wear. After a few seconds, it clicked and her face lit up like Gallifrey's first sun. He rolled his eyes. Human minds, so slow to grasp the simple. Without another word, the Tool slipped the glasses on and ran out the door.

He stood to watch her through the window as she took her first steps out onto Gallifrey. She went slowly, if her short life back on Earth had taught her anything it was to tread carefully. But once she was out there, flexing her toes in the red soil, gazing in wonder at the silver leaves on the trees, the distant spires of the citadel dazzlingly lit by the twin suns, everything cautious about her faded away. She crouched in the soil and slowly let the fine red grains run through her fingers. He braced his shoulder on the window sill as he watched her trace patterns in the dirt, peering at her creations through the thick glasses that protected her eyes from the light of the suns.

She had recovered well these past few months in his care: she no longer looked starved but was still thin as a stick (it certainly didn't help that her human body couldn't digest most of the Gallifreian cuisine). She had put on a bit of muscle while doing various jobs for him but was still nowhere near matching Time Lord strength. She tired of the soil and dashed across the ground, her newly-grown hair hanging around her ears in an uneven dirty-blonde wave that tossed back and forth as she ran. She was fast for a human, average for a Time Lord.

He turned away from the window as she began to climb one of the trees, probably to get a better look at the city he'd told her so much about. She wanted to go there of course. She wanted to go everywhere she saw, everywhere he mentioned. The only problem was, until today she hadn't been able to leave his rooms or his TARDIS without risk of death or discovery. But he'd fixed that.

He smirked as he shuffled his blueprints of her around his worktable. That project had been quite a challenge. And some of his best work so far. First he'd implanted her throat and nostrils with bacteria cultures to filter the air for her. Next he'd worked on her mind, placing a physic barrier that would hide her lesser thoughts from those around her and give the impression of duel heartbeats resounding from inside her chest instead of just one. Her body had been most difficult to enhance as it was starved and tiny and rejected most of his attempts to chemically alter her hormones. But proper food and exercise had helped the process and eventually he had a convincing Time Lord child on his hands.

She was spunky though. Keeping her locked away inside for the last two months while he prepared her for life on Gallifrey had been the most trying time of his long life. Her constant company had been far from soothing even though she was sensible and quickly learned when to leave him alone. Today, he'd finally reached the final step in her primary upgrade: glasses that would protect her weak eyes from the burning suns. His own creation was complete. His Tool.

He heard a thump outside as she fell out of the tree. But there was no cry of pain and a few seconds later he heard her footsteps again. The Architect shook his head and pushed the blueprints from her design to the side. If he ever took her somewhere he'd have to teach her the grace and surety of a Time Lord. At least as much of it as a human could learn.

Under the several sheets he'd used to craft his Tool lay the designs he had been working on before she'd stumbled into his life: altering the stabilizer on his hip plasma blaster. If he could get the mechanism to self-cool, he could fire several shots in quick succession instead of waiting several seconds for the mechanisms to cool.

He drew his blaster from its normal place on his hip and placed it on the workbench. A pair of magnifiers was pulled down over his eyes and he took up his screwdriver again.

As he worked, his mind returned to an issue it had often pondered these last few months: he'd never figured out how she'd gotten inside. He was sure he'd locked the door when he'd left to meet the SS Officers. There was no way she could have slipped inside when he had opened the door himself, she had to have entered before he did.

The TARDIS had given him nothing in response to his inquiries. It was strangely silent on the whole issue of the skinny stowaway. Like it refused to acknowledge her.

He sighed and clicked off his screwdriver. He really didn't need to be thinking about this now. He'd figure it out soon enough he decided as he put the screwdriver down and examined his work. The weapon was pieced together rather haphazardly after his tinkering but it would hold up to a test. Not that he needed to test it. It would work. His inventions always worked.

The blaster still slid perfectly into his palm as he hefted it. It was a little heavier but more compact if assembled correctly. He aimed at nothing in particular and primed the plasma generator. It responded immediately, with a high-pitched whine, ready to fire. His right heart beat a little faster. If only he'd had this upgrade at Karn…

But no… no use thinking of what could have been…. He liked this body and everything else that had happened wasn't his fault. He'd followed orders.

There was a shout outside the window and he whipped around.

"Come along now… stop struggling, you'll only make this more difficult." The voice was gruff and unfamiliar.

He quickly stood and strode to the window. His face instantly fell. There were two men in the yard, chasing his Tool like they were trying to corral an animal. Men who were dressed in Academy tunics.

A quick timeline look revealed their chosen names: the Soldier and the Guard. He winced. Military men from the Academy. This couldn't be good. He moved to the door and stepped outside.

The Soldier had caught the Tool by the arm; her skinny wrist looked all but crushed in his enormous hands. The Guard was trying to grab her other arm but she was failing about, avoiding his grasp. Good Tool.

The Architect sent the two Time Lords a mental warning that he was there before he stepped outside. Getting shot for sneaking up on them would only complicate the process.

"Gentlemen," He said calmly as he approached. "Kindly tell me why you are barging onto my property and taking my Tool away by force." The girl looked up at him but he ignored her.

The Soldier turned to him, giving him a quick visual and mental probe to which the Architect kept his thoughts calm and genial. The Soldier was tall and broad-shouldered with short, spiked hair and a face that looked like it had been chiseled from marble only yesterday. His mind was hard and disciplined and easily enraged but not easily persuaded. The Guard was shorter and heavier but equally as strong and set in his ways. The Architect kept his eyes focused on the Soldier but kept the other in his peripherals. Could never be too careful around the military.

The Soldier shifted his grip from the Tool's wrist to her arm. "We're taking her for Initiation." He said gruffly as the Guard took advantage of the Tool's distraction to grab her free arm. The Tool looked from the Guard to the Soldier to the Architect but remained silent.

The Architect folded his arms, hiding his confusion behind humor. "Initiation? Why would you want her for that?" He chuckled. "She's hardly prime stock."

The Soldier's face briefly curled up in a smirk of agreement but quickly reverted back to marble. "Be that as it may, she's of age is she not?" The Architect didn't answer but his smile faded. Indeed she was… eight years old.

The Soldier took his silence for assent. "She's of Gallifrey, no?" The Architect's gaze hardened. He couldn't answer that.

"Then she will be tested." The Soldier said simply and turned to leave the yard.

The Architect slid his hands into his pockets. So this was it.

"What's going on? Where are they taking me?" The Tool asked, struggling vainly against the grip of the Soldier and the Guard. No one paid any attention to her.

"You usually only take those chosen for the Academy." The Architect commented to their retreating backs, unable to curb his curiosity. "Why her?"

The Guard turned back and considered him with a contemptuous look and a barbed mental probe. "That's hardly your concern is it? She's not even your daughter." Then the two men turned and left him alone.

The Architect tried not to glare as they walked away, dragging the girl between them. He could've found out. One flash of his badge and they'd both be tripping over themselves saluting and stuttering out the truth. But he hadn't. Because they were right.

It wasn't his concern. Not anymore, anyway.

The Architect walked back inside, ignoring the child's calls for help. He'd saved her once. He'd done the right thing. He'd given her a chance. There was no reason to meddle further. If she was meant to die, she would die. He had no reason to save her again. His left heart twitched. She wasn't his child.

He reached for his screwdriver to reassemble his blaster but instead his hand closed on the vortex manipulator. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked around. His brow furrowed in confusion. How had he ended up in his TARDIS instead of his workshop?

Presiding over the Initiation rite was the Lord. Ancient and battle-scarred, he made a huge and commanding presence in his billowing robes and shining ceremonial headdress. The stories claimed he'd had more regenerations than Gallifrey had TARDISs. They told of his victories and sacrifices in history lessons and holidays alike, his past regenerations were all hailed as heroes in their own right. Lord Champion, Lord Sharpshooter, and Lord Time-warrior were a few of the many nicknames of various faces he had possessed over the centuries. He sighed quietly. But those were the old days. With his days of battle behind him, he was now in charge of recruitment for the Academy. All this body had as a title was "the Lord who had watched a thousand children go mad".

Well, this makes one thousand, two hundred and three. He counted silently to himself.

The Accomplice approached him and bowed. "The next one is ready Lord."

He gestured with his half-moon staff. "Bring them."

The child was brought forward. It was another female, the eighth one today. The Academy seemed to be accepting more and more students of late, some of whom, in his opinion were not ready for the rigors of the Academy training. But that was not his decision to make. He just tended the Untempered Schism.

This student was tiny and scrawny, the initiation robe that had been lent to her sagged on her shoulders and pooled at her waist just above the belt that was cinched as tight as it could go. There was a strange pair of dark-colored glasses on her eyes. She was trembling. Vaguely, the Lord wondered if the recruiters had plucked her off the streets of the Citadel. She looked completely out of place and in need of a decent meal at the very least. He reached out to her, trying to comfort her nerves with a comforting mental touch. His efforts met a thick wall. The child had sealed herself off.

The Lord held back a wince as he raised his staff. He would not enjoy watching this one go mad. Number 1203.

"Begin." He commanded.

The Accomplice bowed and gently took the girl's shoulder to guide her forward, keeping his eyes averted from the schism. He stopped when she was mere feet from it and backed away. She stood absolutely still except for how she trembled. The glow washed over her from the strange hole that led nowhere. She wished she could hold her necklace but she couldn't risk them seeing it. They'd almost taken it from her when they'd changed her clothes.

The glasses were removed and the Tool squeezed her eyes shut. Even at night, the light of Gallifrey's suns was too great for her… she would go blind.

"Open your eyes." The Lord commanded. "Look at it."

The Tool took a shaky breath. So this was it. She would never see again.

She opened her eyes.

From his hiding place behind the rock, the Architect tried to still his mind to avoid detection by the others. Hidden a few dozen feet away as a slightly larger rock, his TARDIS sent him a mental signal that it would hide his presence. He focused on the girl.

They took her glasses and he saw her squeeze her eyes shut. The corner of his mouth twitched. Clever Tool.

She opened her eyes. His hands curled against the rock.

Run away… He pleaded, the words echoing uselessly in his head as they met the mental blockade he had placed in her mind. Please just run away…

But she didn't run.

She stared.

I'm going to try to update more often now that the semester is over.