The sleeping man

Snoring. It only took the doctor a moment to register the soft calm sound. The warm room might contain the shapes he had observed earlier. The one who bowed its head was sound asleep while the other seemed to guard it. The doctor knew better then to risk an unnecessary quarrel with these things. The machinery a while back was not human made and it also did not seem like they were friendly either. These beings were intelligent, and what it seems; emotionless. He stepped back from the heated door and looked around.

A flicker of light was escaping the iron bars of a small venting system. The doctor crouched down upon his knees and looked inside. As he suspected the two shapes were there. The one sleeping appeared to be an elderly man with wrinkled old eyes and a small scruffy beard clinging to his chin. The one guarding him was a young man in a white suit. His bright blonde hair swayed around his neck as his eyes were fixated forward. He seemed as stone cold as the house keeper. The room was well furnished. A fireplace was across from the old man. It was massive and raised high above the knights' head as they stood t its base. Their metal shined brilliantly in the dull room. This time, he could feel the warmth of the room.

It wasn't just warm, it was hot. The temperature was rising, and the doctor could feel the sweat gathering in beads above his brow. It wasn't like the heat could bother him, since his race could survive much hotter, but it was the fact that there was no fire in the fireplace. So where was the heat coming from?

"If you wish to speak to me Doctor," the doctor turned quickly to find the old man behind him, his body hunched over a cane and a gentle smile on his lips, "Snooping around my home is not the way to do it."

"Yes well, it did not seem the friendliest of places." He motioned with his eyes to a large knight with a menacing ax tightly in its grip.

The old man let out a laugh and leaned against the windowsill, "But you won't be bothered by people who have no business here when you live in a place like this."

He placed his cane at his feet, his hands folded over the handle.

"I trust you did not come here to discuss the old furniture of my humble home."

"Why did you signal me?

"I'm dieing doctor."

"Everything dies; I don't see how that has any connection with me."

"You don't. You regenerate."

The doctor's voice caught in his throat. He was not expecting that.

"Who are you? How do you know about my regeneration?"

"Now Doctor, in chess do you ever tell your opponent your next move?"

He opened his mouth to reply but a gust of cold air seized his breath. The old man was gone.

The minute the presence of the sleeping man was absent the frost of the air attacked the walls; crackling as it spread around in its icy touch. The doctor shivered and wrapped his trench coat closer.

"I hate chess," he muttered through clattering teeth. The building grew quiet with the exception of the distant sound of machinery hard at work. The doctor's thoughts were mixed; some of him was begging to know why the man wanted him. Still most of him wanted nothing more then to escape. Something was not right, if not something-everything. He was the only one with the ability to end it-whatever it was, and god damn him if he turned a blind eye!

He couldn't take the cold air. He was sure it was attempting to tear off his numb toes. He rubbed his palms furiously together as he made his way up the corridor. It seemed that ever step he took the room dropped in temperature. The length of the wall crinkled and popped with settling ice almost sounding like a dehydrated cackle. It ran up the iron wall, and spread across the ceiling surrounding the doctor; like he was trapped pushing him forward, daring him to fight it.

The color was running from his face. If it continued, he would surely be frozen dead where he stood. In this realization he turned his numb body and continued walking back to where he had first met the cold man. The temperature rose as he got closer to the room. His body relinquished it's shivering state and his toes wiggled inside his shoes. He hurried his pace; eager for more heat. The room where the sleeping man was in is where the incredible warmth came from. He ripped the door open, stepped inside, and made sure to shut the door heavily behind him.

He felt strong hands wrap around his shoulders. He gasped and roach back to get the hands off, but the iron grip only tightened. As they got tighter his head began to spin. His knees gave out under his weight, his body went roughly down. He was still aware of his surroundings but his body was completely numb, paralyzed. He moved his eyes to his attacker. The young man in a bright white suit with his blonde hair stood above him. He struggled to move but he was sure he still laid still on the ground. The man stayed above him, but his eyes never looked at the Doctor. The doctor watched where the man looked, waiting for him to do something, waiting for him to attack. He felt his heart pounding in his ears and his body screaming at him to run. But he couldn't. He laid still at this beings feet, completely vulnerable; for the first time in a long time. He heard another person enter the room. There was a quick dash between both steps and the thud of a blunt metal object-a cane.

"Good job Jason," an old shaky voice said.

His heart skipped into his throat. The ground next to him got hotter as the breath of his captor grazed against his ear.

"Thank you," it said, "for answering my call."

A feeling of sinking filled him as cold metal made contact with his skull. He was sure that it caused some amount of head trauma. He drifted now, collected in his own mind; waiting to open his eyes.