Author's note:
Don't worry! Not AU. Drax will definitely encounter the Doctor again, most famously in the Key to Time series of the Fourth Doctor!
The Brigadier: Do you know what you're doing?
The Doctor: My dear chap, I can't wait to find out.
- The Daemons
Third Doctor.
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The Doctor took a long, shuddering breath.
"Drax. Oh dear, oh dear oh..." He stopped abruptly, then shook his head. "Look here, get a hold of yourself!" he said. "You are not going to skid all the way back into being that midget hobo again just because a good friend died!"
He stalked back into the TARDIS.
Suddenly he stopped.
"Wait a blasted minute,'" he said."Did he actually die or just disappear?"
He took out his sonic screwdriver and walked back outside playing the humming device carefully over the surrounding clearing,
"Hm mm," he said, "There does appear to have been some kind of temporal disturbance, but I do believe I'm going to need something a bit more accurate to trace this down than a simple screwdriver."
He re-entered the TARDIS, pausing a moment to scoop up the weapon Drax had been holding when he took him down. Odd that. Why would Drax even have threatened him with a gun, when he know that he hated them? He studied the weapon closer...
He gave a sudden bark of laughter.
"Why you old devil! This is nothing more than a multiphasic drill! Admittedly, it's your drill so I'd wager there have been some quite impressive upgrades, but-"
His monologue cut off abruptly as the drill began to whine and several lights on it began flashing. A hearty whistle came from the two rear ports, but the Doctor had already sent it sailing away. It ricocheted against a wall, then a doorway before landing near the console. The Doctor hastily backed away.
A hum came from the drill then a flickering image sprang up.
"Hello,Thete," said Drax. "I'm guessing something unpredictably nasty has happened to me. My luck done ran out. or whatever, then."
The figure chuckled. "Well, it's that, or I've gotten incredible butterfingers and lost my favorite drill. Either way, I'm probably for it, and out of luck as far as regenerations."
Drax sighed and rubbed his eyes, leaned on an unseen console.
"Wait a moment, you knew I would find this? How?"
"I'll bet you're wondering how I'd name you, Thete. Well, it was luck of the draw you'd find this, instead of those prissy little kids the Time Controllers send about. So, I made one message for them." The figure gave a rougish grin. "And another for you. Come on, you improbus proprius providor*, you know I'd counted on the possibility of you at least finding some of my stuff!"
The Doctor knew this was just a recording, but before he could stifle it, an, "Excuse me! Watch your tone!" shot from his lips.
"Anyway, not to take up too much of your time, but there is one last thing I want you to do. At the end of this message ,a control sequence will show up on the drill that will recall my TARDIS." His voice cracked. He took a swig from a flask, and paused before resuming. "I've programmed her to allow you to enter one set of coordinates. Send her back home, Thete. I think we both know what reception she'll get there."
Probably junk her, just like so many 'obsolete' types before her, thought the Doctor. What a waste.
"But before you do, go ahead and get as much as you can of the stuff I've been working on from the store room; I think you could use it, and I don't want it to meet the same fate."
The Doctor smiled, and nodded. "Don't you worry there, Drax." he said. He knew how much the Council and some other 'independent contractors' from across Time had hungered after some of his friend's more inventive gadgets. "I promise I'll put them to good use."
"I know you will," said the flickering figure.
The Doctor gave a start.
The holographic Drax's features softened. "Don't worry about me, Thete. We've both had a good run, and I know you'll have more crazy mishaps to come. I know this, because," he gave a sigh, "this isn't the last you'll see of me. Lots of earlier stuff - for me at least." He grinned. "You're in for some wild times!"
Before he could respond, the holographic Drax turned toward him, and looked him dead in the eyes.
"Decca forever," he whispered. "Give 'em hell, Thete."
The holo-Drax flickered, then disappeared.
The Doctor turned, the lines of his face and jaw-line standing out harshly, a strange contrast to the soft lights and white walls of the console room. He stood a while.
There was a crunch.
He looked down, and found the body of his screwdriver had broken.
"Oh, dear," he said absently, noting only slightly the blood that dripped from his fingers, the same blood that had marred his quite stylish felt burgundy gloves.. "I suppose I will need to fix that, too..." Tears began to flow down his face. He drew his handkerchief from his pocket, absently dabbing at his eyes, before wrapping it around his hand as a bandage.
The TARDIS doors closed. He didn't seem to notice this anamoly.
He felt his knees give way.
He put his face in his hands, and for the first time in hundreds of years, let out a wail, and began to weep freely.
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*Roughly translated, hero to inferior species.
