Chapter One : Running Out of Time
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but ourselves - Shakespeare
The old man remembers his past and he visits them frequently in his mind. Quietly and on his own. All those moments lost in time, like tears in rain. Of many forgotten follies and secret adventures. He remembers the sights and smells and all other sensations return to him so very eagerly. It's the only way left of returning home.
It is Gallifrey. The sky is a burnt orange and a cold wind blows past between the mighty twin mountains that cradled the Citadel like a great jewel. Vaster and more splendid than anything you could have dreamed of; greater and stronger than it seemed and far too beautiful. Inside the shining jewel of a city, the Time Lords had gathered for a celebration. The Court of Eternity shone in the morning sun, a sweet fountain played there and a sward of bright green lay about it. The white-paved court was filled with mighty and majestic men and women of Gallifrey, all speaking with happy tones of voice. They had deemed it a marvellous day indeed for the celebration.
But something was amiss...
Now far from the serene and orderliness of the city, in the underbelly of the Citadel where dirt and dust have a greater presence, a small robed figure scurried through the busy Gallifreyan streets, ducking and dodging. He is a blur as he weaves through the crowds of Gallifreyans, and all one could see was the flash of robes. Prydonian robes. Moments later a group of pursuers hurry through less swiftly. Clambering and clamouring straight through the crowd so clumsily, the Chancellery Guard prove their incompetence for onlookers to witness.
"Come back here you little runt!" cries the Castellan angrily into the crowd.
In the embrace of the dirt-filled alley a young boy in red and orange robes emerges from the shadows. He is smiling gleefully, a prize in his hand. Something is wrapped tightly in a silk cloth underneath his fingers but it is exposed a little to the sunlight and it betrays the glimmer of jewels. The light dances off it as beautifully as can be.
"There he is!" roars the Castellan as he spots the light and the thief.
The smile does not vanish from the boy's face but simply spreads wider. He runs again and is a blur once more. The guards give chase, spreading and snaking their way through the masses, taking different routes. The boy is fast and dances his way through the streets. He knows this dance. He has danced it a hundred times before. And he knows this city. This is his city. He would not be captured so easily.
Over and under the crates, run pass into the shop houses, up into storeroom, behind the narrow ledge, climb down from the window...Far too easy.
But the guards are many and he is alone. They cut off his little passageways and block his alleys. He is funnelled and surrounded and his back against a wall. The crowds move away from him and he is isolated. The guards begin to gather around him and close in. Their eyes are lit with delight at the thought of his imminent capture. They have been waiting for this for a very long time.
But from the shadows, a small hand reaches out and grabs the boy's own. The boy turns and looks. It is another boy. They recognise each other, though they do not know one another. Not yet. He is caught unaware but a quick word and moment is shared.
"Run!"
They run and disappear down a new alley the boy has never seen before. His saviour is running ahead of him. Laughing as he ran. Enjoying the chase as much as he did. His laughter is high and full.
The two ran and ran at full pelt, chuckling as they did. They did not stop for what seemed to both like hours and ages at the time. The fun seemed to not end, but finally, when they were rid of their pursuers, they stopped and talked with what breath left that they could gather.
"Who are you?" asks the boy to his saviour, wheezing cheerfully.
His saviour does not reply but simply flashes a smile and breathlessly shakes his head. He pants back to him dismissively, "No, no. I saved you. Who are -you-?" He jabs a finger in his direction and waits for a reply silently.
The boy hesitates but relents. "They call me the Master."
"Nice name."
"I thought so too," the boy replies.
"I'm the Doctor. Well, they call me the Doctor. I don't know why. I call me the Doctor too. Still don't know why. Nice to meet you though Master."
"Nice to meet you too," he answers in earnest and the two shake hands. Though secretly he thinks the Doctor talks too much and he's only just introduced himself.
"Now tell me, what have you got there in your hand?"
And now secretly he thinks the Doctor is too wise for his own sake.
The vision blurs and the edges that give shape burns with light. Everything in sight now pools into a bright white blankness and there is nothing. Only the memories.
The old man awakens, his eyes open to find himself in a new world. A different world. Momentarily he had wondered if he was awake or sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in which he had been wrapped. His hearts are heavy as he realises it is not Gallifrey. The burnt orange sky is gone, replaced with one that is a vivid and deep blue. The Master looked around to see a city of large black taxis, huge red buses, bright red post-boxes, grassy green parks and buildings of old red bricks. An impossible city of old and new meeting in a great collision of coincidences with aged cemeteries and churches sitting and nudged away slightly awkwardly next to great glittering noisy shops and restaurants. It teemed and overflowed with people of every colour, language and kind inhabiting it as noisily, cheerfully and incomprehensibly as they liked with no apparent semblance of order.
"Oh no, not this place again," groaned the Master.
A huge and lumbering mess of noise and contradictions, London was as ever a busy place today. Especially with that huge dragon tearing through the sky with a strange familiar man dangling from it, clutching for his dear lives left to live.
"Ah well Doctor, dust off your Converse. Time to save the Universe."
A streak of light and flame tore through the sky, a blaze of yellow dragon breath shooting with no real aim or purpose besides anger. The world was rushing by and the wind sang loudly in the Doctor's ears as he struggled to hang on. His arms and legs wrapped tightly around the scaly tail that thrashed about incessantly. He could see nothing but the wheeling bright light reflecting off of London's shiniest glass windows beneath him.
"Enjoying the flight Doctor?" taunted the dragon who simply did not have a name. They just called him Bob.
"Hah! Some flight," roared back the Doctor bravely. "No peanuts? No Stallone movie?"
"Do not make me laugh, Doctor."
"I wouldn't dare to Bob. Not when you've got such big teeth."
A spurt of flame shot across him scorching and burning away the tips of his spiky mess of brown hair.
"Oi!"
"And stop calling me Bob!"
Then Bob, seeking to remove this unwanted passenger aboard his tail, gathered himself together, wings stretched, unravelled and shot away, and the world flowed over him like a roaring wind. The Doctor braced himself, gritted his teeth, furrowed his eyebrows and fastened himself as tight as he could as they sped forth, his great long jacket flapping wild and mad. This was simply not his preferred form of transportation.
They climbed higher and higher, through wisps of chilling cold clouds, rolling and turning sharply in mid-air as the Doctor struggled to hang on with the dragon's wings beating the air like the sails of a great windmill.
Just then, as the Doctor began sliding and slipping off the metallic scales and he looked below to see he was too far to even make out the ground, a familiar and comforting sound grew. An ancient sound and unlike any other to be heard elsewhere in the Universe. A wheezing-groaning noise of a legendary blue box. Relief washed over him and lifted his two hearts.
In the middle of the sky he saw it. Saw it materialise. The clouds around where it would be whipped about and dissipated as the winds rushed even greater. A beacon of light shone and the Doctor knew he was saved. Well, sort of.
Bob roared at the sight of it fully formed ahead of him and opened his mouth full of rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. Ruinous fire shot out and streaked its way towards the TARDIS but the flames did not harm it. In fact, it did not even touch the surface.
"Extrapolator shielding," exclaimed the Doctor through gritted teeth. It was mighty cold but his chest was beaming with pride. "Fantastic!"
"Hah, impressive indeed," cried Bob the fearsome dragon without a fearsome name.
"Your legend precedes you Lord of Time."
"I hope it's the good stories about me they're still telling," the Doctor shouted back, his voice slowly drowning in the wind as Bob sped away from the TARDIS which soon followed suit. "But you know what else is impressive?"
"What?" asked the dragon flames still gushing from his mouth as he spoke.
"This."
Then the temperature drops and it's not just the air. Bob's bones can feel the unnatural bite of the cold and barely notices the Doctor jump off him, seemingly plummeting down to Earth with a smile on his face. Bob wonders what else the Doctor has planned. Then he hears the mighty booming of ionic pulse fusion engines above him and he looks up and finally gets it.
Great gleaming Judoon ships sprang up and out of from the shadowy depths of cloud cover; and when they saw the dragon they roared with priming their laser cannons. The white clouds trailed and streamed off the magnificent vertical ships as they blasted forwards, the great hum of their engines echoing off one another.
It seemed like a great chorus of war trumpets, and their notes gathered into one voice and sent it rolling and beating on the hulls of their galactic ships.
Meanwhile, the Doctor fell spiralling through the air, completely out of control, sucked towards the Earth. He had no idea which way was up, which down but he didn't need to. Almost instantly a hand grabbed tightly him by the arm.
"Hang on Dad!" cried a voice that died in the noise above it.
More hands reached out to grab him by the collar and by his long brown coat, pulling him in as hard as they could. With all the strength combined, the Doctor managed to pull his way back in, stumble and collapse back into the TARDIS face first. The Doctor decided this was probably how being a fish feels like when they get reeled in onto the boat. It was decidedly, not comfy.
"Okay, we're never doing that again," wheezed Ivy, blowing away her hair from her face though a graceful smile did shine through her beautiful pale round face.
"Agreed," said the Doctor as his own face adjusted to the cold metal floor of the TARDIS. Then, he felt an uncomfortable squirming underneath him that was not of his own body.
"Doctor, could you get off me now?" asked a muffled voice of a young boy.
"Oh sorry," replied the Doctor as he rolled over immediately onto his back revealing Matt underneath the coat. A little puff of dust and smoke rose from the coat as he did.
"Ow," whimpered Matt slightly, his face now full of soot and sweat but his bright eyes still lit with life.
"Did we get him though?" asked Jenny, as she stayed by the open door of the TARDIS, staring upwards, her blonde long hair flapping about in the breeze. Ivy and Matt rushed forwards alongside her to see.
The Doctor too looked up to see the commotion above, but decided he was content enough to just sit and see what was happening from where he was. His limbs were mostly numb and nerves still tingling from the flight and resulting fall.
Up above, there were a dozen or more Judoon ships, each as tall as a skyscraper but moving far swifter than you expected, under the employ of the Shadow Proclamation, revealing themselves and surrounding Bob the dragon in a tight circle, covering both above and below so he had no chance of escape.
The dragon turned around in the ever tightening circle roaring angrily and shooting jets of fire straight at each of them but it only barely singed their surface. In return the ships shot out a red beam of light that encased and froze the dragon like a statue. A statue in the middle of the sky. It was a sight to behold.
"I want one of those," declared Matt sounding avid.
"You're never going to be able to steal that," said Ivy. "It'll never fit inside a pocket."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," interjected the Doctor. "Depends on the type of pocket really."
They laughed cheerfully though unsure of whether it was a joke or a simple statement of fact.
The Doctor then quietly turned back to the controls of the TARDIS and prepared to land her. It would be a nice comfort to be on solid ground finally he had thought to himself. And as he joyfully pulled cranks and levers, kicked and punched the buttons, and when no one seemed to be watching, it started.
Without warning, as the TARDIS dematerialised from the sky, the Doctor's head burned with intense blinding pain as something flashed across his mind like a bright light on water. For a brief moment he saw the vortex and the fractures and the cracks across the universe, before suddenly it all disappeared as abruptly as it came, as though nothing had happened…
He shook it off and in an instant, remembered nothing of it.
Author's Note : This was a very fun chapter to write. And it's important we have fun. Cos things are gonna get bad real quick...