Restarts
He woke up in an exploding TARDIS control room, which for him wasn't a first.
What was a first was that he was alone and completely naked, which was very odd. He'd just recovered from a nice nap, during which he had heard someone else's voice a few moments ago (a woman's voice? Yes, that was possible) but the control room was empty now, save for him. It was also blowing up all around him, which he needed to fix pronto.
He navigated his way round the console, feeling oddly reinvigorated despite the fact that he hadn't regenerated but-
He hadn't regenerated.
He hadn't regenerated.
Ah.
Never mind, he thought. Better get on with not dying twice, because that would be embarrassing if anything else.
He activated the materialisation control and undid the handbrake, before heading round to the front to see…
Ah. There was a bit missing from the front. And the time rotor, come to think of it, was on fire and very cracked. Would it work again? He didn't have time to think. He needed to work.
Using the sonic screwdriver that had found its way onto the floor, he fused two wires together, linked up several computer banks together and activated the fast return switch. The computer systems would probably be kaput by now too, so the destination would be a place he'd visited before. The only problem was that he didn't know which place he'd end up at.
Oh dear.
With an anguished howl and groan, the TARDIS sort of settled into the Doctor's office at St Luke's University and, once all was sort of calm, the Doctor headed to the wardrobe in the hope of finding a new outfit. This was because finding a naked old man in a lecturer's office at a high-ranking university such as St Luke's wouldn't be good.
After a few moments spent wandering through the many aisles of his home's vast wardrobe, he picked out his favourite jacket - the black one with a red velvet lining - and combined this with a green shirt and checked trousers to create an outfit that was old yet new. Like him, in a way.
He felt pleased with this new outfit and so, with some confidence propelling him forward, he headed out back into his office and thought…
Right, where was I?
Bill was gone. As was Nardole. As was Clara and Missy and Danny Pink and everyone and so…
He didn't know what to do next. He needed to find someone and do something. Those were the two things he'd always been best at. But, then again, he'd been good at that in any of his lives. Well, almost any. That life had been one of pain, suffering and war. That life he'd come to acknowledge as one he'd lived, but reluctantly. He'd had no other choice but to go through hell.
Thankfully this old grumpy life he'd lived, one full of teachers and students and soldiers and masters, had turned out better. Has.
And then the TARDIS vworped away. Just like that. While he'd been thinking about masters.
He frowned sadly at the spot where his beloved ship stood. Had once stood.
He was trapped on Earth, albeit not for the first time.
To gather his thoughts, he decided to go for a walk around the campus. He'd still had his sonic screwdriver with him, but apart from that, there weren't many other sources of alien technology that could help him escape he could think of. He knew that the Vault was devoid of such tech. All he would find in that strange place was a dimensionally transcendental room, hidden underneath one of the most respected universities in the United Kingdom. A small part of him was considering hiding in that room for all eternity, until the Earth was a barren rock in the sky in the year 5.5/apple/23. Then he could…
No, best not think about that.
He'd just bought a bag of jelly babies from the local newsagents and sat down on a nearby bench when he heard a cry from nearby. It was a harsh, sharp, shrill cry. The cry of a beast. The cry of something that needed investigating.
He shoved his jelly babies back in his jacket pocket and ran towards the cry, sniffing out the mystery like a sniffer dog on the trail. Nothing would stop him. Nothing would get in his way. He was free from being the Doctor, sort of, and he was running.
Unfortunately, he failed to notice the tall blue police box that was parked close by. But, then again, he was running too fast to notice it.
The beast was big. That was the first thing he noticed about it. It was really, really big.
It had fierce, black eyes that bored into the souls of its victims. It was covered in thick, white fur that was spotlessly clean. It had sharp fangs, perfect for biting and chomping and chewing and sucking and devouring.
The weird thing was, in the Doctor's eyes anyway, was that it wasn't harming anyone. In fact, a few students (freshers, unsurprisingly) were stroking the beast with kind affection. He told the students to get back and run away, but they didn't listen. They did listen, however, to the next voice they heard.
"You lot, students, get outta here!" came a harsh American voice from a stern American man, stood a metre or so away from the Doctor.
The Doctor studied this American newcomer. He was a short man, dressed in a beige pinstripe suit, green shoes, a green bowler hat and a green tie. His face was wrinkly and covered in lines. It was an old face which had seen a lot, much like the Doctor's. An old round face, though, with very inquisitive eyes.
"Go on, go! This Bargon Hound's my business and mine only!" he added, his hurried run towards the students dispersing them in an instant.
Throughout all of this, the Doctor watched on, incredulous.
"A Bargon Hound?" he questioned the newcomer, "What does that make you? A hunter or something?"
The newcomer laughed a laugh the Doctor knew only too well.
"Of course not. I'm here to bring this dog back home. Now, with the right frequency, I should be able to pacify the dog and…"
The stranger trailed off as he took out a large, black, bleeping box from his jacket pocket and activated it. The chirrup, chirrup, chirrup and endless whirr filled the small courtyard they were in. And, a few seconds later, the dog was asleep. Then came the real twist.
When the Doctor reached into his pocket to take out his sonic screwdriver, to try and be the clever one as he always had done before, the stranger reached into his own pocket, took out his own sonic screwdriver (which was gold, slightly curved and had a red crystal protruding from one end of it) and something that looked a lot like a long surfboard. He slid the surfboard underneath the beast and, using the sonic screwdriver almost as a lead, escorted the sleeping dog out of the courtyard.
The Doctor, intrigued, followed after him.
They ended up outside the police box the Doctor had failed to notice earlier. The TARDIS.
The stranger turned back, not at all surprised to see the Doctor standing there.
"Ah, so you followed me, I see." he said with a charming smile, the key to the ship in his right hand.
"You're… You're…" the Doctor began, barely able to contain his surprise.
The stranger finished the sentence off.
"You. Yes, Doctor, you got there in the end. My god, you're slow." the American one said, before abruptly opening the door to his ship and pushing the sleeping dog inside.
The Doctor - the Scottish Doctor, that is - tried to enter the new TARDIS, but to no avail.
"Uh-uh-uh," said the American, waggling his index finger, "Get your own TARDIS."
"I don't have my own TARDIS." the Scottish Doctor said, frowning, "It dumped me."
"Well you're not travelling with me. I shouldn't even be here in the first place."
For some reason the Doctor couldn't fathom, the American glanced around, anxiety in those formerly inquisitive eyes.
"Not meant to be here?" he quizzed, scanning the American with his sonic screwdriver. Strange. High levels of artron energy - normal for a version of him - but also another energy. One that the sonic didn't recognise whatsoever.
"No. And this dog belongs in my universe too. Now, are you done because I need to go? Unless, of course, you want me to delay and cause a transdimensional catastrophe?"
The Doctor shook his head.
"Oh no, no, no, go."
Smiling at his Scottish counterpart, the American Doctor entered his TARDIS. A few moments later, the TARDIS dematerialised, leaving the Scottish Doctor all alone.
"Another universe." the Doctor murmured to himself, "But that must mean… Oh no!"
A tear between universes, allowing all sorts to have easy access to Earth.
This was not good.
He needed to call UNIT.