Lucyfer
I made something that'll love me even when I won't
The Doctor was certain he had walked into his grave when he stepped through those TARDIS doors and heard them close behind him. He stumbled towards the central console of his machine, and he felt death—but it was a familiar death. The energy had exploded out from him, and he had collapsed onto that console.
A new man woke, slouched over the console, a bit of drool on his hand. Still of the whiter skin tones, he noted. “Ugh,” he lifted himself off, almost disoriented by his new height. He wiped the back of his hand on his pants and squinted now-blue eyes as he looked around the dimly lit central console. Nothing was on fire, nothing was damage, but it was clear to him that his beloved home was tired. He turned himself around to take it in, “I don’t suppose outside those doors are the ruins of the dalek army?” He spoke aloud, then frowned. “That doesn’t sound like me. I don’t sound like this. I didn’t sound like this.”
Of that much, the man was certain. He lifted the once drooled-on hand to his throat, and felt his bowtie still there, but as he lifted his hand up, he didn’t feel the same Adam’s apple. Further up, he didn’t feel his hair as being quite as long anymore. He went to his forehead and tried to bring it down into sight so he could see the color, but for all the ways he screwed up his eyes, he couldn’t see it. “Darn it." He'd be disappointed later, when he learned his hair was blond and not ginger. It was short, but not quite a buzzcut. There was still some length to play with. Gel would spike it.
"Well, I suppose I can find a mirror somewhere to see,” he huffed and turned towards the doors. “I’ll step out then for a bit, while you regain yourself.” He told the vehicle, and walked to those doors without checking to see what was outside.
His first inhalation told him everything he needed to know. 2014, an English fall, and a rare sunny day at that—sunny enough to make him stumble the first couple of steps out and almost trip over his shoes. He looked down at them and wrinkled his nose. The shoes were terrible. He needed new ones.
He used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, and then let out a single, “Ha!” as he saw an archaeological site not far from where he stood. “Well, well,” he said to himself, “I wonder if Song’s on the job.” He hoped so. It was fun to muck with her when she was at work, and tell her what it was she was actually uncovering.
Oh, archaeologists. They were some of the most amusing creatures in the universe.
The Doctor approached the site without looking to notice he was within restricted territory. Someone else, however, noticed.
The man in the hardhat approached with a rather disgruntled look on his face when the Doctor drew too close, “Excuse me, did you not see the signs?”
The Doctor didn’t, “Nope,” so his answer was honest. He kept walking until the man took a step back in front of the Doctor and put a hand out to bar the Doctor from continuing forward.
“Look, sir,” it was clear he didn’t intend to be respectful, “This is a closed dig, and I need to ask you to—” The Doctor dug into his upper pocket and pulled out the ever-handy psychic paper. “—Oh, oh excuse me, Doctor Smith!”
The Doctor smirked, “Now, can I see what you’ve uncovered thus far?” The Doctor asked.
“Of course, right this way,” the man said, and the Doctor followed, wondering what the psychic paper had said as he tucked it away. Fortunately, the man rambled, “We’ve been looking at this site for a little under a month now. We thought it was a Roman city, and it was, but we’ve been finding evidence of an even earlier civilization here—a new one!” His excitement was evident, as the Doctor was led by some of the archaeologists hard at work in the dig, and by a few tents were others were taking closer looks at artefacts found. “We’ve not found evidence of them existing before, and we’ve seen nothing like it. Take a look,” he motioned down into one of the dig sites.
The Doctor’s back tensed and he straightened. He recognized what was there, all right. ‘Not good.’ Was his immediate thought. What was being uncovered was not only evidence of a very early race, but one so old that the Doctor’s natural telepathic connection to the TARDIS wasn’t translating.
He recognized it still, though. He’d encountered one before and seen the strange writing appear on the bodies of humans. Jack Harkness had told him of a creature like that one being released on Earth a few years back, so called Abaddon.
The thought of such a creature being on Earth again, or even within Earth, frightened the Doctor. “Stop! Stop this right now!”
A new man woke, slouched over the console, a bit of drool on his hand. Still of the whiter skin tones, he noted. “Ugh,” he lifted himself off, almost disoriented by his new height. He wiped the back of his hand on his pants and squinted now-blue eyes as he looked around the dimly lit central console. Nothing was on fire, nothing was damage, but it was clear to him that his beloved home was tired. He turned himself around to take it in, “I don’t suppose outside those doors are the ruins of the dalek army?” He spoke aloud, then frowned. “That doesn’t sound like me. I don’t sound like this. I didn’t sound like this.”
Of that much, the man was certain. He lifted the once drooled-on hand to his throat, and felt his bowtie still there, but as he lifted his hand up, he didn’t feel the same Adam’s apple. Further up, he didn’t feel his hair as being quite as long anymore. He went to his forehead and tried to bring it down into sight so he could see the color, but for all the ways he screwed up his eyes, he couldn’t see it. “Darn it." He'd be disappointed later, when he learned his hair was blond and not ginger. It was short, but not quite a buzzcut. There was still some length to play with. Gel would spike it.
"Well, I suppose I can find a mirror somewhere to see,” he huffed and turned towards the doors. “I’ll step out then for a bit, while you regain yourself.” He told the vehicle, and walked to those doors without checking to see what was outside.
His first inhalation told him everything he needed to know. 2014, an English fall, and a rare sunny day at that—sunny enough to make him stumble the first couple of steps out and almost trip over his shoes. He looked down at them and wrinkled his nose. The shoes were terrible. He needed new ones.
He used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, and then let out a single, “Ha!” as he saw an archaeological site not far from where he stood. “Well, well,” he said to himself, “I wonder if Song’s on the job.” He hoped so. It was fun to muck with her when she was at work, and tell her what it was she was actually uncovering.
Oh, archaeologists. They were some of the most amusing creatures in the universe.
The Doctor approached the site without looking to notice he was within restricted territory. Someone else, however, noticed.
The man in the hardhat approached with a rather disgruntled look on his face when the Doctor drew too close, “Excuse me, did you not see the signs?”
The Doctor didn’t, “Nope,” so his answer was honest. He kept walking until the man took a step back in front of the Doctor and put a hand out to bar the Doctor from continuing forward.
“Look, sir,” it was clear he didn’t intend to be respectful, “This is a closed dig, and I need to ask you to—” The Doctor dug into his upper pocket and pulled out the ever-handy psychic paper. “—Oh, oh excuse me, Doctor Smith!”
The Doctor smirked, “Now, can I see what you’ve uncovered thus far?” The Doctor asked.
“Of course, right this way,” the man said, and the Doctor followed, wondering what the psychic paper had said as he tucked it away. Fortunately, the man rambled, “We’ve been looking at this site for a little under a month now. We thought it was a Roman city, and it was, but we’ve been finding evidence of an even earlier civilization here—a new one!” His excitement was evident, as the Doctor was led by some of the archaeologists hard at work in the dig, and by a few tents were others were taking closer looks at artefacts found. “We’ve not found evidence of them existing before, and we’ve seen nothing like it. Take a look,” he motioned down into one of the dig sites.
The Doctor’s back tensed and he straightened. He recognized what was there, all right. ‘Not good.’ Was his immediate thought. What was being uncovered was not only evidence of a very early race, but one so old that the Doctor’s natural telepathic connection to the TARDIS wasn’t translating.
He recognized it still, though. He’d encountered one before and seen the strange writing appear on the bodies of humans. Jack Harkness had told him of a creature like that one being released on Earth a few years back, so called Abaddon.
The thought of such a creature being on Earth again, or even within Earth, frightened the Doctor. “Stop! Stop this right now!”
