A Fistful of Doctors [Ten/Open]

[The Third Doctor]

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Outfit: Green!
Words: 1027 sans code
Notes: In which Three continues to fail with the TARDIS. Also, bighuge into post.

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8th October, 1971
01 : 38 am

There. That should do it.

A thin sigh escaped the Doctor as he leaned back in his uncomfortable metal stool. Finally. After what had felt like ages in itself, he had finally finished tweaking and repairing his TARDIS’ dematerialization circuit. He’d targeted it as the main source of his TARDIS-related problems… at least as far as the ship itself was concerned. The memory blocks the Time Lords had imposed upon him were another matter entirely. But with this… with this that would hopefully not be a major problem.

After all, he didn’t much care where he was going so long as he was able to get away from here. Though the Doctor had come to accept his position here in UNIT (and though he’d never, ever admit it aloud, he’d come to somewhat enjoy it), he was still the Doctor… and if there was one thing he couldn’t abide, it was idleness. He’d been stuck in one place, one steady path in time, for far too long.

Tilting his head back to eye the small piece of machinery as if he were observing a precious gem, the Doctor couldn’t help but allow a small glimmer of a smile ghost across his typically serious face. If this worked (which he hoped under all that was good, holy, scientific, and whatever else would give him an edge), then he should be able to make some small, frequent escapes. Not too many. The whole galactic yo-yo issue wasn’t fully resolved, but. To just get out for a little while…! Even if he had to stoop to the space/time traveling equivalent of sneaking out the bedroom window at night to go have some fun… Well. He had obviously gotten desperate enough to stoop down to that level.

Baby steps, he reminded himself. Baby steps. He’d get himself out of this predicament fully soon enough. One had to start somewhere.

Rising from the metal stool with an uncomfortable scrape of metal-on-linoleum as the stool was pushed back, the Doctor paused for a moment to stretch and glance idly at the clock. Goodness. Was it already so late? No wonder Jo and/or the Brigadier hadn’t been fluttering around him these past few hours.

For a moment, the Doctor lamented the fact that he was most likely the only person in the UNIT Headquarters at this hour. He was (somewhat) certain Jo would enjoy the trip. And really, he felt like it was the least he could do for letting her come on as his assistant.

But it would have to wait. The Doctor could be a patient man when he wished, but tonight was not such a night. He wanted to test the TARDIS, and he wanted to test it now[/i].

If it worked, he could take Jo sightseeing in the morning.

With a stride that nearly resembled a skip in its eagerness, the Doctor swept into the TARDIS, not even pausing for a moment to muse on… something. Shame at his predicament? Smugness at what he was somewhat certain would be a quick escape from the Time Lords’ shackles? Tranquility at the old familiar scene? No time for that!

With an exaggerated flourish befitting an overly-dramatic stage actor, the Doctor flipped open the dematerialization circuit’s covering before popping the piece in place and shutting the box with a pleasant snap!

There! The ghost of a smile spread into a full-on grin as the Doctor began to flutter about the TARDIS console, slipping easily into the old awkward dance routine that he had undergone so many times that even he had lost count. He didn’t bother to set a specific time and date for his destination. As long as he wasn’t here, in his commandeered laboratory in UNIT, in this exact time, that would be enough for him.

VWARRRPP. VWARRRPP. VWARRRPP.

As the ship shuddered and screeched in its usual fashion, the Doctor was awarded a moment of triumph. Pure, unadulterated triumph. He’d done it! He’d—

Unfortunately, his moment of gloating and self-congratulation was to be short-lived. The TARDIS shook with a heavy crash, nearly knocking the Doctor from his feet.

Then… Nothing.

He didn’t have to look at the console to know something had gone wrong. Slowly, despondently, the Doctor rose, head dipped in frustration. The smile had long since faded, now replaced with the grim look of a man marching off to his execution. He’d failed. He knew his ship well enough to know when she’d landed properly and when she hadn’t.

Galactic yo-yo indeed.

Well! No use sulking over it. Immediately the Doctor straightened in an attempt to regain his lost dignity. It didn’t matter that no one was there to see! His dignity was momentarily tampered with, and he was going to regain it! He was just going to have to keep his chin up and try again.

Tugging his bottle green velvet jacket out of its rumpled state and into a much more presentable manner, the Doctor marched stiffly towards the door. Well. One failure had been enough for the moment. He’d need a day away from the TARDIS now. Yes. That may be for the best. He had some ideas on upgrading Bessie—

Flinging open the doors, the Doctor paused. A look of momentary shock crossed his aristocratic features. This… This wasn’t…

Well. It wasn’t UNIT headquarters for starters. As the shock faded, the Doctor coolly studied the immediate surrounding area from the TARDIS’ door frame. It was certainly Earth, though. London, too. One couldn’t mistake that view of the Thames. Hm. London Eye. So he’d managed to jump forward at least thirty years. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Might as well take a little stroll, hm?

His mood sufficiently lifted for the time being, the Doctor slid out of the TARDIS, carefully shutting the door behind him. It may not have been much in the whole scene of the whole idea of traveling through space and time, but a couple miles and a few decades were enough to cheer the Doctor up at least a little. He’d gotten someplace! Baby steps, eh? Maybe next time he’d get a little farther away than simply London…

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[The Tenth Doctor]

It had been nearly a week since the downfall of the Master -- since the end of the Year That Never was. For a period of a year, Ten had not been the only Time Lord in the universe. The Master had survived the Time War as well, but he hadn't known it. The Master had been chameleon arched. Now the Doctor was alone again -- the only Time Lord left. Although the Master had become his enemy, it hadn't always been that way. When they were children, the Master had been his best friend.

Ten thought he had finished with his grief over the loss of Gallfrey and the Time Lords, but when he had learned that another Time Lord had survived -- and then that Time Lord had died, he realized that he had to grieve anew for them...and for the loss of his best friend. The Master had chosen not to regenerate. The Doctor had hoped that the Master might be redeemed one day, and perhaps they could be friends once more. That wasn't to be. The Master's death was final. The Master had died his enemy and unredeemed.

It was for this reason that the Doctor found himself staring at the place where the Master's body had been burned. Tears rolling down his cheeks.

[The Third Doctor]

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Outfit: Green!
Words: 812 sans code
Notes: This is going to be interesting...

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What had initially supposed to have been a simple, short stroll down the bank of the Thames turned into a much more drawn-out urban hike. The Doctor had realized that he hadn’t seen too much of London at this specific point in time (at least, at this point in his life he hadn’t). Why not spend a few extra moments poking about for kicks? If things worked as they should, he’d return to UNIT only a few moments after he had taken off. So what were a few extra minutes here? It wasn’t like he would be missed.

Besides, it was such a lovely night out. Perfect for a walk, no matter where or when one was.

At first the Doctor was quite interested in his surroundings. It was funny how things could change so much over the span of a few short decades, and yet… not at all. The more he looked, the more he saw the same buildings, cars, patterns in passing humans… well, the few who were out at his late hour. True, it was a bit more populated than what he would have seen in the time period he was stuck in, but really. Brush away the extra glitz and lights, and it was essentially the same as what he was used to. It was really quite disappointing.

Small wonder that the further he walked, the further into himself the Doctor drew. He stopped taking notice of the bright neon lights of the city, drifted his gaze carelessly away from girls dressed in fashions that would make a person of a proper upbringing blush. He had other matters to think about aside from the new sheen of gloss on an otherwise familiar city. Ignoring the few curious gazes that drifted in his direction (as velvet coats and frilled shirts were most decidedly unfashionable in this day and age), he pressed onward, paying less and less attention to where his strides were taking him. He’d find his way back eventually.

It wasn’t until he had wandered far from the glitz and shine of lights and glass and steel of London that the Doctor unconsciously jerked himself out of his brooding thoughts. Oh dear. He hadn’t meant to wander off this far. Where had he gotten to?

From a casual squinted glance around the dark grey mess, the Doctor guessed at first that he’d wandered upon a quarry of sorts. That, or some future skyscraper or equally sizable building. A normal house wouldn’t need a big pit like that. Maybe they had torn something down? He was less than familiar with this corner of the city, he had to admit.

It was of little consequence. He’d stumbled across come industrial site which happened to feature a big hole in the ground. London and his TARDIS were the other way around. There was nothing of note here. He’d best turn and head back. The test flight was a success. He could go home and flaunt it to the Brigadier in the morning.

Yet as he turned around to leave, something caught in the corner of the tall Doctor’s eye. Curiously, he twisted his head around to study it in better detail. What was that? A man here, at this hour?

Though the illumination was limited to the distant glow of London’s lights and the pale gleam of the moon, the Doctor was most certain that there was another person out here. Now, common sense dictated that the Doctor should be best on his way. The types of people who loitered around big rocky pits at this hour were generally not the sort one would want to associate with. But curiosity got the better of his common sense, and quietly, the Doctor turned to investigate just what this man was doing here.

As he approached, a quiet steady pulse hummed in the back of his mind. Though it was a familiar sensation, it still made the Doctor’s posture stiffen. Time Lord! What were they doing here? Typically, they ignored Earth and its inhabitants. More accurately, they ignored everything unless it was a direct threat to them. Had they caught on to him, perhaps? Curious, but unlikely.

Had he been his previous incarnation, the Doctor would have scuttled off to hide behind a rock or patch of scrub to observe this other Time Lord before making any certain moves. But not this one. Oh no. This Doctor preferred a flat straight direct approach. He stalked right over to this invading Time Lord, head tossed back in that arrogant downward stare that the Doctor managed to pull of almost too well.

“You there!” he called out, noting with some surprise that the other man was… crying? How odd. What in heavens would cause a Time Lord to cry his eyes out little a little girl? “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

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[The Tenth Doctor]

Ten froze when he heard a voice -- a voice that seemed oddly familiar. A person's own voice sounds slightly different from what other people hear, though.

"Wait! What? That sounds like......" he muttered softly to himself.


Ten had to be certain that it really was the Third version of himself. As he looked up and towards the direction the voice had come from, his eyes confirmed what his ears had picked up on. His Third self.

Although Ten liked the thought of meeting a previous self, he was not in the mood for it now...especially not his Third self. However, there was no way to escape the meeting now. Three had seen him and had spoken to him. At least there was some hope to the situation -- for some reason that Ten hadn't figured out yet, his ability to sense other Time Lords was gone. He hadn't been able to sense Three, and he couldn't sense him now.

"I could ask you the same question," Ten answered Three. "Come to think of it, what ARE you doing here? Because I don't remember.....well...that is....oh never mind."

Suddenly conscious of the fact that he was crying, Ten attempted to wipe the tears away from his eyes with his right hand.

[The Third Doctor]

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Outfit: Green!
Words: 624 sans code
Notes: Quick reply. not much to say.

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When it came to people, patience had never been one of the Doctor’s virtues. With Time Lords, it seemed that his fuse was shortened even more significantly. When this stranger Time Lord failed to answer, choosing instead to counter the Doctor’s question with a retort and some rambling, it was no surprise that the Doctor’s response was a less than pleasant one.

“I did not come out here to listen to your questions or your ramblings,” he responded icily, his words clipped short with annoyance. “Now tell me! What are you doing out here at this hour?”

He could wait for an answer. He would wait for an answer, though if he was going to have to drill it out of the man the Doctor wasn’t afraid to resort to that. Obviously the man wasn’t out to haul him back in to Gallifrey for yet another slap on the wrists and whatever absurd punishment they thought proper for him managing to subvert their barriers and cavorting of into the near future. Would they even notice such a small blip on the screen, as it were?

Either way, this man certainly was no proper lackey of the Council, if he was that at all. Crying his eyes out, really! Feeling some degree of shame for the man (because since when do grown men cry like little girls), the Doctor reached in his jacket to pull out a neatly-folded linen handkerchief and hold it out to the stranger to take. “Oh for goodness’ sake,” he sighed, the sharp tone of his words contrasting with his surprisingly kind gesture. “Here. You look a proper mess.”

When the shorter man didn’t immediately take it, the Doctor gestured for him to do so. “Its perfectly safe,” he assured, his voice mellowing to a tone that could almost be considered pleasant. “What are you crying for, anyways?”

It was rude to ask, he supposed, but even this incarnation of the Doctor fell victim to intense curiosity. What would cause a grown man to cry at the edge of a big hole in the stony dirt? Had a special place been there, such as a house? Had he simply run away here to cry? Certainly he wasn’t contemplating suicide. Even a quick glance down the hole was proof that it wasn’t deep enough for a man to kill himself. A broken leg, maybe. But if he wanted to jump to his death he’d have to land pretty solidly on his head from here.

Then again, he hadn’t been facing the pit… curious.

Speaking of curious, while the Doctor waited for the brown-haired man to take the linen cloth to tidy up, he couldn’t help but think on his rambling words. Remember? Remember what? Though the Doctor didn’t recognize this man, he certainly seemed to recognize the Doctor in turn. And while the chance of meeting people out of order along one’s timeline was always a chance, it still was a matter that annoyed the Doctor. He liked to know anything and everything, and being caught off-guard like this… well, he didn’t like it. It left him at a vulnerable disadvantage, a most unfavorable of positions.

Perhaps this man simply knew of him. It wasn’t like the Doctor hadn’t made himself something of a celebrity amongst the Time Lords, though a celebrity of infamous and controversial status. Besides, all Time Lords could tell their own kind apart from the crowd. It was one of their many natural little tricks. Could this be, then, nothing more than a chance meeting? Things were never that simple, but of all the answers the Doctor was hoping that, for once, the simple result was the one that won out. It was doubtful, but one could hope?

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[The Tenth Doctor]

After the initial shock of seeing Three standing right beside him, Ten said nothing for a few moments. He could tell that Three was annoyed with him -- and knowing Three's personality, he knew that this wasn't really uncommon.

"How can I tell him? He's me....and if I told him.....but then, he doesn't know it's me....maybe he will just leave me alone." he thought to himself.

Ten was lost in deep thought, struggling with exactly what he should say in response to this man, and he hadn't noticed the fact that Three had removed a hankerchief from his pocket. As Three encouraged him to take it, Ten reached out his hand and received it. Drying his eyes with it, he held it in his hand.

"Thank you," he managed to get out.

Ten heard the softening in Three's voice and the question with that. Now he would have to answer the question.

"You...wouldn't understand...." Ten began saying.

"I...I....I...lost a friend recently...." he continued, truthfully. Ten hoped that that would be enough to satisfy Three's curiosity. It seemed that every regeneration of the Doctor was curious, and he knew that all too well.

What Ten didn't say, though, was that this friend had been the only other of his species alive...nor the fact that his friend hadn't been redeemed....nor the fact that he had lost his home, all of his family, and all of his friends -- everything that was Gallifreyan was gone...save for himself and his TARDIS.

Ten hoped that the same sort of inability to sense other Time Lords that he had, Three was also suffering from.

"To him, I'm just a human....a human grieving the loss of a friend......

It was then that his thoughts wondered to Rose, whom he had loved. He'd lost so many over the years. Could Three even begin to understand?

[The Master]

Meanwhile, in the British Museum...

Aziz Sayyid Mu'allim visiting Professor of Archaeology from the University of Cairo, was a lean, dark-featured man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark, pointed goatee. Mr. Niall FitzGerald didn't care for the look of him at all but, sensitive to the importance of working with minorities, took great pains to conceal the reaction.

"It is most important to my research, Mr. FitzGerald, that I be permitted to examine the Gayer-Anderson Cat."

Mr. FitzGerald drummed the fingers of his right hand on his desk, and sighed. "As I informed you when you phoned, Mr. Mu'allim, that is out of the question. The statue is in delicate condition, and we simply cannot allow any except the museum staff to handle it. A question of insurance, you understand."

Aziz Mu'allim leaned forward, speaking over steepled fingers. "And as I informed you, Mr. FitzGerald, it is vital to my researches that I examine the artifact. There are several distinct anomalies-"

"My staff has found none of the anomalies of which you speak."

"Several distinct anomalies," Aziz Mu'allim repeated, "evident to any competent Egyptologist-"

Mr. FitzGerald harumphed indignantly. "I must protest-"

"Demonstrating that the artifact predates the Egyptian Late Period. I simply must-"

"Mister Mu'allim," Mr. FitzGerald said, "I have given you the position of the British Museum. The answer is no. We will be glad to accommodate your request so far as to grant you early access to the exhibit so that you may take photographs and make observations at that time. But we will not allow you to handle the artifact."

Mr. Mu'allim opened his mouth to speak, and Mr. FitzGerald cut him off. "This is your only option. Good day, sir."

Aziz Mu'allim fized Mr. FitzGerald with a cold, hard stare. For a single instant, a thrill of fear coursed up his spine. Then Mr. Mu'allim smiled, with his lips alone.

"Very well. I shall accept your position. For now."

Aziz Mu'allim rose to his feet, and strode from the room. Trembling, and unsure why, Mr. FitzGerald mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

[The Master]

Meanwhile, outside the British Museum...

Kos Mwinyi stared up the stairs at the Greco-Roman facade of the British Museum, taking in the banner advertising the exhibition of "The First Emperor: China's Terracotta Army". A thin smile touched the corners of his lips.

Finally, he had managed to leave Skegness behind him. Finally. It had taken far too long, and he had managed to encounter far too many people with far too much of a connection to him. A Piroticean. Some oddly-familiar young man that he had suspected for a short time of being the Doctor. And the Mentalist. The Mentalist, of all people.

Gallifrey was dead. But somehow, between Skegness and Cardiff, Earth had turned into a Time Lord reunion hall.

The Doctor can't even manage to destroy a world right. He managed to thwart me for centuries, but he couldn't even manage to destroy a single world properly.

But that was probably just the bitterness of finally making it out to the Silver Devastation, only to find a Dalek battlecruiser making off with his TARDIS. He was sure it would escape soon enough, but it was nevertheless frustrating.

And he seemed to have a much lower tolerance for frustration in his old age.

But he brightened again. The Terracotta Army of China. He'd had plans for that display, when he was Prime Minister. He felt confident he could still salvage those plans.

With a jaunty air and a spring in his step, he almost danced his way up the steps.

[The Fifth Doctor]

The Fifth Doctor layed back his head over the back of the park bench.
"Adric, you won't fix her, we don't have the parts here," he sighed to Adric, who was inside the TARDIS.
"I know I can," came the quiet reply from Adric inside.

Silence for a while, and then another reply.

"Hey, I got the lights on." A pause, and then Adric spoke again, "Wait, they've turned red, is that good?"

Five sat up immediatly, and got off the bench.
"No, that's bad, very bad!" He shouted to Adric, running inside, "get away from the conso..."
He ran inside, just in time to see the console send out a shower of sparks flying, and then, darkness again. Adric was standing next to the console, shocked more than anything.

"Well, now you've done it Adric, now i'll need even more tools... ughh, well, I suppose we may as well have a look around, where's Nyssa, and Tegan anyway?" The Doctor asked Adric.

"They're asleep, I think," Adric replied.

"Oh, well, it'll just be an adventure with us two hey?" Five said happily, strolling out of the TARDIS, he added to the TARDIS, in the tone of a parent who's child has been behaving badly, but they had to go to work, or they'd be late,
"I'll deal with you later."

[The Tenth Doctor]

(This is going to be the version of Tyler that would correspond to the Third Doctor -- that means that he's not the same one that is in the Eight board or the Ten board, but could be the same one as in the Second Doctor's board. I haven't decided how many times Tyler regenerated yet.)

Tyler, having decided to take a break from his studies, set his text book down on a table in his room. He smiled. Now was a perfect time to take a walk. Wandering the streets at night gave him a sense of peace, rest, and quiet. More importantly, though, it provided him with a time to think. The weather was reasonable as well.

Grabbing a sweatshirt, Tyler quickly put it on. Once that was accomplished, he quietly opened the door to his room and peered out. Noting that no one seemed to be around, he cautiously made his way down the hall. Being careful not to disturb anyone who might be sleeping or studying, he reached the front door to his building.

With a quick push of the door, Tyler went out into the night.

[The Master]

Aziz Mu'allim strode down the front stairs of the British Museum, contemplating. It would not do to attract too much attention to himself - those fools from UNIT might not be actively looking for him in this decade, but the fastest and most overt methods of gaining access to the Cat would also be flagged by the primitive computers of this era. No, subtlety was required.

About halfway down the stairs, the skin on his neck prickled. He felt a presence, a familiar presence. And with it, a sense of turbulence, or disturbance.

He stopped and looked around, trying to identify the source of the sensation. As he did, his fingers idly drummed on the railing.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

---

Halfway up the stairs Kos stopped short, feeling as if burning eyes had raked over him. His hair stood up, just a little, and he could feel time itself, eddying and churning around him.

"Did the Doctor reactivate the paradox engine for some reason?" He looked around, half expecting to see an opening rift and the Toclafane flooding through. But the sensation wasn't quite like that. No, not quite...

And then he saw the source. A slim, ever-so-familiar hawk-faced man with a neat van dyke beard.

Kos smiled. The smile broadened. A snigger escaped his lips, turning rapidly into a deep belly-laugh tinged with madness.

---

Aziz Mu'allim ducked under the railing. He had found the source. A madly-laughing human of African descent, wearing a grey suit.

There was something familiar about him. Something he couldn't quite place. But no matter. He would not tolerate mockery.

"You," he hissed angrily. "Who are you?"

The African fought to contain his laughter, and met his gaze without flinching. "Who am I?" he laughed. "Who am I?"

Aziz broght the full force of his mind to bear on the human. "You will answer me..." And then he stopped. The human had batted his will away with hardly any strain.

The African laughed madly at this. "You fool! You young, wonderful, impetuous, mad fool! Who am I?" He threw his arms around Aziz. "I am the Master! And you? You will become me!"

[The Tenth Doctor]

(waiting for the Third Doctor to respond to Ten)

Tyler continued walking, still not really paying attention to where he was going or what his surroundings were, which happened to be a bad habit of his. However, the sidewalk that he chose to walk on was fairly well lit, and he wasn't in a bad section of the neighborhood anyway. Nothing unusual ever seemed to happen.

Sometimes, though, he would meet an interesting person and have a conversation with them. Tyler enjoyed getting to know people, but he could normally read them well enough to know whether or not it was a good idea to talk with a particular person. Perhaps this was connected with his love of learning.

[The Fifth Doctor]

"Dontcha love it Adric, the smell of London, it just has, this certain, smell, maybe it's the mixture of fish and chips, and the Thames, oh, the Thames, you can't mistake the smell of the Thames, I have to admit, I love this planet," The Doctor said, in a cheery tone.

Adric just nodded, and looked around.

"And the smell of Time Lords! Wait, the smell of Time Lords? That isn't right, what are they doing here, well, I hope it's someone nice, like Tyler, or Yadsh, or even myself, wouldn't that be lovely!?" The Doctor said to Adric.

"Delightful," Adric said in a bland tone.

The Doctor suddenly changed course, now going to the left of where he was originally going.

Adric kept on walking in the same direction.

"Adric! You're going the wrong... oh forget it, he'll find his way back...." The Doctor said, looking ahead.

[The Tenth Doctor]

(waiting for the Third Doctor or the Master or anyone else)

[The Master]

(I'm just trying to let someone else get a post in edgewise.)