Broken (Second)

[Dalek Caan]

It was a generally dull planet. The sky was a rainy kind of grey, though the atmosphere did not allow for precipitation. That was good, rain always made Caan think he would rust. It was hard enough getting around as he was.

The native life was generally uninteligent, or at least appeared so. If they had a way of communication, it was strictly nonverbal, and they seemed to wander around aimlessly, simply trying not to run into one another. They paid no mind to the Dalek. Caan assumed they'd never heard of the Dalek race. He certainly had nothing in his memory cores of them.

Caan had arrived moments ago on the foreign planet, and was recharging from the temperal shift. His weapon node twitched as he tested his mobility. Surely in moments he would be able to move again, and he could find some sort of shelter. Despite the disinterest of the locals, there may be a more intelligent lifeform on this planet, and any who knew of the Dalek kind would not be good for him to run into.

Then Caan sensed the noise.

Vworp vworp vworp

Caan felt a deep sense of instinctual panic. Well, perhaps not instinctual, but certainly a species-wide fear that was amplified by his new ability to feel emotion.

"THE DE-STROY-ER OF WORLDS. HE APP-ROACH-ES!" Caan shrieked, his weapon node twitching furiously as he attempted to move from his spot. "SYSTEMS RE-CHARG-ING, MOBILITY LIMITED!"

In a last ditch effort, he attempted a temperal shift, but the attempt did nothing but drain his already limited stores of power. Caan could only sit and wait for the Doctor to find him... and hope it was late enough that He would remember what Caan had done.

[The Second Doctor]

Do you want to know a secret?

The Doctor is sick of himself. He is a manipulative old man. What would you do if you spent so much time under the facade of the jolly old man? 

So here he was, on this horribly boring corner of the universe. Once in a very long time, he would come here. This was an outlet. 

The flora here was dead or non-existent. No rain meant no plants could grow. The sky was in a perpetual state of gloominess, presumably from the strange smoke that came from the pores of the ground.

The fauna here was relatively stupid- they served no obvious purpose, just to inhabit this place. Nothing else was bound to come, he expected.

Of course, he never expected Dalek Caan.

"THE DE-STROY-ER OF WORLDS. HE APP-ROACH-ES!" Caan shrieked, his weapon ominously flailing.

"Why...?" he said it to no one in particular, except, perhaps, fate.

Why had fate brought him to the metaphorical hands of Dalek Caan?

"SYSTEMS RE-CHARG-ING, MOBILITY LIMITED!" the words came like a blessing, and the Doctor thanked his lucky stars.

Meaning he couldn't fire, couldn't run, and was relatively harmless.

"What brings the Cult of Skaro here?"

[Dalek Caan]

The broken Dalek managed to twitch it's vision scope over to peer at the Doctor. He was not as Caan had last seen him, and a quick run through his memory files matched His face to His second incarnation. Meaning that Caan had to be wary of what he said. Any stray word could rip his own timeline apart, or change the ways that the future Doctor would react in the right situations.

Now, with that in mind, Caan had to choose his approach carefully.

He could feign superiority, and tell Him that the rest of the Cult of Skaro was nearby, and had a plot so perfect that the Doctor's only way to win was to run. Then again, knowing the Doctor, he would search the entire planet for the other Daleks to try to stop them. When He found out Caan's lie, it was likely that the Doctor would dispose of the broken Dalek.

The other option would be to tell the truth, that he meant no harm to the Doctor. This would doubtless lead to questions, and He would eventually work out that Caan had turned traitor to the Daleks. But this information, far too early in His timeline, would effect His future, and in turn, Caan's past.

So that was Caan's choice. Die now or die in the past.

But as Caan pondered this, he noticed how... old the Doctor looked. Caan knew that this was early in the Doctor's life, but the timelord looked so much more aged than when Caan had last seen him. The Doctor Caan remembered had been young with an old soul. This Doctor was old with a young soul. This Doctor was tired and worn.

And suddenly Caan saw his way out.

"MER-CY." He said, trying to make his voice portray the word as a question, as a request. If Caan was right, the Doctor was tired of violence, for now, at least. Perhaps if Caan could make his argument last until he was strong enough to warp again, he could just maybe get out alive.