Fight or Flight ( Doctor Who Fanfiction )

Christmas Carol

The Doctor had just barged into a very important meeting. Covered in soot with a big goofy grin, he ignored Kazran Sardick entirely in favor of explaining why Santa Claus was indeed a real person, to a little boy and his parents.

As he did, an alarm went off, and he looked up with a gleam in his eye.

"What is happening? " Sardick shouted.

"Ah, it appears I've killed enough time," The Doctor replied, listening to the sound of scuffling outside, and a loud thump against the door, and an audible "oof".

He lifted his screwdriver and unlocked the door from afar. It fell open, pushed by a guard dropping onto the floor.

A pair of pretty red high heels stood in the doorway behind the unconscious guard.

The pretty red heels were mine.

"Oh good," I said, folding my arms. "For a moment I thought you were going to make me pick that one too."

I stepped over the man.

"Don't worry, all you concerned citizens. I didn't really hurt them aside from maybe some bruising." I looked at Kazran as I arrived at the Doctor's side. "Not that I couldn't have."

"Glad you could make it," the Doctor greeted me.

"Hm. Maybe next time you can give me your sonic before you decide to dive down a fucking chimney." I whacked him over the back of the head with my hand.

"Not in front of the children," he snapped.

I glanced at the little boy, brushing soot from my hand from touching his hair. "Hey, kid."

"Hi," he said meekly.

"Alright, down to business," said the Doctor. "Ooh, now, what's this then? I love this. A big flashy lighty thing. That's what brought me here. Big flashy lighty things have got me written all over them. Not actually, but give me time, and a crayon."

He leapt over to the aforementioned control desk. "Now, this big flashy lighty thing is connected to the spire in your dome, yeah? And it controls the sky. Well, technically it controls the clouds, which technically aren't clouds at all. Well, they're clouds of tiny particles of ice. Ice clouds. Love that. Who's she?"

He went over to the upright-coffin structure in the middle of the room.

"Nobody important," the crotchety old man replied gruffly.

The Doctor shooed him out of the way. "Nobody important. Blimey, that's amazing. Do you know, in nine hundred years of time and space, I've never met anyone who wasn't important before. Now, this console is the key to saving that ship, or I'll eat my hat. If I had a hat. I'll eat someone's hat. Not someone who's using their hat. I don't want to shock a nun, or something. Sorry, rambling, because, because this isn't working!

"The controls are isomorphic. One to one. They respond only to me."

"Oh, you fibber. Isomorphic. There's no such thing."

Sardick walked up and shut the whole system down with the flick of one switch, then back on again.

The Doctor hit the same switch, and got annoyed beeps, even with his screwdriver.

He stood up, looking frazzled. "These controls are isomorphic."

"Really?" I asked. "I never would have guessed."

"The skies of this entire world are mine. My family tamed them, and now I own them."

"Tamed the sky? What does that mean?"