The Doctor's Angel

Evolution of the Daleks

Merandria barely had time to catch her breath before the familiar pull washed over her again. It wasn't as urgent as before, more like a soft tug, a signal that he would probably be alright. But "probably" wasn't good enough. She couldn't take that risk. Not with him. She wouldn't.

With a quick snap of her fingers, the world shifted, and she appeared atop a windswept rooftop. Her heart raced as a flash of panic surged through her. What if he had fallen? But then she heard it—the familiar whirring of the sonic screwdriver, faint but steady. Relief flooded her as she spun around, locking eyes on the Doctor, his attention fixed on the metal mast before him.

Her gaze flicked to the sky, and she gasped, her senses flaring. The air was thick with tension, the sky darkening, and she could feel the crackling energy of lightning ready to strike. Without thinking, she stomped toward him, the wind whipping through her hair as her wings twitched with agitation. "What on earth are you doing?!" she shouted over the howling wind, her voice sharp with both anger and concern.

The Doctor finally looked up at her, shivering from the cold, his face pale and strained. He recognized the fury in her eyes. "Dalekanium," he muttered through chattering teeth. "I have to get it off before the lightning strikes." His voice was rough, the shivers wracking his body growing more violent.

Merandria scowled, her eyes narrowing as she extended her hand. "Let me do it."

But the Doctor shook his head stubbornly, refusing to let her take over. His fingers, numb and trembling, fumbled with the sonic until it slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground below. His frustration mounted as he dug his hands into the metal, pulling with all his strength. It wouldn't budge. Desperation gnawed at him as the storm drew closer, the air now charged with dangerous energy.

Without warning, he felt a hand touch his arm, warm and steady, and then the world shifted. In the blink of an eye, he was back on solid ground, standing beside Martha, just as the lightning struck the rooftop where he had been moments before.

His eyes darted around, expecting Merandria to appear beside him, but she didn't.

A sharp jolt of fear shot through him. Without a second thought, he sprinted back up to the roof, snatching up his screwdriver along the way. The storm still raged above, but as he reached the top, his breath caught in his throat. Merandria was there, leaning heavily against the mast, gasping for breath. Her wings trembled slightly as she struggled to steady herself.

He rushed forward, his instinct to help her overwhelming, but she held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "I'm fine," she rasped, her voice strained but determined. "Lightning has no effect on me."

The Doctor's eyes flickered with unspoken questions. He wanted to ask her how—how she could survive something that would harm even his own kind. But he bit his tongue, his mind spinning with more than just curiosity. There was something about her, something that felt... protective.

Merandria, now having caught her breath, gave him a curt nod, her wings fluttering slightly as if testing their strength. Then, without another word, she vanished in a soft, familiar rustle of feathers, leaving the Doctor alone in the storm, her presence still lingering like a faint echo in the wind.

A small smile tugged at his lips, though it was tinged with worry. She felt like a guardian angel, always appearing when he was on the verge of danger, always there to pull him back from the edge. But the truth gnawed at him—guardian angels didn't exist. And if they did, he wasn't sure he could trust one with wings like hers.

With a sigh, he shook his head and turned back to the task at hand, focusing on sorting out the Dalekanium. But Merandria's image stayed with him, an enigma wrapped in feathers and mystery, leaving him with more questions than answers.