Doctor Who?

A New Man

The Doctor ran. This, of course, was not an abnormality for him. However, in recent years of this regeneration, his fifteenth (though some would argue that it were his seventeenth), his body had grown old and weary.

He had no regular costume, and more often than not rewore old clothes, to reminisce. Currently he wore something of a mixture of his second, third and fourth incarnations, with a spotted dickie bow, riding boots and puffy shirt, but with a dark brown stetson perched on his frizzy bowl of hair. The entire outfit was covered by the worn leather jacket that reminded him of what he could become. The who that was not the Doctor. Things that man had done... No. But that had become part of the Doctor, for better or for worse.

It was whilst he was bathing in nostalgia that he had decided to exile himself. No more deaths, no more losses on his shoulders. That burden was finished. It was with that thought that the Doctor had parked his TARDIS in Totters Lane scrapyard, in the hands of Samuel Chesterton, to look after it, before sticking out his thumb into space, to hitch a ride.

What he had exiled himself from was simple: interference and adventure. Like his timelord brethren, he decreed that he would watch creation, but not meddle. The Universe was no worse off for this, he knew that his previous incarnations would take care of any serious trouble. But he had seen some truly horrific things, and been paralysed to help. He'd been at the destruction of Cheem, the assassination of President Z.B, seen the birth of the monstrous twelve fanged hosts that roamed Jaytac 7, murdering thousands of innocents.

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The Doctor had noticed something different; something new. Something that had hidden in the dark mists of time. And that is how he'd allowed himself to meddle once more. Whenever he'd detected the slighted trace of this strange being, he'd interfere. But every time he was just too late. Not this time. He'd stopped the fifth Androvax conference ending in destruction. Well, something like that. He looked back as a huge explosion lit the darkened green sky. Well, the Androvax colonies wouldn't be having another conflict anytime soon. It almost reminded him of the time whe- a noise.

The Doctor stood completely still. It had been practically silent whilst he had run, ignoring the explosion. But then... There it was again, and this time the Doctor was prepared. As soon as he heard the sound, the Doctor struck out with his right hand and grabbed the item that had just materialized beside him. It tried to struggle from his grip, but he kept his fingers firmly around it. Holding the object into the dim moonlight, he reached instinctively for his sonic screwdriver, which he kept in his jacket pocket, only to find- it wasn't there. "Of course it isn't," the Doctor said to thin air, "it's on the TARDIS console back on Earth." He whistled a quick tune, and pulled the object closer to his face. Then he realised what it was, stopped whistling, and grabbed with both hands securely around the device. "Well, here I go, looks like I got what I wanted." He felt the device vibrate in his hands and tensed, teeth gritted, eyes tightly shut. Without further ado, the device promptly rose into the air, the Doctor hanging precariously off it, before tearing a hole in reality, and flying through it, taking the timelord with it.