The Doctor pushed a button just above a switch. "What do they call you?" Tucker paused. "I don't understand." The Doctor turned to look at him, "Well, you know, what do they call you? What is your name? I know you're part of the new league." Tucker had no idea what league the Doctor was talking about. Was he supposed to? "Tucker. Everyone calls me Tucker."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know. You asked!"
The Doctor held down a switch that released a horrible noise. It stopped very abruptly. "And what do they call you?" The Doctor stopped everything and looked at the Dalek. "How don't you know? Who didn't tell you?" Silence draped over the room like a wet towel. Tucker had no idea what to think. "I'm the Doctor-"
"DOCTOR!?"
"Yes."
"Nice to meet you."
The Doctor chuckled, patted Tucker on the head, and moved along. "That's funny, I thought..." His words drifted off into the endless space. Tucker was forced to the edge of the room-the Doctor didn't want him near the console. "Tucker, come here." Tucker inched forward. This was the Doctor's natural habitat, and he could have all of space and time up his sleeves. He picked up a paintbrush and attached it to Tucker's plunger. "What is this?" He shook it a bit, making sure it was on tight enough. "Can you art? I-I mean, can you paint?" The red color returned to the Doctor's face. "No."
"Try."
"Why? I've never held a brush before."
"Just think of something, and paint it."
"I need colors."
The Doctor picked up a can of blue paint. "Here." Tucker slowly dipped the brush into the can. "Where?" He asked, keeping the dripping paint over the can, away from the floor. The Doctor pointed at a large white canvas just behind them. "Try." Tucker pressed the brush on the canvas, and paused. The suit opened, and out hopped a dark grey little squid-creature. The real Dalek inside. "It's easier to use things like this." He grabbed the brush and started to work. The Doctor peered over to see how it was going. "Tucker, what is that?" Tucker took a step back. He had painted the TARDIS next to an ocean. It was floating. "Your ship. It's at the Crosswave Sea."
"How do you know what my ship looks like?"
"I-I remember stories of the Doctor's ship."
"You said you'd never heard of me."
"I never said that!"
"No, but I listened between your words."
Tucker lowered the brush, letting the tip of it barely touch the floor.
"How do you know about me?"
"You stole this ship, Doctor."
"Where are you getting this from?"
"I FOUGHT IN THAT WAR, DOCTOR!"
A short pause.
"And you started it. If you hadn't waited, if you hadn't just thought about what you were doing, maybe I wouldn't be in this agonizing situation, and maybe you could have your planet AND your Rose!" He dropped the paintbrush on the floor and raced to the other side of the ship. The Doctor stood there is shock, noticing how much strange emotion was forced into Tucker's words. He stepped forward to look closer at the painting. The Dalek's suit suddenly closed, making a creaking sound as it settled. It was a wonderful painting, as he was only given one color. Tucker sat with one tentacle around his others, nearly perfecting the fetal position. The other one was wrapped around his throat. He felt emotion rushing through his vanes. It felt good, but it also felt terrible. The tentacle around his neck tightened, slowly cutting off his airway. He couldn't live like this. Emotion was wrong. He wasn't a true Dalek if he's feeling sadness. The room grew darker as the blood flow slowed down to his head. The air to his lungs was thin. His body was growing weak. Just before he collapsed, a figure appeared. That's all he saw before complete darkness.
