A Tardis Full Of Bras

A God Among Men

WILLIAM Buxton yawned and stretched running his fingers through his unruly blonde curls.

Getting up at this time of day was barbaric not that he was a stranger to rolling out of bed as the dawn broke, he HAD gone to boarding school after all. But now in his 20s, he'd hoped to have outgrown such an odious habit.

However here he was answering the maid's knock on the door and dragging himself from a warm bed into the crisp cool November air.

He clearly needed his head examined.

But that's what he got for working on the railway he supposed – well that's what his father was fond of saying. Yes, he'd get no sympathy from his father – the old man would insist that if he had become a politician as planned then at least he could have stayed abed until a more acceptable hour

William sighed, shivering involuntarily as his warm feet hit the cold polished wooden floor and a draft from somewhere in the room blew around his bare legs and straight up his cotton nightshirt.

Cranford, Cheshire, England, 1844 just a handful of years into the reign of Queen Victoria was a barbaric place he thought to himself as he stretched again, padded over the door and opened it just enough to fetch the large pitcher and bowl set left on the landing. He dragged the ornately decorated porcelain onto the dresser and poured the warm water from the jug to the bowl for his morning ablutions.

William sighed as he went through his bracing morning routine, washing his face and hands in the slightly beige water he was now becoming more accustomed too.

It was all a long way from what he was used to, from Asgard and even from modern earth but until he found out what or who was kidnapping people from this quiet rural idyll and causing late-night disruptions at the local quarry, he wasn't going anywhere.

He looked up into the murky mirror – good for its time – and looked over his features. It was still jarring and see the man reflected there. The man staring back at him was young and fresh-faced with a shock of blonde curls.

While the face shape was the same (handy for shaving) the man in this mirror was not the man he was used to – not by a long way. It had taken a little to get used to at first – blue eyes – not green, blonde curls not raven black, steel rod straight hair but this was the way it had to be for the time being.

His Seidr tingled, it was hard maintaining this illusion long-term but necessary. He didn't think the people of Cranford, Cheshire, England, Midgard – would really take to a leather-armour-clad Norse demi-god of Mischief wandering through their midst. There was already another alien here, he could sense them, but finding them and more importantly finding out just what they wanted, was another matter.

His cover as William Buxton, son of the local wealthy landowner, and young engineer helping on the railway – was a good one. It allowed him the freedom to interact with the locals, to befriend them and find out what they knew (which he discovered wasn't a lot about the outside world but everything about their own). They were simple folk, but they were also very eagle eyed – especially Miss Mattie and her cohorts. Loki already had a soft spot for the sharp-minded Mattie, an older woman with kind eyes and heart and fierce intelligence, who reminded him of his own mother in many ways. And then there was William's disapproving father – yes Loki used to them, though at least the older Buxton seemed to care what his offspring did. Though like his own – adopted – father that care only extended to what was in the older man's interest.

Yes, it had been easy to slip into the role of William – a natural fit.

The real William was currently safely working on engineering projects in what was the new world in this time. New York to be exact – well before some idiot had let a whole alien army lose on it.

Loki was willing to admit now that wasn't his finest hour.

If pushed.

So while William Buxton created the new world, Loki Odinson was trying to work out what was happening to his old one.

And it was hard work.

Someone was very obviously searching the quarry for something, something important, very important.

Loki had a hunch, an educated guess really.

It had to be an infinity stone. Well in his mind it had to be.

But why was it hidden a quarry in 1844 rural Britain? Well, that was beyond even his brilliant mind at the moment but he was working on it.

What he needed now was another brilliant mind and a second pair of hands to help with this investigation.

He just hoped his oaf of a brother had got the right doctor at the right time.

Tricky business dealing with Timelords – essentially the same man despite the changing faces but some incarnations were better to work with than others.

Huge brain – hair of an idiot – but the only person that could help him right now. And, for once, Loki was willing to admit he needed help. More and more of his new friends were disappearing and time was running out.

He'd first come here close to Christmas only to find a quarry blown to smithereens and a decimated town and so he recalibrated the eye and tried again – arriving back in Cranford July but that had been three months ago – he had six weeks left and he was still no closer to solving this mystery.

He needed to call a Doctor.

And soon!!