The Time War: Rebellion

Three

My vision was blurred when I looked up. I was once again temporarily blinded by the bright sunshine, and my tears made my eyes sting.
When my vision finally cleared, I saw a blue box and a strangely dressed man.
"No offence," he said, "but I believe it's customary among most civilised species to answer when asked a question, no matter how distressed they may seem. I assume you are a civilised species?"
I blinked stupidly, dazed by the man's sudden outburst of speech.
"Well you're not a Dalek, at least." he said quietly, stepping towards my TARDIS.
"Get away from that!" I croaked, surprised partly by the aggression in my voice and partly by the realisation that I hadn't spoken in days.
The man looked at me, then turned back to my ship, slowly putting his hand against the bark-covered side of it.
"Type 70..." he murmured, running his hand across the rough surface. "Mark 2 or 3... Dimensional phasing abilities... Even a working Chameleon Arch- oh, the things I could do with one of these..."
I shakily stood up and said, "Get away from it! Rassilon gave that to me!"
The man wore an aged leather overcoat, with many frays and holes in it. He wore dusty combat boots, and ripped and dirty trousers. Under his overcoat he wore a surprisingly elegant waistcoat, with brass buttons and a polished fob watch. Across his body was a worn bandolier, with several holsters and weapon holders. However, there was only one device being held in it: a shiny metal tube, the length of a screwdriver, with a red light on one end of it. His tired, bedraggled face had a small, grey beard, and silver hair grew on the top of his head.
"Rassilon, eh?" he gruffly yet cynically said, pulling out the probe-like device from the bandolier.
"I heard they'd resurrected him. The War Council, I mean. They have no idea what they're doing, really. Just hopeless Time Lords that call themselves Colonels."
He pressed a button on his device and the red light illuminated and emitted a small whirring noise.
"Stress levels, high. Anxiety levels, high. Dear God, what's happened to you?"
I started to speak, but then stopped. This man could be anyone: a Dalek puppet, a murderer, a Zygon... There was no way I could trust him.
"You can trust me." he said, as if reading my mind. "I know that's what you're thinking. It's what most people think. But you can trust me, I promise. Not that promises mean much anymore, not since the War started."
"I- I..." Stuttering, I tried to find words to say. "Who are you?" finally escaped my mouth.
He chuckled. "Ha, dangerous question."
"I thought it was customary for civilised species to answer questions?" I replied.
He laughed again, and said "Oh, so I'm a civilised species now? I don't have a name. Not anymore, anyway."
"How can you not have a name?"
"They used to call me the Doctor. But not anymore. No-one calls me that, not you, not me, not anyone. Do you understand?"
I wearily nodded.
"Now, tell me what's been happening."
And so I did. I told him everything. I told him about Rassilon, I told him about getting the TARDIS, I told him about changing the exterior. I don't know why I told him: as deep down I still did not trust him in the slightest. But he gave off a calmness, a feeling of being safe. I felt like nothing could hurt me with him around.
When I told him about the ship crashing and then flying away he said, "Ah yes. Um. That was me. Well, sort of. It was my TARDIS." He gestured towards the blue box. "I simply projected the energy of the time rotor onto the wreckage using an Artron energy beam, and everything the beam covered started to reverse. Basically, time started to go backwards. The TARDIS sent it back to a few minutes before it got attacked by a rogue Draconian Warship, destroyed the ship and sent it on its way. I doubt the crew even realised what happened down here."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Who are you?" I asked again.
"I told you, I'm not the Doctor."
"Okay Not the Doctor, but who... are you?"
He looked at me for a few seconds, then stared at our surroundings, then back to me.
"I am a Time Lord. A rogue Time Lord. I'm over 650 years old. The Regenade, they've been calling me. I've been called many things in the past: the Doctor, the Warrior, the God of the Fourth. I was there when time started and time ended. I've seen birth, death, and everything in between. I've seen legends, met legends, and influenced legends. Name any far-flung myth, that was probably me. I've been fighting this War for over 200 years, and I intend to do everything I can to prevent as many deaths as possible. Any questions?"
He spoke with a gravelly, serious voice. There was infinite intelligence in that voice, yet also a great curiosity. And he meant every single word he said. This man was not making things up: he was exactly who he said he was. I stared at him wide-eyed, and followed as he walked towards his blue box. He walked with a determination that I had never seen in this War before. Come to think of it, I had never seen anyone like him before. Not ever.
He casually pushed open the doors to his TARDIS and stepped inside. I followed.
There was a silvery-white light inside. Large roundels covered the walls, and the hexagonal console was made of a coral-like substance to match the strangely shaped support beams that connected the ceiling to the metal floor.
He looked at me, as if was waiting for to say something. Then his eyes widened, and he grinned.
"I forgot, you're probably used to the fact TARDISes are bigger on inside by now, aren't you?"
I slowly nodded, and he gestured for me to sit down on a dusty leather chair, that looked like it had been ripped out of a cockpit.
"I never actually asked: what's your name?"
"I'm Beo."
"Not a very Gallifreyan name."
"It's short for Beowulf."
"Ah yes, good old Beowulf. Bit of a protective chap. A strong believer in the phrase 'finders keepers'."
I was about to ask him how he knew Beowulf, when he suddenly pulled a lever, and the time rotor began to rise and fall. I could hear the soft wheezing sound I had heard before, and I realised we were in flight. After a few seconds we stopped, and the man pulled open the doors. He disappeared outside. I realised I was meant to follow him,
Outside the doors was the warm inside of a barn. Long disused farming equipment littered the soft ground, and the man took a seat on a rotting tyre.
"No-one can find us here. Not even Daleks. This is one of the few planets left untouched by the War."
"What actually is this place?"
"This was my childhood home."