Ghost of Who He Was

by mystica88 [Reviews - 5]

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  • All Ages
  • None
  • Action/Adventure, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 1

“Turlough! Get back to the TARDIS!” The Doctor yelled at the boy at the end of the hallway. They had been running for their lives, again, when Turlough heard them nab the Doctor behind him. He had stopped and almost, against his better judgment, ran back to help. But there were too many of them and there was nothing he could do.

But still, for some reason unknown to him, he hesitated a moment longer. “Turlough, run!” The Doctor yelled again as they began to pull him away. There were too many, the Doctor wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one on his own, but there was nothing that Turlough could do either.

Finally, taking one last look at the fast approaching enemies and the struggling Doctor, he turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. The TARDIS was in view. Just a few more feet and he would be safe…

***

“What are you?” the darkly dressed man who called himself a medical doctor but more closely resembled a mad scientist asked as he loomed over the Doctor.

“A Time Lord. Whatever experiments you are trying to do will have no bearing on your research if you perform them on me. I’m not like you.”

This was a typical situation, the Doctor thought to himself. Steel table, megalomaniac mad scientist, threat of painful and potentially life threatening experiments; it was all business as usual. At least Turlough had gotten away. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get himself out of this mess.

“I have never heard of Time Lords, but your physiology is certainly interesting. I would say that you probably have a higher tolerance for many adverse conditions, am I right?”

“So what if I have. Nothing you do to me will prove any of your research, I’m not human and it is humans that you are trying to alter, am I right?”

“Well yes, there is that. But if I could find out what it would take to survive the process, then I could genetically create a human who could withstand it.”

“This won’t work!” the Doctor said firmly as he began to realize that there was little chance of talking his way out of this one.

“It may not, but this is the best chance I have to have a successful test.”

“But even my brain is different from yours. I already have some psychic ability, there is no telling what attempting to make it stronger would do.”

“Any results will help to advance research,” the scientist replied as he moved away and began to check readings on his equipment and tweaking various knobs and buttons.

“Humans are not ready for this level of ability yet,” the Doctor continued to argue. “Their minds are certainly not ready and they have not yet learned enough self control. You are essentially attempting to open Pandora ’s Box again, only this time you’re going to release the last punishment.”

“Superstitious ancient myths mean nothing to me Doctor. Only results. They say it can’t be done, to me it is the challenge, not the consequences that I am concerned with.”

The Doctor laid his head back and closed his eyes as he commiserated on the short comings of humans. “Oh, why is it always the same with you humans. Someone says you can’t do something and like petulant children it only makes you want to do it anyway… never mind the repercussions that it may have on the rest the universe, let alone the rest of humanity!”

The scientist was calmly connecting wires running to the Doctor, ignoring whatever was being said to him. There was just no getting through to this guy. The Doctor only hoped that he would be able to survive the process and use the enhancements that were hoped for to free himself.

A moment later, the man stepped back and took one final look over the whole operation. “I believe everything is ready. Are you ready to make history Doctor?”

“That’s something I do far too often,” he muttered in reply.

The man smiled, though he wasn’t sure what the Doctor had meant, and turned and walked through an open door behind him. A moment later his face was just in visible range through a widow above the Doctor’s head. He felt rather like he was the focus in an operating theater, which was more or less was accurate. One final time he tested the straps that bound him to the table, hoping that maybe in his preparations the scientist had managed to loosen one of them enough to break free. Both they were still as firm as ever.

“Doctor, I wish you luck,” the man sneered as he began to punch buttons on a counsel in from of him. At first, there was only the sound of equipment coming to life before the blinding flash of pain…