Chapter Text
The TARDIS sets down in the middle of an old industrial complex, though he's not happy about it. If it was up to him, he'd keep her orbiting the nearest black hole and never set eyes on another living soul, but her sense of self-preservation is stronger than his. While there's probably no one around for miles, she still nudges him to clean up a little and take a jacket with him, because it might be cold. She's worried, he realizes, and well, she's got reason. Not the right - because he's just wiped out two entire races - but his indignation is meaningless to her when he's suffering.
He takes the jacket anyway.
Just as he's walked a bit down the old access road across from his ship, a car comes screeching around the corner and nearly runs him down, doing a quick 180 to avoid him. His reflexes haven't dulled, and he quickly darts to the side, thankful for the jacket which protects him from the gravel the car's kicked up. It skids to a stop alongside him, and a bloke in a black suit and sunglasses rolls down the window to shout over the sound of the motor.
"Oi! Looking for a wanker in coveralls, carrying a posh, mouthy tart with an arse like Shirley Eaton. You seen him?"
"No, I - I haven't," he stutters, unused voice patterning itself after the bloke's and oh, he hasn't imprinted in a long time. "Just you, mate."
The man doesn't respond, just pushes his sunglasses back on and hits the gas, tearing back the way he'd come. The Doctor looks around - if he were a kidnapper with the law after him, where would he be? There's a warehouse just down a ways, plenty of places to hide in there, and a big shiny padlock on the door to throw off anyone chasing him. He jogs over to the main door and pulls hard. The lock isn't even closed - pops right open without even having to use his sonic screwdriver. Bugger.
He pulls open the door, and immediately dodges the two-by-four swung at his head. On the other end is a woman, tall even without her ridiculously-heeled boots, her curly hair flying out in all directions. And she's yelling her head off.
"Do you have any idea whom you've just kidnapped? I'm DI Alex Drake and you'd better believe I've got fifty CID men just waiting to take a lick out of your hide! I was trying to reason with you, you bloody construct, and then you had to go and knock me on the head, as if I haven't had enough trauma for ten lifetimes-"
"Oi! I didn't kidnap you!"
"Like bloody hell!"
He holds up his hands and stays where he is. "There was this bloke, blond, wearing sunglasses and driving a flash red motor, looking for you. This looked like the only place to hide someone way out here. I was just trying to help."
She lowers the length of wood, and steps closer. He can see her through the skylight - forehead sporting a nasty purple bruise - and as soon as she decides he's no threat, she drops the two-by-four to the ground.
"Got yourself a nice shiner there," he remarks, pointing to her head. "How hard did he hit you?"
"Hard enough for me to start seeing that stupid clown again," she says, gesturing to the corner opposite him. He doesn't think he should mention that there's nothing there, because, well, there are a lot of things that lurk in the shadows. He eases closer to her, and guides her to sit down on a nearby wooden box. She looks up at him, surprised. "You're not going to take the piss out of me for seeing impossible things?"
He smiles, enjoying the way the new facial muscles stretch. "I try to believe three impossible things before breakfast. And seeing as how I'm brand new, I haven't had breakfast yet today."
"You are barking mad."
"Madder than traveling in time?" At her wide-eyed gasp of shock, he nods. "Only been done this way once before - guess you're familiar as to who."
"Sam Tyler," she breathes, reaching out to touch his leather jacket, startled when she realizes it's real.
"Wish I could help you, DI Drake, but this is your adventure. I suggest you go find that Wizard - and listen to him this time when he tells you there's no place like home."