//------------------------------// // Wish upon a TARDIS (Part 1) // Story: Doctor Whooves – Season 1 (A Doctor and Jester) // by Wendeta //------------------------------// The Doctor had expected a smoother regeneration all things considered. The start of a new cycle, with his old body brought back to a young baseline, with his inner workings mostly modified to fit the new him, the casing lagging behind for a moment, allowing him to essentially say his final goodbye before a new personality, just as Doctory as his, would assert itself. Gone would be the childish old man with the youngest of faces. The raggedy man would bow out, remove his bowtie and a new Doctor would go sauntering away, remembering the man that he used to be. Of course that’s not what happened. What a bloody grand idea that was me...! Engaging the TARDIS in flight instead of going to the Zero Room... Spoke a voice inside the Doctor’s head. It was his voice, but not his voice. The mind, which was prepared to take its place right after the new casing, was inserted in its slot early, feeling every agonizing moment of his physical transformation. The regeneration was painful, far more painful than it had ever been. The Doctor felt his body contort as bones and articulations snapped, crackled and popped, his blood burning in his veins as he felt it change into one of multiple different blood types, none fitting those of his usual form. Something violently erupted from his back as his jaw changed shape, his entire body growing smaller as the Doctor screamed in absolute agony, his own voice covering up another, pertaining to someone that was not really able to go through this process like him. Once the yellow flames of regeneration subsided, the Doctor gasped for air, sweat going down his face as he pressed a... a hand... Without fingers! He had no fingers! He couldn’t feel any toes either. He was sitting in his pants as the only article of clothing that hadn’t shrunk with him— whatever other observations and thoughts were knocked out of him, along with his lights, when he was tossed into the air and back onto the floor, the TARDIS crash-landing somewhere, brutally shaking the interior. It was a beautiful evening out in the wild expanse of Equestria. Tiny bit on the cloudy side, probably the aftermath of a scheduled rain that had occurred earlier in the day, the rays of the moon shining brightly in the sky. On the old and battered dirt road were still awake two ponies, both being near to reaching their destination of Trottingham. One of them was a hefty stallion, dark brown coat, dark gray Friendly Mutton Chops matching his short cut, dark gray mane. In the car that he was pulling was luggage— bags, a chest and other objects— along with the sole occupant: a bright pink mare with a messy pink mane, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile as she looked out into the sky. “Hey! Hey! Have you noticed that the Moon looks like it has a pony shape in it Mister Roam? It’s like when you look at the clouds and you notice a shape, but with the moon! Ooh speaking of clouds, doesn’t that one look like an alligator? Look it’s even smiling!” This has been the routine almost the entire trip. Pinkamena Diane Pie, often going under the shortened name Pinkie Pie, would talk Saddle Roam’s ears off throughout the day, excitedly mentioning something or other, testing out jokes with him, talking about what she planned to do once she arrived in the town of Ponnyville, everything. At first it was nice, since there was a never a dull moment; now it was tiring, especially since the mare never seemed to run out of energy. Often times he’d only really catch a break when arriving at one of the stops, Saddle going into the night because he wanted to spend a few days there, letting Pinkie get the money she could by performing with her musical instruments or doing whatever it is her talent is exactly to gain some money, while he restocked on supplied and rested at an inn. The stallion was starting to feel the temptation of renouncing on his own invitation to bring Miss Pie along. She did mention that she used to walk all by herself before he came across her tent on the side of the road, so she clearly wasn’t the kind to be upset over having to walk. “Yes, Miss Pie, it’s a lovely cloud...” Said the dark brown stallion without even looking at the sky, yawning. “ MISTER ROAM LOOK THERE’S A SHOOTING STAR! LET’S MAKE A WISH!” All but shouted Pinkie into the night as she pointed at the rather strange golden streak in the sky, shooting stars usually being white. Saddle Roam didn’t sweat the details and make his wish. For the love of Celestia, somepony please take her off my hooves! “Huh? Mister Roam is the shooting start getting closer or is it just me?” Asked Pinkie as she leaned on the edge of the cart and placed her hoof above her eyes to somewhat block out the bright. “I-It is! IT’S HEADING STRAIGHT FOR US!” Shouted the stallion as he galloped away, the pink mare falling on her side in the cart as Saddle Roam took off. Crashing into the forest on the side of the road, the noise that thing made subsided, only the hissing on steam being heard as the flaming thing must have extinguished itself in the crash. Huffing and puffing for air, Saddle Roam sat himself on the dirt road, the cart slightly creaking as Pinkie hopped down. Letting out an excited squeak as she hopped from one hoof to another, the mare turned to her coach. “Mister Roam did you see that?! The shooting star went ‘nyooooooom BOOOM’ right nearby! Let’s go check it out!” “What...? Is your head on straight? Let’s just go to Trottingham happy that we didn’t become pancakes!” “Mhmmm~ Pancakes~!” Said Pinkie as she licked her lips, before shaking her head and focusing back on the discussion at hoof. “Aren’t you curious though? Come on~! You know you want to check it out as much as I do Mister Roam~!” “I’d rather not. If you want to go, then be my guest.” “Okie-dokie-lokie~! I’ll be back in a bit. I’m going to go see a shooooooting~ staaaaart~! Yeeeeeeee! This is so exciting!” Saddle Roam sighed and shook his head at his passenger’s antics. Foals these days. I swear they are more scatterbrained than when we were their age. The Doctor awoke with a groan. He was on his back, which felt uncomfortable, something shifting under him. It took him a moment to realise it was him doing the shifting. Opening his eyes and sitting up, the Time Lord rubbed his back, coming upon... feathers. He had feathery appendages. Wings! He had wings! Turning his head the Doctor looked upon the wings as he unfurled them. They were not that large, but they were greatly articulated, almost on the same level as a hand. “I’m a... Pegasus.” The Doctor looked at his hooves before laying eyes upon his TARDIS. “A very small Pegasus.” He noted, approximating that, were he to stand on his le— hind legs; that was something he would have to get used to— then he could rest his chin on the rim of the console, but nothing more. “Clara...!” He hadn’t heard a pip of her, the Doctor realised. Not even a pained groan. “CLAAAAARAAAAAAA!” There was no way this crash landing was bad enough to knock her out for so long and so strongly. Humans were fragile, but not that fragile. “Cla... ra...” Having gotten up and run around the console, The Doctor was faced with... the remains. A wet puddle of red was leaking from under flesh and bone, the entire thing malformed beyond recognition. The only indication that it was Clara was the clothing. The Doctor took a step back, his breath heavy in his lungs. While the Time Lord had seen and done many horrific things, never in his lives did he experience them right after waking up. Adding to it that a new face only really came out of the regeneration and never had to feel the pain of going into it right after appearing and the fact that this new regeneration had to go through the most painful and extensive regeneration in his life... the Doctor did not feel good. If he had something in his stomach he would have more than likely puked it. The Doctor ran. He ran out of the console, unable to bear what he had unwittingly allowed to happen. After everything, after all the adventures that he could kind of remember in his current state, it was him that got her killed. This wasn’t her sacrificing herself to help him, or him miscalculating, leading to her death. It was him. His decision to take off killed her. The Doctor had to find the Zero Room. He needed to calm down to let himself process this in a stable manner. “Where’s the bloody Zero Room...?” Of course, the Doctor couldn’t really remember the layout of his TARDIS, ending up instead in the wardrobe. Before he could turn around and leave though, the mirror he had in there caught his eye. He placed a hoof upon his left cheek as he walked closer, stretching that side of his face a little. He didn’t know it, but he was a bit taller than the average stallion, almost imperceptibly so. He had a light gray coat and a short, black mane, so short it almost looked like he had a spike coming out of the back of his head and facing his back. Three tufts of hair were hanging like hooks over his forehead. He had a pretty large snout with a gentle slope that connected it to his forehead. His jaw, and therefore the entirety of his snout, was square. He, once again, didn’t know it, but he had a very aristocratic construction for pony standards, something that would fit right in Canterlot. His ears were thankfully not too large and he had bright gold eyes. For all intents and purposes, the Doctor’s neck was slightly longer than average, and it was the part that contributed the most to his height. Even if he was a horse for the first time, he could still tell and felt discomfort at it too. Pulling his shirt collar to stand up, doing the same with his purple coat’s collar as well, the Doctor was able to get rid of that discomfort. Upon doing so, however, he was overcome with another emotion as he stared at himself in the mirror. “Thank you, cosmos. After everything I’ve done for you, the people I’ve lost for you and the lives which I sacrificed for you: an entire Regeneration cycle! After being ready face my death you having my companion killed and putting me in this ridiculous tiny horse of a body... YOU DID NOT EVEN BOTHER TO MAKE MY LIFE A LITTLE BIT MORE MANAGEABLE AND MAKE ME GINGER?!” The Doctor took a step back from the shards of the mirror he smashed onto the floor as he realised what he had done. He was having mood swings. The only time he had it this bad was when he wore that God-awful rainbow coat! He did come to the realisation his vocal cords were new though. They could take a shouting. God his mind was all over the place. The Doctor decided it best to just return to the console room. He needed to find out where he ended up crashing before he decided to look for a place to nap away his Regeneration weirdness and then get a new outfit. Returning to the room, the Doctor intentionally took the long way round the console to get to the screen so he didn’t have to go past... ‘Clara’. Pulling himself up on the console, the Time Lord took grateful not to step on any of the buttons as he read the screen. “This is a twice as large as the Earth...! Double gravity, double everything... I appear to be a forest... Temperature normal, no apparent viruses or bacteria of concern... It’s night on this planet, but there’s no year on here... NO MORE DATA AVAILABLE?! What do you mean ‘no more data available’?!” The screen beeped, alerting him to the presence of a life form nearby. Very nearby, apparently. The scanners must have suffered a malfunction if something needed to get within door knocking distance to be detected. “Anypony in here? Hellooooooooo!” Asked a muffled voice on the side before its owner tried to pull the door opened. The Doctor felt conflicted. On the one side he could just ignore whomever is outside and just deal with his mess. He doubted he would be able to pass off the whole ‘talking horse’ thing as something normal. On the other side, however, he had no idea where and when he was exactly, so perhaps opening the door a tad bit could allow him to hold a conversation without needing to show himself. He hoped that the yellow eyes wouldn’t be too scary. Why yellow eyes anyway? Maybe I can pass them off as Hazel, it is night after all. The Doctor thought as he slightly opened the door. “Wait it’s push to open? But here it says pull to open...! I’m confused.” “Greetings pink... horse...” Murmured the Time Lord as he fully opened the door. The mare in front of him giggled. “I’m not a horse silly! I’m a pony! Hi~! Nice coat! My name is Pinkie Pie! Are you okay Mister? You did fall out of the sky— You look really shaken up! What’s your name?” Asked the mare as she placed her hooves on his shoulders. She had such a bright smile, even if her eyes were clouded by worry. While she seemed to be as all over the place as his thoughts were, there was something indicating she was pretty focused. Something in the Doctor, a feeling, told him that he shouldn’t involve himself. She was important... to history. He could practically feel the fixed points in time oozing from her. “I’m the Doctor.” Seriously?! John Smith! You’ve been using this name for ages now! “Doctor who?” “Er... Doctor Whooves.” Fishing out his Psychic Paper, The Doctor just let it do the talking, hoping ‘Pinkie Pie’ had enough imagination for the paper to actually show her something. “Hey this paper is blank! Is it magic paper? Was it supposed to show your name on it?” Abort! Abort! “Yes, it was. Seems it malfunctioned. Now if you don’t mind, I am going back to what I was—” The Doctor stepped back and pushed the door closed, Pinkie putting her hoof in the way. “— Nope! You don’t look okay, Doc. Besides you can’t stay cooped up in that small box all night!” Said Pinkie, face serious. “How about you come with me?” She asked, her bright smile returning, her eyes brightening as well. “I beg your pardon?” “Come with me! There’s a town nearby that I was heading towards. You can rest there and then you can return back here to your box in the morning!” The Doctor considered it. It wasn’t like the TARDIS was in any shape to fly and his current state more than assured that he would end up getting lost looking for that Zero Room instead of getting rest. Plus Pinkie... seemed like a good distraction from the whole... Clara... situation. You are running away again. He could very well spend the night in this town, get his bearings and then run away into the sunrise back to the TARDIS. It’d be perfectly easy: · No entangling himself with a would-be historical figure wherever he was. · No tiring himself to the point of falling asleep on the floor of the TARDIS looking for a place to deal with himself. · No needing to wait outside while the TARDIS repaired herself and recalibrated since he would be out for the whole night, giving her the time to fix herself up. It was genius! “That would be nice.” Replied the Doctor tiredly, as he stepped out of the TARDIS and swiftly closed the door behind him with the help of one of his wings, going to lock it for good measure. Of course, if it was so genius, then why did echoes of his previous voice frantically told him to get back in the TARDIS?