//------------------------------// // The Best Of Us // Story: Doctor Whooves: Birth of the Doctor // by LightOfTriumph //------------------------------// All teeth and curls. The Eccentric. The Fourth. "How can you be here?" Turner asked. "Where is here?" "I believe this might be your mind," said the Fourth. Turner looked around at the general emptiness. "Thanks." "You could say this place is a crossroads," said the Fourth slyly. "You have several paths laid out in front of you. Each one as dangerous as the last. You must choose not only which path you shall travel down, but what method you shall use to traverse it." "Oy," came a northern accent from next to them.(though Turner wasn't sure north of where.) "Doesn't he like to be cryptic?" Turner and the Fourth turned to see a tall gruff looking man. Short cut black hair. Large ears. He was wearing a leather jacket. The ruffian. The Veteran. The Ninth. "What he's trying to say," said the Ninth, "is that this place is a mental dream state created by your head to cope with what's about to happen to you." "I was wondering if you'd turn up," said the Fourth. "I was hoping you wouldn't be to busy." "You're one to talk," the Ninth muttered. "Wait," Turner said. "What exactly is happening to me? I'm dead aren't I? The Dalek-" "The Dalek woke you up, old chap," came a refined voice from behind them. Up walked a man with curly white hair, and a large nose. He wore a red velvet suit over a puffy shirt. Over all of this, he wore an opera cape. The fighter. The Gentleman. The Third. "In a way you've been asleep all your life," the Third gave Turner a warm smile. "How..." Turner said. "How can I remember all of you? I've only met Ten. How can I-" "You're The Doctor," smiled the Fourth. "Or, at least you will be soon." "There are an infinite of parallel universes," said the Third. "And there is bound to be some overlap between them. Some things are exactly the same even though everything's different. Places get copied. People. You are Ten. This universe's ten, at the very least." "And when you meet someone parallel to you," said the Ninth. "All sorts of things can rub off on you. It can change who you are, how you act. Even transfer abilities. Like for instance-" "Time Lord Regeneration," came a bright voice from behind them. He was younger than the rest. Medium length blonde hair. A general spring in his step. He wore a cream colored suit with two question marks on the shirt collar. The cricketer. The Youngblood. The Fifth. "Of course this can't happen on it's own," said the Fifth. "It's all random what could set it off. Like seeing a friend, going through high stress times, or even something as simple as-" "Opening a watch..." Things were becoming clearer to Turner now. "That watch used to contain everything that I," the Fifth paused for a moment. "Well, we, used to be." "Exactly," the Fourth smiled. "That influence combined with your magic-" "Oh, please," the Third said, rolling his eyes. "Well that's what it is, old boy," came a funny voice. "No use denying it here. I'm afraid we're out of our element in this world. that's why we need our friend here." He was a stout old man. Bowl-cut black hair. He wore a black suit and a black bow tie. In his hand he carried a green and white recorder. The replacement. The Flautist. The Second. "Magic, my foot," the Third shouted at the Second. "And did you have to bring that infernal tooting thing-" "I can't think without music!" the Second shouted indignantly. "And this is a situation that requires much thought wouldn't you say?!" "They're at it again," said the Ninth to the Fourth. "I said they were necessary," the Fourth responded. "I never said they'd be pleasant company..." "I find it comforting," the Fifth smiled. "Two and Three bickering is the sort of thing you can set your watch to..." "Wait!" Turner shouted, and the bickering calmed down. "You said I would have to make choices. What choices?" "In a way," came an academic voice. "You're getting a chance that none of us got. A chance to choose who you'll be." He was another stout man, the same body type as the second. This one however wore a white suit and carried an umbrella which handle formed a red question mark. The other. The Strategist. The Seventh. "What sort of Doctor do you wish to be?" the Seventh smiled. "Oh I loved that umbrella," the Ninth smiled. "Whatever happened to it?" "I'm afraid I lost it," came a kind voice. "Sorry" He was tall. Longish brown hair. A brown suit. And a generally kind demeanor. The amnesiac. The Unseen. The Eighth. "I still don't understand," Time Turner said. "I'm going to become one of you?" "If you like!" the Ninth said brightly. "What you can do is pick and choose aspects from each of us and compile them to make a new you," the Eighth said calmly. "You can pick out the best of us. Nine's optimism. Three's fighting province. Four's general likable nature. Or-" "Or Six's devilish good looks," came a smug voice from behind them. He was wearing clothes that were nearly impossible to describe. A patchy read jacket. Yellow striped pants. A polka-dotted bowtie. He had curly blond hair and a self assured grin on his face. The snob. The Madman. The Sixth. "Just don't ask for this one's taste in clothes," said the Ninth. "I happen to like this jacket!" the Sixth shot back. This sparked a wave of bickering throughout The Doctors. It didn't look like Time Turner was going to get a word in edgewise. "Now, now," came an old wise voice from the back of the crowd. "We have limited time left. Let's not waste it arguing amongst ourselves." He was older than the rest of them. Longish white hair. He wore a black suit and his face seemed to be plastered in a permanent frown. The original. The Teacher. The First. "This place only exists in your mind, Time Turner," the First explained. "So do all of us. Your brain can only last for so long without oxygen. You have to make your choices soon, or else it will be too late." The others seemed to calm down out of respect for the First. Time Turner looked out over the Nine Doctors. He felt a little spoiled for choice. "This is impossible..." "You can always set it to random!" the Fourth said gleefully. "I always found that to be more fun!" "That's not what I mean," Time Turner smiled. "You all have so much good inside of each of you. So much to offer the world. You've all done so much good. All the pain you've seen, and you never resort to self pity. All the lives you've saved and you never ask to be thanked. You ask me to choose from the best of you, and that's so hard because there is simply so much to choose from. I think it's fair to say that each one of you changed somepony's life. And it is an honor to be able to have that chance. "Thank you all. Thank you for everything." Time Turner closed his eyes and made his choices. 'If it's possible, though. Could I keep this face? I've grown rather fond of it..." The Ninth laughed. "He really is this universe's Ten, isn't he?" "Done," said the Fourth. "The process has begun. Now all you have to do is stand up." Time Turner heard the commotion as he rose. "Regeneration energy detected!" screamed a nearby Dalek. "Emergency! Emergency!" Time Turner opened his eyes to see time. Ever shifting, back and forth, no direction. There is no such thing as a lost moment. The Doctor looked on in amazement as the process took hold of Time Turner. Turner surrendered himself to the change, everything inside his mind and body shifting on a molecular level. The orange energy exploded out from Time Turner, filling the room. When the process was done, this new entity, no longer Time Turner, had one thought on his mind. "Sweet Celestia! You went through that eleven times? Mate, how could you stand the tingling?! Oh..." He felt the rhythm in his chest. "Two hearts, that's new," said the new Doctor.