Two Hearts

by Lepord257

Prolouge

It has long been acknowledged that Time Lords should never travel alone. They need a companion- an assistant- to keep them company throughout the long days and nights that make up a Time Lord’s existence. But, more importantly, they need someone to remind them who they are, who they need to be, and, if necessary, to stop them from doing something they would surely regret.

Then there was the Time War. All of the Time Lords were destroyed. All except one. It became even more important not to go alone after that; but the traveler couldn’t bring himself to take anyone on board the TARDIS. He couldn’t stand to lose anyone else because of something he’d done. Eventually it was just him. Alone in his big empty machine full of rooms and corridors that he still hadn’t fully explored, even after a thousand years. Alone in the big emptiness of space, further than anyone had ever gone. Alone with the tick of the universe. And slowly, he slipped into madness.

* * *

The Doctor was running. Sooner or later, he always ended up running. Of course, it never started that way. First he tried talking. He was good at talking. Maybe too good. He'd been told it was what got him into trouble. As he reflected on his past adventures he realized that that was more true than anyone could possibly know.

The Doctor was jerked back into reality by a laser missing his head by a hair. A nanosecond later it was followed by several more and just as many cries of "Exterminate!" The Doctor swore under his breath and put on an extra burst of speed. Spotting a corner he stuck his hand out to catch at the wall and turned it so fast he almost slide baseball style. Unfortunately several Daleks had beaten him there.

If they weren't so deadly they would have looked ridiculous as they vaguely resembled upside-down trash cans and each with a toilet plunger arm and one stubby cage like arm that fired lasers. Their eyes were blue cameras and were placed on the end of long metal poles that could swivel 360 degrees.

They looked far from laughable when they shot beams of death straight at him. Reacting immediately thanks to reflexes honed over one thousand plus years, the Doctor ducked and turned tail without missing a beat. He ducked around corners at random; sometimes there were Daleks lying in wait and sometimes there weren't. It took several minutes before the Doctor realized something that anyone not running purely on alderine and instinct would have noticed immediately: He was being herded towards the front of the ship. That in itself was bad news. Daleks were killing machines and acted accordingly. Only four Daleks (that the Doctor knew of anyway) could put together a plan more complex than tour the universe and shoot anything that moves, and he had destroyed all of them. However, there was another reason the Doctor had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. The front of the ship was where the command deck was located in Dalek ships. It didn't need to be as no one needed to look out window to fly a Spaceship. Viewing screens and computers eliminated the need for a windshield in a spaceship. In a regular ship putting the command deck at the front is unnecessary but in a battleship it's just poor planning. It makes the deck an easy target for enemy attacks, or it would if anything could get past the Dalek forces the ships were host too. There was even a mammoth bay window that the Doctor suspected was there specifically to taunt would-be strike teams, the alternative being enjoying the view of planets burning. He wouldn't put either one past them. Ordinarily the Doctor would be trying to get there and the Daleks would be attempting to stop him. The fact they were guiding him there was worrying. With his luck there would be an entire battalion waiting for him. Unfortunately, if he tried to go anywhere else the Daleks wouldn't hesitate to fire.

The corridor the Doctor was racing down ended in a pair of double doors that looked perfect for crashing through, so he did and found himself exactly where he knew he would end up: The control room. To his surprise the room held only three of his lifelong foes, all of whom were focused on their tasks at their respective stations. He stood there awkwardly for a moment; he wasn't used to being ignored and certainly not by them.

"Well?" He asked. "You've got me here. I'm right where you want me." As he spoke he strode around the spacious room. Maneuvering himself so that he was standing directly in front of one of the Daleks he demanded without a hint of fear in his voice, "So why haven't you killed me?" The Dalek looked at him blankly for a moment (or it would have if it was capable of facial expressions) before turning back to its work. The Doctor swallowed his anger at being brushed off so easily and spun around to begin wandering about again. "You had plenty of opportunities and yet here I am. So what are you afraid of?"

This invoked a response. One of the Daleks turned towards the Doctor and told him in the robotic voice characteristic of its species, "We have other orders."

This news startled the Doctor into taking a sudden step back. "What other orders? Orders from who?" Ordinarily, their orders consisted of "destroy every living organism" and "kill the Doctor". "Who told you not to kill me?"

"You did." Another half step backwards.

"We both know you'd never take orders from me so you can go ahead and tell me the truth. Why spend so much time and effort bringing me here if you aren't going to kill me?"

As if in answer a voice was broadcast over the intercom. "Three minutes to impact."

Impact? They were in deep space, light years away from anything to crash into. The Doctor whirled around to look out of the massive bay window and gaped at what he saw. "What the-" The Doctor had encountered cracks in time before. One of his companions grew up with a crack in her bedroom wall, only it wasn't in her wall at all. It was a crack in the fabric of time and space. What he was looking at wasn't like that at all. It was a tear. Something big had to have happened to cause this, and he could only imagine what. What could have possibly happened to rip open a hole in creation like this ragged streak of nothing?

Turning around had been a mistake. He didn't notice the energy bolt until it was tearing through him and by then it was much too late. The Doctor collapsed onto the floor in a heap, agony tearing him apart from the inside out. His hand began to glow with golden smoke and he shook his head to clear it. Not now, not now, gotta get back to the TARDIS. He grit his teeth, pulled himself up, and stumbled towards the doors. One foot in front of another, the Doctor retraced his steps painfully slowly. His mind barely registered the countdown that was being broadcast over the entire ship. Two minutes to impact. One minute. At thirty seconds he had reached the bright blue phone box that what his TARDIS. Ten seconds and he was inside. The Doctor locked the doors behind him with fumbling fingers as the clock hit zero.

There was a blinding flash of white and the terrible agony that he had learned to associate with regeneration. The regeneration process was familiar to him now and he welcomed it, knowing it would stop the pain. When the golden smoke cleared he knew something was wrong. It wasn't that the TARDIS seemed to be plummeting towards an unknown planet, moon, or star at an incredibly high rate of speed, although that was deeply concerning. He himself was off somehow. This feeling was strengthened when he attempted to stand. His center of balance was way off and he fell forward. The Doctor flung out his arms to break his fall but as soon as he saw the appendages in question he could only think one thing: Why do I have hooves?

Author's Note:

Here we go! This is not m first attempt at a fanfiction but it is my best one. I've been meaning to post it for a while an I've finaly done it!