A Long Way From Gallifrey By Sean Bassett Part One

The Doctor was not having a good day. His features resembled a mixture of shock and horror as he walked through the heaving crowds of Trafalgar Square.

He couldn’t believe it.

His planet.

His people.

All gone.

All because of what he did, that fateful day, the day his world burned.

The Doctor wiped the tears of grief from his face and sat down on a wooden bench as the wind enveloped around him. He placed a hand inside one of the impossibly deep pockets of his dirty leather jacket and took out a tattered photo; there he was, the Doctor, stood with his friends from Gallifrey, smiling for the trans-dimensional proton camera.

Those were happier days.

The Doctor tore the photo in fury and murmured to himself “You’re a Doctor no more,”

A hand tapped the Doctor’s shoulder roughly. The Doctor looked behind him to find a man staring at him intensely, his dark black sunglasses staring into his soul.

“Are you the Doctor?” He asked gruffly.

“Not much of one at the moment,” The Doctor replied sadly, then frowned at the realization that the man knew who he was. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m from Fire House. We explore the strange and extraordinary. We have records on you,” The man explained in a deep American accent. “And we need your help, Doctor,”

“I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask anymore,” Said the Doctor.

“We have your TARDIS,”

The Doctor leapt up.

“Help? Alright then, I’ll give you help. Once you return my TARDIS to me. What are you, mental?”

“Are you really criticizing us for our methods?” The guy laughed. “Do I need remind you that you stole your TARDIS in the first place?”

The Doctor remained silent. He didn’t know how this agent knew he was a thief but he certainly had a valid point.

“Alright, I’ll help. But next time, don’t take my TARDIS. Alright?”

********************************************************************************

“Fire House have been tracking a man known as Christopher Eccleston for a while,” The man explained as a cylindrical lift descended down the narrow shaft into the dark beyond.

“Why? What’s special about him?” Asked the Doctor.

The Doctor didn’t like lifts much. They made him feel too restrained. He was a man of running; not used to the idea of standing still inside such a narrow little box for a certain period of time. No, 'bigger on the inside' was more his forte.

“We believe he is linked to the recent disappearance of your present timeline,” He replied. “You’re in 2020. Your present is our past and our present is your future. And in the future, your timeline disappears. You never exist,”

The lift doors opened to reveal a large room surrounded with rows and rows of computers; two per row. The walls were covered in silver paint and the floor was made of a rich stainless steel. Men and women patrolled the room in the same black sunglasses worn by the man with the Doctor, and a number of people emitting a strange whirring sound typed away at the PCs in an otherwise eerie silence.

In front of each android was a folded piece of paper, which contained their name in bold lettering. The Doctor stared at one of them; it declared the occupant of the desk to be one ‘Anne Hegerty’.

“Christopher Eccleston lives in a parallel universe known as the ‘real world’. The real world is a strange place. These androids are real people there and their London has never experienced extra-terrestrial activity. But perhaps the strangest of all is this entire universe we live in exists as a TV Show,”

“And what does any of this have to do with this Christopher Eccleston bloke anyway?” The Doctor asked.

“In the real world, he is the guy who played your current incarnation. Or rather he did for a year. Eight years later, the show celebrated its fiftieth year history and Christopher Eccleston refused to take part in the anniversary celebrations. We think it’s this that wipes your existence. However, there is a way to alter your fate,”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Go to this real world. You can’t change his mind about the fiftieth but you can show him the spirit of Doctor Who. Without the Doctor Who spirit, there is no ‘Doctor Who’,”

“The Doctor. It’s the Doctor. Not Doctor Who,” The Doctor corrected him sternly.

“Excuse my lame joke there. Anyway, if you can show him the sheer spirit of your adventures, then you may just save the end of your very existence. There is an event, which occurs in the year of 2020, over in the real world where your counterpart comes from. In February of that year he will be approached by a representative from a company known as ‘Big Finish Productions’. You need to inspire him to return for their audio productions. Only then will your current body be secure in the tapestry of history,”

The man walked up to one of the male androids, who was staring blankly at his computer screen.

“Mr Schwarzenegger, is the Atom Displacer ready?”

“That it is,” Said Arnold Schwarzenegger in an emotionless tone of voice.

A large blue portal shimmered on the floor. The Doctor realized what he must do. Taking a few steps back, the Doctor ran forward and leapt through the portal. The man and Schwarzenegger watched as he disappeared through the shimmering blue light.

“Set a portal to open at exactly twelve midnight a week today,” He ordered, as though it was the most important thing in all of creation, and to not do so would send the universe to its colossal doom.

“I can’t. There is not enough power,”

“What do you mean?”

“The portal took up all our power. There isn’t enough to bring the Doctor back. He is trapped in the real world!”

********************************************************************************

The Doctor stood up from the floor and blinked. He was outside a small shop named ‘Toymaster’.

He looked in the shop window, past the notice advertising the January sales; inside were the one species he dreaded more than anything else in the universe.

Daleks.

A whole army.

The Doctor stormed in.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you realize what pain the Daleks can cause?” He shouted. “They destroyed my planet! My people!”

Silence fell as the shoppers all glanced in the Doctor’s direction. The Doctor walked up to the guy on the counter desk and stared with fury in the hapless man’s face.

“I want you to stop selling these Daleks, whatever-your-name-is and you’re going to do it NOW!”

“But…er…they’re just remote control toys,” The guy behind the counter scratched his neck nervously.

“Oh, the Daleks are more than some silly little plaything. They’ll kill everything in their path, and they won’t stop until every other being in the universe is dead,”

“No…look,”

The man walked up to the shop window and returned with a Dalek and some sort of black controller. He flicked the on switch on the side of the controller and pressed the button in the middle; the Dalek’s loud electronic ‘EXTERMINATE!’ pierced through the Doctor like a needle scratching the surface of a human finger.

“So you have your own private army of Daleks, do you?” The Doctor enraged. "Oh, this day just gets better and better,”

“No…er…they’re nothing more than toys. You can take this up with the manager if you want?” He said innocently.

“No need,” the Doctor replied and got out his Sonic Screwdriver.

The Sonic Screwdriver whirred, and boxes and boxes of Daleks blew up in unison, causing the burglary alarm to sound off around the small space of the toy store.

“Er…PHIL!” The man called as he returned to the counter.

The Doctor heard frantic footsteps running down some stairs at the back of the shop. An elderly man appeared, his eyebrows raised in shock, right up to the bald patch on his head.

“Who did this?” He shouted angrily.

“He. He did,” The man said, pointing to the Doctor.

“Do you realize how much profit you’ve lost for us?” He snarled at the Doctor. “Now, get out of my shop or I’ll call the police. And by the way, you’re barred,”

*******************************************************************************

Christopher Eccleston stared at The Sun’s front page headline. ‘DOCTOR WHO'S GONE MAD! : ECCLESTON DESTROYS TOY DALEKS’ read the headline on the front.

Christopher knew that this strange man was certainly not him; he would have remembered causing a nuisance at the Toymaster for sure. Yet there he was in the newspaper’s headline picture. This had to be one of those cosplayers. What other explanation could there be?

Christopher walked further into the supermarket, wheeling his shopping trolley down an aisle of fruit and veg, when he spotted the man who looked just like him from the papers. He made his way towards the man, watching in bemusement as he picked up the crate containing the bananas and proceeded to chuck it in his trolley.

“What are you doing, you nutter?” Christopher couldn’t believe this man’s cheek. “That’s my trolley!”

“I like bananas. Bananas are good,” He said, grinning at Christopher as he picked up a banana and stuffed it into his mouth.

The man swallowed the banana whole and glanced at the newspaper, frowning at something that had caught his attention.

"Why do people keep getting my name wrong now?" He moaned. "How many times do I have to tell them it's 'The Doctor', not 'Doctor Who'? And it's certainly not 'Eccleston' either,"

Christopher wheeled the trolley back into the row of other trolleys waiting to be used and followed this strange man, who had immediately taken his trolley and started wheeling it around the supermarket himself. He seemed to be dressed in the Doctor costume he once wore, although Christopher knew it certainly wasn’t his costume. His costume was probably stored somewhere in the BBC’s costume department.

No, it would be a replica more like. And this man was definitely a cosplayer. Still, there was something undeniably odd about him. And Christopher was determined to find out what.

**********************************************************************************

The Doctor placed the crate of bananas onto the checkout and walked to the other end. The girl behind the checkout smiled, her hazelnut eyes glowing behind the counter.

“Are you sure you want all those bananas?” She asked.

“Yep. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that you can never have enough bananas,” He smiled.

The girl stared. This man was weird.

“That will be fifteen pound please,”

The Doctor passed the girl a small note containing a QR code.

“What’s this?” Asked the girl curiously.

“It’s exactly fifteen pound in virtual currency,”

“Virtual currency?”

“Oh, of course. This is 2020. Virtual currency isn’t introduced until 2041,” He murmured.

“Do you have any 2020 cash?” The girl asked.

The Doctor shuffled around in his pockets.

“No, sorry. I don’t carry cash,”

“I’ll pay for them,” Said a voice from behind.

The Doctor turned around. The man he had seen by the bananas was stood behind him, taking out a five and ten pound note from a small leather wallet. He handed the money over to the girl, who placed the money into the counter and handed the Doctor the receipt.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” The man whispered into the Doctor’s ear. 'Oh. And by the way, I'm 'Eccleston' so I'd appreciate it if you stopped posing as me,"

********************************************************************************

“What exactly is this about?” Asked Christopher sternly over a steaming cup of tea. “What are you trying to do? Ruin my reputation?”

“No, I’m here to show you exactly what you're missing,” Said the Doctor simply.

“I think you’ll find you’re the one who’s missing something. A brain!,” Said Christopher. “You blew up a dozen remote control Daleks. Over one undred and fifty pounds worth of damage. And do you know who (“WHO!” The man chuckled. “That’s a good one,”) they blame for that? Me. My lawyers will hear about this,”

“Your lawyers? I saved this entire planet from another Dalek invasion, and you want to get your lawyers involved in this? Those weren’t toys. They were the most powerful beings in all of creation. Destruction rests wherever they go. They are anything but remote control toys,”

Christopher got up from the lush premium sofa, which sat proudly in his living room.

“You think you’re the Doctor, don’t you?”

“No,” He smiled. “I am the Doctor,”

Christopher wasn’t sure whether or not to take this man seriously. He was either deluded or craving attention.

“You need mental help,”

“Yup, I probably do,” He agreed. “But I’d hate a sane life. Wouldn’t you?”

“I HAVE a sane life!” Christopher exclaimed. “Listen. You can’t be ruining my reputation like this. I suggest you get your act together or I’ll sue,”

“You wouldn’t get anywhere. Not without evidence. Not on this planet, anyway,”

"And do you have 'evidence' that you're the Doctor?" Christopher said in a mocking tone.

The Doctor whipped out his Sonic Screwdriver, as if its sheer presence proved he was who he claimed.

“Please,” Christopher rolled his eyes. “You can buy them from Argos for a tenner,”

The Doctor looked offended. “No, it’s my Sonic Screwdriver. And it can do this,”

He aimed the Sonic at the living room light. The light bulb shattered, throwing the room into total darkness.

“So I suggest you don’t waste money on court cases. Or you really will be as stupid as you look,”

Christopher let out a deep sigh and sat back on the sofa.

“Alright, this is what we’ll do. We’ll go to a clothes shop and get you a new look. You stand out too much in that costume. Then you can go to the hairdresser’s and try out a hairstyle different to mine,”

“One question: Do you have a spare room?” The Doctor asked.

“I do. Why?”

A manic grin quickly formed across the Doctor’s face.

“Fantastic! We can be room mates,"

Christopher stared.

"Stay with me? Why would I let some weirdo who thinks a bunch of remote control toys are an evil army of salt and pepper shakers stay with me, in my house, rent free?"

"Because otherwise you have a room going to waste,"

"You believe you're a guy who’s had over 900 years of travelling through time and space and that's really the best you can come up with?" Christopher said.

"Okay. How about because otherwise I'll be homeless and it'll be all your fault for being an incredibly stupid ape?" Asked the Doctor.

"Better," He considered. "Alright. You can stay,"

The Doctor grinned. That was way much easier than he had anticipated.

********************************************************************************

The Doctor and Christopher strolled into the shiny silver floor of the clothes store, the door shutting silently behind them as they grabbed a couple of baskets and made their way towards one of the aisles.

The shop was littered with row upon row of clothes, all hung haphazardly on silver metal racks (clearly some people hadn’t bothered to put the clothes back properly, noted Christopher). However, what attracted the Doctor’s attention more was a familiar enemy lurking in the section designated for women’s clothing. The Doctor glanced around quickly trying to think up a plan and noticed a fire alarm on the right-hand wall near the entrance to the store.

He struck it with his elbow and bellowed from the top of his lungs “Everybody out! Now! The Autons are going to come to life any minute now and believe me, they won’t want to chat about the weather,”

When none of the shoppers made an attempt to leave the shop, he shouted further “Well, come on! Don’t just stand there, run,”

Christopher’s hand lightly tapped the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Doctor, they’re not Autons,”

“Quiet, Chris. I know an Auton when I see one,”

A young female shop assistant approached them, her long blonde hair trailing behind her as she made her way past the dozens of befuddled shoppers not quite knowing what they should do.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Yes, actually. This shop is at the forefront of an Auton invasion and I’d appreciate it if you help me get everyone out,” He explained.

“I must apologize for my friend here. He thinks he’s the Doctor,” Said Christopher apologetically. “The poor man was convinced by our CGI budget. I told them the effects were a bit too realistic,”

The shop assistant looked uneasy.

“Oh….erm….ok,” She spoke in a disbelieving tone, before adding “Are you looking for the sci-fi convention?”

**********************************************************************************

Christopher dragged the Doctor by the cuff of his ear through a small wooden door proclaiming itself to be the changing room The room was tiny, cramped and with nothing but a single mirror attached to the wall behind them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Christopher spat. “You’re drawing attention to yourself,”

“Oh, am I? That’s good because the Autons won’t be staying still for long,” The Doctor said.

“They’re not Autons. They’re ordinary shop window dummies,” Said Christopher in frustration.

“But that’s the point. They are normal shop window dummies until the Nestene Consciousness control them,” Explained the Doctor.

“This is the real world. This is not the world of Rose Tyler, or stupid burping bins. There is no Nestene Conicousness and therefore there are NO Autons!”

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Are ye done in there?” asked a male Scottish voice. “I need tae try on these clothes somewhere,”

The Doctor looked up excitedly.

“JAMIE!” He exclaimed as he opened the door and hugged the man stood outside.

The Doctor noted the man’s appearance was different to what he had expected. The man had short brown hair and a long golden beard. He sported a green short-sleeved shirt and a pair of black jogging bottoms proclaiming to be from ‘Nike’.

“You’re not Jamie,” Realized The Doctor. “Shame. I haven’t seen him since I last met myself,”

The man entered the changing room wearing a stunned look upon his face; he dreaded to think how many beers that man had to drink.

**********************************************************************************

The Doctor examined the clothes under the section labeled ‘Women’s wear’ closely. He found a flowery blue shirt and held it in front of his body in admiration.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“Doctor, that’s a shirt for women. I believe you’re of the male gender,” Christopher replied.

“No gender, actually. We’re not fussy like you apes. I’m not in the mood for wearing bright colours anyway,” The Doctor sniffed. “No, I think I want something black,”

The Doctor was about to continue to search through the female clothes when Christopher dragged him roughly by his hand and led him towards the ‘Men’s wear’ section.

“Oi, I was trying to browse! I could be a woman one day, Christopher! What’s the harm in looking really?”

The Doctor picked up a smart black dinner jacket and showed it to Christopher.

“You can’t wear that. It’s too classy. It will attract more attention,” He protested. “How about this?”

Christopher held a buttoned long-sleeved shirt in front of the Doctor, its prominent black colour attracting the attention of the Doctor’s eyes.

“I’ve seen better. But it’ll do, I suppose,”

“And these black trousers can go with it,” Christopher said, holding up a pair of black jogging bottoms.

God, it’s like I’ve taken a kid to shop for clothes Christopher thought as he directed the Doctor towards the checkout at the far end of the shop.

*******************************************************************************

“Bloody fans and their entitlement,” Christopher murmured to himself as he browsed down a forum site on his Packard Bell laptop.

Christopher was sat in his living room, the sofa sagging underneath him. The way back from the clothes shop was a disaster, with the Doctor looking inside every shop window nearby and checking for 'Autons'.

Christopher had been relieved when they'd reached his house again and immediately sent the Doctor to get a hair cut so he could finally get some peace. Now he was finally alone, browsing the forum with increasing frustration at the comments he saw.

“Why should I have returned to the show? I don’t care about Doctor Who anymore and I never will,” He muttered silently to himself.

Christopher turned round as he heard the door slam roughly, followed by footsteps approaching the living room door. The door opened to reveal the Doctor, his hair now a curly black afro sitting atop his head.

“When I said ‘get a new hairstyle’, I didn’t mean ‘get an afro’!” Christopher said.

The Doctor frowned.

“Yes you did. You said get a new hairstyle. This is a new hairstyle,”

“Yes it is. But I meant something a bit more…normal,” Said Christopher.

“Tough. I like afros,” he said.

The Doctor sat next to Christopher on the sofa and glanced at his laptop screen. The screen displayed complaint after complaint relating to Christopher Eccleston’s non-appearance in the fiftieth anniversary special, The Day of the Doctor.

“Tough crowd,” The Doctor said.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Christopher spoke sadly. “I’m having nothing more to do with Doctor Who,”

“And are you sure that’s what you want?,” The Doctor asked gently. “You have fans who like and adore you, Chris. And if I’ve learnt anything on my travels, it’s that you need all the friends that you can get. Sure, some people can be a little entitled, and want somethin’ for nothin’, but some can be the most wonderful and passionate people you have ever met. It may be too late to change your decision about the anniversary special now but there is still the future. Your future,”

“My ‘future’ is looking bright as it is,” Christopher said angrily. “And why should I listen to someone who thinks he’s a fictional character?”

“I AM the Doctor!” He roared.

“Fine. Prove it. Take me to your TARDIS!” Christopher shouted.

The Doctor looked fuming.

“I can’t. It didn’t arrive with me,”

“It didn’t arrive with you because you don’t have one!”

The Doctor stormed out of the living room and raged “You know what? Forget it. Stuff your spare room. I’m going somewhere where someone will actually believe me,”

“Doctor, wait!” Called Christopher as he raced into the hallway just after the Doctor slammed the front door.

He sighed and walked back to the living room.

********************************************************************************

The Doctor wandered moodily down the street outside Christopher’s house, head and body slouched in defeat. He felt truly incomplete without his oldest companion, the TARDIS, there to accompany him. And how was he supposed to convince Christopher he was the Doctor without it? The one thing he needed to do to gain his trust.

Using the Sonic Screwdriver didn’t work as he had used that earlier and it made little difference. No, he really needed the TARDIS. The Doctor looked up and spotted a blue police box stood on the corner of the pavement. Surely it couldn’t be…?

“MY TARDIS!” He shouted and ran up to the police box in delight.

He took out his key, tried it in the lock and pushed against the doors. It didn’t work. He tried again. Still nothing. This time, he turned the key and provided more force by pushing his entire body against the door. He tried once again, not noticing the policeman walking towards him, this time attempting to kick the door open. No use. The Doctor turned round to notice the policeman, a look of anger spread across the constable’s face.

“Well well well, damaging police property are we?”

********************************************************************************

The door to the Doctor’s cell opened slowly as Christopher came in. The prison cell was tiny, its dull grey walls giving off a rather bleak vibe that reminded Christopher of the film ‘The Shawshank Redemption’. The Doctor was sat on a dirty green bed in the corner, staring at Christopher with a look of surprise.

“I’ve bailed you out, Doctor. I told the police you developed a mental brain problem when you were four and convinced yourself that you’re a Time Lord from Gallifrey,” Christopher explained, as though he had read his mind.

“But I AM a Time Lord from Gallifrey!” The Doctor said exasperatedly. “I’m all that remains,”

It was then that it hit the Doctor what he must do.

“I can prove it to you. I can prove that I’m The Doctor,” He said. “Feel for a heartbeat. Or two,”

Christopher stared.

This man must be deluded if he thinks he has two hearts.

“Okay. But not here. I really don’t want any police officers to see me feeling you,”

**********************************************************************************

The Doctor lay on top of a springy bed in Christopher’s spare bedroom as he knelt over and felt the left side of The Doctor’s body. There was a heartbeat. He then felt the right. Another heartbeat. This guy had two hearts. Just like the Doctor.

“But that can’t be possible,” Christopher muttered.

“Told you,” The Doctor grinned.

Christopher gave a deep sigh.

“So how exactly did you get here? You’re supposed to be fictional in this world,”

“I was recruited by a secret agency by the name of Fire House to visit the real world,” He began. “They want me to change your mind about reprising your version of the Doctor, otherwise my timeline will cease to exist in my future. I was sent here via a blue dimension portal. Think ‘teleport’ and you’re pretty much spot on,”

Christopher stared as he tried to take it all in.

“So you need me to be more open about the prospect of playing the Doctor again?”

“Yep,”

“And this will secure your timeline in your future and my past?”

“Yes,”

“No. Sorry,” Christopher shook his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t do ‘that’ again,”

The Doctor studied Christopher curiously.

“Why? What’s stopping you?”

“It…wasn’t a good time,” Asked Christopher. “Forget it. I can’t go through that again,”

Christopher switched the light off and left the room.

**********************************************************************************

“Good morning, Chrissy boy!” Said the Doctor cheerfully as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. “Had any second thoughts about last night?”

“None whatsoever,” Said Christopher halfway through his toast.

“Well, you will by this Saturday coming up,” Said the Doctor confidently.

“And what exactly is so special about this Saturday?” Christopher asked.

“It’s the day I leave,” He replied. “The gap between my world and this one can only be sustained without being broken under these circumstances if the fictional character, as you’d put it, returns after a week. Any sooner or later could potentially cause the worlds to collide and destroy the universe as we know it,”

“But these Fire House people. How can you know they’ll take notice of this? Or even care?”

“These secret organizations that exist in my world tend to have a habit of forming rivalries with one another. If these worlds collide, it would be too large a problem for Fire House to handle and therefore they would be forced to work alongside other secret organizations. And believe me, if UNIT’s reaction to working with these rival groups is anything to go by, Fire House will want to avoid that,”

Christopher finished his toast and walked towards the kitchen door.

“Anyway, I have an acting job this morning. Just…do whatever while I’m gone,”

The Doctor watched as Christopher left the kitchen. Today was going to be a very lonely day. Oh, how he hated those lonely days....

**********************************************************************************

Christopher waited patiently in his trailer to be called by the director. In truth, he wasn’t sure what to think about the current situation. Should he return to playing the Doctor? Could he face returning, after the trials and tribulations he faced during those dark times in 2005?

These thoughts plagued Christopher’s mind as he read and reread a torn page of his script whilst waiting to film the scene.

Christopher heard the female actor playing the film’s innocent victim Penelope Bucket scream and found himself anxiously looking out of the window of his trailer in fear of the Doctor blundering in and ruining the shoot.

I hope the Doctor didn’t hear that scream.

**********************************************************************************

As a matter of fact, he had. The Doctor, at that time, had been taking a gentle stroll around a nearby field raced from the field when he had heard the scream.

At last. Something to do.

Spotting a man threatening the screamer with a knife, the Doctor leapt towards the source of the screaming and pushed the woman out of the way. A squat man with bright ginger facial hair stomped angrily towards the Doctor; to say this man didn’t look happy would be a major understatement.

“CUT!” He yelled. “What do you think you’re doing, Christopher? You’re not due on set yet. And why on Earth are you sporting an afro?”

“Why does nobody like my afro?” The Doctor frowned

“Why? It makes you look like a clown, that’s why!” The director ranted. “This is a serious role, Christopher. If you don’t buck your ideas up, I’ll replace you with David Tennant,”

The Doctor decided he’d better find Christopher Eccleston and tell him what had happened. He looked around the trailers parked behind the director’s chair and eventually found one labeled with Christopher’s name. The Doctor knocked at the door and Christopher answered.

“Hello,” The Doctor said. “There’s been a…slight problem on set,”

**********************************************************************************

After The Doctor had explained exactly what had occurred, he had left the trailer and returned to the house, where he was now sitting munching on bourbons in Christopher's living room as he watched the MPs argue over what he considered a total non-event on the television.

Humans could be so funny sometimes, with their silly little debates about silly little things.

Eventually, the Doctor grew bored of BBC Parliament and instead switched over to the Travel channel. The Travel channel made him miss his adventures in the TARDIS. Living the normal life on a normal world where nothing strange happens was really beginning to bore him right now.

He looked at the small round clock fixed to the wall. It was a quarter past twelve, and the Doctor was getting hungry. Better start thinking about lunch; such was a part of a boring real life. The Doctor threw eggs, bread and bananas into a frying pan, and poured olive oil over the contents. He was cooking a traditional Gallifreyan recipe known as a Gnarmon.. The Doctor was used to meals cooking in under three seconds on Gallifrey so was rather surprised by how long it took. Frowning, he took out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the frying pan. A small fire erupted underneath the pan and the Gnarmon quickly turned an unappetizing black. The fire began to spread around the kitchen; the Doctor charged to the phone and frantically dialed Christopher Eccleston’s mobile number.

“Hello?” Came his voice from the other end.

“Hello!” Grinned the Doctor. “Have you got a fire extinguisher in your house anywhere?”

“What the hell have you done?”

“Not a lot really. Just a small fire in the kitchen,”

“A ‘small’ fire? That’s MY kitchen you’ve set on fire, you idiot! Oh, why do you have to be 'The Doctor'? Why can't you be 'The Firefighter'? I don’t have a fire extinguisher but there’s a bucket in the cupboard under the stairs. Use that,”

The Doctor slid the phone back into the phone holder on the wall, and took out a small yellow bucket from the cupboard. He ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, filling the bucket with water, running back down and chucking it at the fire in the kitchen. He repeated this a few more times until the fire was successfully died down.

Excitement at last.

**********************************************************************************

This isn’t how I remembered Gnarmon, thought the Doctor as he tried to bite into his rather strange meal.

All burnt and hard, nearly impossible to eat.

The Doctor grimaced as he tried to eat the rock solid banana part of the mixture. He struggled to dig his teeth into the meal he had so haphazardly flung together until eventually he gave up and chucked the contents of his plate into the bin.

The Doctor walked back into the living room and turned on the TV. BBC News was on and a presenter was talking about a new law introduced by Boris Johnson

Wait…Boris Johnson?

Surely that couldn’t be right?

Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. And the Doctor was determined to find out what.

**********************************************************************************

Boris Johnson sat behind a small brown desk in his office at 10 Downing Street, watching as a strange man burst through the door angrily towards him.

“What have you done with Harriet Jones?” He demanded.

Boris didn’t know who this woman he mentioned was but this bloke was certainly a mad man.

“I don’t know. I have no idea who you’re going on about,”

“Boris, this country is supposed to be in a golden era. Harriet Jones is supposed to be the prime minister. She isn’t, you are. So I’ll ask again, where is she?”

Boris let out a soft farting noise and blushed a deep red.

“Oh, it all makes sense now!” The man roared. “You’re a Slitheen. So go on, then. Reveal your little zip. Because it’s over,”

“This is absolutely ridiculous. I don’t even know what a Slitheen is!” Protested Boris.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’ve taken Harriet Jones hostage so you can play prime minister. Oh, and you better hope I find her alive or I’ll wipe your stinking face off the Earth!” He shouted abusively.

“SECURITY!” Boris called.

Two large men picked up the Doctor and carried him out of the premises.

Christopher was going to kill him when he got back.

**********************************************************************************

It was with sheer embarrassment that night that the Doctor found out via Christopher’s laptop that Boris Johnson was definitely the prime minister and there’d never been a woman called Harriet Jones in that position of authority.

Christopher walked in and noticing the Doctor was on his laptop, shot a glance in his direction.

“What are you doing on my laptop?” He asked, clearly irritated by this development.

“Research,” The Doctor said simply.

“For what?” He asked suspiciously.

“It’s research into your world,” The Doctor explained. “Don't worry, I'm not hijacking your Facebook. Your world and mine have two completely different pasts. They’re like two different realities, sort of. Like Marvel and DC or Mickey Mouse and Looney Tunes. So it’s important I find out this world’s-your world’s-history,”

“Why?”

“So I can fit in. Or do you want me arrested again because I can’t tell the difference between a Wiirn and bubble wrap?”

“A…what?” Christopher frowned.

“Long story,” The Doctor said quickly. “So I need to research into this world’s history. That way I can fit in and there will be no more trouble from the world’s best Christopher Eccleston impersonator,”

“You’re certainly good in that field,” Christopher smiled.

“Yep. But I won’t be for much longer,” The Doctor said. “You’re beginning to change,”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not as grumpy as you once were,” He stated.

“Oh great. Does that mean I’ll get an afro now too?” Christopher worried.

“Perhaps. If you accept your past,” He said.

“’Accept my past’? Doctor, you seem to be under the impression I used to have an afro,”

“No, that’s not what I mean. What I’m trying to say is, whatever it is that happened in your past, you need to come to terms with it, on your own terms, and find a way to put it behind you. Our experiences are what allow us to grow as people, and what we are remembered for is our actions as individuals that capture the heart and soul of those around us,”

Christopher stood up from the armchair.

“I can’t limit myself to Doctor Who. I’m an actor! Taking on different roles is what I do,”

The Doctor approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Alright then. You don’t have to. Just show your fans you appreciate their support. Show you are the Doctor,”

**********************************************************************************

Christopher thought that night. He thought back to his time filming Doctor Who. He thought back to his struggles with anorexia, and his Dad’s dementia, those very dark days where he felt more lost than ever before. But then he thought to the friends he made; Billie, and Joe Ahearne, and Noel. Maybe there was a glimmer of light, after all, in those bleak times?

Christopher opened his eyes and turned to look at the bedside clock. It was eight in the morning and he was due on set at nine. Just for a laugh, maybe-just maybe-he’d turn up as the Doctor?

He smiled at the thought and climbed out of bed, walking over to the wardrobe and taking out a dusty leather jacket. The director was going to be shocked by this. He knew of his dislike of his time as the Doctor so the last thing he would expect was him turning up in Doctor Who fancy dress. Well, now it was time to toss those dark memories aside and acknowledge the light. And if that meant looking like a hypocrite, then so be it.

********************************************************************************

”Oh, so you’ve finally developed a good taste in clothes,” Commented the Doctor as Christopher entered the kitchen. “Congratulations, it seems you’re not so blind after all!”

“Is this mine?” Asked Christopher, indicating the bowl of cereal and banana, full to the brim with milk.

“Yes, you spent so long getting ready that I thought I may as well make you breakfast myself,”

“Thank you,” Said Christopher, although he didn’t look so pleased. “Although please don’t use all the milk next time,”

**********************************************************************************

Over the next few days, the Doctor helped Christopher around the house, vacuuming and cooking him meals (sometimes with every single thing he found in the freezer). The more the Doctor explored the nearby area, the more he got used to life in the real world. However, he still longed to be in his world again and hated being confined to one place.

So it was on Saturday that he woke up with excitement and anticipation.

“It’s time for me to finally leave you alone, thank you very much,” He said in the hallway. “Goodbye, Christopher. I’ve got a portal to jump into,”

“Goodbye, Doctor,” Replied Christopher sadly. “You know, you’ve made me think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to reprise the role. It may still be fresh and full of little unexpected surprises,”

Christopher looked at him as if he was mad.

“No! I’m going to return to Heroes,”

The Doctor gave one of his mad grins, as he darted out the door.

“Glad to hear. See yah!”

**********************************************************************************

The Doctor had been wandering around London for hours now and there was still no sign of a blue portal. He looked up and saw the sky had turned black. It was night. He waited outside the Toymaster shop on a cold Saturday evening until midnight then gave up and returned to Christopher’s house.

**********************************************************************************

Christopher was in the middle of a dream about an evil Russell T Davies when he heard a knock at the door. He yawned, then walked downstairs in his slippers and opened the door.

“Hello!” Grinned the Doctor. “I’m back,”

“What are you doing here at this time?” Asked Christopher. “It’s quarter past 12 in the morning!”

“I was waiting until midnight for the blue portal,”

“And let me guess: it didn’t show up?” He queried.

“Correctamundo!” The Doctor exclaimed.

“Great. I’m stuck with you for god knows how long,” Sighed Christopher sarcastically. “I suppose you better stay the night,”

The Doctor charged up the stairs, Christopher following behind.

After he said a quick goodnight to the Doctor, Christopher walked back into his room and climbed into bed. Unfortunately, the dream of an evil Russell T Davies didn’t return.

**********************************************************************************

The Doctor woke up the next morning and stretched back the curtains. The sight he saw horrified him. Outside were houses in ruins, their roofs non-existent and windows broken; families were running out in horror and holding their hands up in surrender. Gliding amongst the rubble were Daleks, their eggwhisks shooting at people running desperately from the chaos around them.

The Doctor walked down the stairs and turned on the TV. The news was on, albeit with someone or something he didn’t expect to see as a news presenter.

Presenting the news was a Silent, dressed in its usual attire of white shirt, black tie and black jacket.

“Numerous residents across the UK have found their homes destroyed by a cluster of alien races,” The Silent spoke. “Towns such as Scarborough and Inverness have suffered a devastating Vespiform attack, whereas London has suffered the invasion of thousands of Daleks. The government advise people not to worry and to evacuate their homes immediately. Boris Johnson is expected to make a speech about the situation later today at the press briefing. And now to Commander Sarx with the weather,”

Stood in front of the weather map was a Sontaran, dressed in similar attire to the Silent.

“Thank you, Silent,” Sarx said. “Today will see a full frontal assault of rain drops in most battlegrounds of the UK, with a heavy invasion force due to be situated in parts of North Yorkshire. As you can see, London will be bombarded with heat waves, whilst parts of Northern Ireland and Wales will see an air raid of lightning strikes,”

The Doctor changed the channel. Click.

Jeremy Clarkson was test-driving the Doctor’s old car Bessie.

“Why won’t this thing go any fasterrrrrrr?” Jeremy Clarkson moaned.

Click.

A Cyberman walked into the X Factor audition room.

“Hello,” Smiled Cheryl Cole. “What’s your name?”

“I am a Cyberman. We do not have names,” It stated blankly.

Simon Cowell and Mel B exchanged looks.

“And what are you going to sing for us today?” Asked Cheryl.

“I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor,” The Cyberman replied.

“Okay then. Good luck,” She said.

“Go on now

Go walk out the door

Just turn around now

Cause you're not welcome anymore

Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye

Did you think I'd crumble

Did you think I'd lay down and die

Oh no, not I

I will survive

Oh as long as I know how to love

I know I will stay alive

I've got all my life to live

I've got all my love to give

and I'll survive

I will survive (hey-hey),”

Cheryl turned to Simon.

“Simon?”

“Well, look. I’m going to be honest with you. That was just terrible. Your voice is monotone; there was no emotion present. I just couldn’t connect emotionally with either you or the song,”

Click.

“Adipose one, what did you get?” Jimmy Carr asked to the Adipose sat next to Sean Lock on the Countdown set.

“Mew,” The Adipose responded.

“So that’s a three letter word, then,” Said Jimmy. “Susie, is that in the dictionary?”

Susie Dent flicked through the Oxford English Dictionary.

“No. It’s not, unfortunately,”

Click.

“I could see the Slitheen had been badly affected by this unfortunate turn of events and will do all in my power to turn their fortunes around for them,” Said Melinder Messenger as a shot of her talking into a mobile was shown. “I’m going to get the Slitheen family the perfect kitchen they’ve been dreaming of. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they see what I have planned for them,”

The Doctor stared into space, a look of horror stretched across his face. He turned off the television and ran into the hallway, up the stairs and into Christopher Eccleston’s room.

“Christopher, you’ve got to wake up!” He shouted urgently, shaking Christopher roughly in his bed.

Christopher yawned and opened his eyes.

“What’s happened now?” He asked.

“You know how I said about how the worlds- your world and my world- could collide if I didn’t leave this world within a week?” The Doctor said.

Christopher nodded.

“Well, I was right. They did,” The Doctor told him. “Now, will you kindly get up and help me sort out this mess please?”

Christopher did as he was told and opened the wardrobe.

**********************************************************************************

Once Christopher was dressed, they ran out of the house and onto a street infested with a large army of Daleks, patrolling around the area like predators hunting their prey. A Dalek glided towards them.

“Run!” The Doctor whispered, offering his hand to Christopher.

Christopher took it and they chased down the street, the Dalek gliding fast behind them. The Dalek was literally inches away from the Doctor and Christopher, its sucker extending menacingly towards the Doctor’s back. Thinking quickly, the Doctor dragged Christopher into a McDonald’s and soniced the door behind them.

**********************************************************************************

Outside, the Dalek fired at the restaurant door and the glass smashed, clattering onto the floor noisily to reveal a building devoid of any life. The Doctor and Christopher were no longer there. Nevertheless, the Dalek glided through the restaurant and thoroughly inspected it, gliding down the tables and chairs inside and behind the counter, where it found a back door. The Dalek blasted the door apart and glided down Westminster Bridge, brutally exterminating every passer-by it came across as it searched for The Doctor and Christopher.

The Dalek was going to find them. It knew that. And it couldn’t wait to unleash its hatred the best way a Dalek knew how to. Extermination.

**********************************************************************************

“Where are we heading, Doctor?” Asked Christopher, as they wandered down a street occupied by a variety of people; some carrying digital cameras, others rushing down the street, carrying black brief cases and folders overflowing with paper.

Christopher and the Doctor walked at a leisurely pace amongst the tourists and businessmen, relieved at how they had managed to evade the Dalek outside McDonald’s.

“To the Whetherspoon’s round the corner,” The Doctor answered. “If I’m right- and I know I’m right- the collision of this world and my own will have caused Fire House to exist in your world, meaning they will also be using the same secret base in this world as they do in mine. In mine, it was a Whetherspoon’s pub. Apparently, nobody goes to Whetherspoon’s anyway as the service is poor and the food’s rubbish-"

“Actually, that’s not entirely true,” Christopher pointed out. “A friend of mine went and he loved it,”

“Just shut up for a minute, will you?” The Doctor snapped. “Anyway, as I was saying, in my world, Fire House were using the Whetherspoon’s pub as a secret base. So we need to visit the pub, use the secret lift entrance into their headquarters and find out why they didn’t bother to bring me back to my world in the first place,”

The Doctor and Christopher turned the corner and walked towards a large pub, a sign proudly proclaiming it a ‘Whetherspoon’s’ and the pub’s name ‘The Log and the Frog’ glaring in big gold lettering above the glass door. The unlikely duo entered, the wall décor giving off a rather vintage vibe to Christopher, its walls decorated a glistening white, with a jukebox stood in the right-hand corner of the room. The pub was half-full, with around half of the pub’s chairs taken up by families eating various hot meals, seemingly oblivious to the Dalek invasion that had occurred outside.

The Doctor led Christopher to a door behind the bar. The bar maid behind the counter turned to look in their direction, a look of alert forming across her face.

“Hey!” She called. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The Doctor showed her the psychic paper.

“Oh!” She expressed. “I didn’t realize the landlord had employed any new staff. Well, carry on, then,”

**********************************************************************************

They found themselves in a small wooden room, barrels of alcohol stacked up behind them on a trolley. On the floor sat a trap door, waiting to lure them to whatever was awaiting its victims underneath the bar.

“How do we open the trap door?” Christopher pondered. “There’s no lever or button or anything. Just a trap door,”

“Of course there isn’t, silly!” Said the Doctor. “That would make it a bit obvious, don’t you think?”

“Then how do we open it?” Christopher pointed out.

The Doctor tried to think back to how he arrived in their headquarters in the first place. What did the agent do? Then it struck him. The Doctor walked over to the trolley and tapped it gently three times. The trap door swung open and the lift emerged. The doors opened and the Doctor and Christopher stepped inside. The lift began its journey down the lift shaft until after a few minutes it arrived at the headquarters, the doors opening to allow them out.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The agent the Doctor had met earlier was shouting furiously at the Arnold Shwarzenger android. He turned round and headed in the Doctor’s direction.

“Doctor!” He called. “How nice to see you again,”

“Enough with the pleasantries. I want to know WHY you didn’t open another portal to bring me back to our world,” The Doctor shouted at him furiously.

“Well, there were…er...a few complications,” He replied, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“What sort of complications?” The Doctor barked.

The agent stood quiet for a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to tell the Doctor. He let out a loud sigh and stopped scratching his neck.

“We ran out of power to open another portal. We only had enough power for one. Sorry,”

********************************************************************************

Inside the wooden room, the Dalek glided out from behind the trolley and tapped three times. The trap door swung open and the lift appeared. The Dalek glided in. The Doctor and Christopher would soon be no more…

**********************************************************************************

“YOU STUPID APES!” The Doctor roared in the agent’s direction. “Can’t you lot do anything right once? Why didn’t you bother to check the power supply before sending me here? Or were you too busy eating your fish and chips during the latest episode of Loose Women with Brian the Ood?”

“We tried, Doctor,” The agent sighed. “But we just didn’t have enough power left,”

“But the Doctor has a fair point!” Christopher protested. “Why the hell did you not check before?”

“I didn’t think to. I was too concerned with preserving this Doctor’s timeline,” He confessed.

“And for what?” The Doctor spat. “Look outside. Look at what your carelessness has caused. There are people dying out there. And all because you couldn’t be bothered to check the power supply,”

The agent thought about the Doctor’s words. He knew he was right. It was all his fault. He had been such a stupid, careless man. Then he spotted something. Something moving at the other end of the room. He ran to the far edge of the area, consumed with fear at what he had observed. The Doctor turned round.

“Oh. And you’re running away now. You COWARD!”

“Er, Doctor…” Christopher said, gently tapping the Doctor’s shoulder.

The Doctor spun round to face Christopher and found to his horror a Dalek gliding towards them. He grabbed Christopher’s arm and dragged him over to where the agent was stood, sprinting to the other end of the room.

“Is there a back door anywhere?” Asked the Doctor.

“No. We don’t usually require one, being as secret as we are,” The agent said.

“Fat lot of use that is,” Murmured the Doctor.

The Dalek was fast approaching them. The Doctor looked all around for a direction. He couldn’t find one. Soon, the Dalek was directly facing them, its eyestalk glaring intensely at the Doctor.

“EXTERMINATE!” It cried.

“NO!” The agent shouted, jumping in front of the Doctor. “We need him. We need both of them!”

The beam hit the agent directly in the chest and he slumped to the ground as the Dalek glided closer to the Doctor. The Doctor grabbed Christopher’s hand and they galloped over to the lift, dashing inside quickly before the Dalek could follow.

**********************************************************************************

The bar maid was scrubbing beer mugs and wine glasses as the Doctor and Christopher ran out of the wooden door, closing it tightly and panting beside it.

“Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Apart from those metal dustbins that have appeared everywhere, yes, everything is fine,” Christopher breathed.

“Oh, don’t talk to me about those dustbins,” She said. “They’re absolutely terrifying, aren’t they? Not sure what the point of the eggwhisk is, though. Sort of looks like a Dalek, now I think of it,”

“Yes, it does,” Christopher agreed. “Must be currently filming the new series,”

“Don’t they usually film in Wales?” The bar maid frowned.

“Don’t know about now but yes, when I was the Doctor, it was usually Wales. Even when we were filming London scenes, it was bloody Wales,” Christopher said. “It’s like some sort of crazy obsession,”

“Enough with the conversation, Christopher,” The Doctor said sternly. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a ‘metal dustbin’ chasing after us. So I think we better move, don’t you?”

Christopher nodded and they left the pub.

**********************************************************************************

The Dalek waited as the lift descended and glided back inside as it returned.

The lift came to a stop. The doors opened to reveal the wooden room, empty and no sign of its prey, the Doctor and Christopher. The Dalek glided out and through the wooden door to the bar area, where it turned to face the bar maid behind the counter.

“Oh, hello. You must be the dustbin that was annoying our staff earlier,” She smiled sweetly. “How do these new dustbins glide like that anyway? I never thought of a floating dustbin before. Or a moving one, for that matter,”

“EXTERMINATE!” The Dalek said simply.

The bar maid let out a yelp of shock and collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

**********************************************************************************

Once outside the pub, Christopher turned to face the Doctor.

“Doctor?” He enquired. “You do know how to solve this, right?”

“No, not a clue,” The Doctor said, breaking into a grin on the last word. “But doesn’t that make it all the more fun?”

“No, not really,” Christopher disagreed. “I’d rather we knew what the hell we’re doing,”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” The Doctor frowned. “I know what you’re doing. I just don’t know about myself,”

“Alright then. Go on. What am I doing?” Christopher asked.

“Posing as me,” The Doctor stated simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“….What?” Said Christopher, a look of confusion spreading across his face. “Why would I need to pose as you?”

“Christopher, there are millions-trillions, even- of alien armies around your world as we speak. And I can’t be there to stop them all if I’m trying to separate my world and yours here,” He explained, placing a hand on Christopher’s shoulder gently. “So I need you to do what you did when you played me. Be the Doctor,”

“Will I see you again?” Asked Christopher.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends how quickly I can solve this,” He smiled. “Now go. Dust off that leather jacket, rehearse a few lines if you must and take these. (The Doctor passed Christopher the Sonic Screwdriver and psychic paper) I’ve also left a few other things in your bedroom in case you need them. They’re only small, so you should be able to fit them in your leather jacket,”

Christopher said a quick goodbye and ran into the distance. The Doctor smiled and turned round to find himself face to face with the Dalek.

“SO IT COMES TO THIS, DOCTOR,” The Dalek said. “JUST THE TWO OF US. HERE, IN THIS MOMENT,”

“Are you trying to ask me on a date?” The Doctor replied. “’Cos if you are, the answer’s no,”

“NO,” The Dalek said simply. “ARE YOU PREPARED FOR YOUR DEATH?”

“I think the question should be ‘are you prepared for yours’”? Asked the Doctor playfully.

The Doctor threw his leather jacket over the top of the Dalek and returned to the pub, where he returned with a mug full to the brim with beer and poured the contents over the Dalek. A huge swarm of electricity surrounded it and the mutant inside screamed in pain, before the eyestalk flickered out and the casing laid lifeless. The Doctor whistled as he walked back into the building. That’ll show them for killing his people.

**********************************************************************************

Back at the house, Christopher picked up the silver phone receiver in his living room and sat back in his armchair as he placed it to his left ear.

“Hello?” Spoke a familiar voice on the other end.

“Hello, Billie. It’s Christopher,” He replied. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes, nothing on tomorrow. I haven’t got anything on at all really. Why?”

“I won two tickets for an around-the-world trip,” Christopher lied. “I wondered if you’d like to come with me?”

Billie paused for a moment and then said “Yeah, alright then. Where do you want to meet?”

“Well, the first location on the trip is Cardiff. They’ve told me to pick up a pair of train tickets from the station. So the station could be a good place to meet up,”

“Alright. Train station it is, then. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Christopher smiled. “See you tomorrow, then. Bye,”

“Bye,”

Christopher placed the phone down on the table and walked upstairs to his room. The Doctor- this universe’s Doctor- was back. And he meant business.

**********************************************************************************

The Doctor and Christopher Eccleston will return in Part Two: ‘A New Habitation’.