The Doctor, on The Run?Mature

The Doctor stood over the control panel, looking at the dozens of sets of buttons and nozzles, switches and dials. He sighed heavily and dropped his shoulders, his hands fell down, landing on random buttons. He was half standing, half leaning.

"I left her behind. Me. The bloody Doctor, left her behind!"

He swung around violently and kicked at one of the support beams. He let out an exasperated groan when the pain hit, then the Time Lord walked back and forth, pacing as a thousand thoughts a second raced through his mind.

"That will never work, ever, surely not no." He whipped his coat off, revealing a midnight blue suit, and swung it onto the control panel. The Doctor collapsed onto the ground, legs folded, and he meditated.

Head resting in hands and his elbows leaning against his knees. He sat their, seconds fading into minutes, minutes transforming into hours until it struck him, like he was slapped in the face, he sprung onto his heels like a puppy does when he sees someone new.

He grabbed his jacket as if stealing it, smashed a few buttons in musical fashion and nearly before he knew it, the Tardis whizzed and groaned, echoing ancient adventures and mirrored the ones yet to take place.

Outside the Tardis the apparent distant sounds of shouting police men crashed against the impenetrable walls of the machine. Slowly the Tardis began to fade from their vision, like a cloud from the sky, evaporating into nothing. 

The members of the police were left standing with blank expressions on their job worn faces, as if somebody had wiped them clean with a duster. 

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

With the jacket acting as armour, his sonic screwdriver his weapon and his wit as his backup, the Doctor exited the Tardis and into the past, or the present, or possibly even the future to some. 

The Artic wind cascaded against his coat, skin and hair, causing the latter to flutter and gravitate away from his head in every conceivable direction. Hands buried deep into his pockets, like worms to the soil, and his head locked looking at his feet to try shield it from the inevitable. 

The back alley provided little protection from the strong breeze that attacked the Doctor without mercy. He fought against it as he tried to reach the street, where the sound of car horns echoed veraciously and impatiently. 

The sky was grey as the clouds painted the limited view with a bleak and colourless outcome. No hope could be found when eyes gazed upwards, and not much could be found in the dismal array of streets that created the maze known as London. 

And it was that exact hopeless feeling that the man exiting a building across the road was feeling at this moment. He never noticed the Doctor leaning against the wall of the ageing building, but the Galifreyan watched him walk away, wearing a pair of shabby, creased jeans and a leather coat.

Before he could push himself away from the wall, the first droplets of rains war with the Earth resumed, the Heavens bombarding the ground bound with everything they could afford, leaving no vapor in the atmosphere, forcing the Doctor to retreat to the Tardis, just as the thunder rumbled into the fray and the lightning streaked threateningly across the skies border.

The weather echoing the fight of the days to come.  

The End

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