Show Me The Stars

((Closed for The Ninth Doctor and Myself))

He was utterly lost. The tea shop he sat in was starting to feel suffocating and the woman at the counter was burning holes into the back of his head. London was rainy, although that wasn't unusual, and he had been stuck here a good week. How he'd managed to live like some normal person eluded and disgusted him. He was groomed, fresh from his wash at the bus station, when he felt a burning in his pocket. He arches a brow, hissing as he tugs his sonic out. The device is glowing, positively radiant and He can't help but grin.

He'd caught a break.

He gets up, leaving money on the table, and running. His clothing was soaked and his hair was in his eyes as he reaches a street corner three blocks from where he had started, and marveled at the sight. She sat there, looking beautiful in the rain, her ample doors and bright signs greeting his tired eyes. He makes his way over, no key in hand, and strokes her side gently.

The doors burst open and he can't help but thank the stars as he makes his way inside. The desktop theme seemed old and he doesn't think much of it as he begins to pull and yank and throw switches. But this Tardis didn't seem to understand. Before he even touches another switch, the ship seems to recallibrate its location and as he's trying to figure out why, the console room is shaking and off they go.

He lands, and roughly. His head is throbbing and his back a ruddy mess but straightens himself up and decides to walk outside. Before he does so, the console makes a small ringing sound and a key pops up from a slot. he arches his brow but takes it, slipping it into his coat pocket. He leaves the ship, petting it gently before he starts his walk. The city seemed a bit... deserted and as he pulls his sonic out he realizes something isn't adding up. Everything read normal, not perfect but usually perfect is abnormal so he wasn't going to over think it. Instead he continues to scan, before coming to a door. A small sign tells him it's a pub. He clears his throat, deciding he'd rather be american than british. After all, He wasn't from somewhere tough, like the north. He enters, and as he tries his best to act friendly, they looks at him warily. The Tender arches a brow, making a comment about how there were alot of newbies in today and he spots him. He walks up to him, unable to stop himself as he speaks.

"You again? What'd I do to deserve this?!"

"This is what I was like, Rude and from the North..."

He mutters as he studies himself. He had quite large facial features and blimey the hair! No hair whatsoever. he usually got a fantastic head of hair... and the leather, what was he some sailor looking for a good time? He half listens, the problem intriguing but he was a tad self obsessed, ogling the younger version of himself as if he regenrate any minute.

but nothing.

When the other bascially orders him to follow, he has to grit his teeth, glaring at the back of the small head and sticking his tongue out. the Tardis needed to be taught that these types of jokes weren't funny, not one bit! He keeps up fairly easily, but stays quiet, making sure his sonic isn't sticking out.

He decides to put the northern giant in his place later. He begins to look over the street with old eyes and then looks at his counter part.

"Wish I had a chicken leg right about now."

The Vashta Narada looked like they'd be at home here. No one disappears, not from such a small colony. Something was either taking them or eating them. He pulls his sonic out, the devices coming to life as he scans the street. The results are mixed and make no sense... He looks at his younger self, arching a brow.

"Any idea on what can disrupt a reading and falsify results?"

"Are you always like this? Your so Northern!"

Ok, far fetched idea, but he didn't see baldy making any deductions. With that thought, He goes near the dust, picks up a good amount... and licks his palm clean. His nose scrunches up and he runs the sonic over the remainder.

"Seems like this is one mystery with another within. This stuff tastes like a rubber shoe... and I don't mean good rubber, I mean the cheap kind, like the stuff in tires and vaseline..."

He hated himself. More importantly the one in front of him. So what if he was a bit slow? He had been on Earth, for an entire week, being normal. Anyone would be down a few IQ points. He arches a brow at his comment but says nothing. Ten was a picnic compared to this wanker. When he mentions the news he can't hold back.

"People are disappearing, there's silver dust, sorry here I was thinking it was bloody christmas."

He wants to be angrier, but instead he laughs. He chases after himself, his body tingling a bit. he figured he had a few hours, maybe less, before the powder penetrated the genetic coding. The beauty of it was, he had spare parts, as vulgar as it sounds, and if he needed, he'd cut off each limb before they got hold of him. He hopes it doesn't get that far, following his counter part 'round the corner...

And it was empty.

His hands fly to his hips and he glares. It wasn't funny. This was serious business and now the northern giant was nowhere to be seen. He rolls his eyes, sonic out. Once again the readings are off, and he glares at the hardware before deciding to try and find the man himself

As he walks he feels a tingle up his spine and soon he's in what appears to be a factory... He pears around, seeing nothing. Then two silvrrians coming towards him and he turns to bolt, only to run into a vat.The clang is loud and adds to his embarrassment as he's hauled up and carried into a room. The layout of the Factory was quite odd, but he decides to pay attention when he's thrown on the ground before who he assumes is the general.

"What are you?"

He looks up at the man, on his knees, and grins as he makes a move to stand. The guards shove him down. These creatures were trying his patience.

"I'm The Doctor. And your invading."

The general scoffs, leaning down to grab his chin. He did have a good amount so no hard feelings there but he makes no move to free himself as he speaks as menacingly as possible.

"What are you, you should be one of us by now, the change is fast usually requires few minutes. Why are you not mutating?"

He glares at the man, trying to push him off only to be held down. These aliens and their hierarchies.

Eleven bites the creatures hand, the hiss of pain letting him know he can move his face. The moment is short lived when he's back handed, the slap of his skin echoing in the room. The soldiers turn to face his younger self, pointing what appear to be long spears at him. He wriggles, trying his darnest to get free but not succeeding as he'd hoped. He can feel a dull throb in his head, and he's unsure of whether it was a head ache or the change being slowed inside him.

"It's true! I'm sure coming up with a nice, proper way of creating more of your kind isn't completely out of the question. After all, why take humans? Those young things won't learn or even carry tradition properly. You should keep it simple, make babies. Children learn much more faster and quite more efficiently than the older lot."

His cheek is bruised and a bit of blood trickles down his nose. He looks at Nine with hopeful eyes as he waits to hear their answer.

He's up and a hard object is being stabbed into his back. He rolls his eyes but puts his hands up as well, falling in step with himself. The corridors are long and winding, designed to make sure anyone who manages to get loose never leaves. The place is well kept for a grungey factory and they come to a vast room, chemistry sets and samples everywhere. He eyes Nine, feeling his hands twitch at the need to touch and talk about everything.

He was right. Their tools and supplies seemed so primitive compared to what they could do, to what he'd seen back in the olden days. Eleven runs his hands over everything, tinkering here and there. The supplies weren't even enough to make a proper sonic, let alone birth an intelligent race of aliens. What had happened to them? Had they been ravaged by war, maybe exiled for some defect of mind and body, perhaps even for being dastardly criminals. He remains silent, knowing with his luck and his talent for talking, he'd be strung up again in no time.

He says nothing as he stands by his younger self. It was breath taking really, seeing himself in action. Quite the ride. If he didn't know any better he'd wish he could have a companion as sharp and bright, but then again he wouldn't mind playing companion himself. He was tired of leading the show, and sometimes his old bones needed a bit of a break. As he's muttering to himself, an orange liquid in hand, he feels a pulse run through his body. The tube shatters and the Silvarrians all turn to face him. He groans, gripping Nine's hand as another tremor of agony goes through him. he knew it would happen, but not the end result. He'd thought perhaps a few more hours. He cries out, falling to the ground, panting as he grips the front of his pinstriped shirt and rips the fabric open. Buttons scatter everywhere and he finds himself punching the left side of his chest.

He had always been glad to have two hearts. Now he was in agony over being alive with only one. The change wasn't happening, it had gone wrong. He wasn't compatible, not even close, so now, the virus had decided to get rid of any unsuitable candidate. He'd start a self decommission at this rate. He looks up at Nine, eyes pleading.

"Not like this! I've come to far, seen to much, and I will not go like this!"