After the Storm

A small bit of linking material here which connects – though not completely – The Vault of Neverwhile and A Murder of Crows. There's also a little hint of things to come at the end, but you'll have to wait a little while before it's all revealed. Just thought I'd put a little tease out there for now. Enjoy!

After the Storm

    The storm had been active all through the night, wind howling through the trees in the garden, rain lashing constantly against the windows. The Doctor had dozed off in spite of it all, and it was the eventual subsidence of the extreme weather that caused him to stir. He blinked, then ran a hand through his short cropped hair.

    Getting out of bed, the Doctor noticed how quiet the house now was. Not simply from the lack of a storm, but he was sure there'd been another occupant when he'd fallen asleep. A girl? He tried to think, his mind cloudy, like someone had been rifling through his memories and jumbled them.   

    He sat on the edge of the bed, thinking back through his past lives, but found that the images weren't clear any more. He wasn't sure what was real, whether all these adventures had happened. Surely they couldn't have done? Some flat out contradicted others, times and places at odd with each other.

    The version of him with white hair and the dandified dress sense was suddenly at the forefront of his mind. Trapped on Earth...no, that wasn't right. He'd travelled so far in that body, all over the vastness of time and space. Yet he was also stranded, working for...the army? No, it didn't happen that way. Dreams must be overlapping, he thought, and stood up, dressing and making his way downstairs.

    He made coffee and toast and sat looking out of the window. He wasn't sure if he'd sat here before or not, though surely he must have. Gazing out at the sodden garden, he tried to remember when he'd last stepped out there and what he'd been doing at the time. Again, the thoughts couldn't form, there was no cohesion.

    The Doctor pulled on the leather jacket that hung over the back of the chair, and moved to the hall, where a full-length mirror afforded him a glimpse at his outfit. He'd worn it before he was certain. This body, wasn't that new. He'd had plenty of adventures, here on Earth, with...the name and the face alluded him still.

    He looked at the mail that was on the side, addressed to 'Doctor John Smith' and a postcode he recognised as south London. How did he know that? When everything else was hazy, how did he remember since a tiny detail? Wasn't he in the north before? Blackpool rang a bell, as did his own accent, he seemed to recall. Yet, here he was, in the south of this small country on this small planet. Stranded, adrift, confined.

    The Doctor picked on the envelope, and opened it. Inside were hand-written directions and a map indicating a location the Doctor didn't recognise. Wenley Moor. The words seemed to have some kind of significance, though he had no clue what it was. He looked down to the small table near the mirror. His car key. Did he own a car? He opened the door and there, sat incongruously between a hatchback and a people carrier, was a bright yellow roadster. He wasn't sure he'd even sat in it before, but he must have. The key was in his hand, and snatches of images floated through his mind of him driving along country roads. No, not him, the white-haired incarnation. That couldn't have been right.

    He shook his head, willing the thoughts away, took one last look in the mirror then headed out to the car. "Wenley Moor, here I come!" he said, turning the key in the ignition, and smiled as he noticed the sun breaking through the clouds.

    It was going to be an interesting day, he was sure of that.



    On the other side of the mirror, the body of a female was frozen. It stared blankly forwards as it was placed in a small cubicle. A male figure moved to seal the compartment, flicking switches and staring at the prone form that lay within. "Well Miss Miller, another for the collection. I wonder how long the Doctor will take to solve this puzzle." He looked around at the other cubicles, some empty, some occupied.

     With that, the figure stepped through the mirror and into the real world, its outer appearance changing once again to suit its environs. It looked at its reflection and straightened its tie. "I hope it'll be a while. This is becoming rather enjoyable."