Nine Lives

Ten, Nine and... That One

Ten was sitting back in the jump seat, enjoying the solitude of the TARDIS, when she suddenly started up, taking him who KNOWS where.

"Aye! What's up with you?" he demanded, hopping around the console to try and calm the poor girl down. He could FEEL her distress and urgency. He place a hand on the console and whispered in his native language, trying to soothe her, but she was still freaking out and telling him how "Absolutely BAD this was!"

"Shh, Shh... It's okay," he promised, once she's stopped, but was still sending him panicky signals, "I'll go see what it is... Shh..." Walking out the door, Ten froze in the frame, staring in disbelief at what she'd shown him. There, laying in the grass of a park, in what he realised was London, was himself - Well, his Ninth self - laying in a pool of his own blood. Two stab wounds over each of his hearts and the knife laying just beside his fingers would make someone believe it was a suicide. Ten was about to go over and kneel beside himself, when the sound of HIS TARDIS, followed by a blue box materialising, made him shoot his head up. He was suddenly looking at some bow-tie wearing dork, who was smiling at him, even though they both knew something was wrong.

"Why, hello!" he greeted.

"This paradox was already unstable," Ten groaned, putting his face in his hands.

"Oh, we don't really count as paradoxes anymore," the other man explained, "Since Nine is pretty much dead, we're just echoes... And fading fast."

"Oh well, in that case," Ten considered, "Which one are you?"

"Eleven," he smirked, "It's good to see you again, Brainy-Specs. Well... Me."

"Yeah, yeah." Ten rolled his eyes, gesturing down at Nine, "We have to clean this up."

"I suppose we do," Eleven nodded, "Well... Let's get to it, then."

"Hold on a sec," Ten turned back to his TARDIS, "Let me just tell the TARDIS that I've got this under control, first... She was freaking out, earlier."

"Please," he nodded, "Take your time."