Professor Chronotis - Rebirth(Iain Cambridge) The birds sang. Well, they might have been singing. Or arguing, or just having a discussion about this, that and the other. anyway, they were making a noise is the point that is being made. The spring winds blew lazily through the trees, which objected mightily to the term 'lazy'. It didn't object for too long, due to the fact that it lost interest very quickly and decided to mess about with the last of the cherry blossom instead, thus creating mini storms of pink bits, much to the annoyance of the university caretaker who, having spent an hour raking them up had just popped back to his shed to get a bag to put them all in. Reg stared out of his open window and smiled at the perturbed look that the caretaker now wore before continuing to set the table with two of his finest China cups. In the middle of the table was a freshly brewed pot of tea, a slab of banana cake and a selection of biscuits that included his favorite, that being Bourbons and the preferred teatime selection of his guest, Jammie Dodgers. His life had been long and, it had to be said, not short of danger. These days, however, he now chose to teach and hand out advice to students and, to those who would need it, a little guidance. His previous life, as suggested was a little faster in pace than that of his retiring years. A pace that had been marked by different faces and different names. One of which was on her way for tea at this very moment, according to the small, bleepy thing that had started to pulsate about an hour ago.

Having set the table, Reg would return his gaze to the open window and begin to reminisce on his life. Something he tended to do a lot more these days when his mind was given the opportunity to wander. Apparently, many, many millennia ago, or so he was led to believe, a younger, largely forgotten female version of the man who was now setting up this small, intimate tea date had felt it his / her, or even their duty, (for who else in the cosmos has that right to use pronouns in such an avant-garde way), to join her brothers and sisters in fighting someone, the name of whom now escaped him. The last great time war they had called it, and by 'they' Reg mused, it was by people who were not actually there. He was, and it wasn't that great.

Her, his, or even their inspiration came by way of stories told to them by an old teacher she had met once, or maybe twice who told tales of heroism, honor and bravery. But it was not in a boastful way, instead playing down his own experiences in favor of the sacrifices and hopes lost by the others who fought alongside him. For years, their fight continued, overcoming many a foe and losing many a friend along the way until she, him and indeed they were injured so badly, they were forced to regenerate.

The confusing part of this story, for there were many omissions and contradictions, was that Reg clearly remembered fighting in said war, but as a man, and definitely not as a woman. Oh, there were stories of many different people that claimed the title of the Doctor of course, that had served to vanquish them, whoever they were called, but he had always dismissed these as the ridiculous glorifying of war that seemed to go hand in hand when embellishing tales of heroism and bravery. As far as his memories were concerned, there was very little heroism in those dark days. Not from him at any rate. In the years to come though, and on further investigation, there started to appear small fragments of evidence that he was in the same war twice. Not impossible of course. He was a time traveler after all, but he really thought he would remember it. Anyway, the story went on to say that, unable to be of any use to the war effort on the front line, Reg, or whoever he claimed to be then, had spent this new regeneration in the service of The Section, a noble cause to start with to be sure, but in later years he began to realize that his loyalty to the Time Lords was being used against him and he was made to be an unwilling pawn in subterfuge that went against all his principles, and of the name he himself had later taken as a boy, that of 'The Doctor'. Refusing to take part in the machinations of this part of Gallery's secret service, he was named a criminal and falsely imprisoned on, and subsequently escaped from the prison planetoid, Shada, despite being innocent. His captors had attempted to imprison the Doctor for fear of him using his unique mind powers to take over Gallifrey. Ironically, she, having regenerated again through the cruel torture methods of the Section, escaped by using said powers to control the guards who were escorting her from the trial circle and in doing so burnt out her abilities so as to remove all memory of Shada from every Time Lord and eventually the memories of her past lives to everyone else, including herself, when at last, due to old age she changed once more, vowing only to do so when, enigmatically stating that she had to find herself once more. It was not clear what she meant - until today.

In later years, the ones he could remember that is, having changed faces many times, Reg eventually let the name of the Doctor go, choosing instead to pass it on to a young woman who mysteriously turned up on his doorstep one day saying only that she needed a doctor. The Doctor. The definitive article, you might say. Having encountered the, albeit older version of this bedraggled girl once or twice in his many lifetimes, Reg was accepting of this and had given her access to his TARDIS and a name to carry and a set of rules to live to, so that she could continue on her way with the matrix to take care of her.

Urban Chronotis, as he was now known, disappeared to St. Cedd's College in the heart of Cambridge University, where through brick pathways that wind through lush gardens lays an unassuming office nestled in the oldest corner of this testament to academia. The plaque on the door simply read "Professor Chronotis." Few knew that this eccentric, warm-hearted academic was not just a professor of Chronology, but a true Time Lord, and possibly the last one with a life spanning galaxies and centuries. Professor Chronotis, with his flowing white hair and timeless wardrobe, was a beloved figure on campus. Despite his vintage style, his eyes sparkled with a mischievous intellect that made even the wildest of his stories seem believable. Chronotis now lives out remaining centuries in academic seclusion. His unnaturally long life goes un-discussed by his colleagues, owing to the discretion he claims is a hallmark of the old Cambridge colleges. As a result of repeated time travel and advanced age, he became extremely forgetful and absent-minded over the years. He often did not remember which time period he has travelled to, nor the reasons why. Among other things, he has a liking for tea and silly jokes and looks forward to his monthly catch ups with a version himself that, for reasons set out at the beginning were a mystery to even the professor. They had both agreed from the onset that their lives would remain a secret to one another. Spoilers, as River had said on many occasions. He smiled at the memory of his wife, a smile increased by the familiar wheezing sound of the TARDIS engines.

For a while nothing happened and continued not to happen until the slow creak of the doors echoed through the silence, annoying the local wildlife heard from Reg's open window. There was also a loud hiss. An expulsion of gas and smoke from inside the bowels of the TARDIS.

"Oh, shut up" said the Doctor as she poked her head out. She tried to blow the mass of hair that had fallen over her face. Hair that was thick, red and impossibly curly. "You would think after all these years that you would be used to it by now" she added over her shoulder, and on returning her attention to the Professors' rooms in front of her she muttered under her breath, "Land yourself if you think you can do better". The annoyance of her hair forced her to stand up. "How River dealt with this I will never know" she added. sweeping it back, only to have it fall into its original position. She made a note to leave a retro message asking River for her advice on future hair care.

"Hello old girl" said Chronotis to himself when his guest had finished arguing with the blue box, that had now fully materialized in the corner of the room. "Have you been behaving yourself?"

"Who" came the answer. "Me or her, because the answer is no on both counts."

Reg looked up from the pouring of tea that had cemented itself as a routine now for many a year. A look of concern ran over his face.

"Oh, my dear" he exclaimed, "I don't wish to be rude, but you look terribly old. Or rather" he added. "Old and terrible."

On their first meeting, so many years ago now, the Doctor had presented a much less demure image. Having stepped from a TARDIS that looked as though it was held together with bits of string and sticky tape and looking herself like she needed to borrow some of the said adhesive items, her first word to the Professor was, "Clothes" when she was suddenly aware that her current outfit did not fit in any way, shape or form. The pants had fallen down for a start, and like the shoes she had simply stepped out of them. The shirt hung limp around her, falling from one shoulder and there was an alarming breeze when the underwear, that belonged to the odd-looking man that she used to be, had followed the pants. The Doctor, or soon to be named, stepped back inside her TARDIS, appearing again only when she had found something totally inappropriate to wear.

"It belonged to the previous owner" she would explain on later meetings, and to the unseen judgment of the TARDIS matrix. "It was the only thing I could find that fit" This was untrue, of course, but she was not going to admit that she liked her new look back then and the clothes she wore made her feel - sexy.

"Ten had that same sort of vanity" observed Chronotis, on the future times she had revisited him at St. Cedds. 'And look where that got him" It seemed to him that her skirts had some sort of hatred of the ground on which she stood, climbing, as they did, higher with each visit. The less said about the boots the better as far as he was concerned.

"Nowhere, I'm still here. Your still here" replied the doctor, pausing only to wonder who she was talking to, before settling on, "Exactly" She had pulled her skirt down a little when in his company, and only in his company which did the opposite of covering her modesty. Only this time it came from the top half of her dress that now revealed a cleavage you could comfortably park a bike in. "Then don't look" she said to the unsaid voice. A voice that refused to get involved. But that was then and so many years ago. The woman that stood in front of the Professor now had frayed a little of late. Her sticky tape was starting to lose its sticky, and her string had started to unravel. Respectable pants had taken the place of the impossibly short skirts, but the cleavage remained intact. If assisted these days by something that was one of Victoria's lesser-known secrets.

"Not wishing to be rude has never stopped you in the past old man" came a smiled response. "Or the future" she added as she sat down. Her movements were a little more painful than the last time she was here. Her joints a little stiffer. She was aided these days by a walking stick, something she loathed and vowed she would never use. Her vanity had risen up against this and she had fashioned it into a version of a sonic screwdriver. She glanced towards the opposite corner of the room and smiled ironically at the same walking stick leaning against the wall. It seems that it had lasted longer than she had.

Chronotis placed a cup in front of her and pushed the plate of biscuits nearer. "Help yourself" he said and took his seat at the other end of the table. He looked at her, his younger self, over the brim of his cup. "I fear you are nearing the end of this chapter in our lives. The time where you choose to forget? I am guessing" he added, "that this will still remain a mystery between you and I?"

The Doctor blew on her tea and peered at him over the top of her glasses. "It's for our own good" came a reproachful reply. We agreed on this." she added before taking a sip. She slurped noisily. Something she knew annoyed him.

"But still you chose to reveal yourself to me - us. A few years after our agreement I seem to remember" He placed his teacup back on the saucer. "A terrible shock for a young girl."

"Young girl?" the Doctor hooted. The Professor handed her a napkin.

"You may wish to mop up the tea that had dribbled from your mouth as a result of your exclaimic expulsion".

"You were over two thousand years old at that point. Possibly older" She said, still spluttering her words into the said napkin whist trying to recall if there was such a word as 'Exclaimic' or was it something he just made up. "Anyway, it was only because you wouldn't let me know what, or who I was to become. You knew it was bound to happen. You even let me use old misery guts there when my TARDIS imploded."

Chronotis laughed out loud. "They tend to do that if you put them in park and reverse at the same time. Anyway, I still never worked out who you were until I retired."

The Doctor joined in with laughter of her own.

"You never worked it out. I told you - Remember?"

"True enough" agreed Reg. "True enough. Dark days for you I seem to remember. When you appeared at my door you were very young, frightened, and your dress sense was a little on the, let's say, scant side."

The Doctor put down her tea and chose a biscuit from the ridiculously, over stacked pile.

"I had nowhere to run, and no-one to run to. I spent a good few years talking to myself and trying to reason who I should be balanced against what I become. It made sense to find you - Me. Whatever" continued the Doctor, brushing a crumb that had fallen onto her coat before looking for another that had found its way down her cleavage. "I won't miss these" she muttered under her breath.

"And here you are. After all these years, still talking to yourself. It's a habit you never break out of, I'm sorry to say"

"Spoilers" replied the Doctor.

"Spoilers indeed" came the reply.

"Pity though. I would have liked to have known what I become after this. Apart from you that is" she quickly added before the obvious answer had time to leave the old man's lips.

"I did encounter myself once or twice during the years to come, or in my case, the years that have been. Nice chaps, and chapesses of course' he added by way of not offending the notion of gender recognition. He looked around to see if anyone else had heard him before quickly realizing that, technically, he was the only one in the room. Reg smiled and relaxed once more before turning his attention to the TARDIS. Her doors were wide open and as her engines cooled, the deep, familiar hisses and burps echoed from the depths of her being. "She is older than both of us. Either of us - Well, you know what I mean."

"She is indeed, and that's part of the reason I came here today"

"Not for my excellent tea" exclaimed the Professor.

"Your tea is, as you say, excellent" smiled the Doctor. "But our girl here needs to rest now, and from what I have observed over the years is that same, if younger version of her that ends up with me anyway. Stands to reason"

Professor Chronotis, Reguis Professor at St Cedd's college, Cambridge, or Reg as his many students had named him, looked at the Doctor with concern. For the implications of what his younger self was saying was painfully obvious. The Doctor held up her hand in confirmation of the shared thoughts of what both of them knew to be true. The amber light pulsated slowly in the center of her palm.

"I have not seen that for a while," he said.

"I've not seen it at all" The Doctor shrugged. "Memory wipes from our friends in The Section I'm sorry to say. That's the other reason I came here today - Other than the tea of course" she added with a smile. "Does this mean what I think it means?" she asked.

"Oh, my dear," said Reg. "I am afraid it is. And the fact that I do not remember this time in my life, in our lives" he corrected. "Also means that it is probably now that you make that decision to distance yourself from the rest of us. The rest of you to come"

"It was done, will be done to protect you. To protect us - You know this" said the Doctor kindly. When I do this, they will never be able to bring me, us to trial. Thanks to you, I will be the last one of us to carry the title of Doctor before becoming the first to choose it." She stood up and walked over to the old man who stared up at her with eyes that still twinkled with mischief. She kissed him on the forehead and took his hand. She motioned her head towards the TARDIS. "Can I borrow her once more. I will set the controls to return to you the minute I get out and - well, you know"

His permission was given by way of silence, broken only as she stepped through those creaking doors once more. "Hurry back" he said.

The Doctor entered the TARDIS once more, not quite sure who he was talking to, but choosing to reply only with "It's time for the fugitive to stop running"

Chronotis smiled. "Oh, my lovely, if only that were the case".

"Meaning" said the Doctor. But her answer was met only with the word - Spoilers. Another smile, and then a pained cough from lungs that were preparing to breathe their last. "Before I go" she said, "I have something for you" The Doctor handed Reg a small disc. "As this is the last time we meet, well," she paused, "Like this I mean. I would like you to have this."

Reg examined the object. Turning it over as it caught the light with every turn.

"A memory pod?" he asked.

The Doctor. Renegade of the Time Lords. War hero to come and to be years before that, tilted her head to one side. "Now you can add your memories to mine." she said, closing the doors to the TARDIS, to this part of her life and to any objections that Reg would offer. As the engines wheezed into life once more, the image of the TARDIS flickered for a moment as it replaced itself almost instantaneously back in Reg's rooms.

*****

In the dimly lit confines of the old farmhouse where she had been born, the renegade felt the familiar yet unsettling sensation of regeneration coursing through her body. A shimmering golden glow enveloped her, casting wild shadows across the walls. As the energy grew more intense, memories of her past lives flashed before her eyes - each adventure, each friend, and each loss until, eventually they disappeared like a dragon made of smoke. Her transformation wasn't just a change of face or form; it was a metamorphosis of essence and as the golden light intensified, her world of experience and pain began to dissolve around her. The familiar faces and stories lived faded away, replaced by a new life and a mind empty of the past and yet filled with the same boundless potential. A child. Without experience. Without memory. Timeless. The only thing that remained were the words given to her by an old man, who even now drifted from her mind, an old man of such a wealth of wisdom and power that those same words burned into her psyche. 'Never be cruel. Never be cowardly. Hate is always foolish. Love is always wise. Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind'.

In the years to come, where once stood the Doctor of old, would emerge a new Time Lord - calm, collected, and ready to embrace a new identity. His clothes would be different, his demeanor more composed, and his eyes holding the weight of centuries yet to come. He would be the first incarnation of this Doctor, but far from the last. Aware of the incredible responsibilities that lay ahead, but unaware of how he had inherited them. This newly reborn Time Lord would, in time, feel the love of his wife and children and a need to take his only granddaughter, Susan, with him when the question of good versus evil plagued his mind. One day, he would feel the TARDIS hum reassuringly around him once more, unable to reason as to why he had chosen her above all the rest. He was about to set off on the first of many adventures, ones that would define his legacy across time and space, ready to face the universe anew, guided by the experiences and wisdom of his hidden self. He would catch his reflection in an old mirror, one that had been left to time and the elements when the silver backing had started to come adrift.

"Well," he would say to himself. "Whoever you were. If there was a person standing here before me" he added with concern at the lack of information at hand. "You were certainly in favor of a low-cut top." He would turn this way and that, admiring what was being reflected back at him, and as the last connection that would pose any doubt that this was nothing but his first life faded away, he would say, "Maybe I will again someday."

*****

Reg stood up and opened the doors to his TARDIS. The inside was dark and empty having nothing, or no-one to tailor her looks to. "Welcome home my dear" he said quietly. "Time to rest now." Chronotis stepped inside with a broom in hand and looked around before starting to sweep. When satisfied that it was clean enough, he started to rearrange the place to make way for his furniture, and for a few other things that he had picked up during his travels. Just some odd and sods, and possibly the odd painting or two he mused. A few reminders of the years spent in the pursuit of - Well, something or other. He looked around when he had finished and was rather surprised as to how much there actually was. "You know" he said out loud. "If we presented this right, we could turn you into a museum. You could spread yourself out and have people come and visit you and share in all of the wonderful things we have done together. Would you like that?" The TARDIS lights came back on and pulsated warmly in approval of this idea. "And as it appears to be a day for new names and a new purpose, I could become the curator of our museum, I could become the Great Curator." He laughed out loud. The wall shimmered and presented Chronotis with a pattern of concentric circles set in a hexagon. "The round things' he said with glee. How I have missed the round things - What are they exactly" There was a low rumble from within. "Nor do I" he said. Nor do I"

Having admired his handiwork, the Professor stepped back a little, in order to take it all in, and in doing so, noticed once again the memory pod that the Doctor had left him. He picked it up and turned it over once or twice before activating the small symbol in the middle.

"I suppose it can't do any harm now" he said. A small, virtual screen appeared in front of him and gave a selection of ways in which the contents could be read. Physic implant, Voiceover and a few others that, although a mystery, he felt he ought to know what they meant. He settled for a hard copy, and just to be on the safe side, he selected that it be written in Galfrayan, just in case he had an enquiring visitor or two. The book appeared on the table in front of him. The cover made him smile for, as if being scolded from another time, it resembled River's diary.

"Spoilers indeed" he said to himself. He idly flicked through it before settling down to read the text in depth. "Hmm" he mused here and there when there appeared to be no mention of Daleks, Cybermen and any of the others he had faced in his, remembered lifetimes. It stood to reason though, as many of these races, especially the Daleks had a massive database and would have had records of all of his previous incarnations had his guest encountered them. So why then, he would ponder later in the day, did the Daleks not have a record of her during the war? His thoughts drifted and eventually settled on an old friend he had left behind, so many years ago. A friend he had, affectionally called 'Rusty'. Had she hidden herself even from him?

*****

Somewhere, and in some time, a light came on. Not an important light by any means, but it was a light that told of circuits being activated that, in turn, would go on to activate other circuits. These then would start up a number of sub-routines. The sub-routines would spark into life a program that would be labeled as 'The Doctor is Remembered'

That's when the trouble started.



THE END

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