Disclaimer: We own nothing of Dr Who. Perhaps a few Sonic Paper pads produced by the BBC and a few bowties, though we are saving money for a Tardis.

Writers: -the-dramatic-harmonica ( me) and Sapphire-hummingbird.

Characters: 9th Doctor, 11th Doctor. Rose Tyler ( prologue), Amy & Rory Pond ( prologue) and later: River Song.

Possible spoilers for Season 3 and 4

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"Will you at least stay for a cup of tea?" insisted Rose's mother.

"I really must be off, else it's not much of a holiday for Rose, is it?" the Doctor responded.

Rose Tyler embraced the Doctor. She had asked him for a few weeks to spend at home with her mum. After all their adventures, it would be nice to have the chance to stay somewhere familiar to catch her breath, so to speak.

The Doctor, meanwhile, wasn't one for sitting around idly while there were new times and places to be seen. They finished their goodbyes, and the grinding whir of the Tardis signalled his departure.

"Where to next, love?" The Doctor asked his Tardis.

He engaged the sequence required to land in a random time and place. Rarely was there an opportunity to be flung so blindly, so aimlessly into the universe, but the unknown was exciting, even after all these centuries.

Within moments, the phone box stopped. The Doctor flung open the door and was met with an intense, orange sun. Stepping outside, the sky was blue, sand was underfoot, and a yellow pyramid rose up in front of him.

"Egypt, 2504 B.C. Two of the great pyramids completed, and the third under construction," he explained to no one in particular. He had grown used to saying things out loud for Rose's benefit. Apes were short-lived and ignorant to the finer details of history.

Behind him the Tardis stood on what appeared to be the beginning of a base of the relatively modest Pyramid of Menkaure. He looked at the Sphinx in the distance, the newly completed face and body still intact. The smooth edges and the way she rose up over the sands were stunning. From his angle, the two giant pyramids seemed to overlap into a single, double-peaked mountain, shimmering in the heat, while the monolithic creature lay off to the side.

The Doctor hadn't visited Egypt in his current incarnation. Previously, he'd experienced the city of Cairo three times, but never as far into its past as he stood now. He wandered into the ancient city, looking very out of place. Usually quite resilient to climate changes, the heat eventually became too much and he took off his leather jacket, carrying it over his arm. As the city rose up around him, the Doctor stood out against the white linen robes worn by the citizens. A row of slaves was marched past, naked to endure the heat while working.

A grand structure came into view: Pharaoh's living quarters. He approached the smooth stone stairs, but was stopped by a guard, bearing a scythe as a weapon.

"What business do you have here, stranger?"

"I'm here to see the Pharaoh," the Doctor answered simply.

The guard looked the unusual man up and down. His dark garments were ill-suited for the blazing African sun.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor, and I'm here to see the Pharaoh," he repeated.

Suprisingly, this answer seemed to satisfy the strong-looking sentry, who stepped aside without a word.

He came across the King of all ancient Egypt, dining at a table with his pregnant wife and young son. The room was vast, decorated with simple, yet graceful linen curtains, acting as screens against the insects.

"Ahh, you must be the doctor," Pharaoh spoke, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture, "Sit with us, and eat."

The Doctor joined them, but didn't have a chance to speak.

"You must've travelled far, judging by your garments. When I sent for a foreign doctor for my wife, I didn't expect someone who looked so...exotic. Would you do me the honor of serving the wine?"

Pharaoh seemed to like to talk, so the Doctor decided to let him. He poured wine for the three nobles and himself, listening to the man before him.

Half an hour later, the pharaoh stood, stating, "My family and I will retire for the night. A servant will show you to your quarters."

As he turned to leave, Pharaoh paused. He clutched his chest. The man stumbled and fell to the ground.

A guard rushed to his side, exclaiming, "The pharaoh has been poisoned!"

Next thing he knew, the Doctor was in prison.

"Alright, hold still!" The doctor announced, pressing the off button of the camera. Amy Pond's face turned to visual disbelief.

"IT'S THE BIG ONE DOCTOR. Honestly, have you never used a camera?"

"Been a while Amy!" Doctor called back "Ah, got it" he announced, adjusting his bow tie and clicking the photo. The display showed him a very happy Rory standing to a very very pregnant Amy.

"So what?" she asked, coming up to him "No new companion yet?" she asked.

"Maybe I'll come and take your son away when he's 21" he joked and Rory looked shocked for a moment.

"Only joking Rory!" the Doctor confirmed and smiled, slapping him lightly on the back. They were standing in a piazza, next to a large fountain in Rome.

They had enjoyed a nice meal at a restaurant, where the doctor had parked his Tardis and then painstakingly walked 4 miles to get to the fountain where Amy claimed she had to get a photo with the Doctor. Rory and the Doctor switched places and Amy hobbled back to their location in front of the fountain covered with statues, holding onto the Doctor's arm as she walked.

After a few shots, Rory looked up from the camera.

"One more!" Amy demanded "A silly one," she instructed talking to the doctor.

"If only I had my fez," he responded.

"Oh get off it!" she complained back and he flashed her a smile before Rory took a photo of them sticking their tongues out.

"That's weird" Rory commented, looking up from the display.

"Damn, were we blinking?" Amy asked, "I hate that," she commented.

"No." Rory responded "Coulda sworn that angel was in a different pose, shall we take another?"

"Yes!" Amy instructed.

"What did you just say Rory?" the Doctor asked. Rory fumbled with the camera display and then held up the camera to take another shot. The doctor turned around to see a menacing weeping angel a mere foot from his face, it had moved in the seconds Rory had been looking at the display.

"AMY, RUN!" he instructed.

"Doctor, I'm not leaving you."

"GO!" he answered, "JUST GO!" he shouted and she gripped his arm tightly.

"I'm staying Doctor" she promised.

"RORY! Talk some sense into your wife," the Doctor called back as Rory approached that.

"Doctor, what is that?" Rory asked.

"Amy will explain, just go. Don't argue with me Pond, you're pregnant and not my companion anymore. You need to go. NOW" he stressed.

Amy nodded and she and Rory started heading backwards away from the doctor and the angel.

"You can blink, I'm looking right at it," she called, a meter away and he let his dried eyes close for an instant.

"Amy, go," he instructed and could hear the click of her heels as they walked off. He kept his eyes on the stone creature, its menacing face as he stepped back slowly, one foot at a time. He was about 3 feet away from it, it seemed as if it had taken him forever to move. He stepped back, sure of his footing, but misjudged what was behind him and slipped where fountain had sprayed water. Not expecting it to be slippery, his feet feel from beneath him and he toppled over backwards, his eyes shutting for a split second. He felt himself falling and forced his eyes open. Blinding sunlight hit his face and he fell to the sandy ground, hurting his back. He groaned loudly from the pain as his eyes adjusted to the light. He stood up and looked around him. He was in a camp of slaves, all lugging giant stones. He did a quick spin, taking in his surroundings. He dusted off his tweed jacket, blinked in the sunlight. Fantastic, he thought to himself. He looked to the giant sphinx in front of himself a few miles and took off towards the city with a goofy run. Think, he told himself, where are YOU, right now? He thought to himself. Judging on the time, he, his old self could be anywhere from the jail, to a meeting with the Pharaoh. He hoped himself was still there, that his own time line hadn't been changed. He ran through a market towards the jail he hoped he was in, though it was just his first guess.

He got in with psychic paper and popped his head in to see a group of men in lining the cells. He popped his head through each cell with a smile. He got back mostly angry growls, and a toothless smile from one man. He backed away.

"Doctor?" he asked cautiously, an old man barked something back in Egyptian.

"Oh Tardis I miss you" he heard himself say out loud, wishing he could understand the language surrounding him. Feeling out of place and like a real traveller.

"Doctor?" he asked again, spinning around to face the cells behind him. The dim lighting made it almost impossible to see the men's faces, unless they beamed at him inches away from the bars.


"Who's askin'," came the reply.

"I am. Me. The Doctor." The eleventh incarnation approached the cell from where the Lancashire accent originated.

A man sat, leaning against the back wall, wearing just black trousers, ripped off at the knees to form shorts. A shirt, olive green jumper, and a pair of black shoes had been cast aside in the heat. He bore two weeks' worth of stubble and dirt on his face.

"And who might you be, speaking a language that hasn't been invented yet?" the bedraggled man asked.

"I'm me. Or rather, I'm you, but later."

"Not likely," the ninth scoffed, "What reason would I have to go back in my own past? Prove it to me. Where's your Tardis?"

"Ahh, now this is where we encounter a problem. Long story short, I was attacked by weeping angels, and my Tardis is in the year 2010. I need your help to get back to it."

"Attacked by what? Spring me out of here and I'll see if I can trust you."

Eleven explained weeping angels while easily opening the lock with his sonic screwdriver.

"So how do I know you are who you say you are?" Nine asked.

"I have the sonic screwdriver, yes?"

"You could've found that with my belongings they took from me. Speaking of which, I need to find my jacket. Help me, and I'll think about taking you back to your own time."

Eleven replied cheerfully, "Good enough for me!"

He helped Nine to his feet as he was looking a little weak from lack of nutrition.

"I'm skinnier than I remembered," Eleven commented, looking at his dirty past self.

"You're not exactly a body builder, mate! And what is that you're wearing?" he responded defensively, feeling uncomfortable to be so exposed under his gaze.

"A bow-tie. Bow-ties are cool."

"A bowtie?" Nine's skepticism wasn't masked.

"Ya, I, well, you but in the future. We wear bowties, they're cool"

Nine just stared at him with an expression of utter disgust.

The two Time Lords swiftly left the prison cell, walking along the other cells.

"Where would they have put my jacket?"

"In the guards' quarters?" Eleven suggested, "But do we need to go to all this trouble to get it back? Is it really worth it?"

"We had a deal," the prisoner reminded sternly.

Eleven sighed at the hostility. It was starting to grind on his nerves, but he remained cheerful in his tone.

"Well you... me, back then, quite scruffy. Is that fungus?" Eleven asked, feeling the soft skin of his regularly shaved face. Nine's two week old scruff surprised Eleven. He hadn't remembered that.

"All the adventures and Vincent and all that, can't really remember having a beard!" he paused, and a broad grin came onto his face. "Let's be off then!" Eleven called, doing a humorous spin. Nine stared at him with a flabbergasted expression.

"Great, I lose my mind," he commented, following his future long-haired self.

They passed through the hallway of cells and came to the guard's room. Eleven kept walking past, but Nine stopped, seeing his clothes through the bars.

"What now?" Eleven asked. He didn't remember getting this sidetracked.

"I need my jacket."

"Tardis has got another," Eleven commented, "Let's go."

"No!" Nine protested, "Or I'm not helping you, whoever you claim to be."

"I assure you, I'm you," Eleven answered back, slightly annoyed at his disbelief.

"Prove it," Nine commented, breaking the lock on the guard's door and slipping in, as Eleven watched in disbelief. He threw his jacket casually over his arm, feeling instantly safer.

They walked out of the prison easily, as Eleven flashed a guard his physic paper and led Nine with him. They walked down the small winding streets, staying away from the more heavily guarded areas until they reached the palace.

"Prove what?" Eleven asked, almost a bit too oblivious.

"You claim to be the Doctor," Nine responded, unamused.

"Wow," Eleven looked at him sternly, faking a serious tone, "I really didn't smile"

"If you were me, you would know why," Nine snapped back.

"Now that we have all your clothes back," he asked, looking up and down the younger doctor, "Can we get back to business?"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

Nine pulled the sonic screwdriver from the pocket of his jacket, using it to unlock the palace's side-door as they arrived.

Eleven nodded as he realized why they had searched for the leather jacket. But, he still didn't quite trust his past self's judgement.

"Why are we sneaking in?" he inquired.

"We can't just march in the front door. They imprisoned me, remember? For two weeks," Nine responded with emphasis on the length of time.

"No, I mean why don't we just leave? So I can go back to my own time? We found your screwdriver."

"There's obviously something wrong here. The pharaoh was poisoned, decades before his natural death. The pyramids aren't built yet, so this is a critical point in human history."

"So take me back, then return here to fix it."

"I'm not taking you anywhere until I can trust you," Nine replied, turning to look the other man in the eye. They stood in a dim back hallway, having unlocked the wooden door.

"Alright, what do I have to do?"

"Tell me why Rose isn't with you."

"Rose Tyler? I have a new companion now. Pond. Amy Pond."

"I wouldn't just leave Rose behind. How can you forget the past so easily?" Nine demanded angrily.

"I haven't forgotten. You just need to move on. You can't change what happened during the Time War."

"You don't know anything about me! How can I move on if they're all dead? Why are you so cold? Did any of it even matter to you?"


Nine was knocked to the ground by a force colliding with his face. Blinking, he looked up at the Time Lord standing over him with a fist clenched. Once Nine caught his breath, he sat up and put a hand to his nose, feeling blood flowing freely.

"It mattered," Eleven began, his voice calm but filled with a commanding tone that suprised the doctor on the ground, "Believe me when I say it mattered. All the Time Lords and Daleks are dead. Don't think for even a second that I've forgotten. You have no right to think you know me or what I'm thinking. I know all about the Last Great Time War because I lived it, I suffered with the memory of it in that body you now inhabit. Now get up and clean yourself up. You look disgusting enough as it is."

Eleven turned away and continued up the path.

After the shock wore off, Nine hurried to catch up. He pinched his nose to stop the blood, but it continued to flow, and he could feel a bruise forming just below his left eye. Eleven tossed him a handkerchief with a sideways glance.

"I shouldn't have..." he began, but Nine cut him off.

"It's fine. I'd be surprised if we got along."

The older doctor nodded in agreement.

Both men continued for a while in silence up the dark passage.

"If someone is targeting the pharaoh, they must be interfering in earth's history," Nine told himself aloud, "But to what end?"

"Inter-planetary domination?" Eleven suggested, regaining his light-hearted sense of humor, now that the two had come to some sort of understanding.

The hall grew lighter as they neared a larger room. They paused to discuss a plan. Usually, the Doctor would just go right in, calculating his actions ahead of time, often keeping his companion in the dark regarding the larger scheme. However, they couldn't afford to each plan something different.

"You'll have to go in. They know my face," stated Nine, "Find out what you can about the pharaoh and any unusual activity. I'll wait here."

The tweed-clad doctor laughed. "Giving me instructions? I've got something different in mind."

"Believe me, this will work. We just need to uncover some information before acting."

"I think I know what I'm doing," Eleven replied confidently. Neither was used to being questioned.

"Why would your ideas be so much better than mine?"

"I didn't die yet," he replied simply. Nine pouted.

"Fine then. How do I die?"

"Spoilers!" Eleven exclaimed, imitating River Song before walking back down the hall, realizing something, and turning to the other doctor with a twirl. "Where did you leave the Tardis?"

"Why? We have things to do here first."

"Camouflage. We need to blend in, convict," he teased.

"I left my Tardis by the pyramids," came the possessive reply.

Nine passed Eleven on his way back down the hallway. "Smile once in a while, won't you? For both our sakes," Eleven said with a slap on the other man's back.

They headed out of the palace, heading back towards the pyramids to find the Tardis. It would aid them after all, to park it properly before investigating in the doings at the palace.

"Well, where did you park it?" inquired the bow-tie clad man as the other hurried around frantically.

"Right here!"

"Obviously not."

Nine turned to the doctor with an exasperated tone, "Would you stop doubting me for five minutes? If we're the same person, you could cut back on the superiority."

Eleven remained quiet for the moment. He felt a little embarassed.

The shorter-haired man disappeared around the corner of the pyramid, which had been built at least a story higher since he last saw it. He reappeared at the flat, incomplete top and called down. "They've built the damn pyramid around my Tardis!"

From the ground, the other doctor hurried around to the opposite side of the landmark to climb the scaffolding in order to see for himself. They stood side-by-side, staring down at yellow blocks. The stonework was interrupted by the blue roof, dulled by a sprinkling of dusty sand.

The old man lay dying on the golden bedspread, horrified at his age. He felt his hands and shut his eyes, the pain surging through his body again. He stifled his scream, and reached his hand, barely lifting it inches for the pain. A servant rushed forward, providing him with water and a damp cloth on his head.

"My child," he whispered, delusional, speaking to a mere servant, "You must complete my pyramids. Complete my masterpiece," he gurgled through the pain, before his eyes went a startling white and faded with color completely, lifeless and staring to the beautiful golden ceiling up ahead. The poor servant girl rushed to her feet, turning towards the door. She stopped in her tracks at the sight before her. In front of the large stone doors of the Pharaoh's room stood a figure unlike any she'd seen before. The room was illuminated with a golden glow, to make anything and everything shimmer in the heat. The red, green and purple see-through drapes covered the room and the lavish pillows leading to the bed offered a comforting feel. She felt dread in her heart. The figure advanced towards her and in a deep throat, almost robotic sounding, spoke in a broken tongue that she could barely understand.

"Pray to your gods," the figure demanded ,and she fell to her knees, her eyes rushing with tears.

"Please no!" she urged, ducking her head down low, terrified and yet never wanting to gaze her eyes on the grotesque human-like form again. She saw a tear drop on her light blue dress and then another and then a drop of blood fell onto the blue fabric, upsetting the perfect balance of color. She fell to the floor, a pool of blood surging from her forehead where she'd been shot.

"Get rid of his body," the figure commanded to three more, who'd been hiding in the room.

"Time to break history," the figure laughed hoarsely.