AN: Just a silly little idea I came up with. It sort of changed as I wrote it, but I think it all sort of ties together at the end. I don't own either of these characters.

There was nothing quite like the thrill of blowing things up.

How funny, Ace thought to herself. She'd been swept off to alien planets, battled zombies, battled candy, but, in the end, nothing was anywhere near as exciting as throwing a canister of Nitro-9 at an unwitting victim. Of course, that unwitting victim usually had tried to kill her first, which made it all the better. Telling her to fight without her favorite sort of explosive would be akin to asking her to cook a four course meal with only her left hand using instructions in Japanese. In short, it was a wasted effort.

Here she sat, with her same old pilot jacket, in a spaceship that was bigger on the inside. How had she gotten here? She laughed. It was a long story, even to think about, though it was hardly the strangest thing to have happened to her. Her back against the central console, she sighed.

Off somewhere in the halls, she could hear the Professor –the Doctor, she had to remind herself- scurrying about. He was really such an odd man, mixing up his phrases and carrying around that ridiculous umbrella. And he was so old –as old as her dad, at least. Probably older.

Ace reached into her knapsack, her hands searching for one of those volatile cans that comforted her so much. She quickly brought her hand back out again before the Professor –the Doctor- barged into the console room, his umbrella with that silly question-mark handle flipped over his shoulder.

But something seemed wrong. The rest of his clothes didn't look the same. His jacket, quite different from his typical tan, was an abnormal combination of pink, yellow, green, orange –it was like a rainbow decided to eat a coat and this was what came out the other end. He wore an abnormal scarf, at least twice as long as he was tall, probably more, with almost as many colors as the jacket. He had some sort of silly black felt cap atop his head, blending almost perfectly with his dark hair but pointing towards the ceiling, making his head look misshapen. He had a floppy little bowtie covered in polka dots, as well as striped beige and orange pants and… Well, she couldn't quite be sure, but it looked like celery clipped to his lapel.

"Professor, what on Earth happened to you?" Ace furrowed her brow, concerned that he may have gone blind this morning.

The Doctor smiled. "I've just taken a short swim through the wardrobe."

"Oh, don't tell me the swimming pool has gotten in there again."

"No, no." The Doctor closed his eyes tightly as he explained. "I was just thinking about all of these wonderful people I used to be, and how I used to dress, and-"

Ace cut him off. "Used to be? Oh, don't tell me you believe in reincarnation!"

"Well, in a way, I do. Probably not the way most people do. When I talk about all of the people I've been, I mean it quite literally. I don't die, per se. Instead, I regenerate, turning into an entirely new person. It's a simple fact of my biology. Sometimes I'm older, sometimes I'm younger, sometimes I have dark hair, light hair, blue eyes, brown eyes. Sometimes I'm tall, short, skinny, pudgy. But it's still always me." He smiled, thinking that he everything he'd just said made perfect sense.

To his evident dismay, Ace stared at him as if he'd started out speaking English, then switched to French, then Portuguese, then Hindi. "You've gone mad, haven't you? Oh my God, you've gone completely bonkers!"

The Doctor smirked. "I've always been mad. In all of my centuries of existence-"


"Yes, centuries."

"You're older than I thought." Ace laughed. She stared at the atrocity that was his outfit once again, thinking of how destroying just one of those articles of clothing would be a nitro can well-spent. "Are you really going out in that?"

"Well, since you asked, I suppose I will." The Doctor smiled. His eyes showed the kindness within his soul, but Ace still thought he was a bit of a loony. He reached forward for a lever, causing the TARDIS to wheeze, and then pushed a button, sending the doors flying open. Strolling outside, he gestured for Ace to join him.

Ace followed him out. The world outside was fantastic –but, still, she had seen many worlds that were fantastic. This one in particular had electric blue grass springing up out of soft orange dirt. The sky was a light shade of pink. In the distance, Ace could see people –were they people? They looked like people- carrying large wheelbarrows filled to the top with what looked like watermelons.

This peaceful picture was soon disturbed, however, by what appeared to be an enormous purple turtle with razor sharp teeth darting straight towards the people with wheelbarrows. Ace instinctively reached into her knapsack, drawing out a can of Nitro-9. She tossed it in the turtle's general direction, her heart racing as she waited for the-


The canister blew up, setting of an enormous explosion near the beast. This, unfortunately, only seemed to anger it, sending it charging straight towards the TARDIS. Ace waited until it was closer this time. She evidently waited a bit too long, because, before she knew it, the turtle had taken hold of the Professor's scarf with its huge teeth –teeth? More like pincers. As it dragged the Doctor away, Ace knew she had to act quickly. She hurled another can –Boom! The beast let go of the Doctor. She threw yet another one, this can directly at the beasts head, blowing it clear off. "Ace!" she shouted, running over to attend to the Professor.

He was all in one piece; his wardrobe, not so much. The scarf was torn, unraveling just a tad, and that ridiculous pink coat was singed at the end. The hat had flown clear off of his head. She picked up his arm, putting it around her shoulders, trying to keep from hurting him as she dragged him back to the TARDIS. "You know, Professor, you may have changed quite a bit, but I don't think I'm ever going to."

"Boom!" he said, quite disoriented.

"Yeah," Ace replied, laughing at the man she'd been travelling with –and intended to travel with- for so long. "Boom."