AN: Hello again fanfiction! So, after a few months of rather terrible writers block, I have decided to join you again by writing this story to get my creativity flowing for my other one. And really, what can be better than Doctor Who?
So, basically, this story is one of those all-incarnations-in-one stories, minus John Hurt and Peter Capaldi as I will not write about them until I have actually seen them. However, I have never seen any of the old Who, and am just make-doing with the internet to try and get the personalities for Doctors 1-8 realistic. Therefore anyone who is willing to give suggestions on how to improve my Doctor writing is perfectly welcome to do so at any time, as long as it's not a mean review or something... Anyway, if you have the time, please read on and give this story a chance, and dropping a review would be quite nice as well...
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Not even a smidgen of it. And I never have (sniff). I did own a Jammy Dodger once though! Does that count?
Nobody knew what it was that the Lord President wanted. Nobody dared to ask. But he was certainly up to something.
Since the invention of his paradox ark, Rassilon had only pulled every incarnation of a select few Time Lords, save himself, from their time streams, all of which were immediately admitted into the newly fashioned Parliament of the Time Lords.
From every Time Lord, thirteen incarnations were recovered. From every Time Lord except one: the man who shouldn't have been able to be taken to Gallifrey in the first place.
It was well known on Gallifrey that, should you ever meet your thirteenth and final incarnation, this future self would be a mere echo, for they would already be dead to time, and unable to be communicated with any other way. This was the case with the four other Time Lords recovered.
This was not the case with the Doctor.
From him, only eleven had been found. And this eleventh incarnation was certainly not a memory. No, he was very much alive.
However, back then, Rassilon had little time for thought as questions began to be asked, by all five Time Lords, and all sixty-three incarnations.
Why were they here? What was going on? How were they here? Was everything alright? What was the date? How was this possible?
Rassilon had only smiled, and said:
"This planet needs order. This planet needs us."
Then he had explained. About the paradox ark, and its ingenious technology that kept a paradox from occurring - a web of shifting atoms in the air all over Gallifrey that caught and trapped all potential threats of a paradox and converted it into energy for the ark. He had explained about the new Parliamentary system, and then about the problem on Gallifrey:
The Time Lock had, unintentionally, created another reality of Gallifrey that was feeding off the energy of the Time War. But the closer the end of the war came, the weaker the second reality would become - until it would fade forever, and be nothing more than a memory. It was a perfect copy of Gallifrey before the war, and Rassilon was determined to keep it. However, the existence of the echo reality came at a price.
Around them, bits of the planet would fade away, sometimes taking residents with them. The result: a civilization falling into disorder and panic.
"Gallifrey - my Gallifrey, this Gallifrey - needs order," The Lord President had growled, "Together, we, the greatest minds this planet has ever seen, shall restore it to glory. Welcome to the Parliament of the Time Lords."
And while the had others smiled, the Doctor had frowned.
AN: So there we go. Not much of old Who in there, but there will be later on... Now I would be very much obliged if you could just press that magical button labelled 'review'. Even a little one-word something would be loved and appreciated... Or maybe even a nice fat paragraph of something... Jammy Dodgers for all who do!