Warnings(overall): Possible mature/dark themes, such as death, violence, and the discussion/ appearance of reasonable emotional and mental health issues that occur as a result. Language. Queer characters or the idea of fluid gender will probably come up every so often and while it's not a major focus in this story please don't read if any of that offends you and then leave me discriminatory reviews.

A/N: Feel free to let me know what you think, or want to happen. My idea for this fic is pretty loose. I mostly just wanted to try writing a OC/SI Time Lord, but with some changes to the usual formula (male protagonist who actually grew up on Galifrey and fought in the war, with more of a friendship/family focus, and hopefully little to no episode rewrites, we'll see). I got some inspiration from the in-progress fic Beyond the Looking Glass by Yuuki no Yuki which is great so far and you should check it out if you haven't already!

Prologue: Lucan

I want to tell you a story, one about my life. It's an odd one, for sure, that I certainly never expected to experience, and even now am not quite sure how to tell it properly. This is because instead of a comprehensive and satisfying tale that consists of a clear beginning, middle, and end, my story is a nonlinear ball of string that applies under laws of logic new to me.

I'll try, perhaps, to start by putting things into context.

Many stories, especially those with long term production or multiple parts, have plot holes: Dues ex Machinas, retcons, or pieces of logic in a single verse that directly contradict themselves.

This is all a very perfectly natural piece in the process of storytelling, regardless of the criticisms it begets. Due to a story's nature as a 'false world', created by but limited by the minds and hands of its storytellers, its ideas are constantly rewritten and changed, especially often in franchises by executive meddling and the conflicting opinions of all sorts of staff: actors, writers, editors, PR teams, directors, sponsors, etc, etc, etc. Even readers, viewers, listeners (fans) themselves— from casual to obsessive— often have different opinions when they try work around a story's flaws and string up theories or reasons that make these torn threads weave neatly into the plot or verse or canon. While an out of character moment may have been motivated by a different writer or actor interpretation of that character or role, or even simply necessary for the sake of more entertainment or an overall more cohesive plot, the fan will dig deeper to understand the in-story motivation behind this moment that would be reasonable or possible based on their everyday life or known story tropes.

And so the process continues, birthing a million different reasons for dozens of versions of interpretations for character, plot-line, and setting. The story is constantly reborn again and again in the imaginations of others until it is forgotten or lost in the passage of time and no longer has anyone to observe it.

But what happens, then, when you end up in a story? Specifically, a series that has run for 50 years on going, riddled with plot holes and contradictions and many other inconsistencies. Would the rules of your old reality apply to this world? Or would that confused franchise have been factual about the world actually around you now? And if you could truly accept that you were brought into this universe—by god or death or sudden headaches— and that this world that was once born of many minds and imaginations crammed together for both the sake of pleasure and commerce was now your reality, what did that mean for your old one? If you had faith that the lines of your sanity and perception where not blurred, than does that mean those of reality and fiction where? From this experience, surely, you would start to question one thing:

Was my old world, and the rules it abided by, truly real?

And along with that inquiry a whole new world would open, one where the universe was a whole lot wider than simply separate solar systems and stars and galaxies, and in an odd way, the unknown miracles and magic of your old reality could be the Dues ex Machinas in another writer's story, and the every-man actually some other universe's God.

It's a concept that I've puzzled over for centuries, and often in private since I was sure most would not share the faith I had in my sanity. Especially not when the people around me regularly participated in a ritual that was known to drive a third of those who participated mad.

But to simplify matters in the most linear form I can, I have 'permanently' died once, and lived as two different people. Well… several. But the first person I was, the one who permanently died as the collective persons I am now will do one day, was entirely different to the people I was after that, if that makes any sense.

In that first life I was born as a different species, with a different sex, on a different planet, in a different isolated universe that was actually far into my current home planet's non-existent future, to a different name. Abigail, I think I was called, but that was an awfully long, long time ago, so I could be wrong.

Either way, though, Abigail was human. A girl born during the 1990s on a very different version of Earth in what she learned to call the Milky Way galaxy, who lived to around her 70s with a relatively peaceful life. She had a rather large family, so spread out that she didn't even get to meet all of them by the time of her death, but regularly sent out cards to them on holidays with her mother. She was one of many humans that made up the general populace, never contributing to the 'big picture' but finding joy in the little things, such as miraculously marrying her high school sweetheart, and getting her little brother into college. Family was important to her, and she was a generally laid back and quiet person with her fair share of ups and downs. She died of a heart attack and old age, a relatively normal death, even if perhaps a bit young by her generation's standards.

Like most people when they die, I suppose, her soul, or life, or being, was returned to the universe, or Void, whatever you wish to call it, and remained there until she was to be born again.

I don't recall where Abigail went after she died, but I remember the bone deep emptiness that was the Void enough to known I probably would have gone mad with the memories anyway, so I don't mind the loss.

That's another odd part of this story, though— lost memories. Although now the memories have gotten fuzzy with time, I didn't remember my life as Abigail at all until I first peered into the Untempered Schism.

No, before my eight birthday, I was like any other proud Galifreyan child. My true name was given to me by the universe, and my childhood nickname by my mother. I had ambitions to become a Time Lord through the academy, and once I turned eight, I participated in the ceremony as all children do, slightly intimidated by the tales that those who looked into the Untempered Schism could only run, be inspired, or go mad.

Who I became when I looked into the void really depends on who you ask, though. In the moment I was very overwhelmed by all the memories and ran, but because I stood before the schism so long many thought I went mad, while others thought I was inspired thanks to all the books I wrote and published in the academy and through adulthood.

Unfortunately, I didn't swing right back on my feet after getting back all my memories. I made the poor choice of speaking about Abagail occasionally in my earlier school years to some friends, and because I wasn't part of anyone's evil mastermind plan like The Master, was put on observation for insanity and nearly culled.

Luckily, though, I was able to direct a lot of my early obsession with Abigail into the study of the universe, and parallel universes. I wasn't exactly the best student in the academy, especially in mathematics (I'd long sense mastered the art of getting by), but I did take advantage of all the resources the academy gave. I found alien culture, language, and history the most fascinating (perhaps because Abigail was born on such an early century Earth), and so came to specialize in that field even though Time Lords rarely interacted with other planets. Outside of classes I tended to investigate or learn about different areas of study almost weekly as a hobby, which made me good friends with the academy librarian, and some mechanics I'd apprenticed under, but was odd considering I hadn't been much of a researcher or fiddler in the past life.

A lot of the reason for this was probably because of the difference in my physiology between lives, but also just plain boredom. Even though the course work at the academy was hardly easy, you could spend literally hundreds of years just in school, and I barely had any friends among my peers due to my earlier supposed 'insanity'. I value learning a lot more now, but back then I definitely had to find some way to spend my free time. Regardless of the source material I'd first seen this universe in, only renegades went off planet on adventures in the society I lived in. You were a literal criminal on Galifrey if you interfered with time or other civilizations. Just leaving the planet without proper reason and permission was a big no-no, and as pretty as Galifrey is, Time Lords, and especially the High Counsel, weren't exactly known for their kindness. I could see why Rassilon was a Big Bad so much in the Doctor Who series.

Either way, I didn't rock the boat too much. I was born ages after The Doctor(well… technically not, since he time traveled, but I was born years after him in terms of his birth year on Galifrey) so I didn't run into him for a long time, although I did hear about him often since he was such a well-known 'troublemaker.' It was actually pretty funny seeing stuffy old geezers get so ruffled about him, but I had the academy and my own life to worry about, especially with the upcoming Time War. I wasn't hugely worried about dying, since I had already far outlived my past lifespan, but I did want to graduate, get my Title, and possibly some grants (not to mention a TARDIS license) so I could actually see up close some of the cultures I spent so much time studying. Writing papers and books had quickly become a new hobby of mine, and I figured some of the curriculum I was learning was probably (absolutely) wrong considering how there were laws against people wondering off-planet.

When the time came, though, despite all the fore-warning, it was hard to choose my Title. There weren't any specific rules surrounding what you named yourself, in terms of what language or word you used. Technically I could have called myself Tiffany, or George, or badboy69 and by proxy made all my fellow scholars call me whatever the hell I wanted as well, but that was a bit like tattooing a joke on myself and ridiculous in the long run. The concept of naming myself was also odd since I was so used to just dealing with whatever my parents or the universe gave me, and I didn't particularly have any grand promise I wanted to keep, either. Anything related to my field or hobby—like 'storyteller' or 'scholar'—sounded pretentious as all hell, too. I was slightly tempted to call myself Abigail, but that would practically be like signing my death sentence considering how I was monitored for insanity all those years ago, and well, Abigail wasn't entirely me. Not anymore. More like a small piece of who I was.

Eventually I ended up choosing the title *Lucan, as a promise not to forget my roots.

If I thought the academy was suffocating, though, all the paperwork and rules I had to adhere to once I became a Time Lord was even worse. I got my TARDIS license pretty quickly, but wasn't approved to go on a solo trip for another century after getting my Title, and even then had about half a dozen procedures I had to follow or it was purgatory for me.

But to make things even better(heavy sarcasm), when I was halfway through one of my trips, almost done with the documentation of a planet called Sagjwus, the cloister bell rung, and my TARDIS started to phase back to Galifrey. Considering I hadn't broken procedure and had permission to be there, though, it didn't take long to figure out what was going on. There was only one reason the recall on the TARDIS would activate had I not stolen it or committed a crime.

I was around 236 when the Last Great Time War began. Or well, it's hard to say that exactly. Time lining any Time War would be impossible, but this one especially. The beginning and end where constantly changing, and the High Counsel was pretty keen to abuse time and break all the rules they forced everyone else to follow once the other party had started breaking them and they were at a disadvantage.

It's really hard to entirely describe the war in any other way then hell. Even just the scale of it. To put it in in perspective, one 'part' of a TARDIS's core, The Eye of Harmony, is an exploding star suspended in time, harnessing the constant potential energy of a black hole that would never occur. A black hole that could normally destroy entire solar systems, and Time Lords turned it into an engine that made time travel possible. What kind of weapons would a race like that use, do you think?

Even entire species where wiped out just because they got caught in the cross fire, regardless of location or era. Sometimes even as a distraction, as disgusting as that sounds. It wasn't exactly like you could avoid the blast zone of higher races who could travel through all of space and time. Paradoxes where a practically a daily occurrence, with so many aborted time lines that by the end of it all god knows how old you really where. Time isn't meant to be twisted and abused like that, and many horrors where born in an attempt by the universe to mend itself. All that vague background exposition monologue about the monsters of the Last Great Time War from an old TV series –things like the Nightmare Child, the Skaro Degradations, the Army of Meanwhiles and Neverweres, the Could've Been King, and the Horde of Travesties—came to life in the most terrifying of ways.

I regenerated about three times during the war, with very little time to truly get a grasp on my different personalities, which did little to help the state of my debatable sanity. I was an adult by Galifrey standards as a Time Lord, but still considered fairly young at the beginning of the Time War, so I spend a majority of the time working in relief instead of tactics or battle(unless I was dragged into it in the heat of a moment). A lot of my hobbies came in handy, then, because I had about twelve different jobs or roles going at one time. A nurse, a mechanic, a backup solider, a chef—I did just about everything, as long as it was needed, I was there, and I knew how to do it or could learn on the go. The Doctor himself was somewhat of a war hero once he got involved, but again regardless of the TV show I'd watched and liked centuries ago our paths never crossed. He was often in several different places at once, off the planet, and practically hugging the reaper while at the heart of enemy ships. There wasn't exactly time for meet and greets, and a cup of tea, and back then I was pretty sure there never would've been.

I'm not quite sure how it all ended, though. If the show I'd watched years ago was correct, then Galifrey was in a safe little pocket universe, but unfortunately the last time I was on the planet it was burning, when after I spent what I think was two centuries being a jack of all trades I was recruited to help out on an off planet mission since I knew how to fly a TARDIS and had experience actually using one.

We succeeded, I suppose, though it was a nightmare and a half with death on both sides. Because I wasn't exactly the beef of the team, and more the driver-nurse-mechanic-backup guy I was one of the last standing. Some of the soldiers had survived, but they were still in the middle of their 15 hour regeneration probation period and passed out from the shock and pain of their deaths. Unfortunately for me, among the bodies was also a charred and barely functioning Dalek, twitching and sparking unlike the still metal corpses around it.

And of course chanting like the homicidal maniac it was.

I guess it was kind of funny to hear it stutter, but before I could laugh the damn thing was shooting at me, so I ducked behind a few of its friend's leftover debris until I found an eyestalk to re-purpose. Unfortunately, though, Daleks are part of a hive mind, and beyond suicidal when malfunctioning and losing, so by the time I was finally able to shoot back and kill the thing, it had already set the ship we were on to self-destruct. 10 seconds, the TARDIS halfway across the ship, and two passed out soldiers I could barely even carry. I made my decision and ran. Left them to die, sleeping and unaware of my betrayal, and didn't even think to find another way.

Even worse than that, though, for a brief second I even genuinely believed that it was more important that the TARDIS survived than those two men because it was a resource that was starting to become scarcer during the war. An asset.

As the explosion of the ship caught up with me, lighting the interior of the TARDIS aflame, I think for the first time I could truly understand why The Doctor would consider using The Moment. There were so many monsters that where created during the war, and not just by our enemies.

I deserved to have died in that explosion, but not to regenerate afterwards.

*Lucan was a Roman poet (that I'm not hugely educated on, I warn you lol). Once of the reasons our protagonist would chose this name is that Lucan once wrote about the Phoenix— a symbol of rebirth— and was scholarly, which all fit into our protagonist's idea of what his core roots are as a reborn human with a passion for learning new things and a newfound philosophical interest in storytelling after being born into a previously fictional universe. Personally, I chose it because it was one of the least ridiculous options out there that fit his in-character motivations. Under cover it would also be easy too bc Lucas is a common name. I was tempted to find a more feminine or unisex name because of his life as Abigail, but again a lot of those names where rly pompous/cheesy sounding so oh well.