Looking in the mirror, Frobisher thought he looked pretty good, even without a beak. He wasn't used to having so much muscle definition, but like many things in life, he knew he'd come to terms with it in time.

He really liked this new image. Would he ever change it? Maybe, eventually, but Frobisher knew the truth. It was typical of all Whifferdills - once you became so attached to a certain shape, to the point that changing to any other shape would be inconceivable, the change would become permanent. Not many chose to do it, being free-wheeling drifters by nature. Frobisher wasn't the type to stick to tradition; he was ready for a change.

And that was the direction Frobisher was going. A nice human body that would blend in easily with the rest of the universe, the majority of its inhabitants being of the humanoid variety. Not that he had any problems as a shape shifter - in fact, taking different forms made his job easier, and being a Whifferdill protected him from any and all lawsuits stemming from cases of mistaken identity while on the job. But you can't lie to everyone all the time. People got hurt that way - people he liked. People like the Doctor, who had an extremely annoying habit of putting themselves in life-threatening danger on a daily basis without any care to their own safety.

Besides, his old girlfriend - the one who had preferred being in penguin form - was old news. Frobisher had the whole universe to pick and choose from - and he wasn't being choosy in his old age. Didn't the kids these days call it bisexual? Personally, he thought it was just being blind to about everything in another person. Well, not looks, but you couldn't blame the guy for being a smidgen shallow once in a while.

That's what he got for traveling with the likes of Iris Wildthyme, the self proclaimed queen of all things in time and space. The year and a half spent shacked up in Iris' double decker TARDIS with her various companions of questionable sexuality certainly ranked as the craziest months of his life. From using the TARDIS as a makeshift surfboard while riding the shock waves of a supernova to starting an intergalactic revolt against the price of squid brains, their exploits covered practically the whole universe.

But then Frobisher left Iris - the bus was getting a bit too crowded for his liking, not to mention not very economical - and spent some time in swinging 1963 London, then hopped a ride on the rift with a blond named Jenny and ended up thirty years earlier in Cardiff. Cardiff? That was about as hard to swallow as Jenny's revelation of her unwilling but quite loving genetic father. The reality of such a man taking up the reins of fatherhood for any period of time made Frobisher wonder if this was the first (or last) time it had happened. He even considered fatherhood himself, but after a couple weeks of himself, Jenny, and an adopted Adipose, the idea was quickly rejected.

Jenny ended up ditching Frobisher quite unceremoniously ("Sorry, I'm not very good at this good-bye thing!" "Don't worry - neither was your father.") for an amnesiac redhead temp with great, well, tracts of land. She left him stranded to live out his days in an abandoned cottage in late 1930's Cardiff, with nothing but the flora and the fauna to keep him company.

And then he met a man. "Very impressive," he would tell many a bartender after a long night of drinking, his body taking on the shape of a bereft look alike for his own Doctor, "Very gifted hands, lemme tells you. Died in the heat of battle and I c-could not a-a --- get me anotha drink, will ya? This glass tastes kinda empty!", followed by drunken tears and his look of surprise as he came up short multiple times for the bill, eventually leading to spending the next morning hung over, washing dishes.

Anyhow, a year or so later (who was keeping track?), Frobisher was standing in front of his full-length mirror, which looked suspiciously like the one in the Doctor's wardrobe, examining his new body. The man he knew was dead, with no family to miss him or tell stories of him in later years. Forgotten - until now. Well, at least in image he would live on. Frobisher learned a lot between point A and point B, between leaving the PI world for the Doctor and leaving time travel for a life of adventure. And, of course, monetary opportunity. He was a bit smarter, a bit more suave, and a hell of a lot better lover, if he did say so himself (and he did).

Now, for a name. A new name for a new life. 'Frobisher' had once been enough to get him by - nice and English-sounding, like his Doctor and all the other Time Lords he had traveled with. Even if he hadn't seen much of their lot lately. Something to do with a war, though he'd been in too much of an alcoholic stupor at the time to really notice. Plus, there was no surname to 'Frobisher'. Ergo, a mountain of red tape would follow him wherever he'd try to register for, well, anything. He was no Madonna or Cher, even though he had an ego to match them both; it just wouldn't fly anymore.

Frobisher gave his new body another once-over, straightened the lapels on his thick coat, gave his reflection a experimental grin and a wink. Perfect. Still a flawless reflection of an old friend, as if someone had plucked a photograph of the man from his memory and given it physical definition.

Well, they shared the looks, why not the name? Plus, it meant Frobisher would finally get a proper title, one he'd pretty much earned during his time in London. As far as he knew, the Doctor never actually earned his doctorate, so that was one point for him. Anyhow, he had business to take care of. He'd just hopped from the far future to the current past, from one war to another, fitted with a new look, new name, even a little of a new history. He'd have to lie if anyone - and that means anyone, even certain time travelers - asked too many questions, but who cared? He smelled opportunity, a chance to make some sweet success of his own.

"You're looking very fine today, Captain Harkness," he said with a grin to his reflection before laughing and leaving the room. There was work to be done.