Prologue

The Doctor stood with a furrowed brow as he held his sonic screwdriver loosely in his hands, remaining in some sort of staring contest with its dimming tip. Something was the matter. The zzzzrrrt seemed to kerazzz less than its usual vigor, the green glow glitched sporadically when held for a long period of time, and overall, as the Doctor would come to blatantly blurt to the Ponds, it was being a fickle pickle.

"Oh." uttered Amy, her eyes fixating on the screwdriver as he gripped it firmly to hear its distressful purr closer to his ear. "That's not what I thought you were talking about."

"What else could I have meant, Pond?" He asked with a faint brush of irritation.

She took one look at his face and knew that it wouldn't matter if she had explained, he was lost in his own complicated world now and she could just see the gears turning vigorously. She could say anything and he wouldn't hear. Her mouth slightly moved with her childish smirk, but before an inappropriate remark could be said, Rory came around the console and shot her a disapproving look.

"What's happened to it?" He asked the Time Lord, and a scoff came to Amy at his quick response.

"I'm not sure, quite honestly." The Doctor glanced up, squinting hard as the zzzzrrt continued to brrrezzz in such an uncomfortable manner. "I can't seem to decide whether it's the sonic, or perhaps the environment."

"Ever thought it might be the operator?" asked Amy.

"But you're not using it." He retorted, and gave her an amused smirk.

Rory stood quiet for a moment to watch the two of them. The 1100-something year old Time Lord and the 24-year old Scot. When they went off on their usual bickering match, it made him feel so entirely old. Most of the time, it made him phase out to the two-thousand years he spent waiting. It reminded him of all that happened, and what the pair of children took as their arguments to blame for saddening him, it was very much the reminiscent that brought a frown to his face. Their spry youth made him feel so very old.

"Fine." Amy huffed, crossing her arms tightly in a sign that showed she forfeited. But she kept her eyes on the Doctor's. Sure enough, he faintly smiled in his triumphant way.

"Very well." He said quietly. "Regardless, something real is effecting it." He stared at his left leg, and stretched it back as the right stretched forward to present an awkward-looking pose. Though despite how it appeared, the Doctor seemed very comfortable indeed. He reached the screwdriver as far as his arm would reach and clicked to hear a squealing err-rrr-tatzz and immediately he retracted it. "Oh." He murmured.

"Oh?"

In a nervous twitch, he glanced up at the pair of faces and smiled anxiously. "A good 'oh' though."

"Is there such a thing?" The Roman asked and yet this time the Doctor was too lost to even give a grunt of acknowledgment. Although it was unnecessary, he leaped closer to the console and began to flick his hands around each lever and knob. Not a second later, he was frantically sliding across the glass floor until finally a muffled cry contorted through his mouth.

"Well, this is extremely very not good, then." The TARDIS groaned in agreement, which only brought a smile to the Time Lord's face. "I said so." An indignant moan vibrated through the console. "All right, dear. We both assumed correctly."

"Oi."

The Doctor craned his head towards the red-headed Pond, "Mmm? What is it?"

She stood across from him, brewing in her irritation, and it was so plainly seen with her arms crossed tighter and her shrug at the comfort from her husband. "As big a fan I am of your incessant flirting, Doctor, what the hell is going on?"

His eyes squinted at her, and suddenly glanced towards the ceiling. "Was it not obvious?" Fidgeting, his head shook to himself and he leapt down from the metal staircase, adding a dramatic slide towards the TARDIS doors. "Was it really not obvious, Pond?"

Amy lightly bit down on her lip as he smiled at her Scottish anger, "Don't patronize me, you fuc-"

Before she could finish her sentence, the Doctor reached his arms behind him and knocked open the doors. A cloak of fog and darkness shrouded into the gleaming copper walls, and he nodded at them. "Let's go poke it with a stick."

Author's note: Quite a short prologue, and not much to go on, I'm aware. However, I wanted to get this story published on the 13th otherwise I wouldn't be able to get those moments of "...ah I geddit" when people read the title and then see the date it was published. Writing further chapters as I type this note, just wanted to make sure this story wasn't an embarrassment and published on the 14th. How shameful, to think of that. Reviews, responses and criticism are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading.