A little expansion on an old plot bunny with a twist: A solitary figure, hooded and cloaked, carried a box through the mausoleum, past shelf after shelf of blankly staring human skulls. "Who is that? Who is carrying me? I demand to know!" a voice demanded angrily from the box. "I'm a head. I have rights. I want my doors open this time." The cloaked figure set the box onto a plinth. "I demand that my door is open!" The figure slid open the box with a swift gesture to reveal a bald blue head. Wordlessly, the figure turned and walked away. "Is it you? It is you isn't it?" the disembodied head asked. The figure paused and slowly shuffled around to partially face the head. "It is you! I can sense it! How did you do it? How could you have possibly escaped!" The figure dropped the cape to reveal a youngish man with floppy brown hair and green eyes clad in a distinctive tweed jacket with a blue bowtie. He turned and smirked at the befuddled head. "The Teselecta. The Doctor in a Doctor suit," he sounded unmistakably smug as he strode toward the disembodied head on a plinth. "Time said I had to be on that beach, so I dressed for the occasion. Barely got singed in that boat." "So you're really going to do this? Let them all think you're dead." "It's the only way. Then they can all forget me. I got too big, Dorium, too noisy. It's time to step back in to the shadows." "And Doctor Song? Imprisoned all her days?" "Her days, yes," the Doctor agreed, "As for her nights, well," his lips twitched into a suggestive smile, "that's between her and me, isn't it?" Dorium chuckled. "So many secrets, Doctor, of course, I'll help you keep them." "Well, you're not exactly going anywhere are you?" "But you're a fool nonetheless," Dorium's voice shifted from amused camaraderie to rebuking in seconds, "It's all still waiting for you, The Fields of Trenzalore, the Fall of the Eleventh, and the Question." The Doctor smiled and mock saluted the head in a box, "Goodbye, Dorium." He turned and strode away without looking back. "The first question: the question that must never be answered: hidden in plain sight!" Dorium's voice rose as the Doctor got farther and farther away, "The question you've been running from all your life!" That line wiped any hint of geniality from the Doctor's face as he increased his pace slightly. "Doctor who?" The Doctor paused in front of his TARDIS and turned to look back, lifting his head slowly. "Doctor who?" Dorium called. Unseen by the head, a corner of the Doctor's lips lifted in a wry, cold smirk. "Doctor WHO!?" --- The young man jerked awake, sitting up with a gasp. He stared blankly at the poster covered walls in front of him for a moment before turning slightly and taking in the entire dormitory and his roommate curled up under the covers in the bed on the other side of the room. The room was silent but for the ticking of a clock and the soft, whuffling snores of his roommate.
He turned and pulled open a drawer in the bedside table and drew out a small silver pocketwatch engraved in an elaborate pattern and concentric circles. He held it gently in his right hand, gently thumbing the catch, but applying no pressure. He could hear a faint whispering from the watch, and the weight and warmth of ages oozing from the aged metal. The young man known as Samuel James Witwicky twisted in his bed and reached under his pillow to pull out a cylindrical object seemingly made of brass topped by a green bulb in silver brackets. He aimed it at one of the three desktop computers and pressed a button, and the green bulb flashed to life with a low whining buzz, and the computer monitor lit up. He stopped pressing the button, and the light and buzzing ceased, and Sam smiled a slow, secretive smile, one reminiscent of a floppy haired man with a love for tweed a bowties whom many thought to have died not too long ago on the shores of a lake in Utah.
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