Drabble: You Would Not Believe Your Eyes
by: Flaming Trails

“Victor? Where are you?”

Clockwork walked around the house, frowning as he scanned the horizon. “Victor!” he called again. “Great Scott, how on earth did I lose track of this kid…”

He noticed a familiar sight tucked up against the wall nearby. Grinning a little, he went over and gave the TARDIS a friendly pat. “Hello, girl,” he said warmly. “Don’t suppose you could tell me where the hell my friend’s gone.”

“Unfortunately, she can’t morph into a person like Dee can,” Alien Lisa replied, appearing behind him and causing him to jump. A brief wind blew past them, ruffling AL’s feathers and Doc’s hair. “Though now I’m wondering what she’d look like as a human.”

“Actually, I met a human TARDIS in the Nexus once – that one was a young adult woman, with long, somewhat curly black hair,” Doc tells her. “And back when I was in Chicago, I had some interaction with a regular TARDIS that spoke a sort of pidgin English. Both rather interesting.” He patted the TARDIS again. “On a different note, you haven’t seen Victor, have you?”

“Actually, yeah, I have, about a half-hour ago,” AL said. “We were talking a little about the native wildlife here on Alnilam – mostly the insects.”

“Not surprised,” Doc said with a small smile. “I think that, if his parents had allowed him to follow his real passions, he might have ended up a very well-known entomologist. He’s practically obsessed with things like bees and butterflies.”

“I’ve noticed,” AL deadpanned. “Anyway, I was telling him we have all sorts of different species of butterflies over here, and he asked to see them, so I took him and his sketchbook to the meadow and – why are you shaking your head?”

“Answer me this, first: How many butterflies?”

“Uh – I don’t know. They come in a lot of different colors, I know that much. Why?”

Doc sighed deeply. “I’m just wondering if it’s going to take an act of God to pull Victor out of your meadow. I wasn’t joking when I said practically obsessed. If he’s got his sketchbook around that many new specimens. . . . Our only hope may be his ink running out.”

AL looked half-annoyed, half-amused. “So, what do you want to do?”

“Well, I suppose we can leave him out there for now, we’re not in a rush to get back to the Inkwell. After another hour or so, though…” Doc looked thoughtful. “If we can’t get him to come back on his own, I’ll call in the heavy artillery, so to speak.”

“What? Tie him up with rope? Blow him away with one of your winds?”

“Get his girlfriend over here.”


The End