A story featuring the 13th (or is that 14th Doctor). 😉
“Just one question do you happen to know how to fly this thing?” asked the Doctor.
“Don’t you? Its your ship,” replied Clara.
“Its my ship? I suppose it must be-,” his face contorted in a look of fear and pain. “I must know, I must. Maybe if I just try this-,”
his hands flutterd over the controls pulling leavers and pressing buttons at random.
The TARDIS rocked and reeled making a noise that could have been interpreted as a scream.
“Doctor!” shouted Clara. “I don’t think that’s helping.”
The timelord let go of the console, lunged toward his companion and grabbed her by the shoulders. The look in his eyes was intense as he spoke, shaking her with each word.
“Show me how to fly this thing.” His grip tightended fingers digging into her arms. “You must help me! You must…you will!”
“Stop it,” sobbed Clara, “let me go your hurting me. I don’t know…I really don’t know.”
The Doctor paused for a moment a expression of horror and regret tripped across his face. His gaze left hers as he looked down and saw his hands, his arms. He let go suddenly still looking at his hands.
“These hands…they aren’t mine. Why are they do old?”
The TARDIS jolted again sending them both tumbling to the floor. The small penlike device the Doctor had given Clara to take her home rolled across the floor. Clara grabbed it holding the device triumphantly.
“I can’t fly the TARDIS but we just need the autopilot.” she declared placing the device in the sonic charger slot.
The ship seemed to stablelize and initiate landing procedure.
“You did it!” shouted The Doctor triumphantly as he got to his feet, only for his legs to wobble and give way under him.
“Are you ok Bambi?” asked Clara, offering her hand, which he took.
“New legs…need to get used to them. Different gait. Still skinny though…scarily skinny. I hope I don’t brak easily,” mused the Doctor before fixing her gaze again. “i’m not a skeleington am I?”
“No. Your fine.”
The Doctor suddenly sniffed the air, with a puzzled look on his face.
“I can smell turkey…”
“Ah-yeah, that was your idea.”
“My idea?! My Idea! Why would I come up with such a stupid idea. It must have been you.” He pointed a boney finger angrily at her nose. “Are you trying to ruin my ship you stupid child!”
“Calm down,” said Clara, placatingly as she backed away. “Its only a turkey.”
“So it is,” replied the Doctor his manner and tone changing direction like the wind, “you wouldn’t happen to have some spare would you? I’m awfully hungry. Regeneration does that you know…”
“Sure, sure,” she nodded. “Its in my flat. We can go and get it now.”
“Good, good.” he placed an arm round her shoulders, as he wobbled slightly. “I might need a little help…I hope there’s a lift.”
“I hope it works,” Clara replied with a grin. “Come on. Off we go.” adding under her breath. “And I hope they don’t think I’ve just brought back a random drunk.”