The TARDIS was outside the Androgum’s door. Its reassuring blue shape gave Hannah some comfort before they went inside.
“So how did you survive Doctor?” Hannah asked.
“So many questions. Lets have a cup of tea first and I’ll explain as best I can.” The Doctor dematerialised the TARDIS before heading off to the kitchen. Taking a sip of tea she savoured its welcome flavour for a few seconds. “Well Hannah,” she said at last, “it began like this…”


The Doctor opened one eye carefully and looked around. Everywhere was an expanse of white void. She opened her hand; the Key of Rassilon was in her palm. So it had been real, her death. “I had expected something more.” She said to no one in particular, not that there was anyone there that she could see. She felt cool, not exactly cold but not warm either. She went to fasten her jacket up but remembering that she had given it to Hannah she stopped. It didn’t matter anyway because an old-fashioned burial shroud had replaced her clothes. Some one coughed behind her and the Doctor turned around to see a familiar face. “You?” She demanded. “What are you doing here?”


“This is my domain Doctor.” The Celestial Toymaker chuckled. “You have something that’s of no use to me but I sense is very valuable to you. I challenge you to a contest Doctor, taking into account your previous victories I propose best out of three.”
The Doctor held up the Key of Rassilon. “You want this?”
“No, no, no.” The Toymaker shook his head. “I want you. If you loose you shall serve me willingly or unwillingly.”
“Yeah and when I beat you you’ll kill me. I know you Toymaker; you’re a sore looser. Not a chance, you cheat.”
“Perhaps I might but what other choice do you have? You’re trapped between realities; I pulled you into my domain at the point of death. To return you would simply mean your destruction. If you beat me you can choose your own destiny.”
The Doctor thought the proposal over. “Can you something about my clothes? I’d hate to be improperly dressed if I did accept your challenge.” The shroud vanished and was replaced by a long blue silk gown with a green question mark motif embroided all over it. “This is a bit more like it.” The Doctor enthused. “I don’t suppose you have tea in here by any chance or is it too much to ask?”
“Frivolity does not become you Doctor.” The Toymaker replied coldly. “You should be more concerned as to the first challenge.”
“Oh really? What is it? Hopscotch? Noughts and Crosses? I’m an expert at everything.” The Doctor smiled sweetly at the bemused Toymaker.
“Oh nothing so glib my dear, nothing so glib.” The Toymaker clapped his hands together and the white void was filled with a million people. “The arena.” The Toymaker explained. “The first challenge shall be one on one combat with my champion. Behold Electra, the most perfect killing machine ever devised.”
The Doctor yawned and inspected her nail polish. “Weapons?” She asked casually.
“None!” The Toymaker laughed loudly before expanding to twenty stories high and dissipating like a cloud of steam.
Electra advanced towards the Doctor, it’s six arms swirling six different weapons about. “You cannot defeat me.” Electra boasted.
“I don’t have to defeat you.” The Doctor smiled. “I only have to stop you. Such a boring place this is really. You are predictable Toymaker and your power source known to me. How many times have I bested you one on one? Is this really the best you have to offer?” The Doctor sidestepped each weapon with lightning fast reflexes. “Toy and trinkets. Smoke and mirrors. I have a few tricks of my own Toymaker.” The Doctor snatched a hold of one of Electra’s legs and pulled it off. The killer robot collapsed to the floor, falling into many pieces. A small dwarf girl pulled herself out of the tangle of metal and ran off towards the exit.
“I can see defeating you will be even more delicious than I had anticipated.” The Toymaker appeared beside the Doctor. “That was merely a taster Doctor, something to warm you up. The more difficult tasks lie in front of you.”
“I can hardly wait.” The Doctor replied. “If that’s the best you can do then I’ll beat you and still have time for a cup of tea.”


The Doctor was afforded one hours rest before the next challenge. She took the time to rest on a very comfortable divan chair, eating some very tasty grapes. She knew it would annoy the Toymaker so she casually imitate his voice as best she could.


The Toymaker reappeared next to the Doctor precisely after one hour. “It is time.” He said; this task is one of my favourites. The pinball machine.” He clapped his hands together and the Doctor found herself inside a large metal sphere.
“What’s going on?” The Doctor demanded.
“Quite simple Doctor, once the ball starts rolling you must manoeuvre the ball to score as many points as possible. If you fall into the hole at the bottom before you score say a thousand points you loose this game.”
The Doctor found herself lurched forward at a frantic pace before colliding with all sorts of objects. By carefully shifting her weight around she found that she could aim the ball at the higher points targets. However the longer it went on the more ill she felt and the less her concentration held.
“You will never make it.” The Toymaker chuckled.
The Doctor aimed at a thirty points bull’s-eye and groaned as the impact shook her.
“You have only two hundred points Doctor.” The Toymaker chuckled.
As the sphere headed towards a fifty points target the Doctors vision blurred and she collapsed unconscious.
“Oh dear, this is isn’t good.” The Toymaker smiled. “You may get a few more points on automatic.” When the silver ball containing the prone figure rolled towards the game over hole the Toymaker clapped his hands together and the Doctor’s tiny figure vanished out of the sphere and now at its correct size lay sprawled on the floor by his feet. “My game I think Doctor.” He chuckled and left her to recover.

The Doctor opened her eyes and closed them again. “I thought this was a dream.” Slowly she got to her feet, she ached all over. “Where are you Toymaker? Show yourself so I can bleed on you.”
The Toymaker appeared beside the Doctor. “You don’t look well Doctor. Drink this.” He handed her a cup of tea.
The Doctor drank the tea and immediately felt much better. “Thanks.” She said, handing the cup back to the Toymaker. “I hope you can be as generous in defeat.”
“You know Doctor I was stumped for a while as for our final duel so I thought why not let you decide? After all it will be that much more satisfying knowing that I bested you at your favourite game.”
“Chess.” The Doctor replied.
“Oh good.” The Toymaker chuckled. “I’m a grandmaster at Chess.”
“Not just ordinary Chess Toymaker.” The Doctor smiled.
“Go on.” The Toymaker was curious to know the stipulations the Time Lady had in mind.
“We play to the rules laid down by thingy, what’s his name. Oh why am I no good at names in this incarnation? It’s just like regular chess, white to the right and all that; main differences are some of the names. Bishops are Cardinals, Rooks are Castellans, and there are one or two other minor things that I’m sure I’ll remember as we go along.”
“Very well Doctor. I accept your challenge.” The Toymaker held both his clenched fists out in front of him. “Choose your colour Doctor.”
The Doctor pointed to his left hand. “That one I think, not that it matters. Colour is largely irrelevant.”
The Toymaker revealed that the Doctor had chosen the white pawn. “You go first Doctor.”
The Doctor dithered for a while before moving a pawn forward. “I used to play this game a lot, but this is always the worst part. Choosing which pawn to sacrifice first.
The Toymaker moved a pawn. “Pawns are there to be sacrificed Doctor.”
They moved their pieces one after the other, pieces for sacrificed for advantages and bluffs until finally the Toymaker moved his Castellan into position.
“Checkmate Doctor.” He grinned. “You were an excellent adversary my dear. You shall make an excellent champion.”
The Doctor found herself lifted up into the air. “I just remembered something, something about the game of Rassilon.”
“What’s that Doctor?” The Toymaker demanded.
“He who wins shall loose and she who looses shall kick your ass. I played to loose and you fell straight into my trap.” The Doctor smiled like the Cheshire Cat with a chunk of cheese.
“No!” The Toymaker shouted. “I will not be denied.”
The Doctor’s silk gown shimmered and was replaced by her original outfit. “Ah your power’s gone Toymaker. Time for me to leave I think. The TARDIS materialised beside her. “Ta ta for now, do keep in touch though. I love these little get togethers.” She stepped inside the TARDIS and dematerialised it before the Toymaker’s domain shattered like a pane of glass.


“So you escaped his clutches by tricking him?” Hannah asked.
“It was the only way, the Toymaker destroys those who defeat him. He’s a rotten looser.” The Doctor finished her tea and poured herself another one. “I don’t know about you but I could really do with a holiday.”
Hannah was overjoyed. “Yeah, as long as Andred doesn’t turn up when I’m trying to get an all over tan again. This time we can go somewhere a bit more secluded and where there’s ice cream.”
“I thought you were on a diet, after the amount of chocolate you guzzled?” The Doctor asked.
“Yeah well one ice cream won’t damage my waistline.” Hannah replied.
The Doctor stood up. “Very well then, I have just the place in mind.”
“A female only naturist beach in Acapulco?” Hannah hoped. “Filled with liberal minded girls sunning their bronzed bodies without a care in the word?” She was in just the right mood for a holiday romance with a gorgeous fashion model beach bunny.
The Doctor shook her head. “Better than that, I’ll take you to…”

The Doctor’s side of the events following the season 3 finale and she ends up a captive of the Toymaker.  I for one like the Toymaker, he’s a very interesting villain and Michael Gough is an amazing actor.  I wanted to show a little bit more about the Doctor being related to Rasillon and it comes at the end as the Doctor has been playing the Game of Rasillon to win through losing.  The Doctor definetly works better with a companion, but it was nice to write one story without a companion.