"Look at my face, will you? Can't you tell I'm really Scottish?"
A new Dr Who short story.
Not great but...Meh, it's something to do in my downtime--beats losing at cribbage on the computer or staring my ugly ceiling. 
Doctor Who: The Dream Weavers
CHAPTER ONE: A Doctor's Tale
Martha looked over at the Doctor, standing beside the console. His face, in the green glow of the column, seemed creased with worry. “What is it, Doctor?” She asked. He looked up at her, and for an instant, she caught a glimpse of the fear in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by that boyish grin she was coming to know so well.
“What’s What?” He asked innocently--too innocently. “Oh come on,” she chided, “there’s something wrong, and you don’t want me to know about it, is that it? I’m a big girl, Doctor. If I can face the Judoon on the moon, alien Elizabethan witches and Daleks during the depression, what more is there to be afraid of?”
For just a moment, the Doctor simply looked at her. In the space of his heartbeats, the Doctor’s eyes became suddenly filled with a seemingly infinite emptiness…then, it was gone. “Right, then!” He shouted. Let’s see just how scary, scary can be, eh?” He looked at Martha, and she almost shivered--his look for once, seemed alien and…almost insane. “You aren’t scared of being scared, are you, Martha? You humans love being scared: horror movies, roller coasters, bungee jumping, the deep South, Edgar Allen Poe--now there was a genius-- the Spice Girls…”
Throwing off his melancholy like he would toss aside his long coat, the Doctor began playing his hands over the console switches with a flourish, muttering to himself in some language Martha had never heard before--it sounded almost like he was swearing under his breath--and enjoying it.
Suddenly, the Tardis gave a great lurch, throwing Martha against the control room’s metal railing. The Doctor merely griped the edge of the console with one hand, and aimed the sonic screwdriver at some part, with his other hand. With a sonic buzzing, the screwdriver served to help the Tardis right herself.
“Doctor!” Martha exclaimed, “When are you going to let me drive this thing?” The Doctor gave her a wry look and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Back seat driver.” Marta shook her head. “Sometimes I think you just make this all up as you go along--that you have no more of a clue how to steer this thing, that I have.” The Doctor was staring at his view screen intently and didn’t answer. She leaned over his shoulder, but couldn’t decipher the complex patterns on the screen. “What is it, Doctor? What’s wrong?” The Doctor looked up into her eyes with a deep expression, his eyes seeming to be ancient and…somewhere behind that…frightened.
Martha shuddered involuntarily. She backed off slightly. The Doctor, sensing her discomfort, reached out a hand and placed it on her arm. He gave her his most reassuring grin, but Martha wasn’t buying it. “What is it? It’s something really bad, isn’t it? Something you don’t want me to know about, yeah?” The Doctor regarding his friend silently for a moment, then shook himself, almost like a dog. “Nahh--no worries. Just a glitch in the time-space vortex, I’m sure.”
Martha returned the gesture, holding his arm and gazing into his eyes. “I’m your friend, aren’t I, Doctor? I mean, that’s why I’m here, right? Or am I just like some stray cat you found in some alley somewhere and took in for some comfort? Because,” She said forcefully--giving him her most determined stare--“Because if that’s the case, then you might as well take me home, right now.”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, in what seemed to her like hurt surprise. “A stray cat? Martha! You were never…” Without warning, he raced around and slapped the Tardis’ hand brake. “Right then! We’ll park here, in the Atnaf Nebula for a bit, and have a little chat, eh?” He strode around to the console room chair and flung himself on it. Patting the empty spot beside him, he commanded. “Alright. Sit.” She goggled at him. “What?” Sighing, he said, more gently, “Please, Martha. Come and sit down by me.”
Seated side by side on the chair, the Doctor’s trainers propped up in front of him, Martha waited. The Doctor stuck his hands behind his head. “Right. Where to begin, eh?” Martha said, “Well, my Gran always said to me, ‘start at the beginning, go all the way to the end, and stop.’” The Doctor started, and then gave her a delighted grin. “Your Gran said that? Very wise woman, your ol’ Grandmother.” Sighing he added, “And, she’s right. So, here’s what we’re up against, Martha: Mind control. Not just mind control, but your whole perception of reality--beings that can shape your reality, change it into anything they want, and the thing is…you’d never know. It would all seem as real to you as you and me sitting here now, talking.
Staring at the console room ceiling he said, “There’s these creatures, the Haneysbyrds. They are ancient, from the dawn of time. For millions and millions of years, they kept to their home planet, in the farthest part of the galaxy. They lived in peace and harmony. They had never known hardship or suffering of any sort. They were a gentle and noble race, one known throughout the stars for their wisdom.” He sighed sadly.
“Then, there was a war. And these creatures wiped out the invaders--but, in the ensuing bloodshed, they also learned to hate, and learned to plot and to torture and…well, they made your Spanish Inquisitors look like little girls at a tea party. --they took all the bad characteristics of those who made war on them, and it changed their entire race. And what made things worse, is that they also gained the technology to build their own ships.”
Getting up, he paced the floor in front of her, running his hands through his hair. “They began conquering other planets. One by one, each one became their slaves--or worse. They became their play things--toys to move about, like a living board game. Then, they picked on Galifrey. Well…we weren’t having any. So, there was a war, and the Haneysbyrds lost. They were banished into the heart of hollow planet--there to spend the rest of their days alone, in the darkness. But,” He flopped down again beside her, “there was a tale that two of the leaders got away. They fled in a stolen ship into the darkest part of the universe, and no trace of them was ever found. “ The Doctor looked at Martha grimly. “Until now.”
"You mean I have to go out there, in the mud, with normal people? But I'm the star..."
. You can make up your hours on Saturday." Can always rely on my employer for a complement, can't I? 
