anthology contribution unfinished

Among the stars shining through the purple-tinted clouds, there's a very different sort of glint: an artificial, toxic green light. Even with her blurred vision, there's no mistaking it.

"Of course, it's where we can't reach it," the Doctor mutters to herself, the soft Welshness of her new accent still ringing oddly in her ears. She may still be getting to know this body, but she's pretty sure it didn't come with wings.

She looks around the rooftop market. This late at night, she's not expecting anyone about but the planet's ring of thieves. With any luck, she'll happen to run into the exact one who stole her TARDIS! Or, with less astronomical odds, one of them might have a stolen skybike on hand--

Something's coming up behind her.

Tentative, she calls out: "Lovely night out, isn't it?"

And the footsteps she's sensing stagger slightly.

"I said, lovely night! Nice stars! Especially that green one, have you ever seen that before?"

No reply.

She whirls around, the tails on her old self's now-oversized coat flinging themselves around with her, and tries to face whoever it was. But there's nobody there.

At least, it seems that way until an invisible arm has her in a headlock.

"Nice to meet you too," she chokes, just before a blow to the head knocks her out.

***

She swims into consciousness, opening her eyes to a defocused view of a cramped cell. Apart from the vaguest outlines, she can't see a thing, and there's a thumping with a Cloister Bell's intensity in her head. No different to how she's been since regeneration, then.

Slowly sitting up, she risks a look from side to side. To her right is a door, doubtlessly locked. To her left is a large slumped figure in a chair, motionless apart from the slow movement of the chest. Breathing in, breathing out. Probably asleep. Hopefully asleep.

The Doctor brings a hand to her side to help push herself to her feet. There's a slight rustling in the cell's straw flooring as she does so -- her jailer stirs -- snorts a little in sleep -- then resumes the slow breathing, in and out. She'll have to be careful about this, it seems. And in her drowsy state, care's not her strong suit.

She notices what seems to be a table next to the figure in the chair. A couple of items gleam on top, though she can barely make them out. A wary step closer: a copper-coloured bracelet, a pair of glasses, and of course -- no keys! Oh well, she'll think of something.

Her hand darts for the glasses, grabbing them off with only a slight scrape on the table's surface (it makes a sound, but far from enough to wake the sleeper). Holding them closer to her, she looks at her reflected face in the half-moon lenses. The person looking back still doesn't feel like her. But she'll get used to herself, in time.

On a whim, she tries them on. Oh wow! She can see the jailer now, but can't see how these glasses would fit on a head that big! Never mind. They're hers now. No doubt about it: they fit perfectly.

And the bracelet. Now that she can see the details, there's definitely some wiring around the clasps that makes her think. She knows she recognises the design, but the memories are still hard to come by. But given how she was captured and brought here, then if her suspicions aren't wrong...

She snatches it and closes it around her wrist. Invisible!