Chapter One: The Two Steves

October 30, 1985

The shining neon of the Family Video store cut a hazy muted glow through the dimness of the retail district of Hawkins, Indiana. The early evening was just coming on and the darkness pressed down on the drab town like a blood swell. Cars stood dark and motionless in the parking lot and there was little movement behind the glass of the storefront, adorned with posters and advertisements for films like Back To The Future and The Terminator. A slow night... a very slow night, as the entire store had only had a handful of customers since the school let out just after 3pm.

So it was rather convenient that no one noticed the phenomena that broke the silence, not that people would have been surprised to notice it anyway; since the Starcourt Mall had burned down that summer, strange and inexplicable events were second nature to Hawkins, especially to a particular group of people who knew a lot more than most people. So it wouldn't have surprised them in the least that a blue box had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, right in the middle of the road outside the shop. It seemed to push itself out of thin air and hover there, a few metres above the glistening tarmac. Smoke gushed from the windows, highlighting the pale white light of the words "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX" and the glow of the lamp on its top.

A wheezing, grinding sound destroyed the silence completely as the sound of what couldn't be mistaken as explosions could be heard coming from inside the small wooden structure. Suddenly, the doors burst open and a figure came tumbling out. He seemed to do a foreward roll and keeled sideways over the threshold of the door, flipping in mid-air. He would have fallen and slammed into the hard surface of the road if he hadn't reached out a hand and grasped the edge of the bottom panel, clinging for dear life.

"Nonononono!" the man shouted, doing his best to keep his grip on the box, which was starting to falter with each passing second. "No, not like this!" he said, trying to hoist himself back up and back into the smoking doorway, where flames and falling debis could be seen swirling around. The box gave another sudden lurch, dislodging the man's grip and sending him tumbling to the floor. He fell onto his back and was immediately winded. Trying to catch his breath, he quickly hurled himself to his feet and made a beeline for the floating box. "OI!" he screamed.

Before he could even get within an inch of it, the box suddenly popped out of existence, as quickly as it had come. The man looked at the empty air where it had been and a cold wave of dread swept over him, as if he'd just sunken into an ice-cold bathtub. His hair was long and sweeped across his head and waves. His clothes were incredibly baggy, at least two sizes two big for him and they hung loose from his thin, lanky body. A film of sweat covered his forehead and he seemed almost perpetually out of breath.

"You can't do this!" he yelled, seemingly at nothing at that point with the box no longer there. "That's not fair, you can't just do that to people! Get back here!" He waved his arms drunkenly in the air and seemed to point at the night sky, breathless. "COME BACK, DO YOU HEAR ME? Come... back..." His breath seemed to catch in his throat and he collapsed, panting. Grimacing, his mouth opened wide and a bright cloud of orange mist burst from his mouth, curling in thick waves before floating up into the sky and dissipating. He groaned and looked up at him. "Still cooking... shouldn't be out here."

Heaving himself upright, which seemed to be very difficult, he reached into the pocket of his oversized jacket and withdrew what looked like a metal tube. Pointing it upwards, he pressed a button on its side and a small red light flickered to life, accompanied by a high-pitched buzzing sound. After several seconds, he released the button and held the tube close to him, seeming to read invisible readings. "Earth... why is it always Earth?" he said to himself. He stuck his tongue out and licked the air frantically. "Graphite... oxygen... and a hint of takeaway pizza. Must be America. Great."

Stuffing the tube back into his pocket, he limped further on down the road, eyes darting back and forth, searching for any indication of where (and apparently when) he was. He hadn't even gotten a few inches towards the south before he heard a loud and stern voice coming from behind him.

"Hey, dingus! You're late! We didn't agree to these extra night shifts just for you to goof off!"

Whriling around, he found himself looking at a tall freckle-faced woman. She wore a dark green jacket emblazoned with Family Video on the breast and she looked incredibly stern and annoyed with him for whatever reason. He could do nothing but stare at her, trying not to completely collapse from the storm of pain that seemed to be welling up inside his chest.

"Hey, Steve!" she said, raising her hands in annoyance. "You're late and... what are you wearing?"

Looking down at his baggy clothes, he realized nothing was fitting him anymore. New body; he'd almost forgotten. Looking back up at the woman, he tried to force some words out. "Erm... I think--"

"Are you drunk?" she snapped. "Steve, man, come on!"

"Wh... who?" he said. "I think you've got the wrong--"

"Whatever, if you wanna do that stuff in private, don't do it on company time," she said, striding up to him and grabbing his shirt, pulling him forwards. "We've got a ton of rentals to put away and Pete will flay us alive if the world cinema section isn't alphabetized by ten."

He could do nothing but follow her lead; he had so many questions. Who was she? Where was he? When was he? And who the hell was Steve and why did she keep calling him that? Helpless, he allowed himself to be dragged to the front door of the Family Video store and shoved inside. The brightly lit interior hurt his eyes at first, he could barely make out the titles and the elaborate images on the video tape box covers. He vaguely recognized a lot of the titles on display - The Goonies, Poltergeist, Return of the Jedi, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Thing.

1980s... he thought. Early-to-mid 1980s. I should have known, everything's bigger.

He felt his body hit the high counter as the woman let go of him. Steadying himself in case he should collapse again, he caught a glimpse of the name tag attached to he jacket. Hi - my name is Robin. "Robin..." he said. "Robin, yeah?"

She paused and turned around to look at him again. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you sick?" Her face softened slightly and she took a step forward. "Steve, what happened?"

That name again. What was with that name? Shaking his head, his legs gave way again and he clung onto the countertop, grimacing in agony. Robin leapt forward and put a hand on his back to steady him. "Oh my god, Steve, are you okay?"

"I'm NOT--!" he made an attempt to shout, but he could feel it coming on again. That undeniable rush of energy forcing itself out of him. He couldn't let her see this, it would give him away too easily. She'd be on the phone to the police and he'd be locked up and dissected in a matter of moments. Gently pushing her off of him, he rushed around the corner, looking for somewhere he could hide. To her, it would look like he was about to throw up. Spotting a door, he barged through it, finding himself in a small bathroom. Bracing himself against the sink, he opened his mouth and the same glowing orange mist poured out; a lot more forceful and defined this time, and it lingered in the air a little bit too long.

"Steve, what the hell? What is that?!" he heard from behind him. Robin was stood in the door way, pale-faced and looking more than a little scared. He couldn't really hide it from her any longer; she was smart and she'd have figured out for herself eventually. Taking a step towards her, he managed to get a full sentence out for the first time since he'd bumped into her.

"Listen..." he said, hands pressed together. "Whatever you're thinking, you're probably right. But I'm not who you think I am,"

"Why are you British all of a sudden?" she asked, noticing the thick accent he was speaking with. She suddenly stopped short and glanced frantically into his eyes. "DId they do this to you? The Russians?"

He shook his head incredulously. "What? No!"

"If they're hanging around again, we've got to go find Dustin and the others, we've got to get backup right away!" she said, turning to race out of the door. He suddenly lost his patience and slapped his head with the palm of his hand.

"LISTEN! My name is Alex Smith - I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I have no idea where I am, when I am or what I look like. My father's ship exploded, I'm stuck here, my head hurts like hell, I don't have a clue why you're talking about Russians, and WHY THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING ME STEVE?!"

The silence was deafening. Robin could do nothing but stare. At this man who called himself Alex, a Time Thingy from the planet Whatdoyoucallit and something about a ship. And he didn't recognize the name Steve. This was too much asshatery for one night.

Suddenly, there was the crash of a door and heavy footsteps heading into the shop from beyond the bathroom door. "Hey, Robin!" a voice called out; the same tone and timbre as Alex's voice, yet American. Alex didn't dare say a word, he was too incredulous to say anything else - so this must be Steve. Robin just continued to stare at him. "Robin!"  the voice called out again.

"In here!" she finally responded. The footsteps grew louder until they arrived in the doorway and another man stepped through it.

A horrifying realization dawned on Alex at that moment. He hadn't looked at himself yet, and he finally caught sight himself in the grimy mirror overhanging the sink. He gazed at his reflection for a moment, then back at the man now standing behind Robin.

It was the exact same man. Same hair, same face, same eyes. Everything. Alex was an absolute perfect replica of Steve. Eyes widened in both amazement and horror, Alex looked back at his reflection and then at Steve. "What...?" he said, taking a step closer until he was right in front of Steve. "What?!"

"Steve, what's going on?" Robin asked timidly.

"... What." Alex said finally. Reaching a finger out, he gently poked Steve in the nose. "I mean... not bad. Ears could be a bit better."

"Robin, why does this guy look like me and why is he touching my nose?" Steve said, eyes darting to Robin.

"I have no idea," Robin said in almost a breathless whisper. "Do you have a twin brother you never met?"

"I don't think so," Steve said as Alex suddenly leaned down and pressed his ear against Steve's chest.

"One heart," Alex said, straightening up. "No risk of a paradox, then. But... wow..." He started to pull on Steve's cheeks, parting his lips and glancing at his teeth.

"Robin. Get him off me," Steve said, his speech garbled as Alex started clicking his fingers abruptly into his eyes. Getting irritated by this point, Steve sharply shoved Alex out of his space and took a step back. But Alex wasn't done yet, as the metal tube was out again and this time he was running its red beam over Steve.

"Interesting, Mr. Spock," Alex said, reading the results closely. "You're human. Perfectly ordinary and unremarkable. So why did I choose this face?"

"Robin, I want you to go call Dustin, this isn't good," Steve said, turning to Robin. "If this is the Mind Flayer again, I don't know how we're going to handle it this time."

"No, no need to call anyone!" Alex said, stepping around the two of them to stand in the doorway. "This is just a bit of a horrible coincidence that happened a little too quickly. You see, I was regenerating in the TARDIS, and... oh... oh no."

He looked up at the ceiling as if invisaging something suspended there, and sighed in despair. "The TARDIS! I've lost the TARDIS! It was exploding and... I fell here." He turned to focus on the two humans in front of him again. "You're right, Steve, or whatever your name is, this isn't good. If I'm stuck here with nothing but a sonic screwdriver and a replica of your face and body, then that means hiding isn't going to be easy. Am I right in assuming we're in the 1980s?"

The two said nothing, just nodded. "Brilliant! Gold stars for you two... not that giving out points was ever my thing before, but maybe it is now. I just need to use a phone; can you do that for me?"

"Woah, I don't know about this," Steve said, getting in between Alex and Robin. "He could be anybody and from anywhere, we don't know who he's calling, he could be sending the Russians straight in on us."

"Russians?" Alex raised an eyebrow before his face broke into a smile. "Oh, you humans and your Cold War paranoia. It never gets old. But no... I'm nothing to do with Russians. I just need to get in touch with Captain Jack Harkness, he's with Torchwood."

Judging by the blank expressions on their faces, neither of them had heard of Torchwood. Rolling his eyes, Alex turned on his heel and strode out onto the main shop floor. "Never mind, you won't understand; one thing's for sure, I need to get out of here as soon as..."

But it was happening again. The pain was rising inside him and another burst of regeneration energy, signifying that the process wasn't completely done yet, was coming. His legs turned to jelly once more and he collapsed into a shelf of video tapes, knocking them to the floor in a rattle of plastic and metal. It wasn't long before Steve and Robin came running.

"I forgot, I'm still cooking," Alex said, looking up at them. "I need... I need you to get me out of here. I can't be seen, not like this."

"Help me get him out to the car," Robin said, rushing over to Alex, grabbing an arm and draping it over her shoulder. Steve looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head.

"You've got to be kidding! I'm not helping some random freak who stole my face!" he said, folding his arms stubbornly.

"Steve, first of all, I'm pretty sure he would have made it obvious if he'd gotten your face from somewhere. And two... who'd want to steal it anyway? Now shut up and help me!" Robin snapped, trying to heave Alex off the floor. "I don't understand how someone so skinny can be so heavy."

Groaning, Steve eventually joined Robin in grabbing Alex's other arm and heaving him off of the floor. It took them a few minutes to finally reach the front door of the shop. Robin held the door as Steve hauled Alex through it and towards his car parked in the almost deserted lot.

Without warning, Alex leaned forward and started to wretch. Rearing his head back, another jet of orange mist poured from his mouth and began to curl upwards into the foggy night sky. "Regeneration... so reliable..." he said lazily, before he fainted dead away, almost pulling Steve onto the floor as his body finally gave out.

"What happened?" Robin asked as she rushed over to where Alex lay.

"I don't know, he just fainted," Steve said, looking up at Robin. "Robin, what the hell is going on?"

"Looks like you've got yourself a doppelganger," Robin said. "And trust me, that's not good news."

"You bet it isn't, there's someone else with my entire look on their backs. Do you know how long it took to perfect this hair? A long-ass time, Robin, this is so embarrassing."

"This goes beyond that, dingus. Doppelgangers are often seen as a symbol of bad luck; they're meant to be examples of paranormal phenomena, the spiritual opposite of their counterparts. An alter-ego. For all we know, we could be looking at your evil twin right here and now."

The two looked down at Alex; even unconscious, wearing baggy clothes and displaying all the characteristics of a complete fruit loop, one thing was for sure. There was no denying he was the complete double of Steve "The Hair" Harrington.