FIC: Sometimes Goodbye is a Second Chance *prologue/?* *DOCTOR WHO*
TITLE: Sometimes Goodbye is a Second Chance Prologue
AUTHOR: juliet316
FANDOM: Doctor Who/Torchwood
RATING: PG - 13
CONTENT: ADULT LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE
CATEGORY: ADULT, DRAMA, HORROR
SPOILERS: Spoilers for all for Seasons of Doctor Who and Seasons One and Two of Torchwood. Journey's End with a twist. The Doctor regenerated into his Eleventh self afterall. Donna unfortunately still got mind - wiped.
SUMMARY: The Eleventh Doctor, desperate to undo the damage caused by the Dalek shooting him, employs drastic measures.
DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who and Torchwood are owned by the BBC. The characters featured in this story were created by Russell T. Davies.
DISTRIBUTION: FF.NET, WWOMB. Anywhere else, please ask.
It was done.
The Eleventh version of the Time Lord known as The Doctor sat in his stark console room, waiting. For either absolution or the end, he did not know.
All he knew was that it would come soon.
He could feel it. Deep down in his gut; feel what he had exposed himself to do its damage. Feel the cells in his body respond to it. It was not unlike regeneration. Just much slower and more insidious: cold instead of hot; the feeling of freezing instead of burning.
It was also the first time he’d felt something, anything, since the Dalek had shot him, triggering his regeneration into his Eleventh self.
Another thing to hate the Daleks for; if he could drum up that particular emotion for them anymore.
This lack of feeling, the horrifying realization that he could only summon the barest of emotions or response to physical pain prompted this. He knew he must do something, had to do something to rectify this. He was well on his way to being the monster that his people had prophesied him to be if this stripping of for lack of a better term, his humanity continued. The solution he ultimately chose may have been extreme, but it was the only one he had seen that would not ultimately cause a paradox to end all paradoxes.
Most of his companions had not needed much in the way of convincing to leave him alone for the night. Emily was probably the one who had needed the most convincing, trying to get him to go to the med bay and make sure he really was all right. He expected nothing less from Donna Noble’s cousin, but there was a reason he did not want his companions to find out what was really going on.
The thought of Donna Noble sent a faint stab of pain through his hearts. Whether it was from true regret for what he had done to her or the process happening to his body, he wasn’t sure.
Any doubts he had about this solution were squashed when Rose, his Rose who knew him so well had bought his lie about being fine. That or she just did not seem to care whether this incarnation of him was all right or not. He was pretty sure if his emotions were all there the latter thought would have wounded him more. Nonetheless, Rose’s reactions to this near emotionless ghost this incarnation had become, especially now, had convinced him he had done the right thing. In a few short hours, either everything would be on the road to being okay again or -
Well, either way he himself would never know.
He faintly hoped she would forgive him when all was said and done.
He felt so very, very cold now. Every part of him felt like it was being frozen solid, which he supposed was an appropriately ironic metaphor. Felt his eyes close of their own accord becoming heavy blocks of ice. His entire body now felt a chilled statue.
I’m sorry, so sorry. This was the only thing to be done.
He sent that one last thought to his TARDIS as he slipped into oblivion.
AUTHOR: juliet316
FANDOM: Doctor Who/Torchwood
RATING: PG - 13
CONTENT: ADULT LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE
CATEGORY: ADULT, DRAMA, HORROR
SPOILERS: Spoilers for all for Seasons of Doctor Who and Seasons One and Two of Torchwood. Journey's End with a twist. The Doctor regenerated into his Eleventh self afterall. Donna unfortunately still got mind - wiped.
SUMMARY: The Eleventh Doctor, desperate to undo the damage caused by the Dalek shooting him, employs drastic measures.
DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who and Torchwood are owned by the BBC. The characters featured in this story were created by Russell T. Davies.
DISTRIBUTION: FF.NET, WWOMB. Anywhere else, please ask.
It was done.
The Eleventh version of the Time Lord known as The Doctor sat in his stark console room, waiting. For either absolution or the end, he did not know.
All he knew was that it would come soon.
He could feel it. Deep down in his gut; feel what he had exposed himself to do its damage. Feel the cells in his body respond to it. It was not unlike regeneration. Just much slower and more insidious: cold instead of hot; the feeling of freezing instead of burning.
It was also the first time he’d felt something, anything, since the Dalek had shot him, triggering his regeneration into his Eleventh self.
Another thing to hate the Daleks for; if he could drum up that particular emotion for them anymore.
This lack of feeling, the horrifying realization that he could only summon the barest of emotions or response to physical pain prompted this. He knew he must do something, had to do something to rectify this. He was well on his way to being the monster that his people had prophesied him to be if this stripping of for lack of a better term, his humanity continued. The solution he ultimately chose may have been extreme, but it was the only one he had seen that would not ultimately cause a paradox to end all paradoxes.
Most of his companions had not needed much in the way of convincing to leave him alone for the night. Emily was probably the one who had needed the most convincing, trying to get him to go to the med bay and make sure he really was all right. He expected nothing less from Donna Noble’s cousin, but there was a reason he did not want his companions to find out what was really going on.
The thought of Donna Noble sent a faint stab of pain through his hearts. Whether it was from true regret for what he had done to her or the process happening to his body, he wasn’t sure.
Any doubts he had about this solution were squashed when Rose, his Rose who knew him so well had bought his lie about being fine. That or she just did not seem to care whether this incarnation of him was all right or not. He was pretty sure if his emotions were all there the latter thought would have wounded him more. Nonetheless, Rose’s reactions to this near emotionless ghost this incarnation had become, especially now, had convinced him he had done the right thing. In a few short hours, either everything would be on the road to being okay again or -
Well, either way he himself would never know.
He faintly hoped she would forgive him when all was said and done.
He felt so very, very cold now. Every part of him felt like it was being frozen solid, which he supposed was an appropriately ironic metaphor. Felt his eyes close of their own accord becoming heavy blocks of ice. His entire body now felt a chilled statue.
I’m sorry, so sorry. This was the only thing to be done.
He sent that one last thought to his TARDIS as he slipped into oblivion.