Fic - The End of Ten, or Depends on the Brick. Rating - universal.
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
It all happened because he wasn’t concentrating. He’d forgotten that sometimes after these complicated adventures where he bumped into himself the interior of the TARDIS sometimes got rearranged a little bit. There were struts and beams where there shouldn’t have been. Like right in front of the door.
“I don’t want to…..OUCH!”
Walked straight into it. Ironic, really. He knew right away that this was going to be the one that did for him. So much for joking to Jackson Lake a while back that he could regenerate tripping over a brick. Depends on the brick, of course. And the fact that his body was still vulnerable after all that zipping about in time, not to mention the emotional stress of being confronted with the Fall of Arcadia again…and there was so much regeneration energy floating around that he wouldn’t mind betting that there was another one going on right now…maybe Eight into Nine, oh hang on, that wasn’t right…Nine into Nine and Three Quarters…no, hang on, that was The Lion King…or was it Harry Potter….?
Rassilon, he was tired. Where was he? Forgetting it all so soon…didn’t want to….hang on, wasn’t that Queen Elizabeth, that was a mistake….Virgin Queen….can’t make an Ood laugh….the Master…Wilf and a load of old codgers…you could make her laugh again….worst rescue ever…he will knock four times….
His people. So harsh, so unyielding. So implacable, prepared to be reduced to pure consciousness and take the rest of the universe with them…those cold eyes of Rassilon…the sound of drums….
All the things he hated about them, fire and ice in those cold eyes, the refusal to accept the inevitable, “I WILL NOT DIE!” That was what he had wanted to stop. He hadn’t expected to survive. Hadn’t wanted to think about the cost, particularly to himself.
All those children dead. He’d said there was no other way. He was good at that. “The walls between universes have closed.”
Run. Don’t look back. Don’t think about whether you’re right. Whether you’re them, their blood in your veins, their coldness in your eyes. Don’t face them. Look away. Be the hero. Reject them. Lose yourself.
Living a life, day after day. Not for him. Much too dull. Too difficult. How can something be difficult and dull at the same time?
It wasn’t fair! He had so much still to do! To die, just for a silly old man…his reward, he should get his reward…it was starting, he could feel it…
I don’t want to go.
I don’t want this to be it. To die walking into a strut on the bloody TARDIS. I was going to go out with a bang, not a whimper. Nobody tells me when to die. Not even a blinking Ood. Particularly an Ood. I’m the Time Lord Victorious…
“Feel better now?”
Rose’s voice. The words of the Wolf. In his last humiliation, she was here to comfort him. And he was ready. Ready for what? He didn’t know. That was why he travelled. If he knew everything, he might as well give up.
“I lied to you,” he murmured, eyes still closed, inhaling her scent. “I could have come back.”
“Rule number one,” she said. “The Doctor runs.”
She was right. She was always right. She was his conscience. His little Jiminy Cricket. He always knew better. Making the cosmic sacrifice, the big statement, rather than just admit he’d been wrong.
“Were you happy? You and him?” he asked.
“You’re the same man,” she said. “Here’s where we start again. Don’t try to understand. Timelines in flux, and all that. We got there in the end, that’s what matters.”
“Yeah,” he said, too tired to argue any more.
But still it rankled. “Walked into a strut on my own TARDIS. After all that.”
She laughed with him, and it stopped mattering. She probably put the strut there in the first place. The old girl. Or the new.
“It’s gonna be a good life,” he said.
“A wonderful life,” she agreed. “Welcome home, Doctor.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
It all happened because he wasn’t concentrating. He’d forgotten that sometimes after these complicated adventures where he bumped into himself the interior of the TARDIS sometimes got rearranged a little bit. There were struts and beams where there shouldn’t have been. Like right in front of the door.
“I don’t want to…..OUCH!”
Walked straight into it. Ironic, really. He knew right away that this was going to be the one that did for him. So much for joking to Jackson Lake a while back that he could regenerate tripping over a brick. Depends on the brick, of course. And the fact that his body was still vulnerable after all that zipping about in time, not to mention the emotional stress of being confronted with the Fall of Arcadia again…and there was so much regeneration energy floating around that he wouldn’t mind betting that there was another one going on right now…maybe Eight into Nine, oh hang on, that wasn’t right…Nine into Nine and Three Quarters…no, hang on, that was The Lion King…or was it Harry Potter….?
Rassilon, he was tired. Where was he? Forgetting it all so soon…didn’t want to….hang on, wasn’t that Queen Elizabeth, that was a mistake….Virgin Queen….can’t make an Ood laugh….the Master…Wilf and a load of old codgers…you could make her laugh again….worst rescue ever…he will knock four times….
His people. So harsh, so unyielding. So implacable, prepared to be reduced to pure consciousness and take the rest of the universe with them…those cold eyes of Rassilon…the sound of drums….
All the things he hated about them, fire and ice in those cold eyes, the refusal to accept the inevitable, “I WILL NOT DIE!” That was what he had wanted to stop. He hadn’t expected to survive. Hadn’t wanted to think about the cost, particularly to himself.
All those children dead. He’d said there was no other way. He was good at that. “The walls between universes have closed.”
Run. Don’t look back. Don’t think about whether you’re right. Whether you’re them, their blood in your veins, their coldness in your eyes. Don’t face them. Look away. Be the hero. Reject them. Lose yourself.
Living a life, day after day. Not for him. Much too dull. Too difficult. How can something be difficult and dull at the same time?
It wasn’t fair! He had so much still to do! To die, just for a silly old man…his reward, he should get his reward…it was starting, he could feel it…
I don’t want to go.
I don’t want this to be it. To die walking into a strut on the bloody TARDIS. I was going to go out with a bang, not a whimper. Nobody tells me when to die. Not even a blinking Ood. Particularly an Ood. I’m the Time Lord Victorious…
“Feel better now?”
Rose’s voice. The words of the Wolf. In his last humiliation, she was here to comfort him. And he was ready. Ready for what? He didn’t know. That was why he travelled. If he knew everything, he might as well give up.
“I lied to you,” he murmured, eyes still closed, inhaling her scent. “I could have come back.”
“Rule number one,” she said. “The Doctor runs.”
She was right. She was always right. She was his conscience. His little Jiminy Cricket. He always knew better. Making the cosmic sacrifice, the big statement, rather than just admit he’d been wrong.
“Were you happy? You and him?” he asked.
“You’re the same man,” she said. “Here’s where we start again. Don’t try to understand. Timelines in flux, and all that. We got there in the end, that’s what matters.”
“Yeah,” he said, too tired to argue any more.
But still it rankled. “Walked into a strut on my own TARDIS. After all that.”
She laughed with him, and it stopped mattering. She probably put the strut there in the first place. The old girl. Or the new.
“It’s gonna be a good life,” he said.
“A wonderful life,” she agreed. “Welcome home, Doctor.”