DW Fic: Awake and Dreaming (Tenth Doctor)
Title: Awake and Dreaming
Characters/Pairings: Ten + companions (Donna, Sarah Jane, Rose, the Master, Martha, Jack); some Ten/Rose
Summary: The Tenth Doctor spends his last moments with some old friends.
Spoilers: Some references to ‘The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith’ and ‘Children of Earth;’ NO spoilers for the finale/specials.
Rating: PG
A/N: I started working on this aaages ago before any of the casting spoilers for End of Time were out, but I was inspired to finish and post it before David Tennant bows out. The idea borrows heavily from a Firefly fic I wrote a number of years back: Mirage. But, hey, it’s not stealing if you take from yourself, right? Right.
Excerpt: It’s Donna and it can’t be Donna because he wiped all her memories and left her behind on Earth and remembering him would kill her and anyway he’s alone, he knows he’s alone.
“Right,” he declares to nothing in particular, falling over his own feet as he stumbles into the TARDIS. The console hums in a way he’d normally find comforting if his face wasn’t currently mashed up against the grating. “Definitely poison.”
And then he has to pass out for a bit.
When he wakes up, the lights are muted, and the hum has faded to a dull throb. That’s his ship-his wonderful, beautiful ship. She always knows.
He drags himself to his feet, makes it all the way to the pilot’s chair before collapsing into it, leaning over his knees and breathing heavily.
He tries to catalogue the path of the poison through his body. It’s hit his blood stream by now-he can feel a light tingle in his hands and knees. But it hasn’t quite made it to his respiratory by-pass system yet.
That means there’s loads of time left for all sorts of things. The tingling will get worse, of course. His head will start to hurt, his mouth will grow dry, he’ll lose muscle control, and he might even-
“What? Bit of poison and you’re suddenly giving up?”
-hallucinate.
He looks up, arms clenching at his sides. It’s Donna and it can’t be Donna because he wiped all her memories and left her behind on Earth and remembering him would kill her and anyway he’s alone, he knows he’s alone.
Still, it looks like Donna and sounds like Donna. She’s leaning back against the console with her arms folded over her chest, frowning at him like he might as well be the gum sticking to the bottom of her shoe.
“I’m not giving up,” he tells her, sounding defensive even if the rational, intelligent-that’s very intelligent-side of his brain knows he’s taking offence from a hallucination. “I’m regenerating. Well, sort of. Well, soon enough.”
“I know what regenerating is, dumbo,” she says. “And I’ve also seen you get around it.”
“Not this time.”
“No, I know this one,” she says. She pushes herself off the console and then studies her surroundings. “What is it? Ginger beer, salt and a shock? You’ve got to have something onboard this thing that’ll do-”
“It’s a different type of poison, Donna.” He says it gently. He doesn’t want to upset her. “That won’t work this time. I’m sorry.”
She sniffs. “But you’ll… you can still regenerate, can’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Into anything you want?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Well,” she says, with a little shake of her head. “You should try not to be so skinny.”
He smiles and slowly starts to relax. Donna. He can almost forget that she isn’t real. He waves a dismissive hand in her direction. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this plenty of times before.”
Her shoes rustle across the console room as she approaches him. Finally, reaching the pilot’s chair, she squats down, eyes level with his.
There’s something sad and ancient about her eyes. It makes the back of his neck itch and he looks away, clearing his throat. “Donna-Donna Noble,” he says slowly, “the woman who saved the universe and can’t even remember for one second.” He takes in a breath and swallows painfully. “I do, though. I’ll remember every second.”
“Let me tell you what it’s been like for me, space man,” she says and the teasing note is gone from her voice. “I have gaps in my memory I can’t fill. I wake up in the middle of the night, terrified, and I don’t know where I am or how I got there. I can’t hold down a proper job-and believe me, I’ve tried. I can type a hundred words per minute, but I lose track of things. I fill out the same paperwork more than once. Don’t make calls I’m supposed to. And all the while I feel like I’m choking, like there’s something I’m supposed to know… if only I could touch it. It’s like living a dream and a lie, day after day.” She pauses. “That’s what it’s been like.”
He doesn’t answer right away. He lowers his head again, breathes deeply, and says, “You’re alive. I’d make the same choice again, Donna. I’m sorry, but I would.”
The voice, when it answers, isn’t who he’s expecting.
“Sacrifice-pain, loss, that’s what you’ve taught us, isn’t it?”
The Doctor presses his fingers to his eyes and then raises his head. “Sarah.”
Sarah Jane’s boots glide gracefully across the grating. “Hello, Doctor,” she says. She smiles politely, taking him in with a quick sweep of her eyes. “You’re regenerating.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Is it painful?”
Something inside of his stomach shifts and heaves and he bends over, muffling a gasp. “Oh, you know, I’ve had worse.”
Sarah folds her arms over her chest, giving a small nod. “You do seem to go through your regenerations awfully quickly.” She continues without waiting for a response. “I hope I’ll get to meet him, the new you.”
He waves a hand. “I’ll be around. Never know when you’ll need a helping hand, Sarah Jane.”
A flash of sadness passes over Sarah’s face before the polite smile comes back. “That’s what it will always be like with you, won’t it? You go years-even decades-without a single word, and then one day there you are, showing up out of the blue like nothing has changed.”
“That’s about it, yeah.”
She sighs. “I suppose it would be too much to expect you to be more reliable. Let’s just hope the next time that you show up out of nowhere it’s under better circumstances.”
The Doctor rubs at his face, swallowing in a constricted breath of air. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then, because sometimes it needs saying, he adds, “I know what it’s like to sacrifice the person you... I know what it’s like.”
“I’m sure you do. Many times over.” Sarah pauses. “And you go on. Is that really such a bad thing to leave us with?”
He doesn’t answer because honestly, really, doesn’t know. He stood back and did nothing as Sarah loved and lost her husband; he pressed his fingers to Donna’s temples and took away her most treasured memories. It had been right, but he’s not sure if that makes it good.
There’s silence after Sarah Jane fades away, leaving him with a darkened and cold ship. He waits in silence as the poison slowly pushes a path through his system.
The next voice is soft and gentle, “Hi.”
He doesn’t have to look up to know who it is. He scrubs his face and breathes in deeply before finally daring to look at her.
“Rose.”
She smiles and something tugs at his heart. “You’ve looked better.”
“Thanks,” he says and the tug twists. “Bit busy trying to neutralize the flow of rotah poison in my bloodstream at the moment.”
“Right,” says Rose, lips twitching. “Not regenerating, then? ‘Cos it sort of looks that way to me.”
He manages a non-committal shrug and tries to pull himself together. Rose gazes at him silently, expression growing more troubled.
“I’m all right,” he says, trying for a smile. He rests his elbows on his knees and dares to look at her. “What about you? How are you getting on?”
He watches her, transfixed, as she nibbles thoughtfully on her bottom lip as if she’s debating how much to tell him. He wonders what it is about her that always makes him feel so torn up inside-seeing her again manages to be the best and the worst feeling in the world.
“How d’you think I’m getting on?” Rose finally settles on.
“I think...” he says slowly, “I think you’re happy. You and me.” He pauses and then adds, more desperately, “We are, Rose, aren’t we?”
She relaxes slightly and her face blossoms into a smile. “Yeah,” she says. “We are, yeah.”
He feels something new tug inside of him. He can’t figure out if it’s longing or jealousy.
“D’you know,” he says, “a part of me hoped that maybe it wouldn’t work... that you wouldn’t accept him as me. A small part, mind you, but it was still there.”
Her smile dims and she closes the distance between them before taking a seat next to him on the battered chair. “He is, though,” Rose whispers. “You, I mean.”
“Yeah,” he says heavily. “That’s something, isn’t it? Me and you, somewhere out there. Living a life together.”
“Forever,” Rose adds, but her eyes are sad. “But it’s never going to be you, though, is it?”
He looks down and seeks out her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. She takes a sharp breath, but doesn’t comment. Their fingers link and she feels so real, exactly like he remembers.
He’s still staring at her hand when he says, “I love you.”
He’s dimly aware that he’s speaking to an empty TARDIS, but one look at Rose and he doesn’t care. Her eyes shine and he can almost forget that none of this is real.
What he doesn’t add is that he hopes that his next incarnation doesn’t love her like this. He died for Rose Tyler, and turned into someone she would want, would approve of. Every cell, every organ of this body felt claimed by her, given a Rose Tyler seal of approval. He can’t bear to go through that again.
“Doctor...” she begins carefully.
He looks sideways at her. “Hmm?”
She musters up a strained smile. “I wish I could be there for you. When it happens.”
“Yeah,” he says. He squeezes her hand again. “Me, too.”
But his fingers grasp empty space, and he curls his hand into a fist, letting himself pretend for another moment.
Then he bows his head, rubbing his temples as another spasm rocks his body. He moans and shudders, trying to calculate the path of poison through his body. His head is beginning to pound-and soon it will hit his internal organs. And that-that...
The sound of clapping breaks through his muted haze and he slowly raises his head. The Master rests against the console, arms folded across his chest, amused half-grin tugging at his mouth.
“No,” says the Doctor. “Not you. Anyone but you.”
The Master pushes himself off the console. “Come now-” He shoves his hands in his pockets and pouts. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”
“You’re not here.” He taps his temple. “You’re in my head-a figment of my imagination. Nothing more.”
“I’m hurt,” says the Master. “Is that what you said to Rose? ‘Ooh, Rose, you’re not really here, I love you so much.’” The Master shudders and makes a show of wiping his mouth. “Well done with her, by the way. The Companion-no, sorry, the woman you love-you chucked away to someone else. In another universe, to boot!”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Donna, though,” continues the Master, “now that’s my favourite. You wiped her memories! Left a brainless idiot in her place.” He heaves a mock sigh. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”
The Doctor rubs his eyes. “Right. Now I know I’m in hell.”
The Master collapses into the seat next to him-the same place Rose had just been-and kicks his feet up on the console.
“Just think, Doctor,” he says, arm draping across the back of the seat. “You and me, we could have spent these last few years together. But here you, alone.” The Master pauses. “Oh, I love it. It’s like you don’t even need me to make you miserable. You do it to yourself.”
“Oh, stuff it,” says the Doctor. “You’re not even here.”
The Master snorts before abruptly sobering. “You don’t really think I’d just let myself die, do you? Like a common human?” He spits the last word. “No. Doctor-you and I both know there’s a part of you inside... waiting.”
“Shut up,” says the Doctor. He pushes his fists against his eyes. “Just... go away.”
He hears the Master snort with laughter and jump to his feet, making a ruckus as he moves through the console room. But then, abruptly, the noise stops. Something inside the Doctor curls and tenses, suddenly uneasy in the quiet stillness of the console room. He focuses on the ins and outs of his body-hearts, lungs, intestines-all still clinging to life.
It’s time to give up and give in, he thinks. Start anew
Distantly, he can hear what sounds like heels clicking over the floor. The noise grows louder as it approaches him and he opens his eyes. The corners of his mouth turn up into a slow smile. It’s Martha, standing in a lab coat and holding a clipboard.
“Oh my god, Doctor,” she says, running towards him. She drops to her knees, flipping through her chart mindlessly, her eyes scanning the pages. “I’ll look after you, don’t worry.”
He nods, oddly comforted. Where seeing Donna had been frustrating and confusing and Rose painful, Martha is solid, steady.
“Martha,” he says. She doesn’t look up from the clipboard, her eyebrows drawing together in worry. “Martha, there’s nothing you can do.” There’s no response, so he changes track and blurts, “I’m sorry.”
He’s not quite sure what he’s apologizing for, but after all these year, he knows something didn’t go right with Martha. There’s always been an awkward barrier hanging between them, unspoken and unacknowledged. He coped by ignoring it. She coped by leaving.
Still, if ever there was a time to right past wrongs...
Martha blinks at the apology and then turns her gaze to his, eyes deepening in understanding. “You’re saying goodbye,” she says. She taps her fingers against the top of her clipboard. “There’s no coming back from this, is there?”
“End of the line.”
“I saw you go stand on top of the Empire State building so you’d get struck by lightening,” she says. “I once restarted your heart. Doctor-”
“Martha,” he says firmly, but not unkindly. “It’s all right. It’s time to move on.” He pauses. “It’s time for you to be someone else’s doctor, now.”
She stares at him silently and then rises to her feet. She thinks for a moment and then says, “I remember what Davros said, back on the Crucible. What he said about who you are-about how you turn your friends into weapons.”
“Martha-”
“And I just want to say-” she interrupts, sending him a warning look. “I want to say that... it wasn’t always easy travelling with you, Doctor. You know what happened to my family, they...” she trails off and then lowers the clipboard to rest at her side. “But look at me now. Turned out all right, didn’t I?”
“Martha Jones,” he manages, “top of the world.”
Her lips twitch into a smile. “I do miss it,” she says, looking around the console room. “I’ve got a job and a husband I love, but all the same.... It’s not the TARDIS, is it?”
“I only take the best,” he murmurs.
“I know,” she says back.
“And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like... like you...”
“It’s not your fault,” she says automatically. Then adds, “Well, not entirely your fault.” She stops, smile dimming. “You’ve still got my mobile, yeah?”
He nods silently.
“You could use it,” she says. “One day.”
She starts to fade, lab coat blending in with the console behind her, clipboard disappearing from her hand. He breathes in sharply, and it hurts less than it had.
“Maybe,” he replies after she’s gone.
The console suddenly feels still, hovering, like the calm before the storm. Won’t be long now, he thinks. He should... what? Prepare? Regenerations were always in the heat of the moment before.
“Got time for one more?”
The Doctor looks over at the voice. It’s Jack-leaning casually against one of the struts, hands tucked under his arms.
“Jack,” he says heavily with no small tug of disappointment. This is it, end of the line-and the last person he sees is... Jack? It could have been Donna or--
“Now I know I’m not a cute blonde, but-” Jack holds out a hand and then pushes himself of the strut, “You have to give me a little credit. We’ve been through quite a ride together, Doctor.”
The Doctor grunts in reply, looking away. He resents being denied another chance with Rose or Donna, and guilty for feeling resentful.
“And I know exactly what you’re thinking. Stop it.”
The Doctor rubs his eyes. “You’re a manifestation of my subconscious. Of course you know what I’m thinking.”
“Okay, fair point,” says Jack after a pause. “Look... I’m just here to ease you through the transition. You know, provide moral support.” He grins. “Hey, have you ever thought about turning into a woman? Because I know a guy-”
“Jack, not now.”
Jack’s expression darkens. “Okay, then. I’m open to another topic. Oh, here’s a good one. Remember when aliens came to Earth for our children?”
“Don’t.”
Jack swings in closer to him, face near his. “You could have found a way to stop it.”
“You don’t know that-”
“After all these years, I know what you’re capable of better than anyone,” Jack says steadily. “You could have stopped it and you didn’t.” He pauses. “I killed my own grandson.”
The Doctor meets his gaze. “And who supplied them with children in the past, Jack? Who was the one who put them on a bus and shipped them away? Actions have consequences. We learn to live with them.”
“That’s not good enough.”
He looks away. “I destroyed my home planet-I killed everyone I loved, my entire family. I know a thing or two about living with consequences.”
Jack falters over his next words. “So that’s it. The big moral speech? ‘Shut up and deal with it?’”
“Yeah, ‘cos I’ve done so well at that,” says the Doctor tightly. He braces his hands on the seat and closes his eyes.
His pain is gone-that’s never a good sign.
“Jack,” he says, voice laced with weariness, “get back. It’s started.”
There’s no reply and he feels a sinking sort of helplessness. Even having Jack around-even that felt better than nothing.
He really, really hates being on his own.
He summons his energy and focuses on taking himself back in time-back to the last time he regenerated. He doesn’t let himself indulge in the memories very often, but now it feels soothing-like cradling a hot cup of tea on a cold day.
He can still remember what it felt like. Everything felt brand new and wondrous. He’d held Rose’s hand and ran from one adventure to the next, hardly daring to let them breathe in between. They had too much fun to stop. After Gallifrey, after the Time War, he felt like he was finally getting a shot at real happiness-even if he knew on some level that it couldn’t last forever.
His hands start to burn and he doubles over in pain, the fire spreading from his hands to his arms-rushing and tearing through his body.
He’s not quite ready to give in, but he’s old and he’s tired. It’s the same speeches, same hand gestures, same pit of loneliness inside of him-everything the same. It’s time to move on.
Characters/Pairings: Ten + companions (Donna, Sarah Jane, Rose, the Master, Martha, Jack); some Ten/Rose
Summary: The Tenth Doctor spends his last moments with some old friends.
Spoilers: Some references to ‘The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith’ and ‘Children of Earth;’ NO spoilers for the finale/specials.
Rating: PG
A/N: I started working on this aaages ago before any of the casting spoilers for End of Time were out, but I was inspired to finish and post it before David Tennant bows out. The idea borrows heavily from a Firefly fic I wrote a number of years back: Mirage. But, hey, it’s not stealing if you take from yourself, right? Right.
Excerpt: It’s Donna and it can’t be Donna because he wiped all her memories and left her behind on Earth and remembering him would kill her and anyway he’s alone, he knows he’s alone.
“Right,” he declares to nothing in particular, falling over his own feet as he stumbles into the TARDIS. The console hums in a way he’d normally find comforting if his face wasn’t currently mashed up against the grating. “Definitely poison.”
And then he has to pass out for a bit.
When he wakes up, the lights are muted, and the hum has faded to a dull throb. That’s his ship-his wonderful, beautiful ship. She always knows.
He drags himself to his feet, makes it all the way to the pilot’s chair before collapsing into it, leaning over his knees and breathing heavily.
He tries to catalogue the path of the poison through his body. It’s hit his blood stream by now-he can feel a light tingle in his hands and knees. But it hasn’t quite made it to his respiratory by-pass system yet.
That means there’s loads of time left for all sorts of things. The tingling will get worse, of course. His head will start to hurt, his mouth will grow dry, he’ll lose muscle control, and he might even-
“What? Bit of poison and you’re suddenly giving up?”
-hallucinate.
He looks up, arms clenching at his sides. It’s Donna and it can’t be Donna because he wiped all her memories and left her behind on Earth and remembering him would kill her and anyway he’s alone, he knows he’s alone.
Still, it looks like Donna and sounds like Donna. She’s leaning back against the console with her arms folded over her chest, frowning at him like he might as well be the gum sticking to the bottom of her shoe.
“I’m not giving up,” he tells her, sounding defensive even if the rational, intelligent-that’s very intelligent-side of his brain knows he’s taking offence from a hallucination. “I’m regenerating. Well, sort of. Well, soon enough.”
“I know what regenerating is, dumbo,” she says. “And I’ve also seen you get around it.”
“Not this time.”
“No, I know this one,” she says. She pushes herself off the console and then studies her surroundings. “What is it? Ginger beer, salt and a shock? You’ve got to have something onboard this thing that’ll do-”
“It’s a different type of poison, Donna.” He says it gently. He doesn’t want to upset her. “That won’t work this time. I’m sorry.”
She sniffs. “But you’ll… you can still regenerate, can’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Into anything you want?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Well,” she says, with a little shake of her head. “You should try not to be so skinny.”
He smiles and slowly starts to relax. Donna. He can almost forget that she isn’t real. He waves a dismissive hand in her direction. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this plenty of times before.”
Her shoes rustle across the console room as she approaches him. Finally, reaching the pilot’s chair, she squats down, eyes level with his.
There’s something sad and ancient about her eyes. It makes the back of his neck itch and he looks away, clearing his throat. “Donna-Donna Noble,” he says slowly, “the woman who saved the universe and can’t even remember for one second.” He takes in a breath and swallows painfully. “I do, though. I’ll remember every second.”
“Let me tell you what it’s been like for me, space man,” she says and the teasing note is gone from her voice. “I have gaps in my memory I can’t fill. I wake up in the middle of the night, terrified, and I don’t know where I am or how I got there. I can’t hold down a proper job-and believe me, I’ve tried. I can type a hundred words per minute, but I lose track of things. I fill out the same paperwork more than once. Don’t make calls I’m supposed to. And all the while I feel like I’m choking, like there’s something I’m supposed to know… if only I could touch it. It’s like living a dream and a lie, day after day.” She pauses. “That’s what it’s been like.”
He doesn’t answer right away. He lowers his head again, breathes deeply, and says, “You’re alive. I’d make the same choice again, Donna. I’m sorry, but I would.”
The voice, when it answers, isn’t who he’s expecting.
“Sacrifice-pain, loss, that’s what you’ve taught us, isn’t it?”
The Doctor presses his fingers to his eyes and then raises his head. “Sarah.”
Sarah Jane’s boots glide gracefully across the grating. “Hello, Doctor,” she says. She smiles politely, taking him in with a quick sweep of her eyes. “You’re regenerating.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Is it painful?”
Something inside of his stomach shifts and heaves and he bends over, muffling a gasp. “Oh, you know, I’ve had worse.”
Sarah folds her arms over her chest, giving a small nod. “You do seem to go through your regenerations awfully quickly.” She continues without waiting for a response. “I hope I’ll get to meet him, the new you.”
He waves a hand. “I’ll be around. Never know when you’ll need a helping hand, Sarah Jane.”
A flash of sadness passes over Sarah’s face before the polite smile comes back. “That’s what it will always be like with you, won’t it? You go years-even decades-without a single word, and then one day there you are, showing up out of the blue like nothing has changed.”
“That’s about it, yeah.”
She sighs. “I suppose it would be too much to expect you to be more reliable. Let’s just hope the next time that you show up out of nowhere it’s under better circumstances.”
The Doctor rubs at his face, swallowing in a constricted breath of air. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then, because sometimes it needs saying, he adds, “I know what it’s like to sacrifice the person you... I know what it’s like.”
“I’m sure you do. Many times over.” Sarah pauses. “And you go on. Is that really such a bad thing to leave us with?”
He doesn’t answer because honestly, really, doesn’t know. He stood back and did nothing as Sarah loved and lost her husband; he pressed his fingers to Donna’s temples and took away her most treasured memories. It had been right, but he’s not sure if that makes it good.
There’s silence after Sarah Jane fades away, leaving him with a darkened and cold ship. He waits in silence as the poison slowly pushes a path through his system.
The next voice is soft and gentle, “Hi.”
He doesn’t have to look up to know who it is. He scrubs his face and breathes in deeply before finally daring to look at her.
“Rose.”
She smiles and something tugs at his heart. “You’ve looked better.”
“Thanks,” he says and the tug twists. “Bit busy trying to neutralize the flow of rotah poison in my bloodstream at the moment.”
“Right,” says Rose, lips twitching. “Not regenerating, then? ‘Cos it sort of looks that way to me.”
He manages a non-committal shrug and tries to pull himself together. Rose gazes at him silently, expression growing more troubled.
“I’m all right,” he says, trying for a smile. He rests his elbows on his knees and dares to look at her. “What about you? How are you getting on?”
He watches her, transfixed, as she nibbles thoughtfully on her bottom lip as if she’s debating how much to tell him. He wonders what it is about her that always makes him feel so torn up inside-seeing her again manages to be the best and the worst feeling in the world.
“How d’you think I’m getting on?” Rose finally settles on.
“I think...” he says slowly, “I think you’re happy. You and me.” He pauses and then adds, more desperately, “We are, Rose, aren’t we?”
She relaxes slightly and her face blossoms into a smile. “Yeah,” she says. “We are, yeah.”
He feels something new tug inside of him. He can’t figure out if it’s longing or jealousy.
“D’you know,” he says, “a part of me hoped that maybe it wouldn’t work... that you wouldn’t accept him as me. A small part, mind you, but it was still there.”
Her smile dims and she closes the distance between them before taking a seat next to him on the battered chair. “He is, though,” Rose whispers. “You, I mean.”
“Yeah,” he says heavily. “That’s something, isn’t it? Me and you, somewhere out there. Living a life together.”
“Forever,” Rose adds, but her eyes are sad. “But it’s never going to be you, though, is it?”
He looks down and seeks out her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. She takes a sharp breath, but doesn’t comment. Their fingers link and she feels so real, exactly like he remembers.
He’s still staring at her hand when he says, “I love you.”
He’s dimly aware that he’s speaking to an empty TARDIS, but one look at Rose and he doesn’t care. Her eyes shine and he can almost forget that none of this is real.
What he doesn’t add is that he hopes that his next incarnation doesn’t love her like this. He died for Rose Tyler, and turned into someone she would want, would approve of. Every cell, every organ of this body felt claimed by her, given a Rose Tyler seal of approval. He can’t bear to go through that again.
“Doctor...” she begins carefully.
He looks sideways at her. “Hmm?”
She musters up a strained smile. “I wish I could be there for you. When it happens.”
“Yeah,” he says. He squeezes her hand again. “Me, too.”
But his fingers grasp empty space, and he curls his hand into a fist, letting himself pretend for another moment.
Then he bows his head, rubbing his temples as another spasm rocks his body. He moans and shudders, trying to calculate the path of poison through his body. His head is beginning to pound-and soon it will hit his internal organs. And that-that...
The sound of clapping breaks through his muted haze and he slowly raises his head. The Master rests against the console, arms folded across his chest, amused half-grin tugging at his mouth.
“No,” says the Doctor. “Not you. Anyone but you.”
The Master pushes himself off the console. “Come now-” He shoves his hands in his pockets and pouts. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”
“You’re not here.” He taps his temple. “You’re in my head-a figment of my imagination. Nothing more.”
“I’m hurt,” says the Master. “Is that what you said to Rose? ‘Ooh, Rose, you’re not really here, I love you so much.’” The Master shudders and makes a show of wiping his mouth. “Well done with her, by the way. The Companion-no, sorry, the woman you love-you chucked away to someone else. In another universe, to boot!”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Donna, though,” continues the Master, “now that’s my favourite. You wiped her memories! Left a brainless idiot in her place.” He heaves a mock sigh. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”
The Doctor rubs his eyes. “Right. Now I know I’m in hell.”
The Master collapses into the seat next to him-the same place Rose had just been-and kicks his feet up on the console.
“Just think, Doctor,” he says, arm draping across the back of the seat. “You and me, we could have spent these last few years together. But here you, alone.” The Master pauses. “Oh, I love it. It’s like you don’t even need me to make you miserable. You do it to yourself.”
“Oh, stuff it,” says the Doctor. “You’re not even here.”
The Master snorts before abruptly sobering. “You don’t really think I’d just let myself die, do you? Like a common human?” He spits the last word. “No. Doctor-you and I both know there’s a part of you inside... waiting.”
“Shut up,” says the Doctor. He pushes his fists against his eyes. “Just... go away.”
He hears the Master snort with laughter and jump to his feet, making a ruckus as he moves through the console room. But then, abruptly, the noise stops. Something inside the Doctor curls and tenses, suddenly uneasy in the quiet stillness of the console room. He focuses on the ins and outs of his body-hearts, lungs, intestines-all still clinging to life.
It’s time to give up and give in, he thinks. Start anew
Distantly, he can hear what sounds like heels clicking over the floor. The noise grows louder as it approaches him and he opens his eyes. The corners of his mouth turn up into a slow smile. It’s Martha, standing in a lab coat and holding a clipboard.
“Oh my god, Doctor,” she says, running towards him. She drops to her knees, flipping through her chart mindlessly, her eyes scanning the pages. “I’ll look after you, don’t worry.”
He nods, oddly comforted. Where seeing Donna had been frustrating and confusing and Rose painful, Martha is solid, steady.
“Martha,” he says. She doesn’t look up from the clipboard, her eyebrows drawing together in worry. “Martha, there’s nothing you can do.” There’s no response, so he changes track and blurts, “I’m sorry.”
He’s not quite sure what he’s apologizing for, but after all these year, he knows something didn’t go right with Martha. There’s always been an awkward barrier hanging between them, unspoken and unacknowledged. He coped by ignoring it. She coped by leaving.
Still, if ever there was a time to right past wrongs...
Martha blinks at the apology and then turns her gaze to his, eyes deepening in understanding. “You’re saying goodbye,” she says. She taps her fingers against the top of her clipboard. “There’s no coming back from this, is there?”
“End of the line.”
“I saw you go stand on top of the Empire State building so you’d get struck by lightening,” she says. “I once restarted your heart. Doctor-”
“Martha,” he says firmly, but not unkindly. “It’s all right. It’s time to move on.” He pauses. “It’s time for you to be someone else’s doctor, now.”
She stares at him silently and then rises to her feet. She thinks for a moment and then says, “I remember what Davros said, back on the Crucible. What he said about who you are-about how you turn your friends into weapons.”
“Martha-”
“And I just want to say-” she interrupts, sending him a warning look. “I want to say that... it wasn’t always easy travelling with you, Doctor. You know what happened to my family, they...” she trails off and then lowers the clipboard to rest at her side. “But look at me now. Turned out all right, didn’t I?”
“Martha Jones,” he manages, “top of the world.”
Her lips twitch into a smile. “I do miss it,” she says, looking around the console room. “I’ve got a job and a husband I love, but all the same.... It’s not the TARDIS, is it?”
“I only take the best,” he murmurs.
“I know,” she says back.
“And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like... like you...”
“It’s not your fault,” she says automatically. Then adds, “Well, not entirely your fault.” She stops, smile dimming. “You’ve still got my mobile, yeah?”
He nods silently.
“You could use it,” she says. “One day.”
She starts to fade, lab coat blending in with the console behind her, clipboard disappearing from her hand. He breathes in sharply, and it hurts less than it had.
“Maybe,” he replies after she’s gone.
The console suddenly feels still, hovering, like the calm before the storm. Won’t be long now, he thinks. He should... what? Prepare? Regenerations were always in the heat of the moment before.
“Got time for one more?”
The Doctor looks over at the voice. It’s Jack-leaning casually against one of the struts, hands tucked under his arms.
“Jack,” he says heavily with no small tug of disappointment. This is it, end of the line-and the last person he sees is... Jack? It could have been Donna or--
“Now I know I’m not a cute blonde, but-” Jack holds out a hand and then pushes himself of the strut, “You have to give me a little credit. We’ve been through quite a ride together, Doctor.”
The Doctor grunts in reply, looking away. He resents being denied another chance with Rose or Donna, and guilty for feeling resentful.
“And I know exactly what you’re thinking. Stop it.”
The Doctor rubs his eyes. “You’re a manifestation of my subconscious. Of course you know what I’m thinking.”
“Okay, fair point,” says Jack after a pause. “Look... I’m just here to ease you through the transition. You know, provide moral support.” He grins. “Hey, have you ever thought about turning into a woman? Because I know a guy-”
“Jack, not now.”
Jack’s expression darkens. “Okay, then. I’m open to another topic. Oh, here’s a good one. Remember when aliens came to Earth for our children?”
“Don’t.”
Jack swings in closer to him, face near his. “You could have found a way to stop it.”
“You don’t know that-”
“After all these years, I know what you’re capable of better than anyone,” Jack says steadily. “You could have stopped it and you didn’t.” He pauses. “I killed my own grandson.”
The Doctor meets his gaze. “And who supplied them with children in the past, Jack? Who was the one who put them on a bus and shipped them away? Actions have consequences. We learn to live with them.”
“That’s not good enough.”
He looks away. “I destroyed my home planet-I killed everyone I loved, my entire family. I know a thing or two about living with consequences.”
Jack falters over his next words. “So that’s it. The big moral speech? ‘Shut up and deal with it?’”
“Yeah, ‘cos I’ve done so well at that,” says the Doctor tightly. He braces his hands on the seat and closes his eyes.
His pain is gone-that’s never a good sign.
“Jack,” he says, voice laced with weariness, “get back. It’s started.”
There’s no reply and he feels a sinking sort of helplessness. Even having Jack around-even that felt better than nothing.
He really, really hates being on his own.
He summons his energy and focuses on taking himself back in time-back to the last time he regenerated. He doesn’t let himself indulge in the memories very often, but now it feels soothing-like cradling a hot cup of tea on a cold day.
He can still remember what it felt like. Everything felt brand new and wondrous. He’d held Rose’s hand and ran from one adventure to the next, hardly daring to let them breathe in between. They had too much fun to stop. After Gallifrey, after the Time War, he felt like he was finally getting a shot at real happiness-even if he knew on some level that it couldn’t last forever.
His hands start to burn and he doubles over in pain, the fire spreading from his hands to his arms-rushing and tearing through his body.
He’s not quite ready to give in, but he’s old and he’s tired. It’s the same speeches, same hand gestures, same pit of loneliness inside of him-everything the same. It’s time to move on.