Chapter Text
Sometimes the Doctor wandered if there was a higher power looking down at their creation and laughed at him and his misfortunes. He wondered if they played a game of their own devices; like playing poker in a dark room and not knowing the rules of the game. He thought it would be a thoughtless entity; why build a vast universe full of life and not be in control of it? He didn’t believe there was a God; even if he had met the devil face to face. He believed in logic; facts and science. Not it fate, destiny, or even the possibly of soulmates.
If The Doctor had to believe in someone; they’d believe in Donna Noble; the most important women in the universe.
Their best friend.
“Doctor?” The Doctor looks to the owner of the voice. Wilfred Mott is looking at him, worry laced in his eyes. “Where are you going now?”
The doctor gives a sad smile, stuffing his hands into his coat pocket. “To see my reward.” He states, before looking to Sylvia Noble at the top of the stairs. He gives a nod to her, before looking back at Wilfred. He turns and walks back to the TARDIS. He pulses and looks at the two of them.
“Keep her safe.”
He says before getting into the safety of the TARDIS. He closes the door and locks it from the inside. He leans his back against the door and shakenly takes a breath. The TARDIS hums around him, worried about her traveler. He pushes himself off the door, towards the console he can feel the TARDIS around, knowing what is to come. He doesn’t say anything, but runs his hand over the console, consoling his oldest friend. The ship seems to relax briefly, before the Doctor starts to navigate to set a course.
Saying Goodbye was never the Doctor’s strongest trait. He hated goodbyes. With past companions; with old friends and people he had met across his travels. Yet; not saying goodbye to Donna hurt more than any other. Maybe because death was nipping at his heels, beckoning to regenerate. But he couldn’t; not now. He had to see the rest of them; make sure they’d make it.
They had too.
~*~
This was a horrible idea, the stupidest idea he had ever thought of doing in his entire nine hundred years of living. Donna would have his head if she saw him like this. Yet, here he was, out in the cold of a new Year, waiting for a woman he had once loved.
Who taught him to love. He owned everything to her. He leans his back on the double doors, holding his arm around his waist. ‘Just a little more time’ He silently begs to whatever being he can, or wants to listen to the Time Lord. ‘Let me see her, please.’ He hears footsteps coming towards him and he looks up, seeing her.
Rose.
He glances towards her; she is as beautiful as he remembers meeting her. He watches her walk away, not wanting to disturb her. Pain flares at his side again making him make a noise of pain. He sees in the corner of his eyes she stops and turns back to look at her.
“You alright mate?” Concern laces her voice, her friendliness melts something in his being. Something he had fallen in love with. He gives a small smile, holding onto where the pain was.
“yeah.”
“Too much to drink?” She tilts her head to him. But doesn’t step closer.
“…. Something like that.”
“Maybe it’s time you went home.” She states and he nods unconsciously agreeing with her.
“yeah….”
“anyways, happy new year!” She gives a smile towards him and he bares more pain to smile back at her.
“and you… What year is this?” He forgets for a second why he’s here. His brain is becoming mush and it’s getting harder to think.
“Blimy, how much have you had?” When he gives a weak shrug she answers. “January the first 2005.”
“2005…” Right before he crashed into her life. He goes to lean back against the door again, trying to ignore the pain in his side. “Tell you what…. I bet you’re going to have really great year.”
“yeah?” She gives a grin. “Right, well. See ya.” She turns and starts to her apartment he watches her go with his eyes, his hearts beating in his chest. She disappears from his view and he lets out a shaky breath.
“Thank you, Rose Tyler.” He whispers out into the night, before he pushes himself off the double doors and stumbling the opposite way towards the TARDIS. He gets a good few steps before the stumbles about losing his balance, about falling onto his face. he makes another pained noise, before looking towards the TARDIS.
A figure stands between him and his ship, briefly his mind thinks of an angel, not one of those statues he is so used to seeing, but an angel like the ones he has seen depicted in stain glass windows of chapels and churches. His vision is a little spotty, as he looks up to his angel. An Ood stands there. The doctor cannot tell if it’s a hallucination or not.
“This song is ending; but the story never ends.” The Ood says, tilting its head towards. “We will sing for you, Doctor.”
Suddenly, his mind is filled with music, the songs of the universe come crashing into his mind. It’s almost overwhelming to him; the melodies of war, pain, cries of despair, sorrow, and death fills his thoughts and he feels like drowning in them. Drowning in music of war; it reminds him of Gallifrey during the time war. The Doctor can hear other melodies in the orchestra of creation, sounds of peace, harmony, hums of laughter and joy. It gives him a sudden burst of energy as he shuffles back onto his feet towards the TARDIS. He opens the door as the TARDIS allows her traveler back inside. He takes another breath once he’s inside; locking the door behind him. The song grows louder in his head as he throws his trench coat onto one of the columns of the ship. Two songs drown into his head; life and death. Isn’t that all creation is? A never-ending cycle of life and death. He stumbles to the console, holding onto the railing of the entry way ramp. He falls forward into the console, catching himself with his hands.
He flicks a switch on the console and the TARDIS starts to move. He can feel himself losing the battle of not regeneration. He looks up, to the heavens above.
“I don’t want to go.” He whispers out into the universe. He could to do so much more with this face, this body, this time.
Yet, it is time. Looking at his hands; he can see the golden dust make his hands fade in and out. He takes another unstable breath of air before he feels himself losing the battle.
He lets go.