Oxford. 1842. The Doctor dusted off his hands - a job well done. He'd contributed to Scotland Yard's efforts on a murder case involving a middle aged man and a 'big alien thingy'. Well, that was how they all described it, and he would agree. But, it had drawn to a close, and he figured treating himself to a little journey throughout space and time couldn't do him any harm.

As the doors of his TARDIS opened at a click of his fingers, the smell of 'home' hit him. For once, it didn't seem unhappy to see him.

"Happy to see me old girl, eh?"

A low groan radiated from the TARDIS' walls.

His gaze fell for a brief moment, before he looked up with a smile. Definitely still his old girl.

"Right then, where to," he mumbled, grabbing the terminal and browsing the sheer list of locations.

Everything he saw were just places he'd visited before. He wanted somewhere new, somewhere exciting. His jaw clenched, he could only draw blanks. Being able to explore space and time was amazing, but living for over one thousand years and owning a time machine which could transport him anywhere in the universe almost instantaneously meant that a lot of the good ones were ticked off. He sat there pouting, hand on chin, wondering just where the hell he could go.

In the end, he got fed up and demanded the TARDIS take him anywhere, as long as it was somewhere he'd never been. Within seconds, the whirr signalling its dematerialisation filled the Doctor's ears.

As his machine touched down on presumably yet undiscovered ground, the Doctor made his way to the doors with a bounce in his step.

Pulling them open revealed... a high street in present day London? Scrunching his nose, he looked back at the TARDIS in confusion.

"I said somewhere I haven't been! Why of all places would you send me to London?!"

The Doctor deducted that there must've been a good reason. His machine liked to mess around with him sometimes but never disobeyed a direct order unless it had to. Keeping that in mind, he started to poke around a little.

He noticed a bus station was housed just up the road. Approaching it, he spotted an enclosed map on the side. It immediately stuck out to him that the map in question wasn't modern. Weathered, crinkled and grimy. Being so old, no 'You Are Here' sign was present, so the only way for the Doctor to find his location was by scouring it. Tracing the map with his finger, he came to an approximate estimation of where he was.

Except, something was wrong. According to the map, just South East of him lay a side street right off the high street, though the Doctor was sure he went by just a minute ago and never saw the marked passage. His brow furrowed, the Doctor dashed back to where he landed and took it slowly from the beginning, retracing his steps to the bus station. He kept his eyes trained to the right, looking for any small gaps between buildings.

Only a few paces later did he notice an opening, surrounded by two brick structures - one beige, the other red. It was like you'd never notice it if you weren't aware of its existence.

"Now THAT is fascinating! It's a trap street!" he said with a grin and clasped hands. No wonder he was so oblivious.

It must've been a misdirection circuit.

Preferring to keep a low profile, he hopped onto the concealed street and quietly continued onward. Houses which seemingly appeared a mesh of the Victorian era and the Middle Ages lined both sides of the street. The damp cobblestone ground only added to the illusion. Oddly enough, the Doctor noticed that there was no natural light after crossing through the entrance. The only thing keeping it lit were some Victorian styled lamps. A bit out of place, but nothing too unfitting. He gathered it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, though. Trap streets never existed for no reason.

Thanks to hyper sensitive ears exclusive to Time Lords, he picked up the distant sound of raised voices arguing - and it was getting louder by the second. With his typical Doctor logic, he convinced himself that the best thing he could do was run towards the source.

Each step he took compounded the idea that what he was doing was a bad plan, yet he never once slowed down. He was the Doctor, he always found a way out of trouble. The voices - a voice started to become remarkably familiar as he closed in, but he brushed it off as his mind playing tricks on him like it often did. Then, throwing his arms out to balance himself while slowing down, he arrived at the origin.

The shadows casted by three people played on the window of the house; one tall and thin, the other two short. He fumbled around to find the door knob, eventually gripping it. He turned it tentatively and felt the entrance start to give way, so he pushed it open just enough to peer through a slight crack. He wouldn't be spotted but he could hear better and even get a little look at whoever was inside if he was lucky.

A rough Scottish tone pierced the air. The Doctor got a quick glimpse at who it belonged to, the man from the shadows. Dressed in a red velvet overcoat with a navy blue shirt underneath, the Doctor saw him holding a woman by the arm while pointing to someone he couldn't see through the gap. The man seemed to be going off on some sort of rant, to the point where the Doctor was almost impressed at how furious he sounded. He caught a few fleeting words as he held his breath and pressed an ear to the door.

"You will do it now, or I will rain hell on you for the rest of time."

And then came that voice. Again. So many bells rung inside the Doctor's head and yet he was unable to think of who it belonged to.

"Doctor, stop talking like that."

Behind the door, he froze. It all suddenly came rushing back to him. It was his own companion, Clara Oswald. She uttered his name - he was sure it was impossible. He had no remaining regenerations and he had certainly never been where he was standing before.

No. He is not the Doctor. Impossible.

The woman - the not Clara woman, spoke up.

"You can't," she said, shaking her head.

It didn't phase the man one bit. Instead, he grew even angrier.

"I can do whatever the hell I like. You've read the stories, you know who I am! And in all of that time, did you ever hear anything about anyone who stopped me?"

"I know the Doctor. The Doctor would nev-"

"The Doctor is no longer here, you are stuck with me! And I will end you, and everything you love."

Clara interjected, knowing his rage was misplaced. "Doctor, for god's sake, will you stop?"

"No!", he roared.

"I did this! Do you here me? I did this, this is my fault!"

Still seeing red, he dismissed her plea. "I don't care!"

"Liar. You always care, always have. Your reign of terror will end at the sight of the first crying child and you know it."

"No I don't," he replied.

"I do."

Their gazes met while Clara took a second to compose herself before continuing.

"Listen, if this is the last I ever see of you, please, not like this."

It was the last the Doctor heard of their conversation, opting to find a hiding place and wait it out until they walked out the front door.


A short period of time elapsed, all he could make out was a melancholic tone consistent with what he'd overheard by the entrance. The Doctor had his hand pressed to a stone cold wall when the unmistakable sound of Clara's boots on the cobblestone caught his attention. A raven cawed in the distance. Onlookers fled inside their homes.

The Doctor silently peered round the edge of the wall, wanting a better view. Clara, his Clara, was dressed with a thick blue jumper and dark skinny jeans, an outfit he'd never seen her don before. Following her out was that man she called the Doctor. He sported slightly unkept hair, a face imprinted with wrinkles and especially harsh eyebrows to cap it off.

The raven cawed again and landed on a nearby shopping stall. Something was happening, the Doctor could sense it. He stepped out and made his presence known.

"Clara," he called.

She was rooted in place, unresponsive. He tried again, louder.

"Clara!"

The figure in the red coat snapped his head to the side, doing a double take at the sight before him.

"No no no, you can't be here. Go, go now!" he shouted, attempting to force the Doctor to leave.

Clara finally turned her head at the commotion. Her jaw dropped at who she saw wrestling with the man she accompanied. Her Doctor. The one who was so enthusiastic and the one who waited three hundred years to see her again on Trenzalore.

"Doctor?"

He was too busy to notice until he managed to land a clean punch on the man's chin, stunning him temporarily. He used that time to sprint towards Clara but unbeknownst to the Doctor, the man he just attacked was a fellow Time Lord and capable of recovering from such a strike much quicker than ordinary humans could and in seconds he was going after the Doctor once more.

Unable to keep a firm grasp on his emotions, the Doctor took his Impossible Girl in his arms, away from danger. Dipping his head, he gazed at Clara. Her face was paralysed with fear and emotion. He couldn't understand why - she was his companion... or so he thought. His name escaped from her mouth once more, this time much weaker.

"Doctor..."

His poor girl was close to breaking. The strange man and his people must've used some form of mind control to make her believe that man was the Doctor. Her lips quivered and her eyes widened, like she was couldn't believe he was alongside her.

He ran his fingers through her hair in a soothing manner. "It's okay, Clara. I've got you."

Out the corner of his eye, he caught the man move closer, slower than before but still approaching.

"If you take one step closer, I will drag you through every torture chamber in the universe three times over. Don't even think about it," he threatened.

Ignoring his order, the man fired back. "Let her go! You are about to make a grave mistake, let her go now!"

In their heated exchange, both failed to notice a final screech from the raven as it swooped onto the street and started flying towards Clara.

Clara placed a hand on the Doctor's chest, capturing his attention.

"It's coming."

"What's coming? You're safe with me, Clara. Nobody is coming to hurt you."

"The raven is coming," she said.

The man quickly filled the Doctor in. "It's a Chronolock. You can't stop it. Now step away!"

No. This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

Turning to the side, he spotted the fast incoming raven. The Doctor knew a Chronolock was impossible to remove unless the person who applied the lock later chose to revoke it, but with such little time left it wasn't possible.

His final effort to save Clara would have to be an act of sacrifice - himself. The Doctor gathered the raven killed whatever it touched, Chronolock or not. The lock itself was just a mark of death. He placed Clara behind his back, still in the line of flight but with a body between her and the raven. She tried to resist him, knowing what he was doing, but he proved too strong and kept her in place with a firm grip.

By the time everyone else had realised, it was too late.

A harrowing bellow of desperation loud enough to separate planets came from the man behind him - and finally, he remembered.

"The Doctor has a secret he will take to the grave. It is discovered."

Every fibre of his being screamed at him in regret. How could he forget? This was not his final resting place. Dying in some insignificant trap street would cause a paradox so huge, the universe would rip itself apart. It was Trenzalore. That was where he fell.

Welling up, the Doctor eyed Clara. "Clara, I'm so sorr-"

His speech was cut short, courtesy of the raven. It had gone right through him, snatching his core away. Whilst still maintaining a pulse due to residual regeneration energy keeping him alive, it would not last long and soon, he'd fade away into non-existence not saving the universe, but destroying it. He wanted his final memory to be his greatest mystery, holding Clara's hand loosely as he exhaled a plume of black smoke. He collapsed onto the cold stone, Clara following after him, sobbing.

"Doctor, do something!" she cried.


The other Doctor was so angry. He was so angry at his younger self. How stupid he was, putting himself on the brink of death when his whole future rested on it. There was only one thing he could do, otherwise he too would disappear from reality and Clara would be left with no Doctor at all. Hurrying over to his younger self, he kneeled down and harnessed his regeneration energy. It was possible to provide dying Time Lords with enough energy to survive, however the ratio of energy required to heal compared to giving someone the ability to heal was extremely disproportionate. River successfully saved him in his now dying incarnation, but in doing so gave up all future regenerations.

It was the only way to save his future. At the same time, he would doom himself to his current form, with no further regenerations according to the rules set in stone by the Time Lords.

"Hang tight. I'm going to give you some regeneration energy so you can survive. It's the only way."

Despite being fatally wounded, the Doctor still protested, albeit very lightly. "No... no, you can't do that-"

Spluttering and with shallow breath, he submitted and awaited his future self's regeneration energy. Eyes shut, he squeezed Clara's hand with all remaining strength. Thankfully, she had not been struck and the Chronolock had vanished. He figured, if he were to die, it would've at least been in an act of heroism.

Golden regeneration particles emitted from the future Doctor's fingertips, followed by a mass of energy. He pressed them to the dying Doctor's chest, shutting his eyes to completely focus his attention on transferring his energy. As the process continued and the energy continued to drain, he sensed himself start to become older and more like his face in age. A creaking back, sore knees, all the things he didn't want to return from his incredibly long stay on Trenzalore where he grew old with his previous face. But he'd deal with it later - in the Doctor's mind, it was this or not existing, and he chose the former.

On the other hand, the face who danced with death felt more and more reinvigorated by the second, his pain disappearing and a smile forming once again.

Stopping only when he witnessed the other Doctor letting off regeneration energy, he stepped back and brought a previously distraught Clara with him. What happened next was a powerful process, not something she experienced the first time round. Although he likely wouldn't change his face, it would require a lengthy period of regeneration to heal the damage sustained from the raven.

It rose through the younger Doctor's body like fire, scorching, but in a good way. Entertaining another regeneration hadn't crossed his mind, ever since Clara told him about Trenzalore he'd started to resign himself to eventually dying like a grumpy old man.

Hands glowing, neck burning, the Doctor picked himself up from the ground with a grunt and locked his gaze with Clara's, reassuring her that he wouldn't change his face. "Another regeneration, just when I was almost ready to die an old man! Don't you worry Clara, I'll still be the same old me on the other side!"

He arched back slightly, raised his arms and let the dam spill over.