He knew what was happening.
He knew it would happen sooner or later, and he was ready for it.
He wouldn't fight, he wouldn't try to prevent it or make his life last longer. He only sat there, almost silently, as he waited for death to come.
He was dying.
And he knew it.

The Doctor wasn't depressed; he'd had a nice, long life; full of adventure and fun. He wasn't scared to go.
But he was slightly sad. The universe- No, the galaxy- was losing it's last Time Lord, the last person who actually stood up against the rules for once, who knew how to rebel, change lives. The last person actually able to fight the Daleks.
But were they still around?
He didn't even know if any of his companions were still alive, and doubted it. He was an old man of way over 900 now, and could no longer keep up.
But he'd had a happy life, a fun life, a long life.
The Doctor smirked and blew a ginger strand of hair out of his face.
Ginger.
Finally!
Although, he'd have to say his favorite regeneration was his tenth. His ninth had too big of ears, and he was an easy target then for a rude joke or comment. But his tenth life was thin, active, hyper, and hair. Lots of hair.

The Doctor shifted in his seat and groaned loudly.
Was this death? Then it hurt.
The urge to sleep was so bad, his eyelids trying to close on him.
No, no, not yet, let me say goodbye…He said silently to himself, quietly to himself, in his mind.
He leaned forward, a weak mind in a weak body, and reached a hand out to the console of the TARDIS, patting her lovingly.
"Old girl," he began in a soft, mellow tone. "The years have been kind to us."
The TARDIS hummed slowly in response.
The Doctor wasn't the only thing dying. His ship was too. She was too old, and like him, just simply couldn't keep up.
"I want you to do one more thing." The Doctor murmured quietly, weakly standing up and shuffling 'round to the other side of the console. Like good old times, he began flipping and flicking the switches.
And even though it was a struggling strain, the TARDIS obeyed his command. The TARDIS, his TARDIS. His one true love.
The TARDIS didn't complain, she didn't stop and pretend she wasn't listening. She did as she was told. The TARDIS started up.
The Doctor felt as though he couldn't hold himself upright anymore, all he wanted to do was sleep…sleep…No! Not yet!
But then his legs gave out under his own weight, and he came crashing to the floor.
He landed on his back with a thud, sprawled out there, staring up at the high ceiling and gasping for air.

The Doctor would die with honor.
He would not die fighting. He would not die saving a planet, or freeing a group of slaves. He would not die after getting an award for helping in a war. He would not die admitting his love to a woman.
That was silly, dying just because you liked someone.
He would die with his own type of honor. He would die accepting death naturally. He would die in his own ship.
But now it seemed lonely.

The Doctor felt like a fish out of water, still breathing heavily and lying on the floor, his body was aching.
He tried to suck in air, but when he exhaled, a long goldenly wisp of energy came out with it.
The energy was his dying soul, freeing itself. The energy floated around the TARDIS a couple of seconds, and then slipped through a crack and into space. At least a little of him would still be out there.
The Doctor watched it all with a large, crazed grin and a dazed look in his eyes.
Then, something happened. His mind and body were racing, like he wanted to do laps but he couldn't. He could see memories flashing before his mind, too quickly to make any sense of them.
The energy, the goldenly-orange energy, engulfed his face, molding it and twisting it as though he was clay. He could feel the rest of his body shifting and moving too, changing.
He was going through all his lives one last time, not on his own free will though, and re-living old memories…
The Daleks…Meeting Rose…Leaving Gallifrey…Fighting Daleks with Ace…Destroying the Cybermen with Sarah-Jane…More Daleks…The Daleks had ruined his life.

The memories were going faster and faster and becoming blurrier and blurrier. Like he was on a wild ride on the fair that that simply wouldn't stop.
Then, his last body, the white-haired old man, which he was now.
And then he changed back, back into his present form.
The TARDIS continued to hum slowly as the lights began to fade. She had used up the last of her power.
Both were going.
But, The Doctor…He couldn't…He needed to see his friends. Needed to be with them…But he couldn't.
Still lying on his back, The Doctor looked up at the console, eyelids flickering open and closed.
"Thank you." He murmured quietly to the TARDIS. And then he gave one last shuddering sigh.
And all was still.

All things were still inside the TARDIS, but outside was a different story.
All the stars in the whole of space and time seemed to dim, the planets losing their luster. The need to be explored.
And then something exploded. It was more like a sonic boom really. The TARDIS's dying commands.
The fabric of space and time was twisting and turning, bending and re-shaping itself but only for a moment. The TARDIS was that powerful, and yet it had never showed anybody except her master.
It was as though the dark night sky was melting and re-forming, a heat wave sweeping over everything above Earth, and then a blast of icy air. That's what it was like.

In London, lonely London, The Doctor's favorite city on his favorite planet, there was a graveyard. A large graveyard with hardly any gravestones to call its own.
The Doctor wasn't buried there. The TARDIS is, even though it too is dead, still floating through space. The final frontier. For space and time would surely end, but not as soon as the Earth.
But the gravestone was there so nobody would forget. An almost vain act that one would think someone like The Doctor would do.
Then the fabric of space and time changed. Slowly, someone faded in front of the gravestone. A woman. And then more.
Like ghosts, the people slowly faded in, puzzled and looking around without the slightest idea of what was going on.
Ace, Sarah-Jane, Rose, Liz, Jamie, Harry. All of his companions had suddenly just appeared.
Some of them knew each other, but were still clueless on why they had all been brought here.
They all had about 30 seconds each to look at the gravestone standing alone upon the hill. And they disappeared as time sorted itself back out.
The gravestone held only five words on it.
Five words meaningless to any normal human that walked past.

The Doctor.


The Lonely God.