Disclaimer: I own nothing from Doctor Who, but the story and all rights to it are mine.
The message on the psychic paper was a short one: 'Aug. 5, 2005 A.D., London Memorial Hospital, room 2002. Come quickly, Doctor. I am dying.'
"Who the hell do I know in 2005?" thought the Doctor, as he scratched his newly regenerated head. He still hadn't bothered to examine his new physiognomy yet, mainly because, since the Time War's ending, he was simply too depressed to care.
He set the controls for the proper space-time coordinates sending the great machine hurtling into the vortex, and then went to retrieve a jacket from the wardrobe. He set several aside barely glancing at them, but paused to look over one or two more thoroughly. In the end he chose one of simple leather, partly out of a wish to blend in. He wasn't planning on staying for any longer than necessary, and he didn't want to stand out. It invited too many questions he didn't feel like answering.
The Tardis materialized in an alleyway directly across from the hospital. The Doctor locked the doors and strode quickly across the street. Once inside he bypassed the front desk and headed straight for the lifts.
He was glad that the ride was a short one; the lift was packed and one of the women inside was wearing far too much perfume. "Mental note to self: take the stairs on the way out", he thought his nose crinkling.
The lift doors opened and he stepped out looking around at the room numbers. After a brief walk he found 2002 at the far end of the hall and knocked softly at the door as he entered.
An old man lay in the bed; wires and tubes ran from him to various machines surrounding it. Turning his head to face his visitor, the old man's eyes fixed on the Doctor's, and he smiled.
The Doctor felt a brief mental contact as realization set in on him. "You!" he exclaimed in surprise. He rounded the bed and took the old man's hand in his. It was cold to the touch.
"Yes, Doctor", he said slowly, his voice no more than a whisper. "It is I. The Meddling Monk, I believe you called me, though I always liked the 'Time Meddler' better."
The Doctor sat down still holding his hand. "How? I thought everyone but me died."
"They did, but I was still trapped on that ice planet when the war started. I could not answer the call to Gallifrey."
The Doctor smiled even though tears began to fall from his eyes. "You don't have any regenerations left do you?"
"No. It is my time. Soon you truly will be the last of our kind. I'm sorry, Doctor. I would have spared you the pain of losing an old fool like me. But I must warn you before it is too late."
"What do you mean 'too late'?"
"I didn't get here on my own, Doctor. My Tardis died on that miserable world. I was found by the Nestene Consciousness and rescued in exchange for information. But they lied to me." He broke into a coughing fit. The Doctor stood and poured him a cup of water, which the old man sipped from when it passed.
"What happened?" the Doctor pressed. "You said they lied. About what?"
"They told me…they needed to find a…habituated world to leech the toxins…and pollution off of…temporarily while they fashioned a new chain…of food planets in this sector of space" he wheezed. "They had lost theirs in the war."
The Doctor's eyes went wide. "And you believed them? Why pick the Earth?"
"I didn't find out…until it was too late for me to stop them…that they meant to harvest this world. And I knew…that my time…was running out. I wanted…to die on the…only other world…I had ever called home."
His eyes locked with the Doctor's. "Please, Doctor…stop them…I only wanted to…try and help them…I didn't want to…damn the Earth." Tears filled the old man's eyes. "I just wanted…to do something…good for once…in my life."
The Doctor took his hand again, and felt his pulse. One heart had already stopped. It would not be much longer.
"Alright, I'll do what I can. Where are they hiding?"
"I don't know…they tried to…kill me when…we got…here…but I…managed to…escape." He was beginning to fade.
"Come on think! You must be able to remember something…anything!"
His breathing was heavily labored now, and his eyes began to lose their focus. "Doctor…save…the…Earth…don't…let…my…last…act…be…evil…"
His last breath eased out of his body, and the Doctor was alone in the universe again. He reached up and closed eyes that would never see again, then sat down and began to quietly weep for the loss of one of his own.
A doctor and nurse came in, apparently summoned by an alarm from one of the machines. The young man in white declared the time of death, signed his name to a bit of paper and left. The nurse, an older lady, walked around to the Doctor.
"I'm so sorry for your loss; he seemed like a very nice man. Are you family?"
"No. Just an old friend. He didn't have any family."
She looked through the papers on her chart. "It says here that it was his wish to be cremated. Will you be taking possession of his remains?"
The Doctor looked at the old Time Lord's body. "Yeah, I guess I am."
She nodded. "I'll go and call the morticians then." She left without another word.
The Doctor stood up, looked in silence from the foot of the bed for a moment longer, then turned and walked back towards the lifts.
He would come back for his friends ashes. Just as soon as he dealt with the Nestene.
