A/N: I had this little idea rambling about in my brain and thought I would put it out there. If you would like me to continue, if you think it's any good please leave a review and let me know. Enjoy!
Prologue - The Fall of the Eleventh
He knew it had to end here and where else but on the fields of Trenzalore just as Dorium had prophesied a hundred years ago. He'd lived a long time, too long. Seen too much blood, so many dead and yet he survived, always surviving. Everything he'd once held dear and precious to him long gone and the loneliness was like a ravenous pit. He wanted to fall into it, forget he'd ever existed and never feel pain or loss again.
"Come on," he yelled, holding his arms out wide, "take me."
The question had been answered, it was over, what else was left and the fields before him were turning into an icy wasteland, soon he would cease to exist. He welcomed death. No one to save him this time, he'd made sure of that. There was no more River. His time with her was over. He'd taken her to the singer towers of Darillum and that had been heart breaking. He'd tried to hide his tears from her but failing. How did he tell someone he loved that the next time they would see him, he wouldn't know her and she would die alone, the Doctor she loved a stranger to her and just that thought, ate away at him. He had put if off for as long as he could but the fields of Trenzalore were waiting for him and it was time for him to say goodbye to River, his last time with her.
It was definitely over. He was tired of fighting, even tired of winning, what was the point when it always meant he was to be alone.
"Take me!"
His voice carried on the fierce winds swirling around him. The ground gave way beneath his feet. It was a spectacular fall. He'd never fallen so far or so hard and pain shot through his body, agonising, a thousand knives stabbing him.
And then there was silence.
He couldn't feel but his conscious was still here. The memories floated through his mind, like a film in rewind.
The last time I saw you, the real you, the future you, I mean - you turned up on my doorstep, with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Darillium to see the singing towers. Oh, what a night that was! The towers sang, and you cried.
River.
Amy and Rory.
Everyone to come before, everything he'd ever lived for, everyone he'd saved and the people who had saved him.
"River," he whispered.
He still had a voice.
He couldn't be dead. Not yet.
His eyes opened and he stared up at the dark sky, the icy wind swirling above him.
He was alive, the bitter irony.
Broken; his body shattered but not dead. He couldn't feel, couldn't move and that could only mean one thing. His neck was broken.
He couldn't even click his fingers to summon the tardis. Not that it would do him any good if he couldn't move his body to get back inside of it.
And too cold for him to regenerate. It was 20 below zero Celsius. He estimated that he had five minutes left if that. Too long really, too many memories, memories he clung to. All he had left.
He let out a mirthless laugh. "So you got me in the end."
He shut his eyes, waited for death to claim him. A silent tear tracked its way down his frozen face.
'I'll suffer if I have to kill you.'
'More than every living thing in the universe?'
'Yes.'
He held onto the memory of her, the smell of hair, the way it felt in his hands, the love for him that shone in her eyes, River, Melody Pond, the child of the tardis, the child of Amy and Rory, the woman who married him, the woman who died for him.
And you are forgiven. Always and completely forgiven.
Yes he would die with her being his last thought, his last memory ... but ... there was sound, other than the wind. And he knew that sound, loved that sound and slowly turning his head he saw his tardis materialize in front of him.
"Too late old girl," he murmured through frozen lips, "I'm done for, can't move, you'll have to find yourself another mad man to steal you ..." The words fell away when he saw the tardis door open and a figure of a person appeared.
No, not possible. No one knew he was here. He'd made sure of that, no one else was going to die for him.
The figure of the person walked towards him but he couldn't identify them in their attire, rugged up to brace the cold.
Whoever it was they kneeled down beside him.
"Forget it, I can't move, my neck is broken," he croaked.
He thought he glimpsed compassion in the eyes that stared back at him, eyes he did but didn't know. They didn't speak, put a brace around his neck and placing their arms under his arms dragged him into the tardis.
It didn't matter. It was too late but better to die in the tardis, with his sexy than on the frozen plains of Trenzalore, what was left of them.
Who was this person? How did they know he would be here? So many questions, but the light was fading before his eyes. His body was frozen.
"Regenerate," the voice of the masked person insisted.
"C-Can't, t-too cold," he stuttered.
His eyes closed and he waited for death to claim him. He could feel it, any moment now ... a big thick doona was placed over him and his eyes shot open. He watched the person dispense of their coat and scarf and beanie and he knew who it was, but no, not possible, it couldn't be.
"Rory," he croaked.
"I hoped I was better looking," the person returned wryly, "guess you can't help what you get in the gene pool."
He was confused. The person lay down next to him, wrapped themselves around his numb frozen body, pulling the doona around them.
"W-What are you doing?"
"It's called body heat Doctor."
Already he could feel the warmth tingling through his veins.
"But this could kill you."
The person yawned as if this experience wasn't new to them. "Don't worry I'll know when to pull away."
Who the hell were they? So many questions and now no time to ask them.
"I think you should start concentrating on your new face, just don't make it too different Doctor."
He heard the catch in their voice. Did he know this person, this sort of look-a-like Rory but not Rory but someone who obviously knew a lot about him?
"W-who are ..."
Sharp sudden pain filled his body and he grimaced. This pain he was familiar with, this pain he knew all too well.
He was going to regenerate.
"Move away," he hissed, "it's starting."
The young man scuttled back and the Doctor shut his eyes, clenched down with his teeth, braced himself for what he knew would come. All the memories rushing around his head, faster and faster, he was no longer able to hold them. Pain racked his body. His arms and legs stretched out stiffly, gold light escaped from his fingers and then the sudden bright light engulfed him and everything around him. And then he fell into darkness and remembered nothing.
Maybe he was dead after all.
A/N: BTW this story is not intended to be an angst story, just this prologue. After all the Doctor has to regenerate and that always seemed a painful process for him when watching the series.
