The Victorious: Novem

by Ravenclaw-in-a-TARDIS

Newly regenerated and with no memory of how the Time War really ended, the Ninth Doctor attempts to pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move on from the war. By chance, he meets a girl named Rose Tyler, and finds a reason to live. Season One rewritten in the context of the Victorious. Part two of the five part Victorious series.

1. Prologue: Regeneration

Prologue: Regeneration

Prologue: Regeneration

I do not own Doctor Who. I own nothing.

.oO0Oo..oO0Oo..oO0Oo..oO0Oo..oO0Oo..oO0Oo..oO0Oo..oO0Oo.

It always hurt. Regeneration was bloody agony.

Gasping on the floor of the TARDIS console room, he opened his eyes.

He was forgetting something, his muddled mind thought. Something important. Something about a wolf. Something about Gallifrey.

Then he noticed the silence.

There was silence in his head. Why couldn't he hear other Time Lords? The silence hurt. He reached out with his mind, searching for someone. Anyone. There was no one there but the TARDIS.

Then he remembered.

Gallifrey was burning.

His people were screaming.

Gallifrey was gone.

He killed them all.

The Doctor (he didn't deserve to call himself that) folded in on himself, his entire body racking with sobs. The silence in his head along with the crushing guilt was too much. Why was he still alive?

Struggling to his feet, he systematically began to disengage the safety mechanisms on the console.

The TARDIS soon realized what he was trying to do, and she began to fight him: Showering sparks, making certain buttons too hot to touch...but her Doctor would not be deterred. This regeneration was as stubborn as ever, and he had a death wish.

Having disengaged all the safety mechanisms, the Doctor walked purposely towards the TARDIS doors fully intending to throw himself unprotected into the time vortex, which would kill him instantly.

There was nothing for it. The TARDIS wasn't going to let him do it. All mighty showers of sparks exploded from strategic areas of the console room, effectively blocking his way to the door.

"I've got to do this!" He shouted, "There is no one left! I should have died with my people. I should have burned with Gallifrey!"

The TARDIS wouldn't let up, despite the fact she was ruining her own console room.

At the same time, she strengthened her psychic link with the Doctor in a way that has never been done before, because it's never been necessary. As much as she could, she occupied some of the empty space in his head.

The Doctor felt the TARDIS brushing his mind. Not like this, my Doctor. My Thief. No.

All at once the fight drained out of the Doctor.

Tired. He was so tired.

The shower of sparks let up. The TARDIS nudged the Doctor's mind again. Sleep, Thief. You must rest.

The Doctor dragged himself out of the console room, only to find that the bedroom had been moved nearby. He had never been so coddled by his ship before. He didn't like it.

He collapsed onto his bed and allowed sleep to claim him.

Seven hours and forty-two minutes. Even when unconscious from a restorative coma, he was acutely aware of the passage of time.

The quiet in his head was almost unbearable, but he felt the comforting hum of the TARDIS filled his mind.

Opening his eyes, he noticed what the TARDIS had been up to while he was sleeping. She had stripped herself down to her barest coral. The lighting was soft and comforting. The interior was nearly unrecognizable from what he was accustomed to during the war, and he was grateful.

Eventually, he changed his clothes. He donned a simple jumper and dark trousers. He couldn't bring himself to part from his leather jacket. He decided to wear it as penance for his crimes. He didn't deserve to forget what he did.

He wondered into the newly remodeled console room and leaned on the console.

"Now what?" he asked despondently.