Disclaimer: I do not, have never, and probably will never own Doctor Who.
Humming. Familiar humming. It was gentle, slowly bringing him out of sleep.
Except it wasn't gentle, waking, because something was missing something was wrong. It became stronger, more into focus as he woke and remembered-
-He was the only one who could, he had to, there was no other choice, but Rassilon what had he done-
- and flinched away from the memories.
The Doctor opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear blurry vision. The TARDIS. He moved to sit up, but everything felt... odd. Unfamiliar. But this, at least, was a type of unfamiliar that he knew how to deal with. He'd regenerated, that was all.
He very carefully did not think about exactly why he'd regenerated.
The Doctor stood up, cautiously, and looked himself over. Two legs, good, two arms, ten fingers and - he wiggled his toes in now badly-fitting shoes - ten toes, too. Still male, which was something of a relief: he'd always been male before, and he thought he liked it. He took a few steps, each one slightly surer, getting used to his new balance.
The TARDIS hummed at him again, and he patted her console. Automatically, he reached out with his mind-
-And the empty, sucking void rushed in, horrible blankness where there should have been thousands of minds. But it was empty, it was wrong, and it was all his fault that he was so alone-
-he slammed his shields closed and stood there, trembling.
The sense of alone receded, finally, and he came back to himself. Slowly the shaking stopped. He took a deep steadying breath, another, then gingerly cracked his shields the tiniest bit, focusing solely on the TARDIS.
The darkness loomed around the edges, but this time he could feel the TARDIS in the void. She was weak, damaged by the Time War and - after - but she was there.
"You're alright girl," he said aloud. Then he paused, considering his new voice. "Bit of a change, this is," he said to himself.
The Doctor looked down at himself again, this time focusing on what he was wearing. He pinched the fabric of the coat and grimaced. "Velvet. No. Really not my style." Plus, the coat was a bit battered, ripped from - no, not thinking right now. Focus on the clothes. He shrugged the jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. The wardrobe was close if he remembered correctly, just two lefts, up the stairs and through the first door on the right. But no, he should probably take a look at himself first. The nearest mirror was... that way, he thought.
He walked hesitantly through the TARDIS, listening to her hum and trying not to look at the burn marks, broken paneling - all the damage from the end of his world-
-All that was left, he was the only one left and it hurt-
-but he could fix this, anyway, he just needed some time. First thing to do was build another screwdriver - no, wait, first thing to do was find a mirror. He had to focus.
Here, this way; the mirror was right through this doorway. He turned the knob with undue caution, creaking the door open, then stepping through and closing it behind him. Only then did he turn around and look.
The Doctor stared. His last face had been a poet's face, a dreamer's face, all soft lines and curls. This face was thin, sharp, with a hawk-like nose jutting out. This face had no hair framing it, softening it; it had ears sticking out wide on either side. This face had piercing eyes, shadowed eyes. This was a soldier's face. This-
-This was the face of a killer, this was the face of a murderer, this was the face of the man who had destroyed his entire world, this was the face of a man who had committed genocide on his own people-
His fist smashed into the mirror. It didn't shatter; the material in the TARDIS was much stronger than glass. The soldier still stared back.
"You self-righteous bastard!" he shouted at it. "You-" He cursed at his reflection - at himself - in English, Gallifreyan, and a dozen other languages, using all the names he could remember and quite a few he made up. The face in the mirror stared at him as he swore at it, not retreating, glaring back at him.
He slowed and stopped, finally, when he ran out of things to say and stood, glowering and panting. The mirror didn't move.
He jerked his head away and put a hand on the wall, leaning against it as he glared at the floor. "It's all gone," he said bitterly. "Every bit of it. All gone, just like that." He closed his eyes. "So what am I supposed to do now?"
-All gone, all dead, all alone...-
The Doctor stumbled as the TARDIS suddenly lurched. He grabbed the doorknob to steady himself until it stopped, barely managing not to fall over.
Shaken out of his thoughts, he noticed peripherally that the mirror was gone. He wasn't surprised, really; the TARDIS always took care of things like that.
He slipped again as the TARDIS thumped down. They must have landed somewhere. That was odd; he didn't think he had inputted any co-ordinates. Somehow though, he wasn't caring as much as he should.
The lights flashed at him and the door swung pointedly open. The Doctor almost laughed. Obviously the TARDIS didn't want him wallowing in her corridors anymore. He could feel her; she wanted him to go out and... What? Do what he always did? Save worlds, help people-
-Try so hard and fail again, watch them die and break-
The lights flashed at him.
Suddenly he grinned widely, a brand new expression for a brand new face. "Might as well see what's out there," he announced. If he was going to stay at all sane-
-But he was shattered already, a madman, a killer-
-he had to focus on the present. With - everything - the universe was going to need a Doctor more than ever.
The grin didn't reach his eyes.