Set very very soon after the end of Day of the Doctor for the War Doctor/Nine.

Pre-Series 1.

The night was a cold one, with bitter wind that bit any part of skin it could find on any unlucky person who had bared any.

Amongst the howling of the elements, the wheezing sound could barely be heard as a battered blue police box came spinning out of the sky and hit the ground with a crash. The door creaked as it opened, and a man stumbled out, wearing Victorian clothes that did not fit him.

A passing old man was watching from nearby, growing more confused by the second. He was even more baffled when the strange man approached him, still having trouble standing straight.

The strange man grabbed the elder by the shoulders firmly, pure anguish and loss in his eyes. The old man was shocked from the mere sight of it, and knew that the level of pain and emptiness he saw in those blue eyes would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. He barely noticed when the man began to speak, a Northern accent coming through.

"They're all gone, I'm the only one left," He whispered, choking on his own words. No tears were present on his face but his expression looked as though he should have them. He then stumbled away, going back to near the blue box he had emerged from, leaving the old man bewildered.

The man with short dark hair and big ears sank to the ground, strange broken noises coming out of his mouth while his body convulsed slightly. The old man could do nothing but stare and wonder if he should call for some kind of professional help.

The Doctor resisted the urge to scream at the top of his lungs. The complete silence in his head was killing him, slowly but surely.

They were all gone…

The thought could not fit inside his head properly. It simply did its best to squeeze in, and when it did not fit, it pressed on the sides of his mind, and dug in painfully. Romanadvoratrelundar, and her cousin, whose name he couldn't bring himself to even think of, the Corsair, Braxiatel, Susan, Drax, and so many others. All of them, gone.

A sharp, technological noise rang through the air, and he jerked his head towards it. At the top of the slanted road in front of him, there now stood a figure, clutching a Vortex Manipulator in her hands while her legs trembled.

She wore no clothes, only a few tattered unidentifiable rags of what could only have once been clothing of some kind, and they were so ruined that they covered nothing, and fell off her with each movement she made.

He looked closer, and their eyes met. She opened her mouth multiple times, as if she were trying to say something. When nothing came out she began to run towards him in a wobbly manner and zigzagged path. He stood up and took of his coat. The moment she got close, he wrapped the coat around her small form. She shoved her arms through and did it up properly. Luckily the coat was long, and she was small.

Now in his waistcoat, scarf, shirt, aged trousers and bandolier, he stared at the new arrival, pain still etched onto his face, while shock and scrambled emotions dominated hers.

"Theta?" She whispered, staring up at him slowly, her brow furrowed. He had not been able to see it before, but her eyes were intelligent, far too intelligent, and so wonderfully familiar.

"Ali?" He barely managed to get the word out, his throat was so constricted.

It wasn't possible…they were all dead, he had seen it! He had felt it. And yet…

And aside from that, she was long dead. She hadn't even survived the first day of the war, because - as Romana had explained - she had stupidly gone off by herself for an unknown reason. From his point of view, he had not seen her for decades, decades of hell as he knew it and continuous death caused by the endless war.

Aliyanadevoralundar, the one who had always caused him the most pain.

Or Aliya, for the sake of common sense.

Tears of something – sadness, joy, shock? He could not tell - welled up in her eyes. A strange sort of hysterical laugh escaped her lips as she nodded frantically.

"How are you here? How can you be here?"

"I…I don't know," She stammered, "I was given the manipulator and I just…was here. But it was dark, so dark…but it's so quiet, I can't hear anything...why can't I hear anything? What happened?"

He didn't answer.

"What happened?" She demanded, clutching at her head and yelling. "Why is my head empty? What happened in the war?"

"Everyone lost," He said, staring at her, "I'm sorry, Aliya, but...they're all dead. Gallifrey's gone." It wasn't as difficult to say outloud as he had expected. Perhaps because by telling someone else who understand, he could be blamed, and incriminated, just like he deserved. And even though the words were impossible, he could see that she knew that he told the truth, that the silence in her head was proof enough.

"How?"

That he really couldn't answer, but when he was silent, she just began to sob and scream, pulling at her hair and letting the tears stream down her face.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her as tightly as he could for fear she would disappear and only turn out to be a figment of his imagination. She squeezed back, leaning her head again his chest as her tears soaked it. After some time, they pulled away. She ducked her head forward, and her long, knotted to the point of almost dreaded, brown hair swung forward into her face.

The Doctor pushed it back behind her ear. Their eyes met again, both dull from the emptiness inside both of them, but a spark remained, a spark created from the other's presence.

He grabbed the lapels of her jacket – his jacket?- and kissed her fiercely.

She stood on her tiptoes – why was this body so small? – and wound her arms around his neck as best she could despite the height difference.

Like so many times before, the kiss was desperate, fierce, and spurred on by the loss they had both suffered. Their lips were locked in a terrifying dance with no intention of separating for the next century, and in all fairness, they had no reason to.

"Let go of her! You sir, should be ashamed of yourself! Taking advantage of a young girl like that!" They jumped apart, staring at the speaker, whom the Doctor vaguely recognised as someone he had talked to before Aliya had turned up.

"Young girl?" Aliya asked indignantly in a hushed tone.

He studied her more closely and frowned. "You only look about sixteen by their standards. And I physically look much older. For them, what we just did is a crime."

"So I'm a child. For Rassilon's sake, that's ridiculous."

"Yep. For them, such physical age gaps are disgusting," The Doctor admitted.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't care what they think! Stop focusing on that and focus on kissing me instead." She brought their lips back together, and he did as she commanded.

"Stop it! I'll call the police, don't think I won't!" The old man said again.

The Doctor and Aliya pulled apart, and he leant his forehead down against hers.

"Do you want to go now?" He asked her. She nodded, ignoring the slight pain in her stomach. His hand delicately ran down her arm, and he folded his fingers around hers.

They entered the TARDIS hand in hand, ignoring the dagger glare of the old man on their backs. His TARDIS looked strange to her, but familiar to him.

She noted the damage and debris. "What happened? Did this…happen in the Time War?" She bit her lip.

He frowned. "It will need to rebuild. We'll find some clothes and then land somewhere peaceful. I think it can make one more trip. Come on, the wardrobe is this way." He began to pull her but she jerked her hand out. She bent over as pain struck her violently in her midsection like someone was squeezing the life out of her insides.

She cringed. "Just when I was starting to get the idea of being this small in my head." She sighed.

The Doctor watched her in surprise. "I thought you had regenerated recently."

"It's a long story, and one I don't have time to explain." She gasped, and grimaced. "See you on the other side, Theta."

Her body began to glow, with the golden light appearing to emit from inside her skin itself. It grew until it burst, the pillars of energy soaring through the already wrecked console room and bringing more wreckage down. The Doctor had to jump around to avoid it while trying to also keep an eye on his friend.

Her screams echoed through the TARDIS, and his hearts and mind. Eventually they faded along with the light, and the woman standing where the girl had been murmured one word.

"Doctor…" She had barely gotten it out before she collapsed to the floor almost immediately. By the time the Doctor was able to reach her, she was completely unconscious. He scooped the woman who was now almost a stranger in his arms and began to make his way through the half-collapsed corridors in search of the wardrobe.

What didn't help was that the new regeneration of his friend was taller than the body that had just died before him. She was also heavier. He shifted his hands where they were holding her and did his best not to pull on her newly blonde hair in any way that might be painful. He was slightly thankful it was shorter than it had been previously, meaning there was less of it to get in the way.

The wardrobe room was still mostly intact to his relief, and he gently lay Aliya down on the floor. He tried not to be distracted by the fact that now that her body was somewhat longer, his old coat hid less of her body. He shook his head quickly and began shifting through the large assortment of racks for clothes for himself, and his unconscious companion.

So many clothes were selected, held up, and then discarded onto the floor, that the Doctor was becoming irritable. Finally, he saw a glimpse of leather poking out from between a woollen pink jumper and a pair of slacks. Ignoring his initial sceptical instinct, he pulled it out regardless and held it up against himself, inspecting the overall look in the mirror. Nodding to himself, he selected a dark green jumper to go underneath and some dark trousers before getting changed.

All in all, he looked rather as though he would blend into the background a little. He didn't want or need the attention of all the humans.

Of course, now the more difficult problem of choosing clothes for Aliya came to prominence. As she had yet to be conscious in her new body, he had no idea what clothes she liked. He had thought she often liked the long Gallifreyan dresses, but they were all gone now. The thought of anything to do with his home caused another painful stab of loss and guilt to hit him yet again.

Eventually he opted for two different choices, and he hoped one of them would work.

The first was a white garment he had taken from Ancient Greece a couple of centuries back, and was very similar to the togas that many wore there except for the fact that it strapless. It was quite long, therefore good insurance as it was hard to tell how tall she was yet.

The other was in case she was not a fan of such feminine clothing. He picked out a pair of late twentieth century denim overalls.

He draped the two pieces of clothing under his arm before grabbing a large, warm blanket which he proceeded to wrap around Aliya to preserve her dignity and body warmth. Carrying her out of the wardrobe room, he began to weave his way back towards the console room. The TARDIS needed to rebuild, and there was no place more restful for three worn out Gallifreyans than the Eye of Orion. Placing Aliya on the ground of the console room, he put in the coordinates and soon began one of the most shaky TARDIS rides he had ever experienced. However, compared to the Time War, it was as peaceful as lying on a beach.

But this TARDIS didn't have much left in it, he knew she needed a regeneration of her own. They landed with a crash. He quickly took Aliya in his arms again and left the TARDIS as soon as he could, knowing that TARDIS rebuilding very complicated.

The landscape was as peaceful as it had ever been, with hills and rocks and trees. Tegan had once said that it looked like Earth after a thunderstorm. Tranquil, he had always called it. After what he'd been through, he could definitely use some tranquil rest.

He clutched Aliya's still form to his chest and he found a suitable rock to lean against as he sat down on the barely dry grass. As he noted the almost disturbing way her head hung backwards, a horrible thought came to mind. What if the regeneration hadn't worked? He had heard of cases before when the regeneration energy was not powerful enough to ignite life in the new body. He checked for a pulse, and there was none.

"Don't be dead," The Doctor said quietly, his voice begging even though she could not hear. He shifted his arm so that her blonde head of wavy hair was supported and no longer dangling. "Please don't be dead." The lifeless body gave no signs of change.

He brushed a golden strand of hair out of her face, which he then stared at until he had memorised every inch of the tanned skin. Although her eyes were closed, he knew that underneath the eyelids would most likely be irises of different colours, the heterochromia she had inherited, a dominant gene that had yet to fail to be expressed in her. Her grandmother had possessed it as well, for 8 of her then 11 bodies, or so she had once told him.

The now non-freckled nose was less childlike than before. She had delicate lips that were slightly parted in her state of unconsciousness. His fingers brushed over them.

"Please…" He pleaded again. He placed his ear against her chest, and this time there was the faintest thrumming of a heartbeat.

The Doctor's breath cut short and he didn't dare to let himself for one moment believe in the sound. However, slowly but surely it increased in frequency and strength until ten minutes later, one heart was beating steadily.

"Please wake up," He asked gently. The one heartbeat was enough to let him hope regardless of how much pain it could cause him later. An internal debate began, but before any of his conflicted emotions rose victorious in the fight to he heard, the sync of Aliya's heartbeat was broken by the addition of a faint and uneven secondary beat.

His own hearts began to race as hers drummed into comforting regularity.

Time after that became immeasurable even for him. But after what seemed like an eternity, Aliya's head jerked back a little, and a wisp of golden energy escaped her lips with a sudden exhale that was music to his large ears. He watched, holding his breath while her eyes snapped open. One was somewhere between blue and green and the other an indigo with a hint of purple, both quite different from colours she had had previously.

Gasping urgently for breath, Aliya's hands immediately latched onto his arm with a vice-like grip. The Doctor continued to support her body as it flexed with newfound life. Eventually she relaxed and nothing moved apart from her chest, which rose and fell with her breathing; finally, it was normal, albeit a little heavy.

The Doctor let out a thoroughly relieved noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "You're alive." His voice showed the fact he was still having trouble believing it. "You're really alive."

Aliya's mouth corners turned upwards into a knowing smile.

"No need to sound so surprised," She said dryly, her eyes now shut again. "I'm almost offended by your lack of faith in me."

"Lack of faith?" The Doctor asked in an affronted tone, "You were unconscious without a single heartbeat, skin colder than Earth freezing temperature, and you think I should have had more faith in you?"

Aliya's head lifted and her eyes opened for the sole reason of rolling at him. "It's called a healing coma, you dolt," She said patronisingly.

"Oh, so it's supposed to make you better, is it? Rubbish." The Doctor grinned at her in a cheeky and infuriating manner. His fingers were fiddling with a strand of her hair. "I think you need a Doctor."

He kissed her with glee, his lips soft and gentle. Of course, Aliya's incredibly biased lips did the opposite of protest. It took a few seconds for her to gain enough control over her body to push him away gently and lean her head backward.

"No, you can't just kiss me!" She protested.

The Doctor looked pleased with himself, a slightly smug grin plastered on his face. "Why not? I'm alive, you're alive, the weather's nice, and there's no one here to stop us. All in all, fantastic!" He announced.

"Because…" She grasped at straws until a very good one came to hand. "I'm only wearing your coat! And a blanket…"

"Yes, the coat's a bit small for you now, but don't worry, I didn't peek," He grinned cheekily.

"Good!" She retorted before disentangling herself from his arms and walking gingerly to the other side of the rock, where she had seen that the clothes were hanging. She looked between her choices before selecting the dress.

After giving the Doctor very strict warnings about coming around the large rock, Aliya quickly threw off the blanket and the coat before pulling on the long white garment. She then edged out from behind the rock.

"Does it look alright?"

"Right now, I couldn't care less if you were wearing a potato sack, I just care that you're alive," His eyes burned with an intensity she had never seen in them before. But somehow it made her feel safe, like he would put himself in the way of anything to stop it from getting to her.

He gathered her up in his arms and hugged her tightly, pressing every inch of her against him, to be sure that she was truly there, that she was real. "We're the last ones left," The Doctor told her quietly, not letting go of her.

"I know." She wrapped her arms even more tightly around his neck, where he felt fresh tears coming from her and landing on his skin.

"But we're alive, and we're together. For now, that's all that matters," He continued. He inhaled the scent of her hair deeply, only to be immersed in the heady aroma of her regeneration energy. Abruptly, he let go of her and stumbled several paces back. "But maybe we should keep some…distance."

Confusion sat on her face for a moment before her eyes widened. "You saw me regenerate," She breathed, her face turning pink, "Again." That put the grand total up to two.

The Doctor nodded, trying not to think about it too much. Humans, they didn't realise that it was supposed to be a private thing, and he never bothered to try and explain. But her, she knew the implications, the meaning…what had someone once told a companion of his?

Regeneration on Gallifrey is treated a lot like sex is on Earth.

She moved to sit on a nearby rock, and wrapped her arms around herself. "We need to keep our own space for the next fifteen hours or so at least. If anything happens between us, I want it to be because we want it to and because we make a fully conscious discussion for it to happen. Not because we're both buzzing from regeneration and it's all we can think about."

He had to smirk a little at that. "It's all you can think about?" Not that it wasn't the same for him, but he thought she would be more controlled.

Her cheeks went bright pink. "Shut up." Because it was so much easier to flirt and tease instead of think about Gallifrey and its absence, and all of the questions that it brought up. No, they would have to wait.

So...was it good, stupid, brilliant? Let me know guys!

-MayFairy :)