I'm honestly surprised I was able to hold the Time Vortex for as long as I did before regenerating. I'd been through hell that day. I'd lost Rose, found Rose, found the Daleks, seen the Daleks killed, and you'd think that to take the entire Time Vortex voluntarily into my own head would have made me explode outright.
But I had a good reason to hold on.
You see, I wasn't going to leave without telling her first. Part of me always wished I had told her earlier about regeneration—then, perhaps, I wouldn't have tortured myself with trying to contain the Vortex within my fragile veins for as long as I did.
Picking up Rose's limp form from the ground with a surprising amount of ease for a dying man, I laid her gently on the floor of the TARDIS and took off, praying to whatever gods were within reach that she would be all right, that I had done enough for her. Parking the TARDIS in space, I stood at the controls, feeling unusually calm. A little lightheaded, but calm. I stared at the console, knowing this would be the last time I would ever see it.
Only once did the question cross my mind: Is it worth it? Is Rose worth it?
And the answer followed, unwaveringly: Yes.
I had five minutes to myself before she woke up. Five minutes to reflect on all the experiences of that fleeting life. Shorter than most, with only two companions to my name—one, sympathetic and beautiful, I had taken to the far future and cured of a terminal illness before bringing her straight back home again at her request. The other, Rose Tyler, was the one with whom I had shared the majority of that life, the one who had changed it most… and the one I loved so dearly.
A strange sort of serenity filled me at the thought of her. Sweet, gentle Rose Tyler, who had just saved my life and eliminated the last of the Dalek fleet. Many times, I had thought of telling her how I felt, but too often I relied on what wasn't spoken. My feelings were tempered and restricted by my guilt at the age difference of eight hundred forty years or so, as well as a fair amount of self-consciousness brought on by my own less-than-attractive appearance.
I didn't initially notice when Rose stirred back into wakefulness, but then she asked, "What happened?"
"Don't you remember?" I responded, surprised. Taking the whole of time and space into your head tends to be a memorable experience, after all. Besides, if she didn't remember the Time Vortex… she also didn't remember our kiss. And that meant she still didn't know how I felt.
"It's like… there was this singing…" She trailed off.
I smiled, recognizing her description of the song of the universe constantly sung by the TARDIS. "That's right! I sang a song and the Daleks ran away." I fidgeted, uncomfortably aware of every nerve in my body shivering, trying to suppress the Vortex swirling within me.
"I was at home." She paused, clearly as disoriented as me, though thankfully for a different and more temporary reason. "No, I wasn't. I was in the TARDIS, and then… there was this light, and… I can't remember anything else."
Staring at my hand, already pulsing with regeneration energy, I glanced over to her, mind whirling with ideas of what to tell her. I couldn't just… tell her how I felt; there wasn't time. I had hoped all the stress would be over after I took the Time Vortex into my own body, but now, it was a decision: tell her what happens next, or tell her how I felt.
She shook her head slightly and looked innocently up at me, and the expression practically forced the words out of me: I love you. But instead, I found myself smiling faintly, and the only words that escaped me were, "Rose Tyler." I laughed at the absurdity of the words, trying to work up the courage to continue with the originally intended phrase.
But I couldn't go through with it. I just couldn't. "I was going to take you to so many places. Barcelona. Not the city Barcelona, the planet Barcelona. You'd love it. Fantastic place. They've got dogs with no noses!" I laughed, but not at what I had just said, even though it had previously been a much-loved joke among the Time Lords. I laughed to see Rose laugh one last time before she knew what was going on, as we both deserved. "Imagine how many times a day you end up telling that joke, and it's still funny!"
The question Rose asked, a logical one, stabbed at me more than the pounding headache I was developing. "Then… why can't we go?" She looked at me with an exasperated expression on her face, as though I was being childish. Which, to be fair, I was. The Time Vortex was throbbing through my brain, making me lightheaded and less than sensible than ever.
"Maybe you will. And maybe I will. But not like this." I smiled fleetingly, sadly, and turned back to my beloved console, trying to steady myself more than the TARDIS.
"You're not making sense," said Rose, clearly worried for me, and she picked herself up off the floor, looking vaguely as though she was considering putting me in a straitjacket.
"I might never make sense again. I might have two heads. Or no head. Imagine me with no head!" I laughed at the possibilities. Now that I knew the process was bound to happen, it didn't seem like such a terrible thing. My pained joviality was rewarded by another wide smile from Rose. "And don't say that's an improvement," I added, more quietly. Whatever happened, I needed her.
"But it's a bit dodgy, this process." I nodded to her seriously, hating to stifle her nonplussed happiness, but she had to know about regeneration before it happened. Otherwise, she might try to interfere, and accidentally kill us both. "You never know what you're going to end up with—" I was forced to stop as the Time Vortex made itself painfully known in my stomach, sizzling to the surface of my skin and cutting off my breath temporarily. It's started.
"Doctor!" exclaimed Rose, dashing towards me.
"Stay away!" I shouted as she did, hating to have to order her to do so. What I wanted more than anything was her arms around me as I died, but that would be too dangerous. I straightened up, grimacing, trying to keep myself from wailing aloud at the pain on my torso. I'd never imagined how much it would hurt to take in the entire Time Vortex, but it was gaining strength; Rose had been lucky enough only to be its host for a short time, and frankly, it was a miracle she survived.
"Tell me what's going on." It was a command, albeit a shakily made one, that came from Rose next. She had stayed back, but reluctantly, and the terror in her eyes on my behalf ached more than any regeneration ever could.
"I absorbed all the energy in the Time Vortex, and no one's meant to do that," I replied through grit teeth. Best settle for the short answer. At this point, I had very little time left. Not enough even to give an adequate summary of regeneration, now. But I had to try. I forced down the grimace and looked at Rose, who was out of focus to my burning eyes.
"Every cell in my body's dying," I managed eventually.
"Can't you do something?" stammered Rose, brilliantly human mind plainly and obstinately working on any number of impossible solutions.
"Yeah. Doing it now." Trying to speak through the haze of pain, I added, "Time Lords have this little trick. It's… sort of a way of cheating death. Except…" I paused, looking up at Rose with an effort, trying to measure her reaction, but she remained impassive, stubbornly waiting for me to explain.
"It means I'm going to change," I finished eventually. She shook her head, a question forming on her lips, but she didn't ask it. "And I'm not going to see you again." At the hurt in her eyes, I felt compelled to add, "Not like this. Not with this daft old face. And before I go—"
"Don't say that!"
Her loyalty to me—the fact that she disobeyed what I thought were the laws of time—everything she had ever done for me suddenly flashed before my eyes with those words. And I had to say it. I had to try to tell her how I felt.
"Rose."
She fell silent, watching me reproachfully, waiting.
"Before I go, I just want to tell you—you were fantastic." I grinned at her, hoping she would understand, and the faintest hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth for a fraction of a second. "Absolutely fantastic," I added, in case she hadn't gotten the hint. "And do you know what?" I continued, feeling the energy building up to an almost intolerable intensity.
She gave an infinitessimal shake of her head, transfigured.
"So was I." Giving her one last smile, and feeling joy well up inside my hearts as she returned it, I released the energy abruptly—unable to contain it any longer. Rose's smile was the last thing imprinted upon my dying mind, and it stayed with me during the entire process.
Some have asked me what regeneration feels like. Different every time is all I can ever say. Sometimes it's painful, sometimes refreshing, sometimes any number of other things. This time was exhilarating. Though my tired eyes were closed as they changed along with my body, every part of me burned with light and life and the love of Rose Tyler. I died for Rose, and for Rose I will live.
And as I straightened up, born anew, Rose still stood—both in the TARDIS and in my memory—as the woman I still loved and always would.
((I don't know. Rarely written about the Ninth Doctor—figured I'd give it a chance. Also, because I've always wondered what regeneration felt like…))