Inevitable Endings

by Hedwidgeon

The Doctor needs to learn to accept the endings he hates so much, but his unthinking hearts refuse to do so. Basically, he can't ever be okay with endings, just like the rest of us. (This is my first try at writing fan fiction. I hope it doesn't disappoint you!)

1. Chapter 1

Deep in a pale frosty wood, there was a sudden noise - a strange cross between the sound of a huffing engine and a whistle blowing, rather like a breathing dragon. A unicorn watched as a strange blue box appeared out of nowhere. Startled, the unicorn galloped away into the darkness.

The Doctor stepped out of the blue box, annoyed with his TARDIS for bringing him to an unfamiliar place without any indication or reason for doing so. He was on his way to meet River at the star cluster of Verona to watch a supernova. Good thing he wouldn't be late, he thought, smiling to himself.

The TARDIS was fuming now and had shut down abruptly, as though she didn't want him to enter. He knew she'd come around eventually. She always did.

Bored, he began to absorb his surroundings. He always loved new things, unusual undiscovered places, and beings never seen before… but he had an odd sort of feeling about this place. Something wasn't quite right. He shuddered and looked around, more carefully this time. It was definitely Earth, he could tell. However, the trees around him were housing peculiar creatures, or so it seemed. The thought of something watching him gave him the shivers. Feelings of uncertainty and curiosity flooded his mind. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of trotting hooves.

The Doctor walked towards the source of the sound. Unexpectedly, he tripped over what he thought was an overgrown root. Irritated now, he looked down to see the blasted piece of wood and saw nothing, nothing that could have caused him to trip. He checked the soil he stood on. It tasted funny. He dug around, confident that he would find something new. And he did.

It was a simple black stone, appearing perfectly normal until you cautiously examined it. It was octahedral, amazingly smooth and symmetrical beyond imagination. Curious, the Doctor scrutinized it. Then he heard a chilling, distant voice. A voice from the past, or so it seemed. He suddenly got the feeling that he should drop the stone and walk away. He chose to do precisely the opposite. Somehow, he knew what he had to do. He turned it in his hand. Once, twice, thrice.