He will knock four times. Oh, how he wished the meaning behind those words was simple.
Four beats in the Master's head, he hit the garbage bin four times- it was so clear. The Master would kill him.
But no, he was not so lucky, never so lucky.
He did it again- he destroyed the Time Lords. And what did he feel? Nothing. Shock, actually, because the Master, his enemy, had saved him.
And he was alive. Blessedly alive.
But poor, sweet, Wilfred Mott. Knocking on the glass, so gently, so timidly. Innocently.
Knock, knock, knock, knock. One, two, three, four.
It wasn't fair- he saved so many people and this lonely little planet and sometimes even the whole universe, and yet he kept dying!
The Doctor, Man of Legend.
The Doctor, Savior of the Earth.
The Doctor, the most Infamous of the Time Lords.
The Doctor, who Lives and Dies. And dies and dies and dies and dies.
"It's not fair!" He was screaming, because he wanted so badly to live, to continue in this life, but he couldn't. The Universe had other plans. And so did his conscience.
The Doctor, who saves the Innocent.
He'd done enough damage in ten lifetimes anyway, there wasn't really any point in doing any more. He was the one who said Time Lords lived too long, wasn't he?
The small voice reminding him of how much good he could do was dying out in the back of his mind, but it was echoed by Wilf himself. Internal and external forces pulling upon him, and with both of his hearts willing him to make the right choice, he moved forward.
Life is tricky. Choices that seem impossible lurk around every corner.
He stepped into his death chamber, freeing Wilf. And dooming himself.
The pain hit like a bullet. He shook with the intensity, falling down, slipping against glass walls until he was in the fetal position. Dimly, he was aware of Wilfred watching him, gaping at him, but he didn't care. He had made his choice, fulfilled his prophecy.
It was time to die.
No, please not yet, not this body… so much more to do…
He rose laboriously, fighting the pain. He pushed open the door with no effort at all, fighting the urge to laugh bitterly. "Of course, now it opens."
Wilfred hugged him tightly, shouting bright exclamations of how amazing a man he was.
But the Doctor didn't share in his joy.
The pain ate away at him, taunting him. It was a voice whispering, calling him, a Siren singing to a lonely sailor.
Come Doctor, let it go, it's time to die.
He visited his former companions, the ones he thought of as family. He wanted to see them all again before he died, to do something to help them one last time. He didn't know if his next self would visit them, would even care. This may be the last time that he was their Doctor, and he wanted them to remember him fondly.
Martha… married to Mickey, evidently. He didn't speak. Merely saved them from a Sontaran. They would wonder, of course, but they would know why he saved them. They would know that he cared.
Donna… oh, lovely, funny, wrongly ignorant Donna Noble. His partner in crime marrying someone… again. A lottery ticket that was sure to be lucky, ensuring some financial stability for a while. And even though Donna didn't remember him, couldn't remember him, he could rest easy knowing that she was happy.
The pain was like a child pulling at their parent's sleeve in a supermarket. Incessant, never-ending. Haunting.
Come Doctor, let it go, it's time to die.
Jack Harkness. This was an interesting gift, for sure, but one he knew Jack would deeply appreciate. Jack didn't ask any questions, merely nodded his thanks and went about his business. Just as well, as the Face of Boe had helped him many a time.
Luke Smith, that genius boy. The Doctor pushed him away from the oncoming path of a car, saving Sarah Jane and her team of helpers a great deal of grief. Luke recognized him, of course, but he just walked away to the TARDIS silently. Luke called for his mother, who of course came running. His Sarah Jane Smith. He waved, and then was off. He couldn't linger any longer.
He didn't have much time left.
Rose. Oh, Rose, with her magical laugh and friendship that meant the world and a soul that was so pure and good. And he did love her, more than three tiny words could ever express.
It was good to talk to her one last time before…
The pain caught up with him, and he fought. Just a little longer, please, don't let me die now…
An Ood standing in the street, a reminder of when this had all begun.
His song was ending, and yet the Universe's would always carry on.
He stumbled into his TARDIS, blinded by the pain and yet hanging on to life, unable to lose that unshakable fear that things would never be the same. A part of him would die with this regeneration, and a new chapter would begin. And that thought, more than anything else, was absolutely terrifying.
He didn't want to lose himself. He was afraid, so very afraid.
The Tenth Doctor was always on the move, jumping from one topic to the next in conversation, one place to the next in the TARDIS, and one adventure to the next with his companions. Always running, always going. Allons-y.
But now all he wanted was to stay. The song called out to him, breaking down his defenses until the most brilliant man in the Universe stood vulnerable and exposed, strength wavering, but never breaking.
Vulnerable, but never lost.
The song ended, and he knew he couldn't fight it anymore. In the silence, he knew it was time to die.
"I don't want to go."
Every song must end, every page must turn, all life must die.
The golden light shot out in every direction, and the Doctor was reborn.
But all the Doctors before him had made their marks on history, in the music of the Universe. And that song will never end, just grow and live and evolve, much like the purest soul of them all: A mysterious being called the Doctor, who saves lives and changes them for the better.
And he will never be forgotten.