Just an idea for the 10th Doctor's end; will be six parts, flashes between the present and the events that lead there - because the story's about memory and I didn't feel like being linear :)
Spoilers for Torchwood: Children of Earth Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Torchwood.
Enjoy, if you can, and let me know what you think :)
Foorsteps in the Sand
Chapter One
The Doctor lay his head back in the red sand. He was exhausted. The door of the TARDIS was open, beckoning him to come, to continue. He looked at the stars that carelessly littered the sky, sparkling bright in the thin atmosphere of the planet, even though one of the suns was already up. He knew them all, and some of them regretted it.
Captain Jack Harkness lay dead on the floor next to him. The Doctor breathed the rusty air, gasping for something that might quench his thirsting lungs. He turned his head to the side and coughed blood onto his already torn and blooded shirt. He had worn his best tie today too, it had been a special occasion.
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The Doctor fidgeted with his blue tie, trying to set it straight. The TARDIS juddered and he flicked a few switches then tried to catch his reflection in the monitor. He combed his fringe with his fingers, trying to avoid pouting having imagined the response of his previous incarnation. The TARDIS shuddered again, the Doctor frowned now, this was clear space. He flicked on the monitor and a map of the galaxy he was drifting through freckled his reflection. The doctor put his glasses on and frowned.
"What is it, girl?" he muttered under his breath.
A red dot pulsed on a small planet in orbit around the closest star.
Beep-beep-beep-beep
Well that was worth a look, he conceded, the TARDIS was very particular about her maps.
He set course for the planet, and pulled on his jacket doing the buttons up with dismay as his noticed its rather distant orbit. He gripped the controls now, he wanted to get as close to the dot as possible - he ran to the opposite side of the consol and pulled a heavy leaver, pressing buttons on his way. He gripped the sides of the consol as the TARDIS rocked and worked his way back towards the monitor. He gripped it in both hands like a face, the TARDIS juddered and stopped whirring.
"Perfect," he rang cheerfully.
He opened the TARDIS door onto a cold landscape of frozen rocks and sleet. He scanned the view, tucking his hands under his arm pits and relishing the warmth of the humming TARDIS at his back. Then he spotted him. Sitting frozen against a rock was Captain Jack Harkness.
"Ah," he said, the weather being too cold for consonants. That explained the TARDIS' reaction, maybe she liked him after all; she had sensed his anomaly in time. He walked briskly towards Jack, pulled his frozen coat from the rock and dragged his rigid body quickly into the TARDIS and shut the door behind him.
He rubbed his hands together to warm them and crouched over Jack. His eyes were completely frozen. Well he'd better put the kettle on then, he thought.
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The second sun emerged red on the horizon, shining on the empty tundra.
He looked to Jack who seemed peaceful in his momentary death, but even as the Doctor watched a deep red gash across Jack's face began to knit itself together. The Doctor's genes began to tingle. He coughed painfully, yet this time - as he stirred the blood red dust - his breath wisped golden into the air. He lifted his heavy hands to his face and saw them beginning to emit a golden light. They fell back to his side as the energy travelled up his spine and his body tried to arch while his feet dug into the sand, he tried not to writher. He fell back as the energy deserted him, momentarily. He breathed the dry air heavily, it was like labour pains he thought.
Jack heaved a deep breath and opened his eyes wide. His lungs clawed at the air, and breathed deep. He looked over to the Doctor as his breathing slowed, his mouth was open in shock at the past few hours, and guilt at his traitorous heart that had beat beyond its lifetime. He could see the Doctor was in pain, and his eyes glowed golden. He turned his head, the soft sand beneath his sore skull.
"Your turn," Jack whispered through dry lips.