Doctor Who, I believe, belongs to the BBC. A brief joke.

XxXxX

On the fields of Trenzalore, the eleventh (doctor) had fallen.

The Doctor repeatedly regenerated, the Silence's last gasp effort to prevent him from answering the question that must never be answered. It had been asked, already.

But finally, after over thirty reincarnations – something in the Silence's mechanism overriding the normal limits – the Silence fell.

The smoke cleared. A brown-haired man stood up.

"The question," a voice rang out, "Remains. Doctor who?"

The Doctor laughed. It all made so much sense now.

He had regenerated thirty-one times.

"The answer, Doctor?"

For the first question, the ultimate answer.

And he grinned. "Forty-two."