Someone Who Hates Me
This story takes place between Closing Time and The Wedding of River Song.
The Doctor stood in the TARDIS, looking straight ahead and contemplating everything at once. He was going to die. Silence will fall. Amy and Rory. River Song. The beginning and the death of the universe. The time he met Amelia Earhart and accidentally left her on New Earth. And that was just from his current incarnation.
He needed someone to talk to. Someone who would give him honest advice. Someone who would live longer than he ever would.
The Doctor closed his eyes and took a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. He opened his eyes and there she was. Exactly as he had left her.
"Hello, there." he said, a small smile decorating his lips. He had a different face last time he saw her but she recognized him instantly. There was just something about the Doctor that was always recognizable.
"Hello." she replied, looking at him curiously. "Why did you call me?"
The Doctor paused for a moment, took another deep breath and finally replied, very quietly, "I'm going to die. I have to, apparently."
She raised her eyebrows, wondering if she had perhaps mis-heard him or she had finally gone mad. She decided to go with what she thought she heard as the basis for her response, however.
"You're looking for sympathy? From me?" she asked, very slowly, like she was talking to a child who hadn't quite realized what he had blurted out.
"Not sympathy." the Doctor replied, pulling up a chair and sitting on it. "I need someone to talk to. Someone who will give me honest advice. Someone…who hates me."
"That's a little bit of an understatement." she replied, crossing her arms and looking straight at the Doctor. He looked at the floor and didn't answer. After a short wait, she continued, "You're looking for advice. What sort of advice?"
"What would you do if time itself was working against you?" the Doctor asked, finally. She contemplated this shortly, her brow furrowing in thought.
"I would work against time. I learned that nothing can work against you, Doctor. You taught me that lesson very well."
"But it's a fixed point! The fabric of reality itself would collapse!" argued the Doctor, standing up from the chair and moving closer to her.
"Then I suppose you will have to trick time, won't you?" The Doctor looked silently at the floor again. "You are the last remaining Time Lord in existence. You have outwitted whole species, saved planets and stopped those who would see you dead. Time is not the boss of you, Doctor. Do not go quietly to your grave. I certainly didn't."
"Wow." replied the Doctor, walking back towards the chair. "I certainly didn't expect that from you, of all people."
"Neither did I, to be honest. Can I go now?"
"Yes." said the Doctor, pointing his sonic screwdriver at her. He was about to activate it when he paused and told her, "You know, if I could free you, I would. But I can't."
She paused and looked down, a hint of sadness spreading across her face before she looked up and said, "Farewell, Doctor."
"Farewell, Daughter of Mine."
The Doctor activated the sonic screwdriver and the mirror shattered into a million pieces, littering the floor with glass. The Doctor pocketed the screwdriver and sighed, looking around the huge TARDIS wardrobe that was filled to the brim with everything from bowler hats to that god-awful rainbow coat.
The Doctor took one last look at the shattered mirror and then left for the control room.