Time can be rewritten.
It was the simplest law of the universe to the educated mind. Time could be changed. Distorted. Bent. Altered. It was simple to the intelligent mind, but so much more complicated at the same time. After all, time was relative.
The little man lay back in his chair, his hands clasped softly on his lap, whilst his legs lay outstretched on a weathered footrest. His eyes were weary and tired, and were so very far away from the expansive domain he called his home. Well… his borrowed domain would be more appropriate. Or maybe stolen. Who knew?
The little man lay back in his ornate armchair, as his senses drifted off like a phantom in a fog. The purposely-dim lighting of the room made his face look old and ancient. Well, I suppose it was fair to say that he was quite old. 953 years old, he had once told the Rani. Or was he 813?
To be honest he had not the foggiest idea. And he knew it. The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. That's what calendars are for, I suppose.
The man leaned back further into his chair, and reached out for the cup of tea on the side table next to him. The little man took a small sip, and he frowned a bit. Far too bland, he thought. Must remember to put more sugar in next time.
Time.
The word echoed around his ancient mind, bouncing off the surfaces of different memories and thoughts before that one statement came back to very forefront of his thinking.
Time can be rewritten.
But what time do I want to rewrite? Thought the little man. What do I want to change?
His ears suddenly tuned into the sounds coming from all around him. He heard the background ticking of the multiple clocks he had gathered and collected, as a reminder that the passage of time continued to flow.
He heard music being played as well, on his favourite gramophone to be exact. His ears absorbed in the beautiful sound of the first part of Für Elise being played in A minor, composed by the fantastic Ludwig van Beethoven.
The little man smiled lightly to himself. I have to meet up with him at some point. Not sure if he'd appreciate my arrival, though. Last time I visited him, all of Vienna was nearly destroyed in an incident involving two con artists, a stolen Vinvocci Shimmer, and a faulty transmat.
His ears then detected something else, a much more familiar sound. They listened in and were embraced by the sound of an ancient wheezing noise, which vaguely resembled someone groaning loudly in a deep sleep. The sound was as raspy as it was elegant. It was the sound of the TARDIS. That beautiful, beautiful vessel that had shown him the stars.
He looked around the console room, recently refashioned. He had decided to exchange that ever-present void of bright white for something a little bit more familiar, something that had an air of timelessness about it; using the Architectural Configuration to essentially "change the desktop theme." It was very Victorian in appearance, with wood being something of a fad that came with it, but the little man had quickly warmed to it once he had decorated with some of personal belongings. During the reconfiguration, the TARDIS' library had also merged with the console room, with the bookshelves now lining the walls to cover the spots where the old roundels that had existed.
As he looked around his expansive home, the little man sighed. He was nearing the end of seventh life; he knew that as a fact. The wear and tear of time itself, combined with the countless strains and stresses he put on his body were a very bad recipe. This body was old, and it was only a matter of time before it wore out and regeneration would come.
No point worrying about it now if it's inevitable, thought the little man sadly. Though where to next, dear? Where shall we go? But more importantly when shall we go?
The little man flipped through the options in his mind. Venice! 1774 perhaps? The Doctor shook his head. No. Not after that bet I lost with Giacomo Casanova. I still owe him that chicken. Bianca's Bar may be a nice spot, then. Again, the man passed it up. I suppose not after that incident with Iris Wildthyme, almost one lifetime ago.
The little man thought over the many options of places he could choose to visit. The planet of Barcelona, the Silver Devastation, the Fifteenth Broken Moon of the Medusa Cascade, Smithwood Manor on Allen Road, Metebelis III, Arcadia, maybe even the Voodoo Paradox Spirals of Kasterborous.
In the end, he passed them all up. None of them seemed suitable for him at the moment. Where to go? He thought. Where should I go? Where should I go? Where should I go?
If Ace were here, she'd have instantly hit him with at least six different places or times. The little man's hearts missed a beat. The memories of Ace still wounded him, worse than any gun, fist, sword, or blade could. He had said farewell to all his companions, even Ace. And now he was travelling alone, embroiled in his melancholic thoughts and self-pity.
It was almost pathetic, though the man could justify his attitude. He had seen too much cruelty and suffering, and whilst around others he wore the mask of optimism and strength, in the end it still tortured him. He was getting old, and yet he still didn't know where to go, even as the TARDIS continued its flight.
The little man's eyes scanned the console room, passing over desks, candles, lamps, antique objects, bookshelves, clocks, chairs and a coat hanger with a panama hat and an umbrella hanging off it. Then, finally his sight settled on a small, leather book with intricate golden writing spelt on the front in Earth English, lying on the side table beside his cup of tea.
"My Nine Hundred Year Old Diary," he whispered to himself, and then his eyes widened. "Time can be rewritten!" he said to himself. But which times? Which days? Which pieces of history could be changed? The man grabbed the book, frantically flipped through the pages, and read.
And behind him, Für Elise continued to play onwards.
A lone girl sat on a piece of debris, her eyes distant and somewhere else. She stared at the weathered ground, as Big Ben chimed away into the night. The girl's short hair was a dark black that looked like it had stuck up and curled into itself. She had a thin build and appeared fairly young, and wore a striped shirt that was torn and filthy. Her face was covered with dirt, and her arms and legs were cut. She sat there with her hands clasped together, just looking down at the ground. Behind her, overgrown bushes and shrubs rustled lightly in the evening breeze.
"All alone, hmm? Susan?" said an old and friendly voice.
Immediately, Susan Foreman broke out of the trance of her thoughts, and stared up at the warm, reassuring smile of her dear grandfather. His wizened face radiated with insight and intelligence, but also with the care and understanding that only a loving family member could have. He had his back arched down, as if he were examining her the same way he would examine an ancient artefact or technological piece.
"I was just thinking," she said as she smiled back at him. The Doctor leaned back a bit and stared over her as he turned away. His smile vanished, and instead, it was replaced with a sad-looking frown.
"Ah. Yes, I'm afraid we've had very little time for that sort of thing lately."
Susan nodded slightly in agreement. "It'll be nice to—"
"I, I, I…" Her grandfather cut off her words as he stumbled with his own for a second, before he turned back and faced her with another cheerful smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, Susan."
"It wasn't important. What were you going to say?" Susan asked whilst she returned his smile. She attempted to rise, but instead, forcibly stat back down unsteadily.
"Well, I— Oh, my dear Susan, you're hurt!"
The Doctor knelt beside her as he examined her leg. Susan tore off her tight shoe as he sat beside her. "Oh, its not me, Its this shoe of mine. Look, its worn right out. Must've been that journey back from the mine."
The Doctor rose looking deeply at the footwear whilst he clicked his tongue to making a repetitive "tsk" sound.
"Dear, dear, dear. I shall have to mend this, shalt I?"
"Oh, don't worry, grandfather—"
"Oh, no, no, no, no. Don't worry, my child. No, when I'm finished with this, it will look as good as new!"
The Doctor chuckled, as Susan let another broad smile decorate her face. "Please, its not worth it. I've got dozens of other pairs."
"Yes… hmph," the Doctor said, his eyes still on the shoe.
"I'd better clear out my cupboard, it's in a dreadful muddle."
The Doctor looked up from the shoe, and stared deep into his granddaughter's young eyes as she lifted herself onto her toes, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Yes, you little monkey! You know, since you've been away from that school you've got yourself thoroughly disorganised, haven't you, hmm?"
Then, the Doctor's smile flickered out somewhat, and he suddenly seemed so much sadder. Behind his impressive Edwardian clothing, his body seemed to be so much frailer. He wrapped an arm around Susan's shoulder, and held her close to him, embracing her for what she was. His only piece of family left. And then his smile dropped completely, and his voice shared his mood when he spoke.
"Yes, you need taking in hand. I, eh… I, um… I think I must check up on the ship. I, err…" the Doctor waved his hands around unsteadily as he stumbled over his words again, obviously trying to regain composure as he hastily, but not eagerly, pulled himself out of the hug.
"If you don't mind. I…. hm… yes…"
The Doctor continued to fumble with his words as he approached the TARDIS, stepping over bits of rubble left behind by the Dalek's massacre of London. He tried his best to acknowledge all the thoughts raging in his head, barely even hearing Susan as she said, "won't be long."
The Doctor fiddled with the TARDIS key and Susan's shoe, before looking up to see his granddaughter slowly advancing towards the young resistance fighter known as David Campbell. His eye closely followed her unsteady movements, and had anyone else been looking at him, they would've thought he'd have been scowling at her. But in truth, it was more of a sign of intense emotional debate. He forced himself to tear his eyes from his precious grandchild, and pushed the TARDIS door open and entered.
He passed through the entrance and into the gigantic white miracle that was the TARDIS' primary interior chamber, the console room. The TARDIS gave off a low, peaceful humming noise as it awaited the instructions of its captain. The Doctor looked around the room, staring at the numerous odd items and furniture pieces he had collected during his travels.
Striding over to the console, the Doctor examined the alien and intricate controls of the TARDIS. While many people would see them as incomprehensible and complicated pieces of junk, the Doctor saw them as delicate and sensitive parts to a very amazing machine.
To him it was all very simple to him. Go over the first panel, and you would find the Audio Units, whilst on the second panel you would find the Time Path Indicator. Pass over the third panel, and you would find the Power Response Dials, and on panel four, the Dematerialization Switch. Finally, on the fifth and sixth panels you would find gears such as the Directional Unit and the Drift Compensator.
It just all made perfect sense. Granted, he had sorely disagreed with the TARDIS Instruction Manuel, which had in turn affected his general ability to pilot the vessel, though nonetheless the Doctor felt he shared a very special connection with his TARDIS. And now, as he stood there stroking one of the numerous controls on the console, the Doctor finally decided to confront the decision on his mind.
Should I do it? He thought. Should I leave her behind with that young man in this century?
The Doctor grimaced as he found himself leaning more heavily on the console for support, and continued to think over his final decision. What about me? Can I go on without her? Can I really continue without my only family left to aid me?
Almost immediately, the Doctor scolded himself for including such selfish thoughts into the equation. Would she be safer then? Would she be safer in the arms of another caring man who is not putting her life in constant danger? Should I do it?
His thoughts were shattered by the sound of the door opening again, and the Doctor instantly rose to regain his strong aura of authority. Ian and Barbra, the two schoolteachers the Doctor had abducted when they discovered the TARDIS, entered through the doors. They came over and stood with him by the controls, looking at him almost judgingly.
Two more minutes, he decided. I'll give her two more minutes before my mind is made.
The TARDIS hummed impatiently whilst the Doctor waited. Ian and Barbra stood side-by-side, just staring at the Doctor. And the Doctor just looked at his shoes, though kept his posture firm. Finally, the minutes passed, and the Doctor forced himself to look up at the two Londoners from 1963, before turning slowly to look at the console. Somehow, he felt they knew what he was thinking, and now silently supported what the Doctor was planning to do.
Then my mind is made! He thought as his hand speedily darted forward pulled back one of the switches. There was a mild electronic noise as the command sunk in, and the Doctor looked forward as the TARDIS' exterior door snapped shut. He then turned another dial and the scanner was activated, and he saw the image of the horrified Susan pulling out of a tight hug with David and darting towards the TARDIS.
"Grandfather!" she yelled, before coming to a halt in front of the exterior doors.
The Doctor sighed as he tapped another button and activated the TARDIS' intercom and spoke.
"Susan, listen please. I've double-locked the doors; you can't get it in. Now move back child, where I can see you."
He could see Susan hesitate for a moment before she stepped into the monitor's range, her eyes still fixed on the spot where the TARDIS fed the visual imagery of its surroundings onto the scanner.
The Doctor paused briefly, his eyes wistfully locked on the image of Susan, before he found his stern voice. "During all the years I have been taking care of you, you in return have been taking care of me."
Susan pulled off her necklace and spoke out again, her voice sounding scared and fearful. Tears were practically swelling out of her eyes. "Oh grandfather, I belong with you!"
"Not any longer, Susan! You are still my grandchild and always will be. But now, you're a woman too. I want you to belong somewhere, to have roots of your own. With David you will be able to find those root, and live normally like any woman should do. Believe me my dear, your future lies with David and not with a silly old buffer like me."
The Doctor paused for a second, and looked down again, his hands now firmly clasped around the lapels of his coat. Finally, he brought his head back up and continued.
"One day, I shall come back. Yes, I shall come back. Until then, there must be no regrets, no tears, no anxieties. Just go forward in all your beliefs and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine."
The Doctor ended with a sound smile, which quickly disappeared as his ancient eyes turned down to look at the controls. "Goodbye Susan. Goodbye my dear."
And then, the Doctor activated the dematerialization switch, and the TARDIS vanished into time and space. And the Doctor departed now a bit lonelier than before.
"Well Jo, we had better get back to UNIT HQ. We've got a report to make out."
Jo looked at the Doctor and hesitated for a second, as they stood in the living room of the Nuthutch, whilst they all finished off their soup. "Doctor…"
"Hmm?" he replied as he stared into her young face. Jo looked to Professor Clifford Jones, who nodded and gave her the "go on, tell him" face. Jo turned back to the Doctor and with Jones' reassurance, met his gaze.
"I don't think I'll be going back just yet."
The Doctor's eyes shone with curiosity. "You're thinking of staying here?"
"Well not here exactly. Only you see Clifford is going on this expedition to look for this fantastic fungus."
"Where?" the Doctor asked, still puzzled by Jo's plans.
"The upper reaches of the Amazon!" replied Clifford enthusiastically.
"And he's asked me to go with him!" said Jo excitedly, her face beaming joy. The Doctor, however, still looked very serious.
"And you want to go?"
Jo grin widened even more as she stared up at him. "More than anything else in the world."
"I see," replied the Doctor, his hands still firmly tucked away in his pockets. "When?"
"Oh, very soon now," said Clifford as he rose from the chair he was seated in. "We'll just stop off in Cardiff, pick up our supplies, get married and…"
Both the Doctor and Jo turned sharply to look at Clifford.
"Married?" Jo asked in a very soft, yet surprised tone. "Aye," replied Clifford in a similar voice, though much cooler and controlled.
The Doctor looked at Clifford then at Jo, whose face almost made him think that her friend had put her under a blissful trance. The Doctor immediately felt uncomfortable.
"Um… look, will you excuse me. I… I do think I'm going to be wanted on the telephone."
The Doctor gave a half-hearted smile as he walked away from the two as he heard them embrace each other merrily with happy laughter. He walked into the next room and found himself leaning against one of the walls with his legs crossed and his hands in his pockets.
He then heard the sound of the Brigadier, Benton, Yates and other UNIT staff pour into the room and joining them in their celebration. The Doctor simply stood there. He felt more than a little bit upset. Josephine Grant, soon to be Josephine Jones, was just another on a long list of companions who had decided to leave him. He smiled to himself slightly.
It wasn't all that bad. It wasn't as if Jo wouldn't be happy. She'd found herself engaged by a man who was not only appealed to her, but also offered her a much safer lifestyle. After all, racketing around the universe in an old blue box with UNIT's unpaid scientific advisor was far from a good lifestyle. But Jo had been more than just his assistant; she had been a friend, and a dear one at that. And to be a friend of the Doctor really did mean something.
As the cheering and chitter-chatter continued, the Doctor noticed Jo walking towards him, her face looking almost sad in a way. She stopped when she was right before the Doctor, and bowed her head slightly. The Doctor outstretched a hand, which gently raised her chin to meet his eyes. The Doctor smiled as he gazed at her.
"You got onto you're uncle at the United Nations, didn't you?"
Jo smiled softly. "It's only the second time I've ever asked him for anything."
The Doctor nodded, even as champagne bottles were merrily popped open for the joyous occasion. "And look where the first time got you."
Jo grinned, and looked deeper into the Time Lord's eyes. "You don't mind do you?"
The Doctor let a mildly bewildered attitude decorate his features. "Mind?"
He smiled again. "He might even be able to turn you into a bit of a scientist."
"Don't get to far away, will you? And if you do, come back and see us some times."
"Save me piece of wedding cake?" the Doctor replied after a brief pause. Jo nodded enthusiastically. "Right!"
And then the two friends' smiles grew even wider. Then suddenly, the Doctor's eyes flashed with realization as he reached into his jacket pocket.
"Oh, I nearly forgot!" The Doctor then removed a perfectly cut crystal that shone of the deepest navy blue imaginable, though blazed with a vague otherworldly shine. The Metebelis Crytstal.
"Your wedding present."
Jo's eyes shone with amazement as she stared at the glorious gift. "Its beautiful!" she said as she took hold of it. She looked up and leapt forward and hugged him tightly. "Oh thank you, Doctor!"
Clifford approached with two glasses of wine as the two removed themselves from the hug.
"Jo," he cried as he handed the two their glasses. "Come and drink a toast to the happy couple!"
"But that's us!" said Jo cheerfully as she turned to face him.
"Aye, so it is!" answered Clifford as he gave her a kiss on the lips. He turned to the Doctor and gave him a reassuring look. "Don't worry Doctor. I'll look after her."
And with that said and done, Jo wrapped her arm around her future husband and was escorted back to the rest of the celebration. The Doctor looked at his glass, examining it thoroughly before drawing it to his mouth and taking it down in one big gulp. He then turned to face the new couple as the Brigadier said to the now silenced room, "and here's to you both!"
The Doctor chose this as his moment to take his leave. He opened the main door to the house and made his exit as Sergeant Benton got the room to recite the age-old song of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow".
The Doctor began making his way towards his vintage canary-yellow roadster, Bessie. Trudging through the light mud as he brought his travelling cloak over his shoulders, the Doctor thought to himself, and found himself smiling for Jo and Clifford. I suppose it would be appropriate for me to fill out her side of the report for her, in this case.
He gave one more glance towards the cottage where his friend now stood with her soon-to-be husband. In years to come, the Doctor would find he had no regrets over Jo's departure. And finally, after giving the couple his final blessing, the Doctor hopped into the driver's seat, started up the car, and drove away silently into the evening light.
The Doctor lay in front of the wooden console of his TARDIS, grumbling to himself slightly as he looked over the controls for any faults. Even after a hundred checks, the Doctor still could not find the faults that were plaguing the nerve beacon of his mighty vessel.
"I don't know why she goes on like this," he said as he rose. "There's really nothing the matter at all."
As he sealed up the console, he felt a slight tingling in his head. It was neither invasive nor intrusive. It felt too warm and friendly to be a mental attack, but it at the same time it wasn't cuddly. And suddenly a sophisticated number of speeches, requests, and images began bleeding into his brain.
He saw a number of things. He saw a snowy meadow of deep red grass with mighty oak trees with copper leaves growing within. He saw a majestic city of both new and ancient designs encased in a mighty glass dome, with a beautiful orange skyline to complete the picture. Then, he saw a massive symbol with an ornate pattern on the front, which radiated with power and authority. Almost immediately, he knew who was calling him.
"A call," he said to himself aloud. "A call from Gallifrey!"
The imagery continued to flash by in his mind, as he saw the Time Lord High Council and it's numerous bureaucratic figureheads gathered together. The Doctor had never personally been very fond of Gallifreyan politics, even prior to his exile all those years ago.
"Gallifrey, after all this time. Gallifrey…" he whispered to himself.
Then abruptly, the scenery changed. Instead of seeing faceless Time Lords and artistic landscapes of his world, he saw the face of one particular individual, obviously a young Human female. It didn't even take the Doctor a microsecond to realise who it was.
After all, his current travelling companion, Sarah Jane Smith, always had one of those memorable faces. Puzzled at her specific inclusion in the calling, the Doctor focused harder to try and decipher the meaning of Sarah's mentioning. Suddenly, he heard a deep, pompous voice roar into the recesses of his thoughts. "No. Not on Gallifrey. She must not come."
The Doctor almost felt surprised by this, but it only came out as mild curiosity on his face. "Can't take Sarah to Gallifrey. Must get her back home."
As the message ended, and the tingling disappeared, the Doctor's choice was finally cemented.
"Must reset the coordinates," he whispered hastily. "South Croydon."
The Doctor looked down at the console and began tampering with the controls as he altered space/time readings, reprogrammed dimensional maps and changed location locks. Even as he did so, he failed to hear the sound of one of the TARDIS doors being opened, and the sound of Sarah entering the control room with her bags and belongings, draped in the Doctor's own overcoat.
"AH-HEM!" She said loudly with surprising resolve and firmness. Obviously she had not gotten over her earlier argument with the Doctor.
The Doctor looked over his shoulder. "You're a good girl, Sarah."
Sarah was not going to be won so easily however. "Oh look, its too late aplogising now! Everything's packed, I've got to go!"
This statement caught the Doctor off-guard. "What?" he whispered as he sharply turned away from his work to look at her. He stared at her fiery eyes for a very long time before he found the words to speak, and even then, his voice came out small.
"How did you know?"
Almost immediately, the fierceness in Sarah's face dwindled a bit, but she was quick to disguise it again. "What?" she said the word solidly, strongly, but high inquisitively. The Doctor struggled to find the words to combat her stance.
"I've had the call from Gallifrey."
There was a pause. Sarah Jane's strength seemed to flutter a bit as another pause sunk into the conversation. The TARDIS' humming chose to fill the gap.
"So?" she asked.
"So I can't take you with me. You've got to go."
Those words shattered her completely, and the angry facade was instantly replaced with a sorely shocked face. Sarah desperately tried to find her words as she smiled as if this was simply a prank.
"Oh, come on! I can't miss Gallifrey!"
Then she saw the Doctor's eyes, barely viewable behind that mop of hair, and knew more persuasion would be necessary.
"Look, I was only joking. I didn't really mean it."
Then her eyes filled with something else, something that almost bordered on terror. She took two strides forwards as she spoke.
"Hey! Hey you're not going to regenerate again, are you?"
"I don't know what's going to happen," the Doctor replied soundly. His face was soft, but it was clear his mind was made.
"You're playing one of your jokes on me. Just trying to make me stay." She cracked a mischievous smile as she said this. It pained her alien friend's hearts to break that smile when he spoke.
"No. I've received a call, and as a Time Lord, I must obey."
Sarah's lips dropped into a frown, and her eyes almost immediately lost all their sparkling cheeriness. "Alone." She said softly.
"Yes," The Doctor replied. His hearts then shattered to bits.
It was not too long before the TARDIS landed in the spot the Doctor hoped was South Croydon. His ears finally picked up as Sarah Jane continued to list all the things she would back on Earth.
"… And, err; I'll give your love to Harry, and the Brigadier… Oh! And I can tell Professor Watson that you're alright! An—"
"We've landed Sarah."
"What?"
"We've landed.
"Where?"
The Doctor checked the scanner. "South Croydon. Hill View Road to be exact."
Sarah smiled. "That's my home."
There was another pause as both of them tried to figure out what they were supposed to be doing now. Finally, Sarah Jane broke the quiet again. She knew she could not delay the inevitable any longer.
"Well, I'll be off then." she said this briskly, before taking off the coat she was wearing and passing it back to the Doctor. "Here," she said as she put on one of her own coats. Picking up her luggage, Sarah turned back to face the Doctor.
"Don't forget me."
The Doctor chuckled softly as he adjusted his own coat. "Oh, Sarah. Don't you forget me."
Sarah smiled and shook her head.
"Goodbye Doctor."
The Doctor grunted a somewhat weak "bye" after her as she turned and made her way to the TARDIS' exit. The Doctor decided to take this as an opportunity to set the new coordinates. Gallifrey: At galactic coordinates 10-0-11-0-0 by 0-2 from the Galactic Zero Cen—"
"You know, travel does broaden the mind."
The words shattered the Doctor's trail of thought, and he turned to face his once longtime companion. She stood under the main archway, facing her friend one last time, her face calm but obviously sad.
The Doctor couldn't help but crack a wistful smile. "Yes. 'Till we meet again, Sarah."
Deciding that the Doctor's statement was truth, Sarah Jane Smith nodded to herself and hummed lightly as she walked out of the TARDIS. The Doctor turned back to console, as another companion departed his company. Many had chosen to leave him over the years, but Sarah's was particularly heartfelt. Though like Susan before her, the Doctor was certain her life would prosper so much more beyond dodging bullets and running away from alien conquerors. That in no way implied it was an easy choice to leave her behind.
He looked to the scanner, and gazed at the image of Sarah Jane Smith walking away from the world of the TARDIS and back to the world of everyday normality. A world he did not have the luxury to live in for anyone.
"Till we meet again Sarah," he whispered to himself, and without further or due, he set the TARDIS' next destination, and listened as the ancient engines roared off into the Time Vortex, even as he felt more than just a pang of sadness.
The little man smiled sadly as he flipped past that particular farewell in his long and extensive diary. There were many more. Tegan, Nyssa, Peri, Ian and Barbra; the list went on. And now Ace was the latest addition to that long list of the departed and the deceased. Maybe she would do some good for him, maybe start a charity or fight for Human rights.
Throughout his centuries of life, the little man had tried so hard not to experience these moments of reflection. When he had left Susan behind all those many years ago, he had made a subconscious vow never to look back, never to stop running, or he would face the weight of his guilt and self-loathing. It was so pitiful.
And now the little man knew that this life was finally reaching its final time in the spotlight of the theatre, and it made him worry. What would he leave behind? What impact would he leave for future incarnations? How would they remember him?
Time can be rewritten.
"But what is it I want to rewrite?" he hissed at himself. "What is it I want to change?"
And then, it suddenly became clear to him. It dawned on him so powerfully he widened his eyes in shock. And then, and only then, did he dare whisper the answer aloud to himself.
"Death. My Death."
Of course, regeneration wasn't really death; it was a process of healing and renewing the body from particularly dangerous injuries or life-threatening wounds. However, the process also unwittingly caused not only a physical regeneration, but a psychological one too. Sure, he was still the same man in the next incarnation, still the same Doctor, but the process felt, in a way, like his very consciousness was being erased and replaced by someone else's. It felt as if he was being discarded.
But it was too late now. This incarnation was too old now, and all its opportunities to change its path were presented and denied. The "Great Manipulator" had been the path he had chosen, and now look where it had led him. The little man felt sad, but he was far from suicidal.
Suddenly, he was possessed by a sudden panic. How close was death to knocking on his door? How would it happen? Where would it happen? Where?
The little man leapt out of his armchair and dashed towards the steampunk-styled control console. His hands flashed over the numerous controls and flight devices. Since the revamp, the new components of the console had abandoned the old "keyboard and levers" motif and gone for a more eclectic and anachronistic approach.
Just a quick scan of the sensors told the little man the ancient vessel was drifting through the Time Vortex with no real course, though the little man couldn't care less. Accessing the TARDIS' vast data banks, the little man dashed over to the TARDIS' replacement scanner. Again, the scanner itself had changed.
Rather than manifesting itself as a screen hidden behind shutters, the TARDIS had chosen this time to continue the bric-a-brac theme and change it into an antique, black and white television set attached to the mainframe. The little man tapped away at the controls as he tried to bring up the data on the screen. Things would be so much easier if he could get that voice interface to work for him.
The man knew he shouldn't be doing this. In fact his very common sense was screaming at him not to do this. Insight into one's personal future was extremely dangerous in it's own right, though it was even more so when one tried to diverge into the man's own future.
The little man looked to the scanner to see the progress it was making, hoping to see any possible records. The words he did see didn't inspire much confidence.
- SCANNING FOR INFORMATION. PLEASE WAIT.
The Doctor whacked the scanner hard with his hand angrily.
"Oh hurry up, you old relic! I knew I should have chosen one of those Magpie televisions instead of this accursed 1960's set!"
As if offended, the TARDIS grumbled aloud and a new message popped up on the screen.
- FILES CORRUPTED. INITATING VIRAL SCAN.
"Oh don't start sulking now, old girl! A complete viral scan on the data core could take weeks to complete!"
Remaining firm, the TARDIS repeated its message on the scanner as the console's Time Column moaned slightly. The little man sighed sadly, and forced himself to regain his composure as he opened his eyes again.
"Sorry dear," he said softly as he patted the console lightly. The TARDIS seemed to hum compassionately in response, like a cat purring in a peaceful sleep. The man took a deep breath as he tried to break his way out of the melancholic cycle of his reminiscing.
Perhaps it isn't all that bad, he thought to himself. Time was an affair that caught up with everyone in the end. No one could borrow or buy themselves time, least of all the man in the ship. But the length of time one has does not determine how much one has enjoyed the bounties of life. And the last thing this man always had was time, and yet he had so very much enjoyed his life.
The best thing anyone could do was accept the inevitable and merrily go about their daily business of eating breakfast, catching buses, arguing with that one neighbor next door and collecting postcard stamps. Death had always loomed over the Doctor's head, and maybe he had been too dramatic over this body's end. Perhaps the best thing to do was to stop worrying about the inevitable and start enjoying the time preceding it's coming.
Time can be rewritten, but who says it needs to?
The Doctor, no matter how tired he was, chose this as the time to march to his gramophone, exchange Beethoven for a record by Frédéric Chopin, then return to his armchair and sit down again. Flipping through the pages of his diary again, the Time Lord smiled at the records of good days long past as he took another sip from his cup of tea.
And this time it tasted just that much sweeter.
And as he sat there, peacefully enjoying his days like crazy paving, he remained unaware of what the scanner was now reading. Perhaps, in many centuries to come, the scanner would read something similar for a different Doctor under different circumstances, though today it read this:
Result: The Doctor
Incarnation: Seventh
Death Date: 30/12/1999
Time: 10:03 PM
Location: Walker General Hospital, San Francisco