Look at me, I'm a Nine!
The Doctor stepped into his TARDIS with a grin on his face. A face which had seen so much pain, and so much suffering, and so much death. A face born in the war, and born to stop it. And he had. The Doctor had saved Gallifrey, ended the war, and took out the Daleks while he was at it. And all by himself too, technically.
The Doctor entered his new co-ordinates – Cardiff, 1902. He had gotten an invitation from an old friend, but that was so long ago… "Of course." A glowing orange energy had begun to form around his hands and face. "Wearing a bit thin…" The Doctor's wrinkles were more pronounced than he thought. His hands more old, his hair more grey. His age had gotten the better of him, but the Doctor didn't mind. He thought it was symbolic in a way, a new face, a new life, away from the Time War. Past the suffering, after the victory. Heh. He wished.
He wouldn't be able to remember the victory. He knew the suffering, the pain that he had to see, the pain that he had to BRING, would be all the new Doctor would be able to remember. He wondered whether he would be able to forgive himself. He hoped he'd be able to forgive himself. What kind of a man would he be? Would he even be a man? Would he be mean or kind, cruel or cowardly? Would he be stern or would he be soothing? Would he want to fight or fall back? The Doctor thought silently before deciding on one thing. "Hope the ears are a bit less conspicuous this time."
And the regeneration energy shot out of his head and his sleeves, enveloping The Doctor's morphing body. He felt his wrinkles disappear from his forehead, replaced by young, smooth skin. The scars and callouses vanished from his hands, his beard was replaced by cleanly shaven skin. His nose was changing shape, his small beady eyes were growing in size. His grey hair shot back into his skull and was replaced by short, black hair. Then The Doctor was rising, ascending, no. Growing taller. And all of that happened in just a moment, and in that moment, The Doctor had died, but he had become young again.
"Right." The Doctor looked around his TARDIS, a clean, white room with a console in the middle. He was confused for a second, then all the memories came flooding back into his mind. Susan, Ian, Barbara, Ben, Polly, Jo, Sarah Jane, The Brigadier, Romana, Adric, Ace, Grace and so many more. And then the war. Cass, the crash, Karn, the potion, and the war. So much death, so much destruction. And he had caused it all. He remembered taking the Moment to that old barn in that old sack, twisting and turning the cogs, and pressing the big red button, and then – nothing. The Doctor remembered waking up in his TARDIS, in the midst of regeneration, and changing face.
A flurry of emotions rushed into The Doctor's head. Anger, frustration, sadness, hopelessness. But at the centre of it all, the strongest thought, the most painful feeling, was guilt. And then The Doctor fainted, crashing into a dozen different controls and buttons, before slipping to the floor.