A PSYCHIC MESSAGE

The Eleventh Doctor was tired.

He knew he would be regenerating soon, and Clara would be there to witness it. This didn't scare him; regeneration wasn't death. His consciousness would continue on; albeit slightly different, with new cells in his body and new ideas about life.

He spoke softly, not even aware that he was doing it,

"Regeneration isn't death."

But he didn't know how he would regenerate; he was on his last body. There had been thirteen Doctors, and he was the thirteenth, even if he didn't call himself that.

He smiled to himself, imagining his darling wife's response to this query.

'Spoilers'.

He took the reading glasses from his coat pocket and put them on, looking over at the unfinished book on Quantum Physics he had left on the floor.

Eleven slowly walked around the console, flipping switches and turning dials, the console emitting a low whirring noise as he did so.

Suddenly, his brain began burning with a mighty force, overwhelming him.

Eleven sat down and massaged his temples, the pain subsiding.

He became aware of a new thought inside his head; one that hadn't been there before. He tried to think that thought.

And he did.

DESTROY THE DALEKS

John Smith was reading in bed.

He and Rose had been married the previous summer, and right now she was in the kitchen making tea.

He had all the memories of the 'Doctor' he shared a face with, but he felt emotions differently, he only had one heart, he couldn't travel through space and time in the TARDIS, but…

He couldn't have asked for a better life.

Smith stretched his legs and turned the page, suddenly dropping the book as his hands had a spasm.

Was this…regeneration?

No.

No. He had memories of regeneration and it certainly didn't start in the hands.

It was…a message.

All of a sudden, his head burned with pain and he felt as if he would fall unconscious, but the pain stopped sharply, just as it had started.

There was a thought in his head, an alien thought.

It was a thought from the other version of him, the one in the Blue Box.

DESTROY THE DALEKS

The Warrior sat in his TARDIS, pondering life.

He had been fighting in this godforsaken war for many years now; decades.

And he wanted to stop.

This form had been created specifically to win the war against the Daleks, but all he wanted was for the war to be over.

A small box sat in the corner of his TARDIS; the forbidden weapon, the Moment.

It had been stolen from the Time Lord's war arsenal, deep within the Citadel.

The Warrior knew what he would have to do.

For the greater good of the Universe.

He intended to end the War one way or another, and if the genocide of two great species was the answer, then he would take it.

He gasped with pain, the feeling of a lightning bolt smashing through his head.

His vision cleared and the pain was gone, but something was there.

A thought.

It was a thought from the past, the future and the present, travelling through time to get to his brain,

DESTROY THE DALEKS

Twelve stepped back from the chalkboard, thinking.

If he swapped the integers of the second and fourth sum, he could technically have calculated how to go faster than the speed of sound.

He was getting rusty with his mathematics.

He picked up his guitar and strummed a few notes, thinking to himself.

He checked up on the TARDIS' progress on designing him a new sonic screwdriver case; he had lost the previous one to Davros and altered his sunglasses to act as a surrogate to the other gadget.

Twelve walked back up the small staircase and wiped the board clean, dropped the chalk onto the floor, crunching it into the floor with his heel.

Suddenly, his head began to ache and he pressed against the sides of his skull, trying to numb the pain.

But then it was gone.

Three words were now in his mind; new words, words that weren't really his.

DESTROY THE DALEKS

The TARDIS dematerialized, the familiar whooshing noise filling Nine's ears.

It was a pity Rose Tyler hadn't agreed to travel with him; it would've been fantastic.

He pressed buttons and pulled levers, not really sure where he was trying to go.

His head began to overheat, feeling as if it would explode.

A side effect of regeneration?

No.

A message.

A message sent to him from somewhere in all of time and space and it was three little words;

DESTROY THE DALEKS.

The other versions of the Doctor did not get this message, however.

Only a small, handpicked group of incarnations were picked.

But why?

I have not uploaded a fic to this site in MONTHS.

So, yeah.

Enjoy.