Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or have any claim to it. All rights belong to BBC, although I have spent a considerable amount on their novels.

Author's Note: It seemed very clear to me after watching the Season 8 opener that the Doctor must have gone back to Trenzalore to talk to himself. This is my idea of how this might have gone. I've used the terms "11th Doctor" and "12th Doctor" to distinguish which of them is speaking.

Talking to Myself

The TARDIS materialized, once again, on Trenzalore, and the Doctor stepped out.

The one place I never wanted to go, he thought. So naturally, it's the place I find myself returning, over and over again.

He stepped across the plain to the other TARDIS and found his slightly younger self slumped in the doorway. His memory was continuously improving. He recalled that the regeneration had first made him young again before giving him this new body. What a cosmic joke that was. Still, he was starting to get used to this new body. At least it was trim and much stronger than it looked. He'd often made use of being underestimated before, and the way he looked might aid him in that in the future.

"Hello, Doctor," he greeted himself. The 11th Doctor looked up at him wonderingly.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm the future you, I'm afraid. I knew I'd seen this face before."

"How do I know you're me?"

"Oh, come now," said the 12th Doctor dismissively. "Who else would know where you are at this moment and would know that you're about to regenerate?"

"I don't know. Any number of people."

The 12th Doctor sighed. He'd known how this conversation would go, of course, which made it all the more tiresome. He pulled the sonic screwdriver from his pocked, essentially unchanged from a few days ago. The 11th Doctor fumbled for his and did a visual comparison.

"So that's my new body," the 11th Doctor murmured, looking the 12th Doctor over appraisingly. "Why so old? And why am I suddenly Scottish?"

"We're caught in an infinite loop, you and I," the 12th Doctor replied. "Because you're seeing me now, you turn into this. And because you turn into this, I'm standing here now. We could discuss the philosophy of it for an entire day, but we really haven't time at the moment."

"So, to summarize – the chicken or the egg?"

"Precisely." The 12th Doctor crouched down to meet the other at eye level. "As for why I'm here…I need you to call Clara."

"Clara? But she's –"

"—going to be here shortly, yes. I'm talking about the future version. Don't worry; she's fine. I left her with Lady Vasta, but I need you to call her. She's having a bit of trouble with this new body."

"So am I," the 11th Doctor confessed, giving a dry chuckle.

"Yes, I know," the 12th Doctor responded wryly. "By the way, there will be some disorientation and memory loss after the change. Sorry about that."

"What am I supposed to tell her?"

"Reassure her that I'm still me – you, that is. I think she needs to hear your voice to help her accept me. We still need her. I need her."

"It's a little like Rose, is it?"

"Something like that."

"I don't understand. Clara's seen all of my other faces. Why does she have a problem with this one?"

"She only saw those briefly, and other versions of herself intersected with their lives." The 12th Doctor paused as he tried to recall exactly how he was supposed to put this. "I think she sees you, in the form she first met, as 'her' Doctor. You know as well as I do that each body brings with it different quirks, mannerisms, and tastes. She'll need to re-learn all of that, and she's nervous about it. Above all, she needs to make the connection between you and me. I need her to understand that, at bottom, I'm the same person."

"Am I?" asked the 11th Doctor.

"Of course you are." The two men looked into each other's eyes, communicating everything else that needed to be said. The 12th Doctor stood up and straightened his coat. "The TARDIS knows when Clara will receive the call; let her take care of it. I need to get back to Victorian London." There was no need for further discussion; the Doctor remembered making the call and knew it would happen.

"So, I'll be seeing you again soon," said the 11th Doctor.

"You will," the 12th Doctor acknowledged, giving a small nod in parting. "Until then." With that, he walked back to his TARDIS and shut the door behind him.

Author's Note: I like the 12th Doctor all right, when he's got a script that works for him, but I don't like it when he's all harsh and insulting. It reminds me too much of the 9th Doctor, and I wasn't particularly fond of him. I can deal with the Doctor being older, but he should always be quirky and likeable, in my opinion.