Summary:
After responding to a distress call sent out through space, the Doctor arrived on a plague-stricken planet and quickly became infected with a deadly virus. On leaving the planet, the dying Doctor set Tardis coordinates for Earth, but regenerated before he could navigate a safe landing – and crashed the Tardis in woodland in North London. Pole dancer Janey Shelby, on her way home from work on a dark early winter morning, witnesses the crash and takes the Doctor back to her home to recover. But the regeneration has not been easy and the Doctor suffers horrific side effects of the transition, it is the worst regeneration he has ever suffered and when the pain wears off he finds he is disoriented and confused and suffers flashbacks to battles with old enemies.
As he recovers from his ordeal, he is shocked to discover he only has one heart - just like he had in his very first lifetime, confirming to him that he is indeed in his last life – there can be no more regenerations. As the Doctor comes to terms with the prospect of his own mortality, and the seemingly lasting effects of the tough regeneration that has damaged his memory, his friendship with Janey deepens and he begins to think about making the most of his final life with her - even though he knows Janey is destined to die very soon, shot to death by her violent ex boyfriend. But before he can warn her of what is to come, a threat looms on the horizon – an artificially created mass of energy that roams from planet to planet, seeking to devour young life forms. When the Doctor realises it has been programmed to wipe out the children of Earth, he knows he must act fast – by tracing the source controlling the mass.
And then the missing piece of the Doctor's memory slides into place around the same time he realises why the pepper pot on Janey's kitchen table bothers him so much...the mass is being controlled by his oldest enemies.
Now he must act fast to save the children of earth – once again, he's up against the Daleks...
Author Note:
This is not my first Who fic, but it IS my first *full length* Dr Who fan fiction NOVEL. And this is a *future based fic* where he is in his final regeneration, it really *is* his last one, so this story features a final, future version of the Doctor!
If you want to try and picture my version of the Doctor in this fic, all I will say is this:
Can you imagine how great Doctor Who would be, if he was played by Rik Mayall? :-)
Rated: T
Warnings: Contains some strong language, and some scenes of torture.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is a work of fan fiction.
Chapter 1
The tall, leafless trees were swaying as a breeze picked up and branches that towered skywards shivered and bent as the breeze turned to a wind that grew stronger as the dark winter skyline, resistant to the coming of the dawn, was split by a fork of electricity that looked at first glance like lightning. Then another zigzag split the darkness, streaking across the sky and glowing electric blue. As it vanished another appeared and the trees began to bend harder as branches snapped, torn away from trees by the force of the whirling wind.
There was a crash like thunder and more electricity sparked in the sky.
The long, narrow road was deserted except for one woman who had missed her bus from the tube station and now faced a long walk all the way down Bramley Road, before sunrise, alone...and in the freezing January cold. Her coat was warm and thick and she carried a bag that contained her skimpy dancer's outfit and high-heeled shoes. As Janey Shelby walked in silver snow boots and wrapped her scarf tighter about her throat, she paused, glancing back at the tube station where the familiar sign and the word Oakwood still blazed, lit up against the darkness.
Then the lightning split the sky again.
She gave a sigh and shifted closer to the dense trees even though the branches were bare, because she was sure some shelter was better than none at all and it sounded like a storm was coming and she was more concerned about getting soaked in the freezing cold than lightning striking a tree...
She took her phone from her pocket and as it glowed in the dark she smiled as she scrolled down a list of names and dialled her brother.
"Come on!" she said as it rang, then it was answered and he sounded tired but anxious.
"What's the matter, Janey?"
I missed the bus. I couldn't afford a taxi. I'm so cold. I started walking but I think there's a storm coming..."
He gave a sigh.
"Ten minutes, okay? I'll get dressed and find my car keys and come and pick you up."
Her hazel eyes widened on hearing that.
"You can't find them?"
"You woke me up, Sis! Where are you now?"
"By Snakes Lane."
"I won't be long."
He hung up and she put her phone back in her coat pocket.
Then she stood there for a moment, watching as nothing stirred across the road, not a tree was shifting...
Yet somewhere behind her, off in the woodland, it seemed as if a tornado was approaching – trees were bending and a wind was swirling as lightening split the skies again.
She watched, fascinated by the odd behaviours of the weather.
Then the thunder rolled one more time, the sky flickered and glowed, lighting up from darkened winter gloom into shades of purple and crimson that made the tall trees look etched in charcoal against it.
Janey continued to stare.
Then, as she turned into Snakes Lane and went off the path, she carefully made her way into the woodland, glancing behind her a couple of times as she wondered if she was stupid or just plain adventurous to wander off into the woods in the dark, what ever she was, curiosity had won – but it wasn't dark, not as she got closer to the strange glow in the sky...
As she stood in the clearing and looked upwards, the skeleton trees seemed black against the strange glow that filled the sky. It was sky that was swirling, the wind was not here, not low to the ground – but high up above, where clouds whirled and twisted and in the eye of the storm, something was falling.
She looked upwards, fascinated by the shape that was rotating around as it glided downwards.
At first it looked flat and square, as it turned and slipped closer to earth, the wind picked up as and blew back her long dark hair.
She kept her eyes fixed on the object, almost hypnotised by the way it fell gracefully yet turned, around and around, then as the wind grew stronger her eyes widened and she backed away; it was going to land, and heavily, too...
It fell. She saw the four sides of it twisting as it slipped lower, she saw small square glass windows in the blue box and a light that was flashing on the top. It looked like an old-fashioned phone box, but bigger and heavier and – the crash as it hit the ground shook the earth beneath her feet.
Janey stared at the box; now it was upright, a door was half-open and light was blazing from the inside of it, sending out unearthly beams of white brilliance that escaped from the door, out through the windows...beams of light so blinding she put up her hand to shield her eyes.
And then the lights went out.
Janey caught her breath and as she breathed out again it formed an icy fog in the air.
The sky was still glowing strange shades of bruises but that glow was starting to fade out now.
She took a step closer, watched the blue box and saw no movement within and then went closer still.
Janey reached out and touched a sign on the front.
"Police box?" she wondered aloud.
Then the door was wrenched open.
She gave a gasp and took a step backwards, broken twigs snapping beneath her boots as she looked into the darkness. The box seemed pitch black inside; there was nothing to see, no hint of the light that had just lit up half the forest.
Someone took in a sharp breath.
Then a hand grabbed at the doorway.
Janey stared at the man who was on his knees and breathing heavily.
"Help me!" he said weakly, and collapsed half out of the box, his face turned away from her.
Janey hurried forward and got on her knees and turned the man over.
His eyes were closed and his breathing was rapid. His clothing was stained with scorch marks and as his eyes flickered open he looked up at the fading glow in the sky above.
"Help me..." he said again.
Jane took her phone from her pocket.
She looked down at the man who was clearly breathing and then she looked back at the strange box.
"It's all right," she told him, giving his shoulder a shake as she looked down at him, "I'll call an ambulance."
He drew in a sharp breath and his eyes filled with panic.
"No, don't do that...last time that happened they almost killed me...they did kill me...I mean...I...I don't know...get me out of here..."
His face was blackened with soot and his clothing still carried a smell of burning, yet she could see no visible injuries. But the man was shaken and weak as he pulled himself up to his knees again and then leaned against her heavily. He breathed hard and shivered in the cold as sweat poured off his face, making the soot run in streaks.
"I think may have landed badly..."
"You can say that again!" Janey murmured as she wondered why that box had come hurtling to the ground like that in the first place.
Then as he shivered again she made a decision, and called her brother.
As he answered the phone he sounded weary.
"Okay Janey – I'm on my way, I'm about to turn into Bramley Road - where exactly are you?"
She turned her head, hazel eyes fixed on the path through the clearing. And then she spoke again, urgently:
"I'm just inside Snakes Lane - on the left hand side – you'll need to stop the car and cut through. I've got someone with me, he needs help..."
As her brother glared at her, Janey felt more than a little guilty. Ritchie had shot her that what now? look, as if he expected everything she got involved to would lead to trouble.
"Please, bruv – just help him into the car...take him back to my place, I'll look after him!" Janey's brother, who was older and bigger and heavier than her, just glared at her as he put his arm around the stranger and pulled him to his feet.
"You don't even know his name, do you?" he said accusingly.
Then he led him through the clearing, the man leaned on him and half-stumbled as they reached the parked car at the roadside.
"Does it matter what I know, Ritchie? He needed help!"
He opened the back passenger door and the man climbed in, slumping down across the seats.
Ritchie shut the car door and looked down at his little sister.
"First you came up with enough money to pay off Dad's debts after he died and then you get this job as a stripper –"
"Pole dancer."
"Same thing to me when its my sister taking her clothes off! I don't know where you got the money from, you've got a job I don't like to think about and now you're picking up strange men. It doesn't look good –"
"I just bumped into him!" Janey's hazel eyes were blazing and Ritchie briefly fell silent.
He glanced through the window and saw the man was still slumped over the back seats.
"I'll get you home. And this time I won't mention this to Mum! She'd be worried out of her mind if she thought you picked up some drunk – or worse..."
He got into the car and Janey followed, shooting him an icy glance.
"Worse?"
Her brother kept his voice down as he started the car.
"He could be a drunk, or he could be on drugs – and you want to take him home with you?"
The engine purred into life and he pulled away from the side of the road and they turned out of Snakes Lane.
As her brother drove along, still warning her about the dangers of picking up a strange man and then warning her if he puked in the car she would have to pay to get it cleaned, Janey stayed silent, thinking about the strangely coloured sky and the box that had fallen from it. She saw it again, the four corners of the large, heavy Policed Box rotating as the wind picked up, recalled how it had turned almost hypnotically, and then landed with a heavy crash that shook the ground.
She thought about the way that box fell.
Then she thought about the blinding light that had briefly blazed within.
Then she glanced over her shoulder at the man in the back of the car.
She couldn't even begin to explain any of it, she knew that for certain – Ritchie would never believe her...
When the car pulled up outside the ground floor converted flat where she had lived for more than a year, Janey got out and took her keys from her pocket. She hurried up the path and unlocked the door and turned on the light.
"Thank you," she heard the man say weakly as Ritchie helped him from the car and up the path.
As they stepped in through the front door her brother spoke up.
"If you cause ay trouble –"
The man gave a weary sigh.
"I can assure you I won't do that...I need to lie down, I'm in pain..."
"Take him through to the spare room," Janey said.
Ritchie did as she asked, leading the man into the darkened bedroom and leaving him to sit down heavily on the bed.
Then he stood over him for a moment.
"If you lay one finger on my sister," he said darkly, "You'll be in a lot more pain, do you understand me?"
The man who sat on the bed was too exhausted to lookup.
"That's the last thing I'd do...Please trust me, I'm in a lot of pain, I just want to rest..."
Then he doubled up and gave a gasp as pain shot through his body.
"Oh no, please stop!" he gasped weakly.
Ritchie stepped forward, about to emphasise on that warning he had just given, but light flooded into the gloomy room as Janey pushed the door open.
"Thanks for helping me out," she said, "and I'm fine – he's not dangerous. Don't worry about me, just go home."
As she stood with the light from the hallway behind her, Ritchie looked at his small, slender sister and then glanced back at the man who had now slumped down on to the bed.
"You don't know him, I'm not sure I should leave you alone with him."
She opened the door wider and stepped back.
"I said he's okay, he's not dangerous!"
She saw doubt in his eyes and recalled the box falling to earth and decided the easiest way out of this would be to lie.
"Look," she said, lowering her voice as he joined her in the hallway, "I didn't tell you everything before – I do know him...sort of...it's a long story. I'm quite safe to be alone with him. Now I just want to keep an eye on him and make sure he's okay, do I need to tell you more, or is that good enough for you?"
Ritchie shook his head.
"I never know what to think about the things you get up to these days – or the people you mix with..."
They walked to the front door.
Janey opened it for him and thanked him again, hoping he would leave.
But he lingered for a moment.
"Mum worries about you," he told her, "and so does Sarah, she doesn't know what you do but she knows you work in London late at night. She knows you have to come home in the dark on the train."
At the thought of her nine year old sister, she felt a stab of guilt. She had been twelve years old when Sarah was born and although she loved her, the age gap had set them apart and they had only become closer in recent times – especially since she had left home. Being away had shown her how much she missed having her little sister barging into her room and trying on her clothes and spraying her perfume.
"She doesn't have to worry about me. Tell her I'm coming over at the weekend, I'll take her shopping in town."
"I'll tell her that," he replied, and he glanced over her shoulder down the hallway, towards the open door that led to the spare room.
"If he gives you any trouble call me - or the police."
"He's not going to be any trouble," she repeated, "just trust me on that."
"I hope you're right about him," her brother replied.
And as he left, she closed the door and breathed a relieved sigh.
As Janey locked the door, she turned her head, gaze fixed on the open bedroom door. There wasn't a sound be heard...she couldn't even hear him breathing...
Janey walked quickly down the hallway and went into the spare room.
"Are you all right?"
She had spoken quietly, and the man in the scorch marked clothing gave no reply as he lay on his side facing the wall.
Janey reached out and turned on the bedside lamp. As it filled the room with a soft glow, she gently closed her fingers on the torn sleeve of his jacket and gently shook him.
He gave a gasp and woke with a jolt that made her jump too, and she stepped back he turned over sharply, breathing hard as sweat made the soot that smeared his face being to run once more.
"Don't do that to me!" he said nervously, "I'm just into my new regeneration, you have no idea what it was like for me..."
And then he paused, focussing on nothing in front of him as his eyes darted left then right as he searched his confused mind.
"There was a distress signal, I couldn't ignore it. They were dying when I got there...whole planet was dying... "
Janey stared at him.
"Planet?" she wondered, and thought of her brother's remark about drugs.
Then he shivered and wrapped his arms tightly about his body as pain cut through him and he started to shake.
"Don't touch me..."
Janey slowly shook her head.
"No worries, mate...I wasn't planning to!"
Then he gave another gasp of pain and as panic registered in his eyes he took in several shallow breaths.
"This is wrong...something's gone very wrong...I ache to my bones..."
Then he focussed on her and sky blue eyes met her own shade of hazel.
"Do I look strange to you?"
He sounded on the brink of panic.
She shook her head.
"You look a bit strung out...and you definitely need to get those filthy clothes off...was there a fire in that blue box? You look like you've been near a fire...too close to a fire?"
As the pain subsided he relaxed his body a little, took in an easier breath and struggled to sit up, pulling himself up and then half-reclining on pillows. He fell silent as he looked at the young woman who stood before him. Being a Time Lord meant he knew everything that had ever been and ever would be, and even now, after the most painful regeneration of his many lives, something in his confused mind was telling him, he ought to know her from somewhere:
She was in her early twenties, quite small, slender, with striking hazel eyes that she framed with heavy black eyeliner that matched the colour of her long hair...
"What's your name?" he asked her.
He was still breathless and still sweating and as he rested on the pillows looking at her he was noticeably trembling.
"Janey Shelby," she replied, "I was by Snakes Lane when you crashed in that blue box...why were you in that thing? Why was up in the air in the first place? Are you some sort of inventor? Did you invent that flying box?"
His gaze was still locked on to hers.
"I know your name, I've heard it a long time ago...I wasn't me then...I get around, it's complicated... but I do, I do know your name –"
He drew in a sharp breath and pain registered on his face as he broke out in a heavier sweat and his pupils shrank to pinpricks.
"Help me!"
And he turned on his back as his eyes fixed on the ceiling and he breathed short, shallow breaths as pain shuddered through his body until he felt as if his bones were breaking.
"Something's wrong..."
He gave a sob that was cut off by a cry of pain as he shivered and his hair became damp with sweat. The soot that marked his face and clothing was starting to wear off against the pale pillow case and the sheets that covered the bed.
"Did you take something?" she wondered, feeling helpless as she watched him go through the kind of agony she had only ever seen in movies when heroin junkies went cold turkey.
He gave no reply as his body was rattled by tremors that seemed to be shaking him to the bone.
She leaned over him and placed her hands on his shoulders and it came as a shock to find that even through his scorched shirt, his skin felt damp and ice cold at the same time and he was shaking so violently holding on to him seemed to make her own bones shudder.
"Please tell me what's wrong, are you on drugs? Will this get worse? Can you even hear me?"
The shaking stopped as suddenly as it started. His gaze suddenly shifted and locked on to her as he drew in a breath.
"I'm cold..."
As he spoke he blinked and a tear ran down his face. He closed his eyes and shivered again. Beneath the soot that still marked his face, his skin was pale as chalk and shone with sweat.
Then as he lay there his lips parted and he whispered quietly:
"I ache to my bones. I'm thousands of years old...my time was up long ago... something went wrong, I hurt inside...why am I so cold?"
And he shivered again and gave an exhausted sigh as he slid into a deep sleep and continued to shiver.
Janey reached for the quilt that was folded at the bottom of the bed and carefully draped it over him, covering him up to his shoulders. But he was still shivering. His hair was soaked with sweat and he was filthy from the fire or the smoke or whatever had caused him to be so blackened; he needed to get cleaned up but was in no fit state to get up from the bed.
He gave a whimper of pain and shivered harder.
Janey kicked off her boots and took off her thick coat and got in bed beside him, pulling the covers up tight as she cautiously slid her arms around him and pulled his trembling body closer.
"I don't know who you are or what's wrong with you," she whispered, "but I'm trying to help. I'll keep you warm..."
And then Janey held on to the stranger whose body was ice-cold, she held him as he shivered, whispered words of comfort as he cried out from pain and exhaustion and stayed by his side, holding him as the sun rose and she hoped he would recover - while the heat of her body seemed to do little to take the ice from his blood...
It was almost mid day by the time he awoke.
As he opened his eyes the sunlight filtering through white nets stung at his eyes and he turned over, away from the glare. As he blinked and tried to regain focus, he became aware that he wasn't alone. There was a young woman beside him and she was watching him intently and one look in her eyes told him she had many questions to ask. He thought about the Tardis, the way he had landed in the woods, the sudden violence of his regeneration...
She was coming sharply into focus now.
He looked into the eyes of the woman he had woken up with.
"Nice to meet you," he said, feeling awkward, "I'm the Doctor. Thanks for last night... I mean, thanks for helping me out..."
She started to smile as she caught the look on his face, as if waking up beside her had been the last thing he had expected to do.
"You were in a real state last night. I kept you warm, you were so cold."
And as she got out of bed he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw she still had her clothes on. Regeneration was an unpredictable business and he had little memory of anything that had happened the night before...
She was asking him if he wanted some breakfast.
The Doctor said nothing, sitting up sharply as he studied the back of his own hand.
"Or I could make you some tea? Or coffee? You need something to warm you up – you was freezing cold last night! I'd like to know why, because if you took something illegal, believe me, you don't want to take it again – you was a total wreck!"
He was still looking the back of his own hand. As he studied it, his hand began to tremble but this time it was nothing to do with pain.
"It's like dying," he whispered, "every time it happens, its like death, it hurts as much as death and afterwards nothing is ever the same again..."
He took in a sharp breath as tried to hold back from weeping.
"And this time, it just wasn't right, I know it - I feel strange!"
As he looked at her, his eyes were glassy with tears.
"What are you talking about?" she asked him.
He looked again at the back of his hand.
"Regeneration. It's a normal biological process, a way for my body to renew itself. But the problem with it is, each time I regenerate my whole body changes, it's more than just a physical change, its complicated and nothing goes back the same way again – when I die a new man walks away, can you understand that?"
She stared at him as she slowly shook her head.
"You're not making sense," she admitted,"but at least you're not as ill as you was last night."
Then as she looked at him a sudden thought came to mind and she hoped she was right, because anything would be better than assuming he was crazy...
"Did someone spike your drink?"
He blinked. Suddenly he understood the situation; she knew nothing about him...
"Yes you did see my blue box fall from the sky, and while that might seem impossible to you, I haven't suggested you were on a bad trip last night, have I?"
His eyes seemed clear and focussed now and his tone was somewhat icy.
She shook her head.
"No," she said quietly, "look, Doctor – who ever you are – I'm not trying to insult you, I'm just trying to make sense of this."
He pushed the covers back and got out of bed, the room swayed and he leaned on the bedside table as he fought off a wave of nausea.
"I need to get back to my Tardis. I can't stay here, I don't even know who I am."
And he staggered forward and Janey put her arm around him to steady him.
"And that's why you shouldn't be going any where!"
He reached down and closed his hand over hers, then politely removed it from his waist.
"I can manage, thank you."
Then he looked down at his smoke blackened clothing.
"I need to get cleaned up."
"I'll run you bath," she told him.
As Janey left the room the Doctor tried to recall why and how this situation had come about...memories were falling into place, but in a different order, as if his mind had been taken apart by the regeneration and put back together with pieces missing, the mosaic was not complete, it was as if there were gaps inside his head where recollections refused to slot back in:
There had been a distress signal, the Tardis had picked it up and he had followed it, to find a plague filled planet far off in another solar system. The virus had quickly infected him and he had known regeneration was inevitable. He recalled setting the coordinates for Earth, because it was the one place in the galaxy where he loved to be and could think of nowhere better to adjust to his new body...
But something had gone wrong, not only with his violent and sudden regeneration, but there was something else too...
"Why did I crash?" he wondered aloud, recalling how he had set the Tardis coordinates for Earth and set the auto controls...the Tardis should have landed without his help, without any problems...
He looked towards the window where weak winter sunshine lit up a sky partly dotted with white clouds, he fixed his gaze between those clouds and into the blue as he thought beyond it and wondered what had happened, what had been out there to swat the Tardis like a fly and send it spinning down to Earth the way it had...
"What's going on?" he murmured, then he turned from the window slowly, trying to avoid the dizziness that sudden movement still caused and he walked out of the room, turning into the narrow hallway and following the sound of running water.
The door at the end of the hall was open and steam was escaping. His bones ached and chills swept over him, lighter now but all the same, their touch was enough to send sharp trembles through his body, rattling bones, reminding him that he was still not over this painful transition.
But at least he was steadier now.
The Doctor walked towards the open door feeling stronger.
Then the hallway warped and twisted and as he slid to the floor his back hit the radiator and pipes clanged, it was a jarring sound, metal against metal.
And the Doctor blinked and the hallway was gone:
The slam of metal on concrete sounded. They were marching in, through the suburbs, their gleaming silver bodies looked invincible, their faces were emotionless and as they marched, the sound of metal soldiers filled the air.
Then a Cyberman reached out a silver hand and clamped it about his throat.
As the Doctor fought for air a jumble of memories flashed through his mind:
He first met them before his very first regeneration, many centuries ago, and then again in his second life, when he had sealed them in their ice tomb on Telos and believed he put them into eternal sleep.
But creatures like that did not die out or give up easily.
That metal hand was still clamped about his throat as he struggled to breathe.
He had met them again in his fourth regeneration, and his fifth, his sixth and seventh...
Old enemies died hard.
But so did old Time Lords, too... he was the last of his kind and he would go out fighting. He would die with his boots on and defiance blazing in his eyes.
The Doctor struggled to breathe and the grip on his throat choked off any chance he stood of crying out for help.
The water was still running in the bathroom.
He thought of Janey and wished he could warn her, but he couldn't breathe, just couldn't take in air and that cold metal hand was crushing and choking him as dead eyes looked at him impassively, watching him die as it squeezed the life out of him...
He had known them in every lifetime; at some point on his travels he had often encountered the Cybermen. They knew him; they sought to destroy him because he was the only one who could stop them...
The Doctor was sure his neck was about to snap.
He was only a few hours into his new regeneration, he could easily survive and recover from a broken neck...but these things wouldn't stop there...they'd take him away and have him tortured, they would replace his body and make him one of them, he knew it as he tried in vain to breathe and the world around him grew tunnel-dark and began to fade out...
Then someone was shaking him.
Her voice brought him out of the hallucination.
The hallway was bright because sunlight streamed through a glass panel in the front door. There were no Cybermen, although as he looked into Janey's concerned eyes he could still hear an echo of their marching armies somewhere far off at the back of his mind.
"Slow down," she said softly, "Try and stay calm, breathe slowly."
He reached up and rubbed his throat, expecting to feel a painful bruise, but there was none, instead just an dull ache in his upper chest because he had panicked and hyperventilated.
"What happened?" she asked him quietly.
As he got up, she offered him her hand and this time he accepted her help, feeling grateful for extra strength at a time when he felt drained.
"I saw them," he said, avoiding her gaze because he already knew she doubted his sanity, "Cybermen...hundreds of them! I saw the metal army marching - it's already happened, it was a long time ago..."
And he cautiously met her gaze.
Janey had given up on trying to work him out. Every time she doubted his sanity she recalled the blue box that fell from the sky - and that alone was enough to leave a huge question mark hanging over everything...
"Would you like me to help you in there?" she offered.
They reached the bathroom door and the Doctor smiled briefly.
"I'll be fine; I can do this on my own."
And he went into the bathroom and shut the door. As Janey heard the lock slide across she tapped on the door.
"Doctor? "
"What?" he said, and that snappy tone was back in his voice.
"I don't think you should lock the door- you're not well, you might pass out or –"
"I'm fine."
Now his tone was definitely icy.
Janey felt uneasy at the thought of leaving him in a locked bathroom after all he had been through.
"I'll check on you in five minutes." She said through the closed door.
"Fine, whatever..."
He sounded genuinely annoyed at her concern for him and Janey decided to give him a few moments peace, she went through to her own bedroom to change out of her clothes and put on a bathrobe because when he got out of there, she wanted to grab a shower. Then she wondered what she could give him to wear, and thought about the few items of clothing that had been left at the back of her wardrobe since she had broken up with her former boyfriend.
She opened up the wardrobe and began to sort through clothing that had hung there untouched for more than eight months.
While he had the warmth of the water and the peace and solitude brought to him by the locked door, the Doctor gave a sigh and lay back in the water, feeling the aches and pains slide out of his bones as the heat of the water made the deep hurting slide away.
His filthy clothing was in a heap on the bathroom floor and as he had undressed he been relieved to see his body was reasonably toned, he was in good shape - but the bathroom mirror was steamed over and he had yet to wipe it and look into the glass and discover his new face.
Part of him didn't want to do it; regeneration was a dangerous, unpredictable business, especially when forced suddenly through illness or injury. And this regeneration had been violent and painful and he was still recovering from it, the physical pain was easing but the mental pain had only just begun; that hallucination about Cybermen had been terrifyingly real...
He didn't doubt there would be more horrifying visions before his new body began to settle down.
As he lay back in the water, memories crowded him and he recalled the faces of so many he had known and travelled with over his lifetimes. Some he recalled by name, others were nameless because the regeneration had torn up his old memory and left his new one scattered about in pieces.
He had known and lost so many people who had been dear to him, so many he had loved...
The Doctor felt an ache in his chest and he gave a quiet sob as tears ran down his face.
Then he lay there in the silence, listening for Cybermen who existed only in his nightmares as he glanced over at the steamed up bathroom mirror.
He wanted to know what his new face looked like, but right now, he didn't have the courage to find out, he didn't have the courage to do anything at all except cry for the past, all of his past lives, and all of those he had loved and lost...