There are rules that keep us safe, rules that keep us honest, and then there are some rules that are just screaming to be broken.

The Doctor had spent so much of his life creating rules; meticulously crafting a web of lines that must never ever be crossed, in the vain hope that he might quiet the voice in the back of his mind. That ever-present whisper reminding him of the chaos caused by his past recklessness. Rules he would firmly impose upon his fellow travelers, though, they would do well to remember rule number one:

The Doctor lies.

His sneakers shuffled along the pavement as he made his way across the parking lot. It felt odd, after so many years in this spry body, to now be so weak and uncoordinated. He kept his eyes locked on the shop door in front of him, trying to focus on the faded signs for ice cream bars, lotto jackpots, and gum hanging in the windows, rather than the thumping pain that filled his head.

This really should be easier for him. Death was not something he was altogether unfamiliar with. The memories of each one before this were vividly imprinted on his mind, but none of them felt real. They were not his memories, not his experiences. Like lost items left behind in an abandoned flat, they were simply things he had found when he moved in.

And what could he learn from them anyway? He was nothing like those nine other men. They had lived their lives, saved worlds, done great things; some of them horrible perhaps but still, all were great. But there was still so much more left for him to do. He was nowhere near finished, but the end was creeping in closer with every unsteady step he took forwards.

The small bells jangled over his head and he pushed open the door and entered the aisles of magazines and bags of crisps that every corner store is home to. Despite the annoying bells the cashier did not notice him. He was too preoccupied by a rather impertinent teenager standing at the counter.

"Look! You can read? Good. So read." He was pointing to a sign posted on the wall behind him indicating the legal age for buying cigarettes.

"But they're not for me. My grandpa just asked me to run down here and grab some…"

"I don't care if the queen sent you here. I'm not selling to you."

"This is blatant discrimination against the youth of our nation. Ageism at its worst. You are openly participating in society's perpetuation of a prejudicial stereotype of teen…"

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the prime minister sweetie."

Fierce. It was the only word the Doctor could think of that perfectly described the glare she gave this man.

They were clearly going to be at this for a while, so he turned his attention down one of the aisles. At the end was a group of boys huddled together around a shelf at the back of the store. One of the boys lifted his head to turn back and check if the clerk was watching. He wasn't. The girl had him completely involved in his own frustration.

That was when the Doctor realized that face was the one he had been looking for. Only he was about forty years too early. This was Donna Noble's father at the ripe old age of thirteen. He must have punched in the wrong coordinates. In any case here he was, and he would have to make the best of it. There was definitely no time to go back and try again; though how he was going to get a parting gift for Donna now was beyond him.

He had hoped to find her father a bit older and maybe get something, some family memento that would remind her of him. At least she would be able to remember one of the men that left her too early.

As one of the boys straightened up the Doctor could see how oddly padded his jumper seemed to be. Even from here he could tell it was chalk full of sweets ready to be sneaked out the door.

They hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet, they were too pleased with themselves to care. He took a few steps closer and cleared is throat quite loudly making them jump.

"That's quite the jumper you've got there."

All three boys froze with the panic that comes right after you've been caught but just before you find out of you're in trouble. He knew the panic all too well from centuries of rule breaking and he couldn't help but smile.

"Tell you what, I wont tell the shop owner over there that you've stuffed half his store in your pockets if you loan me a quid."

The boys just blinked at him not sure whether or not to believe him.

"I'm serious you know. I don't carry money and I've got to pick something up for a friend of mine, so how bout it eh?" He looked at Donna's father waiting for a reply. It was almost painful to look into those big green eyes. They were her eyes. Donna's eyes. "My silence for a couple of pounds. Oh, come on.

"You said one pound." He finally replied.

"Yeah and you hesitated and the price went up." He was having fun now. Negotiating with thirteen year olds was oddly entertaining. He rested his elbow on the shelf next to him faining indifference. "Better decide fast before it goes up to five."

"Ok, ok. Two quid and you stay quiet."

"You got a deal."

The boys handed over the money and ran past him out the door.

As he walked to the register a pang of guilt hit him. Blackmail. Not the noblest thing exactly. But he pushed it out of his mind. What did it matter now? He wasn't going to be around much longer…not like this anyway.

The fierce girl had left the store by now. He could see her sitting on the curb just outside the window.

"What can I get you?" Asked the cashier, clearly still annoyed by his argument with her.

On the counter sat the pack of cigarettes she had fought so hard to buy. He picked them up.

"Just this."

Why did he do that? Impulse perhaps. In any case he was now standing outside the shop with the pack in his hands looking at this girl. He walked around and sat down on the curb next to her, turning the pack over in his hands.

"That was quite the speech you gave in there. Do you always fight so hard for the rights of tobacco lovers everywhere?"

He meant this as a joke but she took it so seriously.

"No, of course not. The boys in there dared me to smoke one. They said girls can't smoke as well as boys and I was going to prove them wrong."

This made him smile. Some people might be 19 or 900 and still have no idea who they are. But here was this girl who was barely just beginning and she already had it figured out.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Right." He couldn't help but laugh to himself at the sheer conviction with which this girl was capable of lying. He knew she couldn't be more than fourteen at the most.

"And how old are you?"

"Oh, I'm…well I'm old."

He could see her eying the pack in his hand out of the corner of his eye. "Oh go on then."

Without looking, he held the open pack out to her. What did it matter if he was irresponsible now, he had saved enough lives to spend the end of his own the way he wanted.

She excitedly slid one out of the box and brought it to her lips to light.

"Shouldn't I be giving you some lecture on the dangers of smoking?"

She gave an exaggerated roll of the eyes to him as she took her first drag. Almost instantly she began coughing from the smoke.

"Ugh this is disgusting. Why does anyone smoke these?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

He looked out over the car park, the blue edge of the TARDIS just visible beyond the fence. He had a quid from her father, now all he had to do was think of a wedding present for Donna. The bells of the shop door jangled as someone else walked in. As the door shut behind them a flash of a lotto ad caught his eye and he had his inspiration.

He put his hand in his coat pocket looking for the other quid leftover after the cigarettes. It took a second to find it amongst the piles of things that had accumulated in there over the years. When he pulled it out he felt his hand brush against something smooth and metal.

He was on his feet again ready to make the trek back across the lot when he thought of something. He turned around to face the girl.

"Don't listen to those boys. They're kids, they'll grow up but they'll need…time."

She just looked at him bewildered as to why this strange man was giving her advice, but before she could think of how to respond he had turned around and walked away.

She watched him make his way across the parking lot. It seemed to be taking him more effort that it should. Finally she stood up ready to head home when she noticed a glint of gold out of the corner of her eye. There was a gold wristwatch sitting on the ground where the man had been sitting. She picked it up ready to call after him but when she looked he was gone.

As the Doctor stood on the TARDIS rolling the coin between his fingers, something popped into his head. Something someone had told him once, though he couldn't recall who exactly, but it rang out clearly in his mind.

"It's one thing to have someone leave you, it's another to be the one doing the leaving."