*Hey troops! Penultimate chapter for you now and this one is an absolute belter, from the perspective of everyone's favourite Gallifreyan. I really really hope that you like it! As ever, massive thanks to Chantelle for all of her help and thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! Please review! TPD*
Eyes, the Doctor thought, could convey so many things. In this moment, he wanted to look anywhere but into the eyes of Clara Oswald, but he owed her that much. For what he was about to do to her, he owed her looking in her eyes when he broke her heart and his promise to her. That they would die together. He had no intention of letting anyone die but him. The moment Jake's arm went around Clara's neck, her eyes went wide. They were full of shock and anger, flooded with despair, but above all, desperation and pleading. She was staring at the Doctor, trying to keep hold of her view of him, trying to convince him to help her. To stop Jake. But the Doctor couldn't, he couldn't stop Jake. There was something else in Clara's eyes and that was what made the Doctor want to call the whole thing off. Resignation. She was resigned to her fate. Then, after a few moments, Clara's eyes snapped shut and the Doctor's eyes met Jake's instead.
Jake's eyes were no less sorrowful than Clara's, but duller, like he was trying to shut it out. He knew how this ended and he was trying to ignore his role in it. He released the grip around Clara's neck and swept her unconscious body into his arms, sparing her a look of concern, his eyes alight when they moved to Clara. Then he turned back to the Doctor.
The Doctor didn't say anything. He didn't need to tell Jake to look after Clara, because Jake would do that regardless. He didn't need to apologise to Jake for dying and he didn't need to thank Jake for everything. He knew it all already. There was nothing that the Doctor could say, that Jake didn't already know and they had both accepted their role in the state of play. Only Clara had tried to fight it and now she was gone. Safe. He had sent her away, made her safe. He hoped that in time she would forgive him, but he'd settle for her just surviving. She would be stubborn, be very Clara about the whole thing, but in time, she could be happy again. She wouldn't see it that way of course, but the Doctor didn't doubt that at least there was a way out for Clara.
There was no way out for him. The poison working its way through his body was already too far gone. Even if the Doctor wanted to run, wanted to go with Clara and Jake and find a way to live happily ever after, he couldn't. He was now dealing in minutes rather than hours. But that was okay. He was the Doctor. He would do what the Doctor did. He would help people, he would save people. He needed to stop the Daleks.
Jake nodded once, his final goodbye. The Doctor nodded shakily back. He would never see his best friend or the woman he loved again. But it was better, like ripping off a plaster. Neither of them would have to see him die. It was just a shame that he couldn't see them live. Jake threw the Doctor the remote control for the explosives, which he pocketed and then, Jake took a deep breath. The Doctor could see in his eyes that now that the moment had come, he couldn't do it. He was staring at the face of his oldest friend and his composure was finally slipping. The Doctor shot Jake his most pleading eyes and glanced down at Clara. Jake looked at Clara and the Doctor could see his eyes softening briefly and then hardening again as he turned back to the Doctor. And then he took a very long, harsh, raggedy breath, before pushing a few buttons on his watch to call the TARDIS. Then, Jake and Clara were gone and the Doctor was alone.
He knew what he needed to do and focused on the task at hand. He needed to lure in the Daleks, get them as close to the core as he could, to ensure that they went up in the blast. Well, that would prove simple enough. If there was one thing guaranteed to make the Daleks come running, one perfect piece of Dalek bait, it was the Doctor himself. He needed to get across the ship and get all of the Daleks to go with him. Easy. Of course it was easy. Unless he became Dalek bait on the way there. Which would be not so…easy. The Doctor ran over to the consoles, sonic whirring, trying to access them. There was very little that he could do with them, they were well and truly Doctor-proofed, everything important was deadlock sealed. He could lower the Daleks' power levels a bit, but that was about it.
Luckily, the communications system was on an entirely different network and one that was a lot easier to hack. The Doctor raised his sonic in the air, as he used it to patch through the communications network, so that when he spoke, his voice booming, it could be heard on every corner of the ship and every single Dalek would be able to locate him, almost instantly. A horrifying thought, for someone who cared about dying more than the Doctor.
"Hello there Daleks!" he roared, his voice echoing as he could hear it shooting out of every speaker and computer system. "You all know me, at least you should. I am programmed into your very DNA, your history, your legacy. If Davros is your maker, then I am your undoing. I stood there, on Gallifrey as it burned and I took down thousands of you. I stood in the plains of Mondas as we battled that day, I led the forces and I slayed Dalek after Dalek. I am the sworn enemy of all things Dalek and the greatest threat you have ever faced. I am the Oncoming Storm, I am the Doctor. And I am dying. You know that and I know that. But I have no intention of going down, not without a fight. So if I'm going to die tonight, then I am going to take every last one of you with me." His voice was louder and louder, until now he was yelling at the top of his lungs. "SO COME ON THEN!" he roared. "BRING IT ON! UNLESS YOU'RE AFRAID OF ME! COME ON DALEKS! IF YOU WANT MY LIFE, COME AND GET IT!"
The Doctor lowered his sonic, took a deep breath, straightened his bow tie and then ran.
The Doctor thought that it was possible that he had underestimated the amount of Daleks that there were. And by possible, he meant certain. They were everywhere, spilling out from all sides and as he ran, directing them to follow him, like the orchestrator of some sort of bizarre choir of death, he sensed that this was a nigh on impossible task. But one he would complete. He had to. It all meant nothing if he didn't. If he died before stopping the Daleks, if he didn't take them all with him, then his death meant nothing, his sacrifice meant nothing. He had sent Clara away to be safe, but she wouldn't be safe unless he took the Daleks with him. He moved down a dead end and whipped out his sonic, brandishing it at the walls, looking for a way out.
"EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR!"
He skidded around and there they were, three of them. Three was easy, one shot, two shot, quick use of the sonic to slow them down, three shot, four shot, now the first one should backfire its own weapon with one more sonic. One more blast to each of the flankers, and job done. The Doctor took a moment to sigh in relief and then he was hit by a wave in pain in his intestines, where the poison was burning its way through his internal organs. The Doctor fell to his knees, feeling his digestive system failing him and he took a minute to compose himself, to let the power flood his body, to keep him standing. Then he was back, pushing the pain back down, deep inside. Let his body burn, he didn't need it; he just needed the strength to carry on.
He found what he was looking for, up against the wall and using the sonic to harness it opened up the panel. He could use the panel on the wall to open the trapdoor below him, which would allow him access to the vents. The quickest way to the ship's core and the Daleks would know where he was going. They would go there in their hundreds and the Doctor would blow them all to hell.
He fumbled with the electronics for a moment. Computers were and always had been his speciality and the battle side of things had never appealed to him that much. Even now, taking a kind of grim satisfaction from the knowledge that the Daleks were going up in flames, he wasn't relishing being the one to do it. But it had to be him. Jake and Clara still had a chance at survival and at being happy. The Doctor's chances had been stripped the minute that the poison was injected to his veins. He didn't blame her, didn't blame Clara, couldn't blame Clara. She hadn't told him how he was poisoned, but he knew Davros' methods and he knew the look on her face, when she looked at him. Guilt. Killing the traitor genetically linked to him had triggered the poison and Clara had been the one to kill him, the Doctor didn't need anyone to spell it out for him. But he understood. Whatever the traitor had done to her, he had shaken her. She was different. Harder and shaken, like she had been put through hell in the short time that the Doctor had been gone. He only hoped that she would last the longer time that he was gone.
He forced himself to stop thinking about Clara, because it was harder to supress the poison raging like fire in his veins when he was already suffering the vicious twisting that thinking about her placed on his heart. He needed to forget about Clara, it was the only way he could properly save Clara. If he thought about her, he would be distracted, he would lose his focus and then he would die and he would be of no help to her.
As the trapdoor slid open, the Doctor cleared his mind, purging it of all Clara related thoughts and then he jumped, the cold air rushing up to meet him. The air ducts should be easy to control, he thought, adjusting the sonic's settings to slow his descent. He wanted to give the Daleks plenty of notice as to where he was heading, but mainly, he didn't want to break every bone in his body when he landed. He knew that the Daleks were tracking his movements, had a lock on his sonic technology. By using the sonic as much as he could, it gave the Doctor the reassurance that the Daleks all knew where he was and that they were coming for him.
He felt the air duct vanish from around him and suddenly he had lost all control and was just plummeting, falling through the air, nothing around him and he primed himself for landing. He hit the floor and rolled into a crouch, standing hurriedly. He was at the core alright. But so were hundreds of Daleks. They were still flooding from all sides, surrounding him, hovering above him and below him. The core itself was huge and cylindrical, with about ten levels of platforms above and below the Doctor. He didn't know how much of it Jake had rigged up with explosives, but enough was the answer.
"DOCTOR!" the Daleks screeched and the Doctor held up his hands. The poison pumping through him had given him maybe a few minutes to live; he could feel the constriction on his heart and lungs and that had nothing to do with Clara. Even now, he couldn't spare her a thought, he wasn't done yet. "SURRENDER NOW OR DIE!"
"Oh," the Doctor laughed. "So that's it is it? All I have to do is pledge my undying loyalty and you'll magically find a way to bring me back from the dead? Because that's what you'll have to do. My heart, my lungs, my kidneys, my liver, they're all packing it in. So tell me Daleks, what possible leverage can you have on me now? What possible reason would I have for surrendering?"
They didn't answer. There was no answer. Clara was safe, the Doctor was about to die and everything had been leading up to this moment. He staggered slightly, but straightened his bow tie, one last time and stared at the Daleks, all around him, waiting for them to make their move, which they would inevitably make.
"EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR. EXTERMINATE."
And then they were coming, from all sides, death rays. Daleks were firing from above, below, in front of him, behind him, to his left and to his right. A sphere of lightning blue jets, streaking towards him, intent on striking him down. He moved, impossibly fast, considering he had very little left to give. He was going to keep them coming, force the Daleks in here, keep fighting, know for sure that he had taken out as many as he could. He let the shots whizz by, no doubt embedding themselves in other Daleks. He didn't need to expend his energy doing anything more than dodging, the Daleks were willing to risk annihilating each other if it meant destroying their greatest enemy. They had no leader, no control and they returned to their default setting, killing and he was right on top of their list.
Then he fired back. Because he wasn't just going to take it. He had energy left in his body, sparks of it, power left to give. And if he was going to burn, then he ought to ensure that every last drop of blood that he gave, every sinew he utilised, was used to stop the Daleks. Every shot that left his hands found its target, every whip of the sonic used to turn the Daleks surroundings against them, separating steel plates from the walls and ceilings, playing havoc with Dalek systems, the core itself starting to shake, the explosives would go off of their own accord if he wasn't careful.
And still they kept coming, kept filtering in, as if the entire Dalek army wanted to be the one to kill him. And still the Doctor moved, still he dodged, fired back, still the screeches of the Daleks filled his ears, his blood rushing, burning and he could feel himself growing weaker by the second. But he wasn't done. Not yet. Not until he was sure that Clara was going to be okay. So he kept shooting and the Daleks kept shooting and there had to come a moment when something gave.
And then they stopped coming. The Daleks stopped coming and they stopped shooting and the Doctor felt his heart stopping, giving out and he fell to his knees. He had seconds, his heart had stopped beating, his lungs were no longer working. The entire room was full, there was no more room for more. The Daleks were watching him. Then he realised. They had all come to watch him die. Daleks did have emotions. But they had hate and fear. And they hated and feared the Doctor and seeing him die was as close to feeling something as a Dalek could get. And their need for that would be their undoing.
"DOCTOR!" One Dalek moved ahead of the rest. It's outer shell was rustic red and it was slightly bigger than the others. They had some sort of chain of command after all then. Daleks. Even when he was a moment from death, they could surprise him. He hoped that that was mutual. "NOW YOU DIE. AND THE DALEK RACE WILL BEAR WITNESS."
"No," he whispered, sliding to the floor, his knees no longer able to support his weight, but he stared defiantly at the Dalek. "The Dalek race will go to hell."
And then he pressed the button, the core ignited and the sound of screaming Daleks filled the Doctor's ears as he died.