Warning: Spoilers for The God Complex

He knows he shouldn't open his door. He shouldn't open any of the doors - the Doctor said. But he's running and running and there's no one else there. No one will know… Besides, he could swear he hears that beast behind him, closing in. What choice does he have? That's what he'll say - what choice did he have? He honestly hadn't known the door was his own.

So he grasps the door slowly, eyes wide. He wonders what his greatest fear will be. He had fears, so many fears now, but what was the deepest routed? What had made a black hole where one of his hearts should have been?

With his free hand he runs a finger over the engraving on the door. A small number four. Nothing to be scared of, not anymore.

Without another thought he flings the door opens and suddenly he can't breathe.

On the floor, covered in blood (so much blood), lies the Doctor. His bowtie is half undone, the tweed jacket shredded to pieces, but his eyes. They aren't his eyes. They're Theta's, still wide and trusting and a light blue of the Earth's sky with flecks of chocolate brown. And that makes it hurt so much more.

"No!" Koschei screamed, forgetting himself for a moment as he runs over and clutches his dying friend in his arms, tears welling in his eyes. "Doctor, Doctor, stay with me!" There's too much blood, it's seeping into his clothes, into his skin. It's pouring out of an unknown wound.

(Praise him, the barest of thoughts, he doesn't even notice, praise him.)

The Doctor grinned cruelly showing teeth stained red in blood, more blood. "It's your fault, Master," he said and Koschei winced. "You killed me again and I'm not coming back this time."

"You can't," Koschei whispered brokenly. The Doctor never died, not for good. "You can't leave me alone, Theta!"

(Praise him, pretty little words whispered into his subconscious, Praise him.)

"It's your fault, Master." Always your fault, alwaysalwaysalways.

(Praise him, such nice words, such beautiful words, Praise Him.)

"Koschei!" The Doctor said suddenly. Except the Doctor was dead, dead in his arms. A hand clutched his shoulder, pulling him away from the corpse. "Koschei, can you hear me?"

Chocking on a sob Koschei looked down. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

(Praise Him, perfect words, so perfect, and they make the hurt go away, Praise Him.)

The Doctor gulped harshly, eyes wide. "Koschei, Koschei I'm right here. I'm not dead. I'm alive, perfectly alive. See Koschei? I'm fine." He gave a shaky smile.

Koschei smiled back, but it was blissful. He blinked and the tears were gone and suddenly he seemed so at ease.

"Praise Him."

{][][}

A/N: TGC, such good fic writing material. XD Sorry Kosch, but you know how I do.

To be continued maybe...?

~Piki :B