The Graveyard Shift
Chapter 1: The Execution
There was a click and a searing white light flooded into the sparse room, blinding its sole occupant. It reflected harshly against the only interesting object adorning the bleak gray walls, a one-way mirror. Beyond its panes, officials and witnesses took their seats. Among them sat a small human woman, bawling her eyes out. She wore a black sweater and a dark skirt to match her mood. Once-immaculate mascara left charcoal streaks down her puffy face. The other members in the stuffy room paid her no mind.
The occupant pulled against the taut leather restraints binding his limbs and chest, testing their strength. They creaked against their buckles but did not yield. The IV line in his arm stung with the movement. He slouched against the frigid gurney in defeat, panting slightly. Resistance was futile. He deserved his fate.
His sensitive ears faintly picked up the sound of sobbing from the other side of the glass. He recognized the sound immediately. The image of inflating watery doe eyes entered his mind. He winced remorsefully, he had hoped she would not see this.
A door squealed open against the waxed floors. A figure appeared in the doorway, looming over him. The figure stepped into the light, revealing a large bald humanoid with mottled blue-gray skin. Azure scales adorned his robustly built face and arms, almost glittering in the stark light. Hung around his broad shoulders were patterned black and turquoise tribal robes that extended beyond his feet, caressing the floor as he moved. By the way he carried himself, one could tell he held status.
The figure regarded his prisoner with a stern look. "Doctor, you have been convicted of one count of capital murder. For this, you have been sentenced to death. You have been declared sound of mind and thus capable of upholding this sentence."
The Doctor felt his breath catch in his throat at the Kapponian's words. Adrenaline shot through his veins like electricity. His double heartbeat quickened to a feverish pace. Sweat beaded on his forehead and began to soak the silver curls of his hair. The time had finally come. It had only been days since the crime, but to him it had felt like years. Justice on this planet was draconian and swift.
The evidence against him had been overwhelming. They had fiber evidence, fingerprints, and even his DNA at the scene. All he could remember was blacking out and waking up to blood on his hands and no memory as to what had happened. The investigation and trial had been quick and complete. He never believed he was capable of such a crime but the evidence was truly damning. He had motive, no alibi, and no witnesses. His eyes flicked down to his hands and he could almost still see the blue-green blood coating them. He was a monster, and for this he deserved to die.
Clara Oswald screamed his name from behind the glass. He could hear her banging on the mirror helplessly. They had not allowed him any visitors, but apparently they had allowed her to bear witness. He felt his hearts rip in two at her shattering cries. At the brink of his mind, he could feel her anguish seeping through their shared bond. He desperately tried to reach out to her, clawing like a man dangling off a cliff. To his dismay, he realized that he could not communicate with her without physical contact. She was only human, after all.
He unconsciously strained against the leather bands, wanting nothing more than to comfort her. He could not bear the idea of her living out the rest of her days trapped on this cursed planet. He had stranded her here, and now he was going to die and leave her alone without a friend in the world. It was all his fault. He could practically feel the hatred stabbing into him from the unseen crowd on the other side of the wall.
A single tear tracked down his wrinkly face. He closed his eyes and wished he could close his ears too. Guilt ate at his bones like a pack of dogs. He felt sick to his stomach. Vomit burned in the back of his throat and he had to swallow hard to prevent it from making its presence known. During the last few days, he had thought about the events leading up to this moment. He had committed so many atrocities during his long life. How many had died in his name? He had escaped justice for so long. He was tired of running. He was tired of guilt. He just wanted it over with at this point.
Across the room, he heard the subtle sound of fabric brushing against the floor and knew his executioner was approaching him. His scent arrived before he did, a medicinal sort of smell, like iodine and hand sanitizer. Perhaps he was a doctor too. He twisted his lips wryly at the irony. A doctor that kills, just like him. He glanced at the alien solemnly. The last face he would ever see.
"Doctor," the Kapponian boomed. His voice was gruff without a hint of sympathy. "Have you any last words?"
He should have had so many things to say. Things he should have told Clara before. He pursed his lips. He refused to say them now. They had already had enough bad timing. He would not exacerbate her pain. He shifted his gaze to where he believed Clara was sitting. He hoped that she could read in his eyes how sorry he was. He could only beg for her forgiveness. He looked back to the alien and shook his head.
"Very well, Doctor." The Kapponian wheeled a sterile tray to his bedside and reached for a syringe filled with a rose-colored liquid. Oligomycin-A, a bacteria-created poison that blocks cells from synthesizing ATP, their energy source. Specifically formulated for the Time Lord, it would prevent the catalyzation of regeneration energy within his cells. Primitive, but effective, and he hoped, painless. Within minutes, he would deplete his energy stores and simply cease to function. A cellular off-switch. There would be no going back from this. He choked back a sob. They were going to put him down like a mad dog.
The scaly man carefully picked up the syringe and held it up for the audience to see. He flushed the IV line with saline and screwed the syringe into its port. He made eye contact with the Doctor. There was no hint of warmth on his features. Just cold reptilian eyes. "Doctor," he deadpanned, almost seeming disinterested. "You will now be injected with a lethal substance and monitored until you are dead. May the Gods have mercy on your soul."
The Doctor hissed through his teeth at the sting of the icy fluid forced through his veins. No turning back now. He steeled himself. He had to be brave, for Clara. He wanted to die with some semblance of dignity. He had always thought he would go out in a blaze of glory, saving some planet from extinction. This scenario was the last on his list. Dying in a cold gray room. Hated.
Within moments, he began to feel the drug's effects. The lightbulb above him swam in lazy circles, doubling, then quadrupling. A great heaviness settled upon his body like someone was sitting on his chest. He took in a rattling breath almost in slow-motion. His limbs buzzed like they had fallen asleep. Vaguely, he could sense his heart rate and respirations slowing down against his will.
Panic reared up in his mind like a cobra. He did not want to die. The instinct to live was too strong no matter how guilty he felt. He clenched his jaw, rising off the bed as much as he could. Dignity be damned. With the last of his energy, he yanked against the leather straps with all his might. His wiry muscles burned with futility. The room began to become fuzzy around the edges. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. How strange it was to see yourself die.
He tried to stare past his reflection to his dear friend beyond. Unable to see her, he let out a strangled cry. It was so cold and he was so alone. He was afraid. As his mind swirled into the abyss, only one thought remained. Clara. What will happen to Clara?
Finally, the darkness consumed him like billowing smoke. His arms fell slack against the binds. His jaw unclenched and tense muscles relaxed. A final shuddering breath slipped past his parted lips. One by one, his energy-starved hearts ceased to beat. His eyes fluttered shut with no further resistance. No telltale glow ignited from his limbs. The heart monitor wailed a monotone note. The executioner jabbed a button and the room fell into silence.
"Time of death: 7:32pm."
A/N: New story woooo! As always, please remember to leave a review! I am an insecure soul and really appreciate the encouragement. Thanks!