Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that Doctor Who isn't mine. ^^;Summary: When he had shed his last face, he had felt anguish. This time... he felt nothing.Author's Note:
The ending of "The Name of the Doctor" has been slightly altered for this ficlette. Season 7 spoilers.
When he had shed his last face, he had felt anguish. He had been so afraid, so terrified to let go. He'd clung to himself even as his body decayed around him, pushing, and pushing, refusing to let the regeneration begin, because he hadn't wanted
to go. Letting go, letting that golden light take him, meant saying goodbye. Meant dying. Because once he regenerated, while the memory of what made him who he was would still be there, he
wouldn't. A new Doctor would take his place, and he would be nothing by a memory, like all the others before him.
This time... he felt nothing.
The Doctor was empty. He wasn't afraid, he wasn't lost, there was no burning desire to stay
, to live
. Because there was nothing left to live for
When he'd died- regenerated
- before, he'd been able to hold on long enough to see them all once more. He'd said goodbye, and he'd known that they would continue on even after he'd gone.
But this time, there would be no one to go on after him. Clara was gone, torn apart and strewn across his timeline to save him. Amy and Rory were lost, stolen away by the angels. River- River had sacrificed herself all those years ago, and now even her spirit had relinquished it's hold on his hearts.
There was nothing- no one- left. And the Doctor... as the golden glow began to shine... he let go.