A Teaspoon And An Open Mind: A Doctor Who Fan Fiction Archive
Eleventh Doctor
Sorry by Space Gandalf [Reviews - 0] Printer

They'd given him tea, mockingly. A sweet amber concoction of noxious gases in a little china cup. Daintier than anything else in this hard iron ship, made for one purpose and one purpose only.
Justice. Far too serious for a silly old man like him.

They gave the orders so peacefully, so calmly. “A shudder!” “Down to the knees!” “Full faint!” And he hadn't had any lines for a while. It was coming time, wasn't it?

Oh, he was glad he didn't have to read anymore. Didn't have to step up to the microphone like he was in a school play and break his friends' hearts. It felt like a stupid game. But he had to lie. He had to. Rule Number One.

The captain looked at him, nothing but pride in his eyes. Oh, he was doing the right thing. He'd extended a man's lifespan, he'd fooled time itself. It was a good day.

“Doctor,” he called, and he didn't have to say anything more. With no great meaning, no theme tune behind him, the Doctor dutifully took the microphone.

He regretted doing this. He regretted making Amy and Rory hurt, making River have to watch. It wouldn't have been to hard to die, really. They might not hate him afterwards, if...

But he was a survivor. The need, the will to live was what made him... him. Without it, he was nothing more than a few particles of dust scattered across the cosmos.

With a shaking hand, he read from the script written in a panic the night before.

“I'm sorry.”

He was dead to the world, dead to Time. Gone, kaput, kicked the bucket, bought the farm.

But inside the Tessalecta, the lights stayed on.
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