Chapter Ninety-Five: Rose

254 8 1
                                    

I hear myself scream. I catch the Doctor, lowering him to the ground. Far off — seemingly much further with shock descending on me like water intent to drown me — I hear an explosion as the Dalek is destroyed. But I don't care. I pull him closer. "No, no, no, no. Doctor? Doctor, don't you dare. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?"

Rose kneels beside me, leaning over him. "I've got you. It missed you. Look, it's me."

Past the panic, I take her hand in mine. He smiles weakly. "Long time no see."

"Yeah. Been busy, you know."

He groans, trying to move in my arms. "Don't die," she pleads. "Oh my God, don't die."

More footsteps reach us. I feel someone pull at my arm, moving me up to my feet, still holding the Doctor close to me. "Get him into the Tardis, quick. Move!" Jack orders urgently.

I can barely lift him, the others have to help. The second we lie him on the floor of the Tardis, I have him in my arms again, his head cradled in my lap. "Doctor, I'm here. Listen to my voice, stay with me. You're not going anywhere."

On his other side, Donna looks to me in panic. "What do we do? There must be some medicine or something."

"I don't know. I can't— Oh, Gods."

"Just step back."

I don't. I'm not sure I'm even capable of standing. Holding him tightly, I try to shake him awake as his eyes close. "No. No, please. Doctor, please!"

"Nara! Do as I say, and get back." Sighing, Jack crouches beside us. "He's dying and you know what happens next."

Donna turns her tearstained face towards him. "What do you mean?"

"No, I came all this way."

"What do you mean? What happens next?"

The Doctor raises his hand. A golden glow emits from its centre, from his veins, pulsing stronger and stronger. "It's starting."

I grab onto it, holding it to my lips. He's already burning hot. "No. Do you hear me, Doctor? No! You're not going anywhere, not yet. Please, I can't— I can't get to know you again, I'm not ready. Stay. Just— Just stay. Please stay."

"Inara, if you don't go, you will be burned alive. Please. Go!"

Before I can protest, Jack drags me back. He and Rose hold me close, stopping my attempts to return to him. "Here we go. Good luck, Doctor," he says.

"Will someone tell me what is going on?"

"When he's dying, his body... it repairs itself. It changes. But you can't!"

He staggers to his feet, leaning against the console. "I'm sorry, it's too late. I'm regenerating."

Our eyes meet one last time. Nothing to say. He shuts his tightly. His face disappears in a burst of golden light. It rages around him, blazing hot.

I want to look away but just can't seem to find it in me. So I watch and wait. A prayer passes my trembling lips for a kind future.

He turns, directing all of his energy towards the jar under the console. The lights fades.

It's him. His face. His body. Nothing has changed.

Stumbling back, he shakes his head as if to clear it. "Now then, where were we?"

None of us move, too shocked to process what just happened.

He crouches before the jar, still holding his severed hand and glowing bright gold. With a soft blow, the energy dissipates. "There, now. You see? Used the regeneration energy to heal myself but as soon as that was done, I didn't need to change. I didn't want to, why would I? Look at me! So, to stop the energy going all the way, I siphoned off the rest into a handy bio-matching receptacle — namely, my hand. My hand there. My handy spare hand." With a grin, he stands and looks to Rose. "Remember, Christmas Day, Sycorax, lost my hand in a swordfight? That's my hand! What do you think?"

Until We Burn  |  Dr WhoWhere stories live. Discover now