Who: The Tenth Doctor + Donna + Open (multiple characters welcome) When: July 19th, at night Where: an alley near the Welcome Center What: The Tenth Doctor expected to walk out of his TARDIS and find the Powell Estate. Instead, he finds himself alone in New York City. Rating: Teen for angsty/dying Time Lord Status: Open, in progress
The Doctor stumbled against the console as the TARDIS landed, the gentle jolt that ran through the grating beneath his feet nearly enough to topple him though the old girl had settled with far more finesse than usuaul. He must be getting worse, he though, for her to be so careful with him. By his best estimate, he would lose major organ function within another twenty-four to thirty-six hours. When that happened, he would have to let go and allow the regenerative process to fully take hold. It was either that or die, well and truly die for the first time.
Still, he would grasp at every hour he could get, every moment he could stay as he was. He needed more time, just a little more time. He still had one more person to see. Just one more. He'd landed the TARDIS somewhere familiar, somewhere he hadn't been since shortly after the Battle of Canary Wharf. He was early, he knew, far too early, but he'd wanted to make certain he wouldn't miss her. He'd just pop outside for a quick look to be certain he'd landed in the right place and time, and then he'd find a likely place to wait for a flash of pink and yellow. She loved pink, he knew. Wouldn't have to walk too far, he thought. That was good. He was tired, and it hurt. Oh it hurt so very much, and not just because he was dying. Oh, no. It hurt because of the companion he still had left to see. The companion he had left for last to remove the temptation to linger too long.
He took a deep, shuddering breath as he pushed away from the console and headed for the doors. He'd come for Rose. Rose, whom he could see, but who wouldn't know him. Couldn't, just like Donna. He was already pushing the boundaries by even considering touching her timeline in the first place, but he thought, so long as he went to her before she'd met him, he'd be all right. They'd be all right. It wouldn't hurt, would it? Just one last glimpse of the woman for whom he'd been created? That, in the end, was part of the reason he was so afraid of death this time around. He would have to let go of Rose, finally. He wouldn't be her Doctor anymore. He might not even remember how it had felt to love her.
Absorbed in thoughts of what had been and what couldn't be, the Doctor didn't notice at first that the alley he stumbled down once he'd left the TARDIS wasn't the right alley. Wasn't even in London. He only realized he wasn't where he'd meant to be when he reached the corner and looked out not at the plain, blocky building where Rose had lived the first nineteen years of her life, but on a busy New York City street.
"No," he breathed, shock washing over him. "No. No no no. Oh, no. I don't have time for this."