The Beginning of the End

The Beginning of the End

Regeneration was never predictable. It wasn't just that the Doctor never knew what he'd end up looking like, though some, like Romana, had had the knack of trying several appearances before deciding which to run with, and even Riversong had been able to concentrate on a bra size. The Doctor however had nearly always had to settle for pot luck. No, it was not just the change of physical appearance that he found near impossible to control, it was the whole process, and especially the energy involved. He had ruined several Tardis control rooms due to the excess power seeking an outlet.

This time it was different again. Slower for a start, and he'd had the sensation of fading in and out of reality. At times he had momentarily assumed the semblance of some previous incarnation. Sometimes he was aware of Zhu watching him, her eyes unusually wide with surprise, but he could do nothing to reassure her. He would just have to wait for the whole process to stop, and then get to grips with a new body. Not to mention acquainting Zhu with a new personality.

The chiming of the Cloister Bell gradually inserted itself into his consciousness, though he was lying some distance from the Tardis. Abruptly he sat up. He looked at Zhu Champing, who was staring at him warily.

"Well?" He demanded.

"What just happened?" Zhu asked in an awed whisper.

"Change my dear, and..." He stopped as a quicksilver trickle of memory flashed through his mind.

"I have regenerated." He concluded, gently.

Another thought presented itself bold and stark.

This is my last body.

The Cloister Bell stopped.

Somehow, though he knew not how, the Doctor knew that this was true. It had nothing to do with numbers, it was simply a truth. Everything had to have an end. This was to be his.

Then he looked down at his attire. This wouldn't do any more. Standing, he turned and marched into the Tardis. Zhu trailed after him. Just inside the door his previous self had thoughtfully positioned a mirror. He stared into piercing green eyes and took in the slicked back hair, straggling beard and a hawk-like nose.

Ginger! You've saved being ginger till last.

Abruptly he laughed, startling Zhu, who looked at him as if he were an unexploded bomb.

Not far off the mark actually, for he could feel the excess regenerative energy sloshing around inside him.

New thoughts. He was having new thoughts.

With a practised ease he ran his long fingered hands over the console. Then he pulled a lever, and the Tardis wheezed into life.

"Where are we going?" Zhu asked. Her voice was unusually apprehensive.

"To the library." His response sounded clipped, almost curt. This was not the man she had joined over five years ago, when he had rescued her from a terrible death. Nor the man who had helped her to obtain a replacement for her left arm.

"You're going to a library? Do you have a book overdue or something?"

"Or something yes," he paused, "and the timing is going to be rather crucial."

"You said, or rather, the other you, the old you, said that you might be a bit disoriented until your regeneration had settled in."

"My dear Zhu, I have never felt better." He glanced down at his clothes, "apart from an urgent need for sartorial change that is."

Zhu was once more left to follow in the Doctor's wake as he strode away.

"In here." He shouted over his shoulder, and pointing to a doorway before disappearing through it.

The room was a wardrobe, Tardis style. It could also have doubled as the costume department of any major theatre.

Zhu found the Doctor looking thoughtfully at a patchwork coat that was, to Zhu's eyes, both loud and tasteless.



"Whatever were they thinking of?" He murmured to himself. Turning dismissively, he walked past a row after row of trolleys hung with coat-hangered clothing. There seemed to be every conceivable cut of coat, robe, dress or suit, but he appeared to be looking for something specific, as he barely glanced at them as he strode along, deftly negotiating a sharp series of turns and changes of direction.

When Zhu caught up with him, the Doctor was standing in front of a mannequin dressed in a black suit, a top hat, and a long black cloak.

"Now this is more like it." He proclaimed, as he began to strip the mannequin, and depositing the clothes into Zhu's arms.

"I wore this to a funeral once." He continued, conversationally, "King Karl XIV Johan of Sweden it was, 1844."

She stared at him, her expression a blend of confusion and outrage.

"Follow me." He commanded, his long legs quickly outdistancing Zhu. Not knowing what else to do, she followed as instructed. By the time she reached the dressing room, the Doctor had already discarded most of his previous incarnation's outfit. He seemed indifferent to her presence as he took shirt, trousers and coat from her in turn.

Finished he turned and looked quizzically at Zhu.

"Well? What do you think?"

Zhu had to admit that it suited him. The dark coat was picked out in intricate embroidery, and decorated it what she recognised as Gallifreyan symbols. He was imposing, at least two meters tall, and his hawk nose gave him a fierce look that dared her to find fault. But she did not.

"It... Looks very good on you." She admitted.

Very good indeed. She thought, discomposed by the thought, for she had not previously found him even remotely attractive.

The Doctor smiled, but even this seemed a declaration.

"To business then." He declared, and headed back to the console room.

The Return of River Song


River Song was putting the children to bed. They were her children, though she had no definite recollection of having given birth to any of them. She did not notice this, the edges of her idyllic world were warm and fuzzy. She had been telling them a story about their father, The Doctor. River Song missed him of course, but it did not occur to her to wonder why he wasn't there. Things were as they were, and that was that. Looking fondly at the now settled children, she turned off the main light.

"On a good day, nobody dies."

River heard the voice, but could not see who had spoken. Alarmed she poked her head back around the door. The night lights gave the room a pleasant, soft light, and her charges seemed undisturbed.

"Nearly there Sweetie, you just need a kick-start."

"Doctor, who are you talking to? That is quite obviously a skeleton."

River felt a surge of emotion as The Doctor was mentioned.

He's here. She thought wonderingly, then her feelings were swept away. A feeling long forgotten supplanted them.

She was regenerating.

The light, which had been steadily increasing, was now blinding. The library's fantasy was vaporised.

River Song screamed.

Zhu was unable to look directly at the spacesuit, but she recognised that this was another regeneration taking place. Turning her face and shielding her eyes, Zhu wondered who was Sweetie.

The Doctor was ecstatic. That River had expended all her potential regenerations helping him had been a possibility, but River was not a Time Lord. Conceived in the Tardis, her ability to regenerate at all had been a surprise. Her inability to do so following her sharing power with him, had been he now knew, just an assumption.

Abruptly the Spacesuit was filled with a very alive River Song. She gazed up at him as he knelt besides her, then registered the oriental woman behind him that she immediately classified as being another companion. Recognising neither she said,

"You've changed again."

Her voice sounded different, there was a soft burr to it. River wondered what she looked like.

"Yes, but for the last time." He told her.

Both River and Zhu were stunned.

After a long silence River said.

"I need a mirror."

She did not know how he knew, and had decided that she would deal with the implications of this later. One thing at a time, and for now she needed to put a face to her voice.

Word Count: 1,373 Words.