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There was nothing left for him anymore. As much as it pained him, clawed at him, screamed and shouted that it wanted to stay, wanted to be him for a little bit longer, there was nothing to do.
He knew it the moment he heard those four telltale knocks, and if that wasn't enough he certainly knew it during those agonizing few seconds where the very foundation of his body tore itself apart, in fact he half expected to regenerate in that glass box. But instead it spat him out, a shade of the man once born on Satellite Five.
Really, this whole regeneration had gone downhill since then. Losing Rose, The Master, that Rassilon-forsaken year on the Valiant, and then Donna. Oh, Donna.
She’d be ashamed, to see how he hesitated. The things he said to her dear old granddad. Hell, he was ashamed of himself. Though, maybe that was just the little part of her still left in him. He couldn’t help but mean at least a handful of those ruthless words. Alternatively, maybe the part that said them was just the time lord in him.
He hadn’t seen them in so long. He’d forgotten how cruel they could be.
His legs shook and wobbled as he stepped out, his lower lip quivered and he’d never been more thankful that there weren't any time lords left to witness it, they’d sneered at him with that gun in his hands, he could only imagine the looks on their faces if they saw him like this.
He had steeled himself in front of Wilf. Squared his shoulders and bitten that stupid, quivering lip until he tasted orange blood and it finally stilled. He refused to cry, a horrible mix of headstrong Donna, stubborn Time lord and his own personality simply wouldn't let him.
The Doctor felt sick to his stomach. He wouldn’t have that personality for much longer, not really. Maybe, the next Doctor would be the same. Just as sarcastic and difficult, the same cheeky smile. Just a little rude, as Rose had said. But it still wouldn’t be him. The same personality built by a different man, a mind of theseus, one could say. He could laugh, but he didn’t want to.
Whoever this new Doctor became, he wouldn’t get to see them anyway. No point in wondering how they might turn out. It was a fault of his own curiosity that he wouldn’t stop imagining.
His mind churned horribly as he trudged out of the building, the cuts on his face stung and his leg throbbed with every step, hanging on was barely possible, the aforementioned mix of stubbornness was the only thing keeping his converse planted on the ground. Him, the timelords and..
Donna.
Would she even be a part of this next regeneration? That little bit of her left in him from the metacrisis, would that remain? Or would the process flush it out? Burn it to a crisp? That last little piece of his best friend, would it die with him? The thought was almost worse than the radiation.
He pushed open the door, eyes locked on the TARDIS.
The Doctor didn’t have much longer. There was barely even a reason to hang on. But he wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to say goodbye to so many people. To Jack, to Martha, to Mickey, to Sarah Jane-
To Rose. To Donna. The only two he couldn’t reach.
He’d have to make do with the rest.
His legs slowly began to pick up speed, an urgency stirring within him. Not much time, not much time.. Ironic, really, for a time lord to be forced into hurrying like this. He supposed he was never much of a time lord.
He supposed, after today, that wasn’t such a bad thing.
The TARDIS was only a few paces away now, within reach. She would take him to the people he needed to see, he knew she would. He wouldn’t even need to ask. A sense of serenity washed over him, just for a moment. Knowing that at least in his final moments, she would be with him.
And then he got hit by a car.
Truly, he’d basically gone numb from the radiation in his system, so it wasn’t that bad. It did still hurt though, his ribs ached and complained. He should apologize to his body, honestly, he had not been kind to it today.
The Doctor struggled into a sitting position, his limbs protesting with every moment. He heard a car door open, and someone rushed to his side, the ramblings of some teenage boy just getting his license. Yikes, that kid is not getting over this anytime soon. Might never even learn to drive. Not to worry, though, the Doctor never learned how to steer a TARDIS and he does a great job.
Probably.
He gave another glance in her direction, watching his cinematic plans of a heartfelt goodbye tour crumble away in this stupid parking lot next to some stupid kid with his (less) stupid TARDIS only a few meters away.
This sucked, man.
His next regeneration better have a vendetta against cars. Like vengeance. Or maybe his next self would become a racecar driver. Make the cars believe he was their ally, only to turn them away at the last moment..
Settled, then. If the next Doctor wasn’t a race car driver, he would be thoroughly cross. Much like how cross this kids driving instructor is gonna be when the guy his student just hit bursts into flames in the middle of the parking lot.
Good luck with that, random teenage boy who killed him. Good fucking luck. Also like slow down in parking lots next time.