Wrote at 3am so not brilliant. Not sure on the title or the ending. Song lyrics from "I Still Remember" by Bloc Party.
A man to his machine; "Oh, you are beautiful!"
The console. A mismatch of everyday objects. He has no idea what does what. He twists the cold tap and the engines start. The rise and fall, the humming begins. Groaning.
The machine comes to life.
Moving on, the bicycle pump by his feet. He presses it. Buttons and dials spread in an array before him, multicoloured and fascinating. He presses a few.
The TARDIS has dematerialised.
He flicks on a switch and the world begins to spin. He flicks it back off. Dizzily, he reminds himself 'not doing that again.'
There's a clock. The numbers are changing quickly. He smiles and moves on. Mentally, he is taking notes. This button turns the lights on and off. This button opens the doors. The one heats the swimming pool – wherever it is now. A display screen with a strange crack on display. Familiar...
"What are you? Not just a crack in a wall, are we?"
His voice causes waves to appear on screen. Nifty. Then he notices he's talking to himself. He hears his own voice echo. The wonder in it is tinged with sadness. He's conversing with a screen. He's been alone too long.
Another switch. Flicking this one makes the engines groan. By the sound, he knows he's landing. Just a short trip. Like test-driving a car. And as the TARDIS materialises, his boyish joy begins to subside. The adventure with the Scottish girl lies heavily on his mind.
He's no longer running. This sudden calm scares him. Without the adrenaline of adventure, the memories before his regeneration flood to the forefront of his mind. Why had he done it to himself? Insisting on seeing them all with those old tired eyes for one last look. Was it to ease his mind?
They were safe. They were content. His Donna, his precious Donna. His naughty little trick with a pound coin would make her life so much more comfortable. She deserved it after what he did to her. That was worse than death. But she was happy now, he assured himself.
And Martha, she was with Mickey now. She was happy too. Smith and Jones as it should be. He should have paid attention. She was wonderful, so wonderful. And he had ignored her.
But it was not without reason. An older memory crept forward. On a beach somewhere in Norway.
I, I still remember
how you looked that afternoon.
There was only you.
Both his hearts still ache with the memory. That was a different man, he assures himself. But it hurts all the same. She was blonde. Pretty, by human standards. The Time War had made him so bitter, so angry. And she had healed him more than any regeneration could.
The first goodbye had left him broken. His companions, his friends, they came and went. But she was willing to travel with him. Forever. And the silly human had fallen in love with him. And he, the mighty millennia old Time Lord, had loved her back.
We should have run.
I would go with you anywhere.
He didn't dare think her name. He refused. Those four letters were more painful than anything else in his long life. And that girl, that amazing girl, she had done the impossible and returned to him. The end of the universe was nigh and she had come all the way back to him. And they had returned, once again to the beach in Norway. She had asked the impossible; for him to reciprocate.
And in his final moments, he saw her one final time. Those tired brown eyes were so determined for a final glance. He could never reciprocate and it killed him inside. She had promised to spend the rest of her life with him but he could not promise to spend the rest of his life with her. Humans. Their lives were so fleeting. In a Time Lord blink of an eye, they would wither and die.
But this was a new man. A different man. He was leaving her behind. All of them. Moving on with his life because it hurt; it hurt too damn much to see them with these new eyes.
The doors of the TARDIS opened with a button. Hung neatly over the railings were a long, brown trench-coat and a girl's jacket. He picked up one in each hand.
At the doorway, he paused. He was on the Moon. Outside the doors was the vastness of space. A starry canvas. Earth was a giant, shimmering blue ball before him. So beautiful. The final shreds of his previous life were in his hands.
A new face. A new man.
He threw them out. They unfurled as they rose, drifting away into the sky. As he watched, a single tear rolled down his face.
The doors shut. The TARDIS groaned with the strain of ancient engines powering up. No more tears. He was a new man.
I still remember