Author's Note: Only just recently been getting waaay into Doctor Who. This is my little addendum to Doctor Who: The End of Time.

Metamorphosis

It was happening. The change. It was tearing him apart from the inside out.

He had to get to the TARDIS.

The song is ending…

He screamed and doubled over into the snow as another wave of pain shattered his gut. He could feel every organ and bone and sinew peeling away from itself, collapsing, reforming, collapsing again. He wasn't going to make it. He had to make it. He couldn't do this here. He needed the TARDIS.

Even if I change, it still feels like dying…

It feels like dying…

Tears of agony stung in his eyes as he rallied, pushed himself up again, and stumbled once more towards the TARDIS. Inside at last, he slammed the door shut behind him.

The TARDIS. It was all he had left, and he was leaving. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to disappear.

The song is ending…but the story never ends…

Everything I am dies. Some new man goes sauntering away…and I'm dead…

It feels like dying…

He couldn't stop it. There was no way to stop it. He could already see the regeneration energy seeping out of him, surrounding his hands, surrounding him, inside and out. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. He was all he had left, and he was killing himself. And there was nothing he could do.

"I don't want to go…" he whispered, tears in his eyes.

But there was no one to hear him.

The light flared, engulfed him, burning so brightly, so brightly, death and birth in one terrible, beautiful moment, the center of the universe, the center of time, all that existed, just for a moment…

And then there was nothing.

And then there was breath. "I don't want to go!" he inhaled, eyes snapping open.

For a second, he didn't know where he was. Staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, in an unfamiliar bed, with unfamiliar light seeping in through the window curtains. And yet, at the same time, he knew he had been here before. He had been here last night when he had fallen asleep. And also, he had not.

The walls were bare, white, as though the room's occupant hadn't seen much point in taking the time to decorate. Aside from the bed, there was a dresser, a bookcase, a desk, all piled high with books and diagrams and knick-knacks, devices he didn't recognize, but felt he could guess at if he could just get a closer look. This was the room of someone with a purpose—one, singleminded purpose. Someone who had been looking for something. Looking for someone.

He wasn't alone. He had known it from the moment he opened his eyes. He could feel her cheek against his chest, his arm around her shoulders, feel them rise and fall with each soft, peaceful breath. He knew it was her, and yet half of him could not believe it, didn't want to look in case she disappeared. In case he disappeared.

Slowly he tilted his eyes downward.

It was Rose.

This was impossible. Why did he still exist? Why did he still remember? Why hadn't he disappeared when the change had come over him? He had left her with him, he had stayed with her. He could see himself, there, with her, as he turned away. He could see himself turning away, disappearing, leaving her behind. He remembered both. He was both.

Everything I am dies. Some new man goes sauntering away…and I'm dead…

But he wasn't dead…

He could feel Rose stirring against him, and soon she lifted her head, looking up at him with a sleepy smile. And then, seeing the sharp, concentrated expression on his face, the smile faded. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Rose…" he whispered, lifting a hand to her face, brushing aside her hair.

"What?" she replied, concerned, stroking his cheek. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I…he…the Doctor…has regenerated."

She looked startled, pained. "How do you know?" she whispered.

"Because I am the Doctor."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the man who stayed with you. And I'm the man who left. Everything I am that would have died…came to find you."

She stared at him for a moment, tears in her eyes—and then he grinned at her, and she smiled back, and she was kissing him. It was the first time, and it wasn't, and he remembered her, and he marveled at her, and he still couldn't quite believe that this time he could keep her. This time he would never let her go.

Sometimes I think a Time Lord lives too long…

And this is my reward.

A/N: Ahhh, catharsis. Nothing like it.

Basically, this was how I wanted The End of Time to end—though of course, I always suspected it was too mushy and sentimental to actually ever have made it in. But lucky for me, the way things actually did happen still left the door wide open—all I had to do was walk through it. Eleven saunters away to continue the adventure, and Ten finally gets to experience a non-immortal life with Rose, without the constant knowledge that he will eventually lose her.