froggimus_rex | Fic: Five Ways the Doctor Died [Doctor Who]

Title: Five Ways the Doctor Died
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13 for character death and non-explicit sex.
Word count: 955
Summary: When it comes down to it the important thing isn't who the Doctor regenerates into, but how he regenerates into them.
Notes: This is all

coltsbane's fault.

1.

The Doctor ran down the street, his arms windmilling, his legs pumping furiously. He risked a glance back over his shoulder as he skidded around the corner. Behind him metal forms glided inexorably closer as shrill electronic voices shrieked out a refrain that he was quite sick of hearing thank you very much given that he'd wiped that blasted species out a good half-dozen times at last count.

Unfortunately, returning his attention to what was ahead of him lead to the realisation that what was already a shockingly bad day was only going to get worse, as the way ahead was blocked by silvery figures of a different, yet equally unwelcome shape.

The Cybermen's shout of 'Halt!' was really quite unnecessary, the Doctor thought, as he stopped so suddenly that only extremely quick reflexes prevented him landing face first on the road.

Of course, when the Daleks turned the corner, still going on about extermination, just as the Cybermen raised their weapons to fire, a quick face-plant against the asphalt seemed like rather a good idea after all. The sounds of weapons fire and explosions died off quickly enough, leaving him the only one standing, or rather lying. His relieved grin quickly turned to a confused frown however, as he heard a sound much like that of rope under high tension snapping.

He never saw the grand piano coming.

2.

The Doctor had come to Cardiff to refuel the TARDIS at the rift, nothing more. It had been pure coincidence that he'd run into Jack, the man's insinuations notwithstanding.

Booty calls, after all, were among the many things Time Lords were above.

However, they were not above loneliness, and charm and persistence were two qualities that Jack had in spades. That, along with the collection of very fine non-human liquors that Jack'd managed to acquire during his time at Torchwood, were what the Doctor would later blame.

He would also point out that Jack's endless, and frankly slightly disturbing, imagination and general enthusiasm, along with his own drunken amenability were additional factors.

If pressed, he might possibly admit that perhaps delaying a regeneration by siphoning the excess energy into one's disembodied hand was not quite the foolproof solution to a Dalek beam weapon to the chest he'd thought it was.

However it came about, a simultaneous double acute myocardial infarction whilst engaged in carnal activities involving an immortal Time Agent, a wading pool full of custard, copious amounts of whipped cream, three inflatable penguins, and a traffic cone, was not the most dignified way for anyone, let alone a Time Lord, to go. Even if it did give a whole new meaning to the term 'afterglow'.

"You were fantastic," he mumbled dazedly to Jack as he stared a the back of his new hand. "Absolutely fantastic... and d'you know what? So was I."

3.

Given the tendency of Daleks to leave their victims somewhat, well, disintegrated, to say that the Doctor was surprised to see Harriet Jones at all, let alone walking around, was something of an understatement. Filled with no small amount of joy at finding out he'd gotten one less person killed than he'd thought, he rushed forwards to embrace her in a hug.

Harriet didn't return the hug, instead bringing her ID card up in an oddly jerky motion. "Harriet Jones," she began, before trailing off into a guttural moan of "Braaaaaaains..."

"Eh?" was all the reply the Doctor had time for as Harriet's pallor registered and he realised that the odd stench in the air was actually coming from her.

If he'd moved a little quicker, if he'd managed to get to his sonic screwdriver, or if he'd had a companion around to grab a handy shovel, he would have been quite fine.

But he didn't, and instead Harriet Jones, zombie, discovered that Time Lord brains were spicy indeed.

4.

It wasn't K-9's fault, not really. The Doctor had known that he used this spot to power down and recharge ever since the inside of the TARDIS had taken on this internal configuration.

And really, if the Doctor had been watching where he was going instead of ~~moping~~ thinking the kind of Deep Thoughts that only the Last of the Time Lords could, he would never have tripped over K-9 in the first place, let alone been unable to catch himself before his head collided with the edge of a console with a sickening crunch.

5.

The Doctor emerged from the TARDIS full of optimism and hope. It was a glorious day, just chock-full of potential and there was a whole new world out here waiting to be explored.

He'd barely made it a hundred yards when his good mood abruptly vanished as the vworp vworp of a dematerialising TARDIS rent the air. Spinning on the spot, only to find the TARDIS exactly as he'd just left it, he frowned as the ear-splitting sound continued. The frown only deepened as he scanned the horizon, looking in vain for any sign of the source of the sound.

A cold chill ran down his spine as he finally looked up, just in time to see the bottom of a blue police box finish solidifying in the air directly above him. For one long moment the TARDIS hung in the air over him as he stared up at it, much like a deer caught in headlights, before gravity reasserted itself with a vengeance.

A door swung open. Bedazzled red heels clicked on concrete as their owner walked around to look at the forlorn pair of legs sticking out from under the TARDIS. "Always wondered how that happened," the Doctor said, looking down at himself and wincing. "I cannot believe I used to have such bad taste in shoes though."