Title: Neverending Story
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: past Jack/Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: Beta 1, challenge_the
Prompt: 3, End
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor leaned back in his chair in front of the viewscreen of the Tardis, sighing as he watched the planet that he'd been hovering over recede into the distance. He'd been there before, and it wasn't a place that he particularly wanted to see again.

Then why was he drawn here, time and time again? He'd nearly met his end on that planet before; it was the last place that he should want to be. It didn't hold good memories for him, and it wasn't anywhere that he cared to set eyes on for the rest of his life.

The Vashta Nerada had taken over the place long ago -- and he'd gone there before he knew that they inhabited it. He'd thought that it was a planet devoid of life, deserted because the ihabitants had all died out. He'd been disabused of that notion rather quickly.

He shivered at the memory of moving slowly up the stairs in that deserted house; the shadow that had waited at the top of that staircase had seemed interesting at first, somehow beckoning for him to discover what lay behind that darkness.

Fortunately, he'd realized what it was in time, running out of the house and making his way back to the Tardis as quickly as he could. He'd been followed, of course; the Vashta Nerada woudn't pass up a chance to snap at his heels.

But he'd made it to his ship safely, and taken the two of them out of there. It had been a narrow escape; the remembrance of the times that he'd dealt with that particular life form would haunt him for the rest of his life, with that experience added to them.

He'd thought that it might be the end for him the first time he'd come across the Vashta Nerada; that had been centuries ago, when he was in another body. And then when he'd met them in the library -- that had been another time when he'd feared for his life.

How many times during all of his lives had he thought that some situation he'd become caught up in would be the end? Too many to count, really, he thought, closing his eyes as the planet below him slipped from view. He'd lost track long ago.

He'd been sure it was the end when he'd regenerated into his eighth body. He'd been dead for so long -- and when he'd awoken with no memory of who he was or how he'd gotten into that ice-cold morgue, he had been like a baby taking its hesitant first steps.

That had probably been the worst regeneration he'd had to go through, he thought, wincing as he stretched his arms over his head. That .... thing that had been in his chest, that wire -- pulling it out had been an extremely painful experience.

Not exactly a wonderful way to start life in a new body, he thought, shaking his head. But regenerating into the body he was in now hadn't been much better -- he'd spent a good deal of that time unconscious, not knowing what was happening around him.

And when he had been conscious, he'd been in considerable pain. He still hadn't found out exactly what could have gone wrong -- he'd just been lucky that a cup of tea had managed to right whatever wiring had gotten crossed somewhere.

Strange how something so seemingly simple could prove to be such a lifesaver, he told himself, musing at the memory. But that was behind him now; hopefully, he would be able to keep this body for a very long time, now that he had it in good working order.

He loved this body; he didn't want to lose it. It was by far the most attractive one he'd ever had; he was sure that the next time he regenerated, he would be given something horribly, hideously ugly, just to take his vanity to rock bottom.

But he wasn't going to regenerate, the Doctor told himself firmly. Not for a long time to come, at any rate. He might have to put himself in jeopardy at times -- but that was the nature of who and what he was. That was something he couldn't avoid doing.

Besides, he had enough faith in his own ability to get himself out of tight situations to not worry himself unduly about the danger he often found himself in -- didn't he? He had to wonder about that, he thought wryly as he glanced at the viewscreen again.

There were times when he felt that he would be better off staying this way, without a companion, only relying on himself and his own abilities. How long had he been without someone to share his life with now? It had been a few weeks, at least.

Of course, he didn't keep track of time the way that humans -- and many other races as well -- did. He wasn't a slave to time, always hurrying here and there to keep appointments, worrying about how much time he was spending on doing on thing or the other.

He was a Time Lord. He didn't have to concern himself with time passing -- he was a part of time. He could see the timestream all the way back to its first glimmer of a beginning, until it ended far in the future. Time was different for him than for anyone else.

Therefore -- he didn't really have to worry about endings, did he? Obviously, as the Ood had told him, his song would end at some point -- nothing and no one could live forever. But he was granted a much longer life than most, and for that he was grateful.

It would be a very long time before the end came. He was certain of that. Yes, he took risks, but they were always calculated risks; and even if he wasn't always positive that he could get himself out of the situations he sometimes jumped into, he was reasonably sure that he could.

That was part of what being a Time Lord was about, the Doctor told himself with a sigh. He had to take those risks; he wouldn't be the person he was if he didn't. And he would feel that he wasn't living up to the obligations he'd set for himself.

He might think about his end more often than he'd like to, but he was going to do everything he could to keep that end from arriving too soon for his taste. If he was careful, and didn't take too many risks, he would be in this body for a long, long time.

At least, he certainly hoped so. All kinds of things could happen that he hadn't planned for -- if he'd learned one thing in his long life, it was that he should always expect the unexpected. And he was prepared for that -- well, most ot the time, anyway.

The Doctor blinked, focusing his attention on the viewscreen again. The planet he'd been looking at was long out of sight -- he had no idea how long he'd been sitting here, contemplating the future and the likelihood that his own future wouldn't be a neverending story.

He firmly pushed those morbid thoughts away from him as he stood up, taking a deep breath and letting his gaze roam over the console. Instead of wondering what the future would bring, he intended to head right into it, to experience it instead of simply thinking about what it could be like.

***