AN: My first attempt at posting anything. This is going to be a series of one-shots, let's see if any actual plots develop out of them…
Disclaimer: Yes, I am Steven Moffat. Pfff, who needs a massive budget and the right to make Doctor Who appear on TV when you've got ?! Seriously, guys, if I owned it I'd be writing for TV.
He supposed it was his fault. Looking back, it was obvious.
He'd avoided it.
"Where are we, where did the rift come out?"
As if it mattered.
"Still got Mister Mickey, then?"
So? What was there to be jealous of, now?
She laughed at him for that.
"Quite right, too…"
What was he even saying by now?
"And I suppose…"
He was getting there, slowly, now.
"…it's my last chance to say…"
Say what, you babbling fool? 900 years on, and still as clueless as a fifteen-year old ape.
Yes, she knows he knew he name…
Too late. It's his own bloody fault.
AN: Hopefully that's a bit clearer after the edit, but it's the Doctor's thoughts during Doomsday!