When the first went, he was happy. He had lived a long, full life, taking in both what Gallifrey and the universe had to offer him. He had a family, had friends, had a life, and was prepared for it to end. He could have held on for a little while longer, but all he had ever had was happy, and he was ready to let go.
When the first entered the room, there was a single bed, a bookcase, and a picture of Susan. It was a simple life, and he was happy.
When the second went, it was forced. He had given himself over to his people willingly, and had been punished. He was still too young to feel the injustice of it, however, as he was only at the beginning of his regenerations, and he was too thankful THEY had decided not to take them all.
When the second entered the room, another bed appeared, along with a small chest of draws, and a recorder. The first and second sat, and mused on the universe, talking of the third and how they would have done better had they still been there.
When the third went, it was a conscious decision. He had been trapped too long in one place, unable to feel afraid, and when the Spiders had found him, he knew at once that the addiction of fear flowing through his veins would get the better of him. It always had.
When the third entered the room, another was created off to the side, for privacy. The room was filled with electronics, and the third found himself in love with what he had been forced to do all his life: working out the codes. There were mutterings from the first and second, but the third simply smiled, and continued with his work, watching over his old friends from above.
When the fourth went, the sorrow in him was impossible to describe. He had been so close to lunging for the Master, still crouched in the doorway. He would have reached him too, but what was the point of them both dying?
When the fourth entered the room, only the third understood the pain that the Master had caused, and opened his door to the fourth, where a metal dog appeared, and old friendships watched as they were destroyed.
When the fifth went, it was self sacrifice. He was happy that he had been able to die saving one of his friends. There were no tears, no regret, and even the phantom image of the Master telling him to die couldn't stop the pride that swept through him as he walked away.
When the fifth entered the room, all of them felt pride for what he had done. A new room was grown, again leading from the first one, holding all things cricket, and the fifth sat and pondered.
When the sixth went, there was so much light and so much pain, that he never really thought about what was going to happen. He wanted to leave, to get out of this body and life that had been so unkind to him. He glowed yellow and blue, and didn't look back as he walked away.
When the sixth entered the room, he was shunned. Never had a regeneration been so uncompromisingly different that its fellows, and the others did not know what to think. Another room grew, this one all the colours of the rainbow, and sixth whiled away the hours talking to nothing in particular.
When the seventh went, he had grown old. He had had so many friends, that the bullet came as something of a relief. He was tired and brittle. He could barely run, and he knew he couldn't keep people safe for much longer.
When the seventh entered the room, the first and second accepted him into their room, a third bed appearing there. The power in the seventh was talked about and passed around, the wonder of what they had become gripping each of them in turn.
When the eighth went, it was in the heat of the Time War. He died in burning flames, as they took hold of his TARDIS and hurled him into the centre of Gallifrey. His tears weren't enough to quench the flames as they took him also.
When the eighth entered the room, all but one was there waiting for him. The fourth, who had left Leela on that planet, hid in his room, hearing the tears and comfort through the walls, as the others lamented the passing of their planet.
When the ninth went, it was again a sacrifice, and the overriding feeling of thanks to Rose for healing him covered up any resentment he might have felt at living such a short life. He burned, just as the eighth had done, but it was better this time. There was no pain.
When the ninth entered the room, he was accepted into the third and fourth's room, and talked endlessly of Gallifrey. Time moved in circles and squares here, so the ninth could once again look upon his beloved planet, without the fear of changing anything.
When the tenth went, he was the first one that didn't want to go. He had lived so much, but there was so much more. He could have been so much more, and it wasn't fair. One human is all it took, and he's the first that doesn't see the need of dying for one unimportant human, but does it anyway.
When the tenth enters the room, the others are afraid of him. They disagree with his decision to try and stop the regeneration, and give him his own room, away from them, alone.
So the tenth sits in his room, clad in his favourite brown suit, turning a small blue book with a TARDIS imprint on the front cover over and over in his hands, and watches the eleventh.
And hates him.