The doctor stumbled in the waiting doors of TARDIS, wheezing irregularly as he collapsed on the cold, metal floor.

His chest was in unbearable pain, the muscles cramping and stretching around the laser hole that had severed the main artery between his two hearts. The only reason he wasn't dead yet was that the heat from the blast had cauterized the blood vessels, slowing the loss of precious blood.

He had only minutes left.

Instead of howling about it, the ninth doctor looked up at the ceiling, studying the patterns that he had never taken the time to notice before. He had always been running around doing this, racing to save that...

God, he needed a vacation.

Should have taken one eight centuries ago, but something to do with the destruction of some major something-or-other had gotten in his way. After the destruction of something-or-other, it had been the explosion in god-knows-where that he had to clean up. After that, he had just gotten message after message about crisis after crisis that he didn't even bother to remember anything about...

No wonder he couldn't keep track of what century he was in...

The doctor laughed, wincing as a wave of blood ran up his throat. He coughed, spitting the blood out onto his already mangled shirt.

Darn, his favorite Pink Floyd shirt was ruined forever...

At least he got to die in style.

His clothing choice didn't help with the loneliness that washed over the Doctor.

If only Rose could be there with him...

He had made the right choice, taking her back to Earth. She was happy, living there with her mother and Markey- Mike? Smokey? Whatever his name was.

If he had his choice though, she would be there. Right then.

Of course, she would be sobbing all over his already ruined enough Pink Floyd shirt, so maybe it wouldn't all be a plus, but company is company.

In many ways, it was better that it was just him and TARDIS, just like their bachelor days before the women walked in.

After all, TARDIS was his only love.

...

Alright, maybe not so true, but close enough. A time lord can't marry his flying telephone box forever, now can he? The obstacles in having a working relationship there would be just too tough...

The doctor choked another laugh out, spitting out more blood.

It hadn't all been fun and games for him, centuries of loneliness and heartbreak had their wear and tear. As much of a control freak as the 9th Doctor was, he was ready to move on.

His only regret was that he hadn't settled down; started a family. Seen that world that only married life brings. Seen his children and grandchildren grow up.

His offspring would undoubtedly be as destructive as he was, if not more...

The doctor chuckled, wheezing as he did so.

The corners of his vision were beginning to blur; his feet losing more feeling by the second. It was almost time.

Pushing himself up so he could roll onto his stomach, the Doctor rubbed both hands on TARDIS's smooth, cold floor.

"Good-bye old girl" He whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. "We've had many adventures together, but now it's time"

The TARDIS made a sad mechanical whirring sound, and the Doctor patted the floor tenderly.

And then, just like Shakespeare's great King Lear...

...

He died.