Date: 2010-03-22 10:22 pm (UTC)
"I don't know," the Doctor said. He looked down at his hand. The freckles, the hairs, they were all totally familiar to him. He could feel the mole between his shoulderblades brushing against the back of his shirt. He was still himself. That...that didn't make any sense.

"Brainwaves," he repeated. "My brainwaves, the ones that were begging for regeneration moments ago. Practically pleading with the universe for it. And when I changed my mind..."

He wiggled his leg, now totally injury-free. It was strange, surreal. He was ready for death, but he wasn't. And that thing, whatever it was, was willing to give it to him.
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The Doctor

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