To Save the Doctor

Prologue

[You all need to stay back. Whatever happens now, you do not interfere. Clear? -The Doctor, Doctor Who]

Time seemed to slow to nearly a standstill as the Doctor's body fell to the sand. How could this have even happened? One minute, he was alive and well, joking around with his best friends, but then that astronaut came and now he was dead. But it didn't seem real. They ran over to his body, not wanting it to be real. It couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.

River quickly scanned him with her futuristic device that didn't really have a name. Pocketing it, she pulled out her blaster and fired every round she had into the retreating back of that impossible astronaut. It didn't affect him. Her aim was shoddy because of her tears and frustration, but even then, it didn't seem that the bullets were making any impact on the astronaut's back.

Amy was spread over the Doctor's body, Rory standing above her awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Her voice thick, Amy squinted through her tears and the hot Utah sun to look up and say, "River, he can't be dead. This isn't possible."

Hard for her to say aloud, River answered, "Whatever that was, it killed him in the middle of his regeneration cycle. His body was already dead. He didn't make it to the next one."

"Maybe he's a clone or a duplicate or something," Amy wondered, breaking off into more cries of anguish for her best friend. River felt sick; the remaining regenerations she had sacrificed so that he could live were suddenly gone to waste. But if the Doctor was dead, what purpose did she have to live for anyway?

The old man from before walked over, a can of petrol dangling from his hand. "I believe I can save you some time," he said, obviously American. "That most certainly is the Doctor, and he is most certainly dead. He said you'd need this."

"Gasoline?" asked Rory, not fully understanding.

River was able to explain, as hard as it was for her, "A Time Lord's body is a miracle, even a dead one. There are whole empires out there who'd rip this world apart for just one cell. We can't leave him here, or anywhere."

Amy started shaking the Doctor's limp body, smacking his face and shouting, "Wake up! Come on, wake up, you stupid, bloody idiot! What do we do, Rory?"

Her husband looked around and saw a boat on the shore just a little bit up the beach. "There's a boat. If we're going to do this, let's do it properly."

The sun was dipping behind the mountains as they put the Doctor's body in the little wooden boat and doused it with the gasoline. Rory rolled up his trousers and waded out to push it out, then throw in a match, setting the whole thing ablaze. For such a sad sight, it seemed magnificent but still not enough for the Last of the Time Lords.

The Doctor's funeral pyre was their only light as the darkness took over the sky. River crossed her arms and turned to the man. "Who are you? Why did you come?"

"The same reason as you," he said, holding up his blue invitation that was exactly the same as the Ponds' and River's. "Doctor Song, Amy, Rory, I'm Canton Everett Delaware, the third. I won't be seeing you again, but you'll be seeing me." Without another word, he turned and left.

They stared after his truck before retreating to the Doctor's car, allowing Rory to drive them away. It was no use sitting and watching the Doctor just burn all night. Leaving was going to be hard enough as it was. "Four," River mused to herself as they walked into the diner.

Rory looked to her, "Sorry, what?"

"The Doctor numbered the envelopes," she said, holding hers up. "You got 3, I was 2, Mister Delaware was 4."

"So?" asked Rory, functioning as both halves of the Pond couple as Amy was sullenly staring off, not wanting to be grieving but unable to stop.

River said, "So, where's 1?"

"What, you think he invited someone else?" asked Rory.

"Well, he must have," said River. "He planned all of this, to the last detail."

Amy grumbled, "Will you two shut up? It doesn't matter."

River ignored her. "He was up to something."

"He's dead!"

"Space, 1969," River reasoned out loud. "What did he mean?"

"You're still talking, but it doesn't matter."

Finally, Rory had had enough. "Hey, it mattered to him."

"So it matters to us," River added.

"He's dead!" cried Amy.

River shrugged with a sigh. "But he still needs us. I know, Amy. I know. But right now we have to focus." Grief could come later, when she was alone in her cell in Stormcage.

"Look," Rory said, pointing his finger at a table in the back of the restaurant. Another blue envelope-TARDIS blue-was lying on the table. While the girls rushed over to inspect the empty booth, Rory asked the busboy, "Excuse me, who was sitting over there?"

The man shrugged. "Some girl."

River stared down at the envelope. "The Doctor knew he was going to his death, so he sent out messages. When you know it's the end, who do you call?"

"Er, your friends," Rory stammered, "people you trust."

"Number one," River held up the envelope, unopened. "Who did the Doctor trust the most?"

And just as if the universe were on their side for once, the door beside the booth opened and out stepped a petite girl with brown hair. She smiled warmly at them, like she was greeting old friends, but none of them recognized her. "Hello," she said. "I'm Clara Oswald. The Doctor asked me to meet you here. He needs your help."

I'm looking to start a new full-length piece after a bunch of shorts (which have been received incredibly well, thanks!), and this is what was born, probably thanks to some Pirates of the Caribbean and Star Trek, but this will not directly follow either plot; it was just a diving board. Not sure when I'll update, but it'll hopefully be soon, depending on the feedback I receive from y'all. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Doctor Who does not belong to me.

Please review and share your thoughts! x