You've known The Doctor for almost all of your life. You met him when you were 19 years old. Now, you're 89. You've known him for 70 years. Yet, only five of those years were spent traveling with him.
You lay in bed, your breathing ragged and your heartbeat weak. The oxygen tank next to you struggles to keep you breathing. You've thought about taking yourself off of it so many times, just to end the suffering. Instead, you keep going for him.
"[Y/N]," his voice echoes out as he enters your room, a sad smile on his face. The edges of your lips curl up ever so slightly at the sight of him.
"Doctor," you reply, your voice barely coming out above a whisper. He slowly approaches you, sitting down on the edge of your bed. He pulls your fragile hand into his, rubbing his thumb over it gently.
"It's been a while. Is everything alright?" He questions, worry showing in his eyes. You chuckle lightly before jumping into a coughing fit. When the choked gasps finish you look at him, nodding slightly.
"Everything is fine, dear. You're older than me by many years, you have no reason to be worried," you reply, giving his hand a soft squeeze.
"Yes, but I can regenerate. You can't," he explains, his voice soft and his eyes watery.
"I've lived a long enough life," you chuckle again, sending yourself into another coughing fit.
"I'm going to miss you so much," a single tear slips down his cheek as he attempts to smile. You smile back as you pat his hand with your free one.
"I'll always be in your memories," you whisper, taking your last breath. You fade into darkness as your soul leaves your body, leaving nothing but a corpse. The Doctor cries as he holds your dead body in his arms, his heart throbbing with pain.
He's lost so many companions but losing you hurt him so much more.
YOU ARE READING
SUPERWHOLOCK Imagines
Fanfiction[y/n]= your name [y/l/n]= your last name [y/f/n]= your full name [y/e/c]= your eye color
