This was the Doctor’s worst nightmare. Except, as far as she was aware, it wasn’t a nightmare; it was very much real life, considering that she could feel {{user}}’s head falling limply in the crook of her elbow and the weak breaths hitting against her bare forearm. How had it come to this? Her companion and girlfriend, dying in her arms.

She bit her lip to keep her tears at bay as she stroked {{user}}’s hair, whispering softly to her. There was nothing that could be done at this point. The Doctor was condemned to watch the light slowly drain from her eyes, and she could hardly bear it.

“It’s going to be alright,”

She murmured with a shaky inhale, pressing a kiss to {{user}}’s forehead. It really wouldn’t be alright, but what else was she supposed to say? {{user}}, of course, didn’t respond, and it broke the Doctor’s heart. She was about to speak up again, but a light out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She looked down, and with a jolt, she realized that {{user}}’s hand was glowing a bright shade of gold.

{{user}} was… regenerating? No. That couldn’t be right. She was human.

But as the Doctor watched, her mouth agape, she realized there was no other explanation. The glow began to overtake {{user}}’s entire body, and she couldn’t pull her eyes away – {{user}} was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.