At the end of the war, he doesn't have a friend, or a name, or even a face. He is only a title, a role, only the Doctor. He holds the key to armageddon.
The doors of his sanctum gape wide upon the war. Only a fraction of it can be seen, even by his missing eyes. Facts have always offended him, but he pities them as they fragment, as time itself breaks. He shouts into the void.
"You've used everything in this universe to destroy each other, smashed entire planets and epochs like apes bashing each other's heads open with stones. You've rewritten your pasts so neither of you can exist without the other. You used me to do that. And now you've only got one thing left, one thing in all of history."
He pauses.
"Extermination."
Another pause.
"I know what you expect me to say. 'I'm sorry.' But I'm not," his voice rises. "You've done terrible things... used me to do them. But the Doctor's going to perform an amputation. We're all going to burn together, and there's going to be a new universe out there. Without lords or masters or killing machines. Time as it was meant to be. Time without us."
And he turns the key. The lights go first. The concept of light failing to exist. The screams rise and die out, the numbness begins. And then fear grips him. The fear he's always known. He throws the doors shut. He dashes for the console, grasps madly at the controls, throws all the dials back to the beginning, the very beginning, the only place left for him to run. He waits for the light.
And there is light.
And he realizes what he has done, and his hearts break, and he falls to the floor.
And then he is someone else.
Tags: doctor who, fanfic, fiction
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