Breath. Don't break. You've been here time and time again.

Breathe. Don't break. Breathe don't break. You'll be fine, ( you won't be fine)

These words repeat in his head over and over, directed towards a universe too cold to care about an old man who has save it far too many times.

And this thought springs unbidden into his mind as he thinks ( too many time too many times.) The universe has stolen something too precious for the Doctor to ever forgive it for, and he owes it no debt now. Images flash through his mind, a light and airy laugh, distinctly Scottish, a flash of brightest red, and eyes crinkling up in joy. Only images, no name. Because he knows if he thinks the name, he will absolutely break, and he stops these pictures in his mind as his chest threatens to collapse, as he staggers back into the TARDIS.

As the first cold and unrelenting fingers of bitterness begin to clutch at his heart, he thinks, this is it. He's done protecting the universe when the universe doesn't care. He feels a liberating feeling of freedom, not exactly a good feeling because he doesn't think he will feel that for a long time maybe not ever again, but at least it gives him something to hold on to. Something to soothe the sharp pain in his hearts, something to ease the overwhelming guilt.

He owes the universe nothing.

Because it took something from him that he foolishly, stupidly thought he would never lose, because of course, in the end he loses everything. So many time he let her (breathe) go, and in the end-

- in the end it was for nothing, in the end, he watched her face blink out of time itself, powerless to stop it. So badly had he wanted to grab her hand and pull her back into the TARDIS, with whispered promises of strange new planets, and beautiful galaxies, so he could watch her face light up at his words. So he could watch her dance around the console, anything, everything, that could prove to him beyond a doubt that she was safe, that he could tug her hand, and crush her to his chest and feel safe and stable, and breathe her in and-

But instead he screamed stupid, useless things, begging her not to do this, and he watched as she broke these pleas with determined words, and choking sobs. God, she was the most stubborn thing he had ever encountered-

But then again, he never would have loved her if she wasn't.

And finally, finally, there it was, a shout into the void, too late to make a difference, but at last he thought to himself that he irrevocably and irreversibly loved Amelia Pond.

And.

He had forgotten not to think of her name. Forgotten that he knew what her name would do to him.

Shattering, blinding, and thankfully, numbing pain ripped through him, causing him to curl in on himself and fall where he stood. His body, mind, and soul attacked him with we'll deserved accusations, and the world seemed to scream at him "You monster!" as if he hadn't been telling himself that every minute since it had happened.

And suddenly, a statement from long ago rang in his mind, and he grasped at it, wanting to know what could possibly matter at this moment. But then he listened.

"An ancient creature, drenched in the blood of the innocent, drifting through an endless shifting maze. To such a creature, death would be a gift."

A description given by a creature remarkably like him, dying, scared and far from home, unable to return.

And he reflects, at this moment, he would accept the offer of death with a grateful sigh and a willing hand.