"Pity no stars, I hoped there'd be stars", the Doctor said.

He was laying on the ground, body aching from the explosion. But most of all he felt tired. He had travelled the universe throughout all his life. Visiting and saving planets, seeing the stars. He had wanted to see them all.

Now all he saw was the trees glimmering in their orange light, the flames reaching up towards the sky. The world burning, what a fitting way to end my life, he thought. It reminded him of the war on Gallifrey. The fire and the screams still haunted him, reminded him of who he used to be, the war hero.

Everything smelt of fire and smoke, of battle. But this time around he would not get the punishment he did last time. This time he would die.

He was tired of forever changing, tired of losing everyone that mattered to him. He wasn't ancient nor was he forever, he was just a mad-man in a box. He wasn't a god, he was a just a doctor. The doctor.

The last thing he wished to see was stars, but instead he got a fire.