This is a quick drabble set in the finale of "The Doctor's Wife". When I watched it I was wondering about the Doctor's very emotional response to talking to the TARDIS, and it made me wonder what was going through his head then, and this idea came to mind. Hope you like it, and feedback would be greatly appreciated!
This is the time we talked.
They'd conversed, he'd rambled, and there had been silence.
There had been feelings of camaraderie, in the moments that daytrips went wrong and they'd collapsed on her, laughing in disbelief at how he seemed to always find the most precarious situations to get caught in.
And there were feelings of affection. Times when Rose had launched herself in to his arms, as if he'd disappear the moment she let go, when Donna had broke in to sudden hysterics, dragging him in to laughter with her, when he'd stood and smiled as Amy and Rory silently embraced, before they'd all reflect on their lucky escape together.
And each and every time he would assure her. He'd lay his hand on her and give a silent vow of thanks for being there when he needed her, and he'd assure her that he was all right. He was always all right.
He adored the people he travelled with. Every one of them entered his life in perfect timing; showing him an enthusiasm for life when he'd watched it disappear in ashes at his feet, just being there to rest a hand on his shoulder when guilt had made him persecute himself or by showing him that his company didn't always spell disaster, that happiness could exist alongside his presence. He knew it couldn't be coincidence, very little happened by chance in his life. Wherever he went people always needed him, and the people he met, he always needed.
Despite the company there was no escape from his persistent loneliness. He could control time and space, he could completely change the lives of a million beings if he wanted to. In a universe devoid of government, he was King. The curse of the Time Lords may have gifted him his crown, but the blood that was shed to coronate him was some that would never wash off. Life would always come and go, and he was forced to helplessly watch it happen.
He could go back and repeat moments if he so desired to. Lose a companion and then go meet them for the first time five minutes later. But the moments would always run out, he could control their order, when they took place and where, but what he could not control was their very existence. You could turn the hourglass around over and over, and never let the sand run out, but there were only so many grains; and you would realise that you'd spent so long making sure that the top never ran out, you never appreciated the growth at the bottom.
Time may have been at his fingertips, but everything had to end. That was the true curse of the Time Lords; not that he could outlive those he cared for, but that he had to let the end happen. Time was subjective, and although he may never have to witness another another's death, he would always see a final moment. One could visit every Christmas eve, but if you put off the final visit, then you have already experienced the end one year earlier.
That is why when she talked; each word began to chip away at the loneliness. Everything has an end. Every friendship, every love, every life. He was unique in the universe. He thought he was the only one left who could see the end; see every end. See friends saying goodbye for the last time; see lovers breathe their last whilst lying beside each other. But when she spoke, he realised that she knew what it was like to be cursed, and yet unlike him, she had remained unphased.
She could see the final moments of everything there ever was or will be, and yet that had been of no interest. She'd said hello as he said goodbye, she'd turned the end of the time they would talk in to the beginning of him knowing her. She knew of the fall of Gallifrey, and she saw person after person walk through those doors only to leave. She'd seen the end of her sisters, and had stood before their remains, but when he suggested that they used them to build a console; she did not let her mourning stop the creation of something new.
She'd known of his pain, had seen everything he had seen, and had come out the other side strong. It was in her greeting that he remembered that in order for something to be destroyed, it must have existed in the first place, that for there to be an end, there must be a beginning; and that made it oh so worth it. When she glowed before him he wanted to hold on and never let go, because he envied her. In his old age he had forgotten the beauty of being alive, but she had reminded him.
He spent his life running; fleeing at first the Time Lords, then time itself. For centuries he had obsessed over endings, but with the TARDIS by his side, he could see every beginning, and that was something he never wanted to forget.
"Please. I don't want you to."