Once there was a man who was old and wise and kind. A man who carried the weight of the universe on his shoulders. One day he'd just appear and sweep you away to see everything.
The man was so very old and so very lonely and he needed to see the amazement of those younger than him to make it all worth it. He couldn't see it anymore. The wonder of everything had left him. He would look at a star and see a big ball of burning gas. He would know how it began and how it ended and was probably there both times. So the being was sad.
He was the last of his kind, this man. So alone. There was a hole in him that not even time could make smaller.
When he had run away from home, he had wanted only to see that stars that he dreamt of. He did not want to become a legend. Not a myth told in hushed voices late at night. Not a great warrior or a goblin or a trickster. Not a nameless terrible thing soaked in the blood of a billion galaxies. Just a man.
But he was so much more than a man. He was a hero, even if he did not think he was. He would always save the day, no matter how many times he said that he wouldn't do that anymore. He was, and always would be, the man who makes people better.
One day, he will sweep you off your feet like he does so many others. He will show you the whole vast complicated universe and have you back in time for tea. At least, he will in your dreams. If you ever do meet this man, tell him thank you for everything he's done. He never has been thanked, so be the one to change that. Make sure he knows that he is remembered. And tell him, for me, hello Doctor.