Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.


Nine-hundred and three years in time and space, and it feels suffocating inside.

The Doctor has seen the universe's wonders and terrors at this point. He's faced down armies, watched beautiful sights in the hidden nebulas, and encountered unique civilizations. Running! That's what he always does – that mix of quick steps guiding him to and from danger.

But…he wants more. He loses friends, too many to count, in the worst and most cruel ways. A corner of his heart already knows that they won't be the last he can't save.

And he could! He could reverse time, save them and more that shouldn't have died. There are so many places in the timeline, centered around fixed points that he could alter as he wished.

But I'm not supposed to.

A hand away from saving the innocents caught in the crossfire. That's the way it's always been for him. It makes him dread the simple knowledge that he's not supposed to save those that he can. His mind knows it's true, but his heart rejects the notion fiercely.

Pompeii nearly broke his heart. All those people who died under the molten ash, save for the few Donna convinced him to rescue at the last minute.

Only a few.

The Mars expedition in 2057? He tried…and history retorted by killing someone else for going against its design. For daring to strive towards something better!

Because that's what being the Doctor is. It's not just the running and being smart, or stopping the monsters and getting a companion once in a while.

It's also standing a foot away from every corner of history…and knowing you have to let a chunk of the bad things happen.

And it's suffocating.


A/N: Thanks for reading! This idea came out of nowhere, but really fit into some stuff I've been feeling recently. Any crits or ideas would be very helpful.