I can't even close his eyes.

I stare into them, trying not to breathe, trying to stay still enough that the Daleks won't see me. The past few hours flicker across my mind, images stalling and jerking as laser beams shoot across my vision and buildings crumble into the fires.
The way the central console had strained against my touch, like she didn't want to go. I shouldn't have even tried to reach them, reach him, but I couldn't do it without seeing him again.
It was too late when I arrived, but I had to try anyway. I managed to get about halfway across Arcadia- I'd never been before, but the layout is the same as the Capital, just smaller, so I found my way easily- before they started to land in the streets. And then I was running just like everyone else, but unlike the others I had a destination, and it drives me on even as children scream for help and are gunned down by daleks. I have to turn back four times because the huge towers have collapsed and blocked my route, twice I run straight through where buildings used to be, risking a few seconds of exposure to save a few minutes. And I reached him in time to watch him die.

He was calm. So calm.

He moved to reach his TARDIS, like I knew he would, and I didn't reveal myself because I wanted him to survive, and I contented myself with staring at a spot between his shoulder blades. But then there were daleks, and the wall crumbled in and blocked his way.
And he turned and walked towards the door, but the fires that had consumed the forests days ago had left embers floating on the wind, and the old earth-wood he had used as a door now lay at the base of the frame, flames surging towards the roof. He stares at it for a moment, firelight reflecting in his eyes, and he looks powerful, like he always did. In control, as always.
And then the roof falls in too, and he's thrown down the stairs like a plaything, but he's still alive, and he draws a shuddering breath and starts to pull himself away, but I can see his eyes now and he knows there's no way he can escape.
When the stonework crumbles, all I can do is watch as ancient columns land on his back, chunks of stonework knocking the air from his lungs, larger and larger pieces until an ancient support beam snaps his back in two.
But he was still alive.
I saw a glow around his hands, saw him strain against the energy and very nearly succeeding, impossibly close to death. But that brief moment was all they needed.
The beam slams into his back and he drops, wide eyes with shock, staring into mine. I don't know if he saw me. I hope he did. But I don't think it matters, because he still lost. The daleks still killed Irving Braxiatel.
I want to reach out and close his eyes, some irrational part of me thinking that maybe if I do that he'll just be sleeping, but sleeping people's bodies aren't twisted like that, their eyes don't fill with pain. And then I saw the impulse laser in his hand and I remember why I hated my older brother.
An old trick, he said. Bring the roof down with nothing more than an impulse laser. Romana had laughed about it when we met, when this war started. When we still thought that we would be able to survive this and laughed about close encounters with alternate versions of old friends.
The second fall. No ceiling crumbles, then waits half a minute before the rest falls in. It either falls or it doesn't. None of us want to be killed by Daleks. Irving Braxiatel, my older brother, tried to kill himself so that they wouldn't get him. But they still did. They still get everyone.

I slide out of the rubble and turn away from his body, but everywhere I look there is death. I know, then. I know now that no one has nothing to lose.
'Soldier, I'm going to need your gun.'