all states, and all princes
I am
going to die, he thinks. And somehow, it is very fitting, that in one moment, his orange-and-silver planet, and the Time Lord who burned it will both be laid to rest.
Or is it will be lain? There he goes again - always so good at hiding behind words. Much more so recently.
He's watched planets burn, and civilizations die, and great men fall, and things he cannot ever unsee. He's watched a father die under unforgiving hands, and turned to see his face in glassy eyes. He's done so much wrong.
But now the time has come, to send it into the darkness - to finally end a war that has burned its path through space and galaxies and time - the one thing he has ever placed his faith in.
Well, almost.
"Nearly done, old girl." he promises, running a hand over the battered console.
He nearly is. He is not the person who can wreak havoc with his eyes turned away, so he opens the doors of his TARDIS to endless time and space. When his planet burns, he will bid her goodbye in his own fashion.
The bursting of the spaceships and TARDISes from afar is like watching something set the darkness of the cosmos ablaze. He thinks back to simpler times, and fireworks on a blue green planet. In the midst of it all is Gallifrey, the crown jewel of the display, still unaware. Watching it shimmer and then, shatter, he bids goodbye to eons of memories, centuries spent afar, dreaming of home. The blast rumbles towards him and he bids goodbye to his dearest friend, his sweetheart.
And, at last he bids goodbye to himself.
Somewhere in the breath between bad and wolf, though, he misses himself being engulfed by the blast - he reappears, sloppily shoved together by hands he has never felt, by someone he will never forgive - not for this. Not for saving him.
The TARDIS shivers around him, feeling a familiar echo. So does he - he is not dead, but he is not quite saved either – tremors run down his fingers. Sparks shimmer into being at his feet. Something burns. Something dies. Something lives.
I create myself.