Hi everyone. Just a quick note here. This does contain spoilers for Day of the Doctor. So if you haven't watched it, don't read it. Some of the text is taken directly from the end of the episode in order to make it easier to place when the events in the story are happening. This is only for this chapter, just to give everyone an idea of when this takes place. The rest of the chapters are all original. If something is quoted from an episode, it is in italics. Anything I added is in regular font.
Anyway, I don't own Doctor Who or any of it's affiliated characters. I own nothing. Nothing at all. So now that we've got that covered, enjoy reading. :) (This is my first fic, so any criticisms will be helpful, but please don't be too mean. Also, I did spellcheck this, but I am only human so if you spot a mistake, let me know and I am happy to fix it.) I'm going to try to update every other day but real life does tend to get in the way so I can't make any promises. Please leave a review if you have time, you have no idea how exciting it is to get feedback!
"I don't suppose we'll ever know if we actually succeeded. But at worst, we failed doing the right thing, as opposed to succeeding in doing the wrong." The War Doctor spoke slowly, a slight tremor in his hands.
Clara turned to him, a look upon her face that was a mixture of sadness and humor.
"Life and soul, you are." She gave a him a tiny, sympathetic smile.
"What is it actually called?" The Tenth Doctor stepped closer to the painting, peering through his glasses.
The Eleventh Doctor cleared his throat and tilted his head to the side. "Well, there's some debate. Either No More or Gallifrey Falls."
"Not very encouraging." The War Doctor interjected.
"How did it get here?" The Tenth Doctor asked, turning to study the painting.
"No idea." The Eleventh Doctor spoke quietly, and removed his glasses.
"There's always something we don't know, isn't there?" The Tenth Doctor sighed and raised his cup to his lips.
"Well I should certainly hope so." The War doctor said as he rose.
The Eleventh Doctor bent his head to hide a smile as he and the Tenth Doctor turned.
"Well, gentlemen, it has been an honour," glancing at the Eleventh Doctor, "and a privilege." He folded his hands behind his back and looks to the Tenth Doctor.
"Likewise." The Tenth Doctor gives him a nod and a smile.
"Doctor." The Eleventh Doctor does the same.
"And if I grow to be half the man that you are," The War Doctor turned to Clara, "Clara Oswald, I shall be very happy indeed."
The Tenth and Eleventh doctors turned and shook their heads at each other.
"That's right. Aim high." Clara rises from her seat and gives the War Doctor a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
His smile fades. After a pause, "I won't remember this, will I?" He turns to look at the others.
Hesitantly, the Eleventh Doctor answered. "The timestreams are out of sync. You can't retain it, no."
The War Doctor's eyes became sad, his thoughts heavy. "So I won't remember that I tried to save Gallifrey, rather than burn it."
The Tenth and Eleventh Doctors are silent, they don't answer, but they fidget uncomfortably. Their silence has given the War Doctor the answer.
"And I'll have to live with that." His voice broke and he paused a moment to collect himself. He looked up and took a deep breath. "But for now, for this moment," He straightened his shoulders and began to smile hopefully, "I am The Doctor again. Thank you."
The three doctors shared a smile. "Which one is mine?" The War Doctor looks towards the TARDIS's, a concerned look on his face. The other doctor's smiles are quickly replaced with a look of panic as they look towards the TARDIS's. The War Doctor laughed and put his hands in his pockets as he walked towards his TARDIS. The doctors smiled as he opened the door to his TARDIS. He closed the door and they watched as he disappears.
The Tenth Doctor looked at his other self quizzically and took off his glasses.
"I won't remember either so you might as well tell me."
The Eleventh Doctor sighed, "Tell you what?"
"Where it is we're going that you don't want to talk about."
The Eleventh Doctor thought for a moment and looked him in the eye. "I saw Trenzalore, where we're buried. We die in battle among millions."
"That's not how it's supposed to be."
"That's how the story ends. Nothing we can do about it." He shook his head fearfully and looked the Tenth Doctor in the eye. "Trenzalore is where you're going."
"Oh, never say nothing." The Tenth Doctor lightheartedly replied. The Eleventh Doctor smiled and laughed. "Anyway, good to know my future is in safe hands. Keep a tight hold on it Clara"
"Mm. On it." Clara stood and the Tenth Doctor kissed her hand. The Tenth Doctor walked slowly to his TARDIS.
"Trenzalore. We need a new destination because... I don't wanna go." He stepped into his TARDIS and closed the door.
"He always says that." The Eleventh Doctor said fondly.
After a moments hesitation, Clara walked into the Tenth Doctor's TARDIS. The console room was empty, but Clara heard something, a strange, wheezing, noise. She followed the noise until she came to a plain wooden door left slightly ajar. Tentatively she knocked. She stepped inside and saw an empty room. No furniture, the only things in the room were pictures, hundreds and thousands of pictures, pictures of people, plastered on the walls and the ceiling, the floor is covered in scrawled black letters. She looked around, and in the furthest corner she saw the Doctor. Crumpled against the wall, his nearly silent sobs made his whole body shake. Clara slowly walked over to him, sat down, and put her hand on his arm. He looked up, surprised, and quickly tried to wipe away the tears from his face.
"Clara, what, he clears his throat, "What are you doing in here?"
She gave him a small, sad smile. "Who are they?" She gestured at the thousands of pictures on the walls.
The Doctor gave her a sad stare as he looked at her with those huge brown eyes. "It's everyone, it's the pictures or the names of everyone I've ever lost, hurt, or killed. Everyone who was hurt because of me. It's everyone." His voice broke on the word everyone and the sobs again sent his body into spasms. Clara looked around the room. She saw pictures in the very center of the floor, in a circle. A blonde girl smiling at the camera. One of the pictures even had the Doctor in it, Him and the girl. She was lifted up ever so slightly off the ground, her head thrown back and a huge smile on her face. In the center of the circle a name written in shaky black letters. "Rose" She knew about Rose, she had seen her when she was inside the Doctor's time line. And with the recollection of Rose, she also remembered what this Doctor had done after he lost her. She took his hand in hers and looked into his wet eyes.
"Doctor, I'm so sorry. I know how much you loved her." A moment's hesitation. "I know what you did when you lost her."
He looked at her and then cleared his throat, smiled "I don't know what you mean."
She looked into his eyes. He yanked his arm away and stood up, wiping tears out of his eyes.
"Did he tell you? Did he tell you it was a miracle? Did he tell you I shouldn't even be here right now? That I had given up?! Did he tell you that I still wish no one had found me!? DID HE TELL YOU THAT?!" He was screamed, fists clenched, his body stiff. "There were billions of people on Gallifrey. Billions of children, babies. I'm not going to know that I tried to save them and I'm going to have to live with that for another 500 years! Everyday I'm going to torture myself because I've killed them! Because i'll deserve it!" He punched the wall next to him, tears streaming down his face.
"You need to leave." He grabbed Clara's hand and pulled her up.
She took his hand in hers again and whispered into his ear. "I know what you want to do, what you'll do tonight, I've seen it." She pulled him closer and gave him a hug. His body shook with rage and sadness. Her lips brushed against his ear, feather-light as she whispered. "It doesn't make you bad, it doesn't mean you're worthless. It doesn't change the way I see you. You don't have to, you don't have to do that. I know you're scared, scared and sad and so lonely. And why shouldn't you be? You've been given a burden that no one should have to bear. You've got an impossible weight on your shoulders and your going to tell yourself you need to do it alone. But you don't need to do that. You don't have to be alone. You have so many people in so many universes that love you. So many people that would give everything for you. You are not alone. Don't be alone tonight. OK? Promise me you won't be alone tonight."
He pulled her in closer, and his eyes welled with tears. He held her for a long time, his tears soaking her hair. He knew perfectly well what he wanted to do, what he was going to do as soon as she left
"Clara! Clara! Where are you? We need to get out of here before the paradox of more than one of me being here tears a hole in the universe! Clara!" She heard her doctor calling through the halls.
"Don't be alone Doctor. OK? Promise me."
He kissed her on the cheek. "I promise." He felt guilty for lying. She hugged him again and walked out of the TARDIS, closing the door behind her.
The TARDIS dematerialized, and and he leaned up against the console. Clara had forgotten one key detail, he wasn't going to remember any of this. He wondered if promises still counted as promises when you couldn't remember them. Yes, he decided. They count. He set his TARDIS to fly over Wilf's hill. Maybe he would be there, maybe he wouldn't. Who was he kidding? He would fly over Wilf's hill, and he would be there, because he always was. Maybe give him a wave and a big smile. Then he would fly into the vortex, park the TARDIS, and he would go back to the room. He placed his hand lovingly on the TARDIS console. "You'll take care of me, right Old Girl?"
"What took you so long?" The Eleventh Doctor looked at her strangely.
"Your TARDIS happened, you know the grumpy old cow never really liked me. She decided it would be funny to get me lost in her corridors."
"Well how do you expect her to like you when you call her things like that?"
Clara silently apologized to the TARDIS, hoping she understood.
The Doctor walked slowly toward the painting, and a small sigh escaped his lips.
"Do you need a moment alone with your painting?" She asked quietly
"How did you know?" He smiled at her.
"Those big sad eyes." She walked over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, her hand lingering. "I always know." She walked towards the TARDIS, then turned abruptly. "Oh, and by the way, there was an old man looking for you. I think it was the curator." She paused at the door and the Doctor gave her a thumbs up as she stepped inside.
Alone with his thoughts he sat and studied the painting.
"I could be a curator." he spoke quietly to himself. "I'd be great at curating. I'd be the Great Curator." He laughed to himself. "I could retire, and do that. I could retire and be the curator of this place." He smiled.
"You know, I really think you might." A new voice broke into his thoughts and he turned. He saw the face of the man who had spoken. He stared, stood up and looked at the old man. Confusion and wonder churning through his mind. He smiled.
"I never forget a face."
"I know you don't. And in years to come you might find yourself revisiting a few. But just the old favorites, eh?"
The Doctor smiled, then he winked, he shared a secret with this old man.
The Curator gestured towards the painting. "You were curious about this painting, I think? I acquired it in remarkable circumstances. What do you make of the title?"
Well, which title? There's two. No More, and Gallifrey Falls.
"No you see, that's where everybody's wrong. It's all one title." The Curator leaned in closely. "Gallifrey Falls No More. Now, what would you think that means, eh?"
The Doctor looked astonished. "That Gallifrey didn't fall." A smile burst across his face. His eyes lost their haunted look and his shoulders straightened. "It worked? It's still out there?"
"I'm only a humble curator. I'm sure I wouldn't know."
"Then where is it?"
"Where is it, indeed. Lost!" He brought his finger to his lips. "Shh! Perhaps, things do get lost you know. And now, you must excuse me. Oh, you have a lot to do."
The Doctor looked like a young child given the task of opening presents. A huge smile spread across his face. "Do I? Is that what I'm supposed to do now? Go looking for Gallifrey?"
"That's entirely up to you. Your choice, eh? I can only tell you what I would do. If I were you... Oh, if I were you." They both chuckle. "Perhaps I was you, of course. Or perhaps you are me. Congratulations."
"Thank you very much."
"Or perhaps it doesn't matter either way. Who knows?" The Curator bit down on the edge of his finger. "Who," moving up to touch the side of his nose, "Knows."
They smiled at each other one last time, and the curator walked out of the room. The Doctor turned once more to look at the painting, a boyish smile on his face, and his eyes full of hope.
(Voice-Over)
Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. "Course I dream." I tell her. "Everybody dreams." "But what do you dream about?" She'll ask. "The same thing everybody dreams about." I tell her. "I dream about where I'm going." She always laughs at that. "But you're not going anywhere. You're just wandering about." That's not true, not anymore. I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours. The same as anyone's. It's taken me so many years, so many lifetimes, but at last I know where I'm going. Where I have always been going. Home. The long way round.
"Geronimo!"