The Doctor ran into the TARDIS, his confused friends in close pursuit. Amy was sad, upset, angry and that didn't even begin to cover it. She had lost her baby twice, after all. Rory… well, the Doctor was pretty sure he'd be getting up close and personal with a Roman sword if he wasn't careful. It was completely understandable and most certainly called for after the day they'd had. Well, nine months ago was when it really started. Or, maybe, it was the moment that a madman stumbled into the garden of a little girl's too big house. Maybe it had started even longer ago.
Whenever it'd started there was nothing anyone could do about it anymore. The Doctor only hoped that the shock, confusion and surprise of what the Ponds were about to learn would at least minorly help to alleviate the pain. It wasn't okay, it wouldn't be okay for a very long time and, in fact, it probably never would truly be okay. But blood clotted and scars faded and then the only evidence became a glistening silver line that caught the light. Probably not exactly what the phrase 'every cloud has a silver lining' meant but, well, it was something.
The moment the TARDIS doors shut behind him, the smile (that had truly been genuine for one blissful, shocked moment before reality had caught up with him again) fell from his face and he felt all the strength leave his body. In the place he'd left behind he knew he'd vanished into a whir of wind and a wheezing noise, gone without a trace, leaving behind devastation as always.
He knew what he was doing was despicable. Running, as always, like the coward, traitor, deserter he was. In oh so many cultures around the world punishment for desertion was hanging or at least some other form of painful, long and humiliating death. It was no less than he deserved. Actually, such a death would be a mercy for a monster like him.
The Ponds had always been there. Always, always, always there for him when he needed them, when he wanted them, even when he was merely bored. And when they needed him? He made the situation a whole lot worse then abandoned them. He wanted very badly to turn back, to go to them ands least try to make it better; at the very least be there for them. But, he'd done enough damage.
Amy had flinched away from him like he would hurt her, recoiled from him as if he was some disgusting monster. He was a monster and he had already hurt her beyond belief. He'd damaged his best friends so badly, so horrifically only a sick mind could be the cause of it. He really was a madman, just in a darker way than anyone had imagined.
And Rory, well, there was no mistaking the strong, angry, protective, aching look of a human's primal instinct to protect their family; nor was it possible to miss the power and determination of the last centurion behind his kindly eyes. He knew it was the Doctor to blame, they all knew. The whole universe had been screaming at him for a long time, telling him the truth about himself, the darkness behind the legend that was the Doctor, and he'd always been too stubborn to admit it. Always saying they were wrong, the stories were confused with muddled facts when in reality he'd become a monster and everyone in the universe could see it except him.
And River, oh his dear sweet hurting damaged River, had given him the slap in the face he often very much needed; except this time with her words rather than her hand. He'd been so very close to doing what he had done all his life; being a arrogant, righteous bastard who always shifted the blame somewhere else and then felt sorry for himself. She'd kept him grounded, like she always did. She told him what he needed to hear not what he wanted to hear and that's one of the reasons why River was so very important to him because few others dared, sometimes out of fear or sometimes out of hero worship. After all this time she still loved him, still cared. After everything she'd been through and him even daring to be suspicious of her! His poor, brilliant, dearest Melody Pond.
He'd left them, his Ponds who he claimed to love and yet seemed to do nothing but damage and abandon, as well as every person who'd come to fight for him because they believed in him, because they cared. He left them all when they were only there because of him. But he couldn't stay, he just couldn't. Maybe he was selfish. Scratch that, he was definitely selfish, and conceited and dangerous, angry and so very stupid. But, he figured that, yes, it may be cold and cruel to leave them all in that painful mess but it would be even more damage for them, already so tired and hurt, to have to see him in the state he was in right now.
The Doctor was barely able to make it to the centre of the console room before collapsing to the floor, no longer having any strength left within him. There, he curled up in a ball, sobbing, his hands pulling desperately on his hair and clawing at his scalp, his eyes screwed shut as tears leaked last then and onto the metallic floor.
This was for the best. Amy and Rory, River too, were already so upset and hurt. They were in no state to deal with him while he was in this state. He was supposed to the the strong, unbreakable one. They now knew that he wasn't the good, powerful man they always thought he was but that didn't mean that seeing him collapse under the pressure of the situation wouldn't shock and scare them.
Surely it was better for them to think that he was just a selfish, uncaring bastard who'd left them in their hour of need and ran away instead of realising how grave and hopeless the situation was because the unbreakable Doctor, the oncoming storm himself, was crying his eyes out on the floor. Because, wasn't that the moral of the story? That no matter how hard he tried to be good, how much he tried to fix things, how pure his intentions were he was only ever a warrior and would only ever kill and destroy and would never be anything but feared. Yes, the moral of this story was that the universe was better off if he stayed away.
So that's what he'd do. Starting from now.
The battle may have been won but that night was one of the darkest the universe ever saw.
