Disclaimer: I don't own this character. Wish I did though.
After the End
The Doctor awoke laying on the floor of the TARDIS his head very sore. For a moment he indulged in the fantasy, that it had been nothing but a terrible nightmare, that he hadn't needed to take such a desperate measure, that as soon as he stepped out of the TARDIS he would find himself on Gallifrey with the red grass, indistinguishable from the blood soaking it, under his feet. That the dreadful war would still be the hell it had been before. This dream dissolved as he opened the doors only to see empty space where his home planet had been suspended, before the events of the previous night. He wanted to scream or sob or anything to get this sorrow and anger at himself out. Sitting down on a step, leaving the doors open he stared blankly into space, eventually dissolving into tears. A horrible revelation that he'd been trying to keep at bay came upon him, he'd killed his own people. He was alone, the only Time Lord in existence; they were all gone just legends now, legends that will never be told. At least he'd ended the war, wiped ever last Dalek out of the universe, and stopped Rassilon, who'd been driven mad by war, from following through with his plan to destroy Time. Are those the things he will tell himself to keep going everyday for the rest of his life, to make life bearable, and worth living at all? He looked down at his shaking hands half expecting to see them soaked in blood. They were all dead every single one. He had killed them. HE had killed his own species. Would the knowledge of that single fact haunt him for all eternity? Would the blame weigh him down making every step forward seem like a mile? He had no live person to blame for the need of the action, every thought of self doubt he'd ever had crept into his head compiling into a big blob of self hatred. The lonely Time Lord fell into sobs of bitterness head in hands as the doors closed as the TARDIS made a noise of lament for all her lost sisters.
