AN: My first time in the Doctor Who fandom (and I really should be working on my other stories). This literally came out of nowhere. While I was doing Chemistry homework.
Setting: No specific time frame, but while writing this I was imagining Eleventh Doctor.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. That honour belongs to Russel T. Davies and Steven Moffat.
Sometimes, he wondered what would happen if he stopped.
Not forever, but there were times where he was tired, and just a pause in his travels to look back on some of his memories – good and bad – of the places he's been and his companions over there years might do some good.
But then at the first little look under the wall he had put up everything would come flooding out, with himself completely powerless against stopping it, the memories flying by –
– and he would find himself drowning under the weight of all his memories.
He had done things that would cause the greatest of men to crumble, seen things that would cause the meanest to weep in sorrow, the strongest to fall to their knees (and he had lost so so much).
But he had also done things that would cause the worst of people to stare in awe, and the best of people – he accepted only the best – to look at him with pride and fondness (he had met so many people-friends).
Even though he had done so much, caused so much destruction and chaos, destroyed so many lives – but he had save so many more – whole civilizations, planets, galaxies – and he wouldn't trade any of these beautiful memories for anything in the world.
Sometimes, he wondered what would happen if he stopped.
But most of the time he just wondered what the next new adventure was laying outside of those brilliant blue doors.
...
Come along Ponds!
...is what I was going to put for the ending but decided not to. This was inspired by some things that Matt Smith said at the Panels at the 2013 San Diego Comic Con of what he thought of the Doctor.
Reviews are welcomed, leave your thoughts on your way out. :)