He gazed across the purple waters, running through the crimson grass. That was, after all, what he did best. Run. What else could he do? He had moments left on this world, then he would run off to the next.

That was him, the Last Time Lord, the 'Oncoming Storm', the coward. Even in this, his 10th chance at life, he still couldn't get it right. First Gallifrey, then countless other planets, and now this world. All fallen because of him, the people across the universe were right in what they said about him. He brought death and destruction everywhere he went.

He was no Doctor, he was a carrier. A carrier of Death. No, it never affected him, but it utterly destroyed those around him. He would do this no longer, he'd had enough pain and despair to last a life time, it was time for someone else to save the universe.