A/N: This is 11 in my mind, because well, this is supposed to be current, but the thing is, is that the Doctor is the Doctor, and this will always apply in some way. It's meant to be after the Time War though, so he can be the very last. I suppose I'll categorize it as Angsty 11 befitting regular 10.
Time. A vast expanse of never ending happenings. Always. Something always happening. Nearly. When there wasn't anything happening, that was when the memories came.
Memories of all time.
Because it all belonged to him.
Every moment in every history or ever person. He could be a part of it all if he chose so to do. It made him so excited.
But the memories.
Most of them, he tried to suppress.
People that he'd loved and lost, adored and hated, couldn't remember and tried to forget.
In those moments, when he was the most alone, the most silent times, that was anguish.
All agony could befall him, but there was nothing worse for him than the memories of the things he had done.
Things of which he was not proud.
Terrible, horrible things.
Things only he could remember.
Sometimes, he thought that his curse was his lifespan. Other times, he was sure it was his memories.
Either way, he was condemned to them.
Thousands of years. A lifetime times infinity.
Mistakes began to add up.
Successes began to seem less important.
Failures began to dominate.
The good things disappear - fading away to black, and hate and anger and agony! Oh he knew agony. He knew pain and loss and death.
The Doctor - so good, so brave - he knew death.
Worlds and peoples and races - they feared him.
The Doctor… he fears remembrance.
He is so, so alone. For all the joy and distraction and humany wumany love that his companions bring to his life, he will always be the last.
The Lonely God and the Lonely Angel.
So, so Alone.
Tears will never be enough.
