Notes: Rated for implications of dark themes. Inspiration and the last four lines belong to T. S. Eliot.

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This is the way the world ends, with the push of a button and a raging inferno.

This is the way his hearts break, with echoing screams into empty silence. The last scraps of his innocence are gone, burnt away with his planet. The TARDIS forces him to regenerate, and he allows her to drag him from the darkness, despite wanting nothing more than to be swallowed by it. He can feel his ship groaning around him, the Universe shuddering with the aftershocks of the War, and knows that he's needed.

He shrugs on a leather jacket, and moves on.

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This is the way the world ends, with a white wall and a confession cut off.

This is the way his mask cracks, with a pitiless gaze on dying children. The last scraps of his mercy are gone, sucked away with his Rose. Donna shakes him from his paralysis, and he allows her to drag him from the flood waters, despite wanting nothing more than to be swallowed by them. He can still feel Rose's warm embrace, her fingers in his, and knows that she wouldn't want him to give up.

He sets the controls to random, and moves on.

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This is the way the world ends, with a gunshot and a malicious refusal.

This is the way his soul fades, with choking sobs over a madman's corpse. The last scraps of his dignity are gone, ripped away with his best enemy. Jack gently pries him from the body, and he allows the captain to drag him from the despair, despite wanting nothing more than to be swallowed by it. He can feel Jack's tender concern, Martha's worried eyes on him, and knows that he can't hurt them more than he already has.

He fakes a smile, and moves on.

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This is the way the world ends, with a glimpse of the unattainable and a necessary betrayal.

This is the way his hope dies, with numbing cold inside his chest. The last scraps of his strength are gone, wiped away with Donna's memories. There is no one here to drag him from the emptiness, and he wants nothing more than to be swallowed by it, swallowed up until he can't think anymore, can't hurt anymore. He can feel the TARDIS murmuring on the edges of his mind, and knows that it is not enough.

For once, he cannot move on.

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Ashes, ashes, they all fall down.

He can't do this anymore.

(I win.)

He's not sure he ever could to begin with.

(How many have died in your name?)

He is so, so sorry.

(I love you.)

He wasn't –
He couldn't –

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.