Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who
Spoilers: The destruction of Gallifrey
A/N: This was written because I couldn't get into my History homework, 'Was the assassination at Sarajevo the most important cause of the First World War?' I'm sorry if this upsets people because it upsets me.
In Flanders Fields
He didn't know where to go or what to do, all he knew that it was over. Genocide on a massive scale, it was over. Death, pain, murder, screams in his ears, blood on his hands. It was over. No more Daleks, no more Time Lords. No more Gallifrey.
If anyone had asked him what it felt like at that moment, with a regeneration just having finished, he would have told them that it felt like one of his hearts was being pulled out. That it felt like the end of everything, he would have told them that the few fragmented pieces of leaf and dust in his hands were all that was left of his home planet. That and his TARDIS.
The TARDIS, one of the worst in the universe before, now it was the last, grinded into life and soared far away from the burning remains of the planet Gallifrey. The TARDIS let the devastated Gallifreyan inside her grieve and mourn for his planet, the world he had lost.
The man, looked at the Time Rotor for a moment and then walked off into the heart of the TARDIS, he had to change. He couldn't, wouldn't wear these clothes ever again. They had the blood of his people on them and the burns of the flames that had burnt his planet. No, he wouldn't wear them again. He changed, into the first clothes he found that fitted him, what did he care anymore? Black clothes, black jacket, black jumper, black trousers. Black suited his mood. He felt the TARDIS land with a bump and he walked slowly and uncaringly into the consol room, there was no rush, nothing would happen. He still had the crushed up remains of leaves and dust in his hands and he put them down on the TARDIS seat, never to be seen again.
He walked out the door and saw poppies, poppies and crosses. Graves, he closed his eyes to the place, he closed his eyes to Flanders fields. The war was over, The Great War. The Gallifreyan tutted, war wasn't great, he knew that. He knew that, only too well. The smell of death and pain and sadness was still on the place, but then the man thought, it could just have been him, and there was no one there bar him and the TARDIS so he sank down.
He ran his hands though the poppies like a child feeling them against his skin. He stroked then and caressed them as if they would bring his planet back to life. He sighed, thinking of the pain and death that must have taken place here months if not weeks before. Why was there so much pain and death in the universe?
He wetted his dry mouth and for the first time since the death of Gallifrey opened it and began to speak,
"In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields"
The man looked down and closed his mouth. Why did people die? He never wanted to see death on such a scale ever again, why couldn't everybody live? Why couldn't Germany have made peace? Why didn't the Time Lords step back? Why did death happen? The man sighed and got up, as he stood he pulled a poppy from the ground and held it tightly in his hand, like a child holds a precious doll or a wife holds the husband she though she had lost and the man turned around and looked back at the poppies, red as blood, and swore to himself, that he would remember the dead but not forget the living.
With that the man walked back into the TARDIS and the only sound heard in Flanders fields was a whooshing noise that signified remembrance, pain and life.
Scout Girl