A.N. This was an idea I've had for quite a while now. I wanted to get into Gallifrey, to somehow get the Doctor back in a way that wasn't too abstract or all 'what, what, what?' I would imagen the Doctor would be held accountable for his crimes, and him and Rassilon were never buddies to begin with, so I just sort of went from there. I do hope to continue this, but again I have no planned chapters... Oh, and sorry for the abrupt ending for this chapter. I don't own anything.
The Doctor screwed his eyes shut against the violent onslaught of sensations and gripped his head, trying not to scream. His isolated mind had gotten used to the disturbing silence over the years, compensating only by forming a deeper connection to his Tardis. It was a poor substitute in hindsight, and as a result, his mind couldn't deal with the sudden input of billions of others, most screaming out in agony as frayed time lines were revived and abandoned all around them in a horrible continuous loop.
Shuddering and curling in on himself, the Doctor hardly noticed the two attending guards as they dragged a limp corpse down the hall. That body was never meant to last- what with the Master's botched resurrection and burning through his own life energy like it was nothing. But it surprised him that the Master even made it through the time-lock with them. In the few moments the Doctor had been lucid enough to realize what was happening, he had wondered if his own body would make it. His current regeneration wasn't a fixed part of the War. Though all possibilities and time-lines swirled across the War in their own twisted vortex, he had been certain that this wasn't one of them.
"…of the House of Lungbarrow."
The Doctor flinched in surprise and slowly managed to push himself into a respectable sitting position, the mention of his name- his true name- cutting through the pain and shocking him into the movement. The desperate cries faded to a dull murmur in the back of his mind as the Doctor forced himself to focus on the man in front of him.
The Lord President glared down at the infamous renegade, the hate and rage of his recent defeat clearly showing. Motioning towards the Doctor, another pair of guards quickly came forward and pulled him to his feet before locking a temporal stasis field around his wrists. A stupid pair of glorified hand cuffs if there ever was, though the Doctor didn't fight them.
He had no reason to.
Everything was ending; he could feel it- the approaching pressure in the time-lines, the churning possibilities all converging into a single definite strand. Today was the last day, the true fall of the Time Lords. Soon, probably only hours away from now, he would use the damning Moment and selfishly leave everyone else to burn in the fires of War. Including himself.
"Take him to the cells," the Lord President sneered, drawing the Doctor from his thoughts. "I'll deal with him later."
The Doctor narrowed his eyes, though remained limp in the guards hold. He allowed the Chancellery Guards to half walk- half drag him down the labyrinth halls that made up the Capitol, mindless of his injuries. If this was to be his punishment, then he would gladly take it.
Instead, he focused on keeping the thrashing minds at the edge of his consciousness out. They burned and stabbed at his mental shields, crying out for a miracle that no-one could give. Their minds hurt, the time-lines hurt- the entirety of Time itself hurt; burning and searing across his skin in nauseating waves.
The Doctor closed his eyes and sagged lower in the guards hold, letting them carry his battered body for a moment. What was left for him? He was- impossibly-back on Gallifrey, back home, only to have to wait in a diminutive cell for the ultimate end. By his own hand no less. The Doctor wasn't sure who he hated more, himself or the universes twisted sense of irony.
One of guards suddenly grunted and jerked him forward, jolting what was surely cracked ribs. The Doctor winced and cried out as he was flung into a small, glaringly white room. A quite hum started up behind him as he hit the floor, the sound of a force-field activating. The temporal stasis field around his hands disengaged, allowing him to push himself up against the wall, groaning as his left side protested.
The Chancellery Guards looked on with a practiced indifference, stasors held at the ready in case he tried to escape. As if. He had no reason to run, not this time. Where would he even go, so close to the end? It was useless.
He remembered seeing, in his eighth body, the crimson fields of his childhood burned and littered with the ugly, broken remains of Dalek ships and hulls. He remembered mourning the beloved orange sky that was choked gray by the collective masses of the Horde of Travesties, held back by only a remaining handful of N Forms. Even his House, the mighty Lungbarrow, had been devoured before his very eyes in a surge of Meanwhiles and Neverweres, their obscure forms shattering all they came into contact with.
No, he had no reason to visit what was lost to him in the depths of this hell.
Slumping down further against the wall, the Doctor let his eyes drift close, weary from the mental energy required to keep the screaming, raging voices out. All he could manage was to suppress them, shoving the cries into the darkest parts of his mind he could find. Slowly, so slowly he dared believe it, he began to nod off, leaving this horrible reality for the comfort of oblivion.
The mental screams of a mere child, at most only fifty years old, abruptly tore through the Doctor's abused mind, jolting him from his trance-like sleep. He clutched at his head as another anguished cry joined the first, followed by another and another until the very corners of his mind echoed with their pained voices- all calling out for help justice savior fear hurt time help need doctor help Doct-
"Stop! Just stop it." The Doctor shouted, his voice shaking with desperation and fatigue as he curled in on himself. He couldn't help them, he couldn't do it. The only thing he had thought to do was lock them all away, damning his people and his family to the eternal fires of hell.
"Well. If I had known this was all it took to break you, Doctor, I would have done it the first time you decided to mess about my affairs."
A slight humming noise started up, another force-field. The voices fell away into blissful nothingness, releasing their grip on the Doctor's battered mind. The black, empty silence of his own thoughts had never been so comforting.
Slowly, his head rose to meet the Lord President's malevolent gaze.
"Wha... What do you want?" He managed, his voice raw from the shouts.
"To be blunt- you."
The Doctor stiffened and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Why did he always seem to be on the floor before this man? The Lord President watched him with an expectant gaze, judging him.
Finally the Doctor rasped: "What do you want... me for?"
"Don't play the ignorance game with me, Doctor. Frankly, I'm insulted you would even try," Rassilon sneered. "We both know you're the only one capable of breaking the Lock."
"N... Nev-"
"You seem to have misunderstood. I'm not giving you a choice in the matter. Everyone always underestimates you, Doctor. Any being that has ever faced you, whether intentional or not, gives you choices. And within those set choices you manage to find another, one that selfishly benifits you, bending the rules."
Rassilon stepped closer to the cell and clasped his hands behind his back.
"You will open the Lock."
"And if I refuse?" The Doctor braced himself against the wall as he struggled to stand. His left side protested at the movement, throbbing along with his aching hearts. Regardless, he still managed to stand, glaring into the Lord President's eyes with the will to fight. Of all the chaos he had caused, he could at least contain the horrors he was responsible for.
Rassilon suddenly smiled, throwing the Doctor off guard.
"Did you know that in this current time-line, your son and granddaughter are still alive?"
The Doctor froze, his mind blanking at the casually uttered information. His vision swam and half-forgotten memories jumped into the forefront of his mind. He found himself on his knees a moment later, shaking and crying. It wasn't possible- shouldn't be possible. He had seen his son die multiple times; his only child's body caught in a vicious loop replaying the same gruesome scene over and over again. And Susan...his lovely Susan... he- there was so much blood and-
"No. They're dea- gone. Everyone is gone."
"Really, Doctor? You know how Time works here. I seem to recall several alternate versions of you running about in aborted time-lines. I've simply brought them back, quite easy when the vortex is too disfigured to care."
"Everyone is just going to die," the Doctor whispered. "Again and again and again; the same screams echoing throughout eternity. Do you know what happens at the end, Rassilon?"
The Lord President's lips tightened, though his mocking smile remained. Infuriated, the Doctor charged towards Rassilon, pushing and fighting against the shimmering blue barrier between them. His body ached from the fall and protested at the Doctor's rash movements, though he paid them no mind. The only thing going through the Doctor's torn mind was pain and revenge, wishing to inflict the same hurt on Rassilon that he had brought on him throughout his lives.
The Guards standing by quickly leapt to attention, stasors drawn. Rassilon merely waved them away, amusement glittering in his eyes. The retention field would hold the raging, weakened Time Lord easily; something they were both aware of. The Doctor continued to take his rage out on the force field, screaming and clawing at it in his frenzied state. Rassilon looked on, smirking at the renegade's irrational state.
"Don't worry Doctor; I am well aware of what happens. That's why you're going to break the Lock. If you cooperate, I might even let you see your family before I kill you. Guards."
With that the Lord President turned and left, the secondary force-field dropping as well. The Doctor was forced to stop his emotional barrage on the containment field as the mental voices once again assaulted him. The Doctor grit his teeth and slumped back down at the far wall as he fought to keep the tormented minds out. It was a decidedly impossible task as all Gallifreyan minds were connected at a base level, a solid presence in the back of his mind.
The Chancellery Guards entered soon after the President left, dragging the Doctor to his feet and marching him back out the way he came.