In the beginning, there was nobody to honour; nobody to remember. Life moved too fast and kept on going. No time to look back. But as Time surged along its chosen path, with the Doctor taking the role of its custodian, many men fell. The men's lives drew to an end in order to save those who deserved to live. The innocent, who were caught up in Time's conquest over all things, were saved by the only man who could. Each man died selflessly, sacrificing himself for others. Time's Eternal Guardian forever and for always.

x-x-x

Many years previously, he had sat in the TARDIS considering his past lives. To him they were mere echoes. Occasionally they would stray into the present and bumble around in plain sight, but otherwise the memories were locked away in a part of his mind at which he could only marvel. As he changed and became someone new, he became increasingly fascinated by the person he had been and what had led him to where he was now. It was impossible, even for a Time Lord, to discover the complete truth. Once that man was gone, that was it. The memories, thoughts, feelings were silenced and kept away from prying eyes. He was only ever able to scrape the surface information whilst that which definedthe other men was lost to him. The knowledge and information was tantalisingly within reach but he was never permitted to touch. So, one day, on one of those days where his past consumed his present, out of respect, he decided to honour those who had died.

The second Doctor had been employed by the Celestial Intervention Agency for the Time Lords. Just as a bargain to keep him from his inevitable fate for a little longer. One day he heard dark whispers about his term of efficacy coming to an end. The Doctor…well, this Doctor would die and be condemned to life in exile on Earth. The secrets of the TARDIS would be taken from him. The little man did not care to think what else the process would take from him. He remembered how he had watched Jamie and Zoe return to their own times without any knowledge of him. It had very nearly broken his hearts. His friends had been left with nothing. Their personal legacies eradicated in seconds. He was determined that the same would not happen to him.

So on, as it turned out, the last free period he ever got, his second self walked along the streets of Gallifrey's capital city taking time to admire the scenery and the people who occupied its streets. He was certain that he would not see them again for a very long time if the rumours were true. He had stumbled down an antiquated street, one which had not been abandoned by its population, when his eyes reached a sign makers. Suddenly, he was reminded of his insistence to leave a mark to remember things by. As a sly smile crossed his face, he walked into the shop and ordered a plaque to be made. The slate wasn't particularly large. No bigger than an average chess board, but to him it would mean so much.

His next problem concerned the placing of the plaque. Nowhere really lasted forever. Not even Gallifrey would last. He needed somewhere that could. Then it came to him. Just as he had been pulled out of time to help the CIA, he could, no doubt, using a bit of their technology whilst they were off deciding when it would be best to unleash his doom upon him, create a time pocket. Nothing major. Just find a twenty four hour period of time in which his monument could stand. Untouched by any but himself and whoever went with him. Apart from the rest of the universe. At long last, he settled for a small spot on Earth. He did feel a certain affinity for the planet and its people since staying there with Susan. He arranged for the plaque to be placed at the very edge of a large garden in the heart of England. There was nothing more prim and proper and would suit his previous self than an English country garden. The date he chose was the 23rd November 1863 and the house behind which the garden grew was called 'The Old Priory'. He picked a day where the sun was continuously shining and the birds happily flew over the grass, chiming their glee to everyone who cared to listen. A small section was cordoned off specially so that none of the contemporary inhabitants would go near. All that sat within the boundary was the commemoration itself and a wooden bench. Simple enough for him. No big monolith or tomb stone which would distract attention from the piece's meaning. All it said, carved into the ornate gold square, were the words 'To lives gladly given and those sadly lost.' A simple inscription which he had picked up from some place or other in his travels. He liked to think it came from Gallifrey, one of Rassilon's old quips, but he could no longer remember. All he knew was that this would be a sign of acknowledgement. His life had lasted so long that many places of significance had been destroyed, but this time was to be forever eternal just out of sync with the universe.

As a Time Lord he hardly ever felt the strain of mortality. How had Freud determined it? Something about humans being too scared to admit their own transience and so needing the presence of another to conceal it from memory. Well, the latter was certainly true. No matter how much he'd denied it, he did need someone. However, unlike humans, he did feel he needed reminding of his own impermanence. Otherwise, what was there to fear in death? This was his reminder. In the corridors of the CIA, the name Trenzalore had been pushed around in relation to him, but the Doctor had chosen to ignore it. In his mind, this little garden in England was to be his final resting place.

The Doctor had constructed the time loop so that the twenty four hours would simply go on turning forever. The technology that the process needed was child's play to him. It was quite pleasant going about the business of creating memory. He must do it again some time. With the loop completed, he left the small control room of the CIA and was instantly confronted by Co-ordinator Vansell.

'Doctor, it's time.'

-x-x-x-

As the years passed, a whole host of objects appeared around the golden block. At first, an ornate ring lay freely on the plaque itself. Lonely but proud. The ring lay there for many years all by itself. However, as time kept on turning, more objects joined it. A recorder decorated with a blue swirl that snaked its way down the instrument. A beginner's toy played by children as their first expedition into creativity. A frilled handkerchief with the initials 'J.S' beautifully stitched on the side, crumpled and torn. A long scarf of many colours crawled around the perimeter of the square. Tatty and unravelling slightly, it had been put to good use and now lay lifeless. A cricket ball. One that children would play with in their improvised pitches. All the elasticity had disappeared. The life had gone from its vital shape. The youth had disappeared. A cat badge had been half-heartedly thrown next to the square, as if glad that it was now gone. An umbrella with a question mark handle had been placed neatly in accordance with the scarf. Straight in line with the plaque out of meticulous honour and respect. The next object to be placed into memory was a golden goblet. Its shine and lustre had gone. Inside sat a broken fob watch. Time was at war. The new man never dared to note how long it had been since he had been the Doctor. It would only bring pain. A gap stayed empty between the goblet and the next object in line, as if that life was best forgotten. The next object was most peculiar of all. Next lay a single red rose. Frozen in time and destined to stay fresh forever, as fresh as his love for his lost soul mate; the one who had saved him. The latest item that sat on the block was a pair of thick rimmed spectacles. One of the lenses had been cracked. A thin slither ran down its surface.

This was his doing. This him. The Eleventh Doctor sat on the bench staring at the golden plaque. Part of him wondered why he was there. He didn't need to be. In fact, he'd never needed to go. Now, it felt like a duty. Every time it happened, he would leave an object that symbolised the man he had been. He hadn't wanted to come here immediately after the change. A long time had passed. The trauma of his last life clinging on with every fibre of his annoyingly thin being had made the change seem more poignant. He was getting old. Nearing the supposed end of his regenerations.

'Twelve regenerations, and that's your lot' Good old Hedin. A wonderful mentor for the young renegade. Pity about the trouble with Omega. Anyway, he digressed. He was rather good at that. It had gotten him into many scrapes over years. On the odd occasion, it had caused his journey to this place. This Doctor's eyes shifted from object to object. As he closed them, just for a second, he could imagine being that man again. The old man, but oh so young. The cosmic hobo. The dandy. The bohemian. The cricketer. The madman. The clown. The last Doctor. Then there was a gap. Something was missing. Something he'd blanked out no doubt.

Amy had decided to stay in the TARDIS. She didn't want to get caught up in all this sentimental nonsense especially when the Doctor was being nostalgic. His young features couldn't hide his age. She was still up for Space Florida. She was packing. Packing! Why on Earth she needed to pack he'd never know! Oh well, she was having fun. Her life was so different from the one she had in Leadworth. All because of him crash landing the TARDIS. Just after his change. Everything came back to that. That instance when he woke up as a new soul. He begrudged it, but embraced it. A peculiar feeling that he doubted others would be able to understand.

Amy's head popped out of the TARDIS which sat next to the bench. Her head was almost hidden by a large straw sunhat and bug eyed sunglasses.

'I thought those went out of fashion in the 80s?' The Doctor remarked.

'Everything in the 80s is coming back. Shoulder pads, Elton John….'

'The Iron Lady…'

'Who?'

'No matter. Anyway, let's get out of here. Don't want to be here longer than I have to be.'

'Why did you drag us here then when we could be in Space Florida?' Amy protested.

'Something I had to do.' The Doctor remarked.

'Well it's done now. Time to move on. Let's make this better than Rio!' She flashed her childish grin at him. Amy rushed in ahead of him. Not understanding the gravity of the situation. He stared at the small space. It would be the last time he saw it with these eyes. He intended to take in every detail. He wanted to remember. No matter how much pain it caused him inside.

'I wonder what you'll be like. You'd better be ginger!' he smirked. 'Because you'll be here soon. A year, a decade, a century. We all make this pilgrimage. I just hope you'll be worth it.'