So. Here he was again. The Last of the Time Lords. The whole of space and time waiting for him.

And he didn't know where to go.

He never did, at times like these. Running alone, it was that much harder to see the path ahead.

He wondered, briefly, when he had begun thinking of himself as running, and then he remembered and wished he hadn't. Some memories were better off forgotten.

So he thought of different ones.

He had always known that as you dash through the crowd some of the passersby were caught up in your wake and swept along with you for a little way. He had known that if you caught someone by the hand you could pull them after you, a companion on the journey.

But what he hadn't seen, what had taken him far too long to realise, is that every so often as you ran and ran across the universe, you would pass someone who noticed you, and who caught you up and ran beside you and asked "why are we running?" and who you would run with you whether you had been looking for them or not.

There was still a universe out there.

He forgot, sometimes. He knew the track so well, knew every inch of it, and there was never anything new and there was so much there before that had since disappeared. But when he ran with someone, they didn't see the pieces missing. They saw only the beauty of the new whole, and they fell in love with it all, and he fell with them, and for a while he could remember what it felt like when the universe was shining and new and he ran for the sheer joy of it.

So he would run with them all, and they were brilliant, every single one of them, and he didn't deserve any of them for a second.

But they couldn't run forever.

Of course, no-one could, not even him, although he would try for as long as he still could because there was always something chasing him, and in his hearts he knew what he was running from was a past that stretched longer with every footfall.

But sooner or later everyone had to leave, and as he left them behind he always hoped that the things they had seen would make up for the ache in their legs and the catch in their breath and the uncrossable distance between where he left them and the roads they had walked before.

He hoped that they were happy, after the run was over, but he didn't dare circle back and check, because if they weren't what would that mean for the next time? and he didn't want to run alone.

So instead he just kept on running, never looking back, on his own with nothing but the road for company, until the next one found him and it started all over again.

But the road.

Yes, things were different now, because he never really was alone, and he had known that before but now –

They had talked.

They never should have been able to and certainly never would again, but they had talked, however briefly, and now he knew. She was there, always his, marking out the path for him to follow, guiding him forever on to the next step along the way. She was always running beside him, and just once, they had talked.

And that was enough.

He smiled, and paused with his hand on her console.

"Take me where I need to be," he whispered. "Just like you always do."

He pulled the lever, and they ran on into forever.