AN: Just a little ficlet I came up with and had to write down. There's not much to it; it's just a little character piece. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I still don't own Doctor Who; I'll leave that to BBC and Steven Moffat.
The Doctor was laying in a field of rust and crimson colored grass. His headful of soft, nearly iridescently blond curls were splayed out like a halo. He closed his deep brown eyes and felt the warmth of the setting twin suns touch his pale face. He was thinking about the way his planet revolved about the suns. The suns were both very beautiful; they were very similar in a lot of respects, yet their risings and settings were a few hours apart. He loved the way the snow in the mountains would glisten in the sunslight.
It was summertime so he would have been back home for the season, which was fine by him. He loved learning but he hated the rigidity and the rules. He would wonder why the others at the Academy didn't see the universe the way he did; why didn't they find the beauty in every little thing?
He knows this can't be real. His mind is far older than the body he is in; the body of his childlike self, maybe twelve years old. He hasn't been a child in around 900 years. He knows this sunset will never be seen again, at least not in his waking life. So he dreams of it instead. He dreams of the shimmering silver of the leaves in the sunslight. He dreams of parents whose affection he can never feel again. He dreams of playing in this very field with a beautiful boy who no longer exists. It breaks his hearts that all of this beauty, all of his childhood, was destroyed.
But for now he just revels in the beauty of his Gallifrey, existing on a planet never to exist again, his mind in a body long since changed.
Maybe even his good dreams were destined to be tinged with the heartbreak that can only be felt by the last of one's kind.
The End