He had been called many things in this life; chief among them being The Oncoming Storm or, depending on who you asked, The Hero. The sounds of his TARDIS brought hope, even though he himself had lost quite a bit of his own hope on The Day. The day he burned his home to ashes, the day he realized that he could never go home again. He was travelling alone (too much pain after losing not only Donna, but Martha and Rose twice as well), when he had found himself face to face with another Timelord, one that he knew wasn't him.
He was short, only big enough to be a teenager at best. The younger (or so the Doctor assumed) sat next to a TARDIS undergoing a complete remake from the inside. The Doctor saw the smoke from the doorway of his own, blue police box meeting a steel-like tube. He hadn't camouflaged it yet, which had meant that he had run from something dangerous. The shorter Timelord turned, saw the man in the box, and yelled.
"This is your fault!" The Doctor winced at those words. How many times he heard them from so many of the Gallifreyans he had tried to protect?
"You just couldn't be crazy, you had to drag everyone and everything in with you. My family-" His voice caught in his throat as the tears began to fall. "They were there; they had managed to escape Arcadia just in time to burn!"
The Doctor looked at him for a moment with eyes filled with guilt and regret. "I am sorry. Every day of my life after, I spend my life running from that day, wishing that I could somehow make me the sacrifice for Gallifrey and how that pain was miniscule to those Timelords who lost everything they had ever known, those few who came back from their adventures just in time to burn. I am so, so sorry."
Seeing a Timelord break down was rare in and of itself, but seeing two Timelords crying and hugging out the pain that came with the loss and pain of everything a Timelord was well aware of receiving when they signed on, was never seen before.
Until today.