When he finally opened his eyes, he wished he hadn't. It made him feel sickly, but then he couldn't close his eyes again. He lay staring up at the dark ceiling for a while, not finding the energy to move. Everything seemed to be happening very slowly, and his brain had stopped working. All that it was really concerned with at the moment was keeping his hearts beating. He lay there, listening to his own pulse, waiting gradually for his brain to start up again. He had started to take in his surroundings now. That had to be a good sign. The TARDIS had changed. She had grown into something new (it reminded him of coral). He sat up, feeling dizzy, and uncoordinated, grasping at the console with unfamiliar fingers. He pulled himself up, feeling weak still, and trying to will his legs into working. He felt ill, and leaning on the console, reached up to touch his face.
The curls were gone, replaced by very short cropped hair. Carefully, he ran his fingers over his face, examining his new features (what had happened to his ears?). His clothes didn't feel comfortable anymore. He'd need to find some new ones once…
He remembered. Forgetting how bad he felt, he stumbled quickly at the screen tied to the console, and nearly overbalancing (he wished he could get used to this body sooner) and checked the message. Three words flashed up on the screen.
"Time Lock Engaged"
It was done then. He brought his head down with a thump onto the edge of the console and groaned. They were all gone then? Even her? Yes. All of them, except him. He really wished she hadn't been so stubborn. Maybe he could have persuaded her to leave with him, but somehow he knew she would never have gone. Even though she wasn't President at the end, she still wouldn't have abandoned her people. He felt a tear slide down his face. And the worst thing was… He killed her.
He'd killed them all.
Strong she may have been, but there was still a limit, even to her. Wringing her hands in worry, she stared out of the citadel window, watching the fire and destruction: watching her people die. A single tear slid down her face, and she felt helpless for the first time. She had no confidence left. Even now she knew the Council was moving against her. They wanted her deposed. That was disheartening. She heard the door open and close behind her. Quickly, she wiped the ear away, whilst disguising it as brushing her hair back.
"Yes?" she asked, putting on her face of authority that was almost second nature now.
"Romana?" She relaxed slightly, recognising the voice and turned around.
"Doctor," she said, but that was all. He walked across the Presidential Chamber to her and looked into her shining brown eyes.
"How are you feeling?"
"I can survive," she said, and turned away, looking back out of the window. He watched her emotionless face with a knowing expression.
"You're worried," he said. She sighed.
"Doctor, of course I am," she replied, pangs of distress, coming through in her tone. "You know I would be and I have right to be."
"But you can hold on, Romana, if I know you at all."
"And if I know me, I don't know for how much longer I can," she sighed and looked down at her feet. "You know there is already talk in the Council to depose me?" He shook his head.
"No. I didn't know that."
"Well," said Romana, and stopped. "That's it isn't it?"
"Why?" he asked. "Why depose you? I thought you were doing a good job."
"Not good enough, I'm afraid," she sighed. "The Chancellor has mentioned that the Council may vote for appointment of Rassilon."
"Rassilon?" She nodded.
"Yes. Rassilon." She looked at him, hearing a sigh, and watching him run one hand through his curls. "Now you know?" He nodded.
"Yes," he said. "I thought you were doing a good job, if that's any conciliation." She smiled slightly.
"Not particularly," she responded, but it may be better later.
"But you know the Daleks," he said, waving vaguely out of the window. "If anyone could have led this War, it was you." She smiled.
"There's no need to try and console me, Doctor."
"Romana…"
"No, please." Her voice cracked for half a second on the word 'please', but she managed to hold together. She bowed her head. "I wasn't elected for this," she whispered. "I wasn't ever mean to watch innocent people suffer and die as I struggle to help them."
"I know…"
"No," she shook, her head. "You don't. You may have been elected, but you were never here. You have never had to deal with the pressure, especially during a war." She stopped. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean…"
"Romana…"
"I just don't know what to do anymore."
"Romana…"
"I'm just struggling now and…"
"Romana…"
"I just…"
"Romana…"
"I need…"
"ROMANA!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. She stopped speaking and stared back. He looked sad somehow. "Please," he whispered, and kissed her.
That was surprising. She really hadn't expected that, and she was very taken aback. So much so that when he pulled away from her she spent the next minute or so, trying to think of something to say, opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish several times. She must have looked ridiculous.
"That… I… You… We… You… It… You… That… Really… That wasn't… You should…" He waited patiently for her to be able to string together her set of nonsensical words into a reasonable sentence. "That wasn't…" she settled on and then paused.
"Yes," he prompted.
"That really wasn't … appropriate," she said, making a violent attempt to force herself back into her 'President of Gallifrey' authority. He smiled, but she didn't understand why. "I could have you arrested for that," she stammered, but he continued smiling.
"But are you going to?" he asked. She opened and closed her mouth again and then grabbed him by the head, pulling him close to her.
"Help me," she whispered too him, feeling a tear on her cheek again, and she kissed him back.
Kiss Me…
He sat back down on the floor again, now having lost the energy to remain upright. His mind was aching. To occupy himself he tested all of his finger joints. He seemed to be all right: physically at least. He needed to work up the energy to get up. Once he had done that, he may be able to go and get a new set of clothes. These old ones didn't seem right anymore. However, no matter how much he tried to distract himself from the events of before his regeneration, he couldn't. He had killed them. They were all dead. The War was over, but at what cost? It was the cost of his own race, family and of her. He stood up again and hobbled in the direction of the wardrobe. He still needed to fix himself up.
Romana…
His hand shook. He knew what he had to do. She had told, him, but he didn't know if he had the strength to do so. She had willingly acted against the Council to send him away.
It must have been the most difficult decision she had ever made...
She said she'd stay behind to throw the suspicion off her. She knew Rassilon had been watching her and it was only a matter of time. Besides, Rassilon wouldn't care about what happened when the War broke the barriers they had stationed around it. She would though. Like him, she had taken a certain fondness to the humans and they couldn't let them be destroyed in a War that wasn't theirs.
Which only left one option.
Cleanse the wound by destroying everything inside the barriers: daleks and Time Lords alike.
If that was the ultimatum he said that he would do it but now he was here he wasn't too sure. He had never particularly been fond of his own race, but the thing was he could not bring himself to kill them. There were people he loved back on Gallifrey. The remains of his family were there and so was Romana. It would end the War, but everyone would lose. He swallowed, and looked back at the computer again. She had set the reactors to blow simultaneously across the zone: ten million ships and millions on both the warring planets. Two almighty races, wiped out in a single second. That War had cost him so much already. No parent should have to watch their children die.
"Doctor." The sudden message startled him, but he pressed the communicator anyway.
"Yes?" Her face appeared on the screen.
"Everything is ready. You'll have to do it now, or Rassilon will find out what we've done." He bowed his head.
"I can't do it, Romana." She really didn't like that.
"Do you think this was an easy decision for me either?" she asked. "But it will end this War, and that's what we always had wanted."
"But this way no one wins."
"The innocents do," she said, and looked up at him. He felt very guilty all of a sudden. "I am not going to have the blood of other races staining our battlefields," she said. "It was hard enough to watch my own race die. I can't drag fledgling races into this merely because they were in the wrong place. Please tell me you understand, Doctor." He nodded.
"I never wanted this."
"Neither of us did."
"Romana, come with me. You still have a chance to survive this." She shook her head.
"I can't," she said. "President no more, but I still have to do my duty. Besides, the Council will know if I go missing."
"I don't want to lose you," he said. "It was hard enough the first time." She smiled at him.
"I'll be all right," she said. "And I know you'll be. You'll carry on. Isn't that what you've always done?" Something beeped on her end of the line and she looked at something.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Time," she said. "You'll have to do it now." His hand shook again as he raised it over the button.
"Is there no other way?" he asked. She shook her head.
"I'm sorry, but I think we passed that stage a long time ago." He looked down at his hand again, then back up at her. "Doctor," she said.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?"
"Everything." There was a pause. "Go on." He looked back at his hand again. "Press it." He swallowed.
"Romana, before we..."
"Just..." she waved her hand now looking upset. "I'm sorry, Doctor." He touched the button but didn't press down.
"Romana, I..."
"No, don't say it," she said. "It'll just make everything harder. I know. Just do it." He paused. "Please." He nodded.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and pressed the button.
"I love you."
Nobody remembers Romanadvoratrelundar, and no one ever will. The Time War was hidden from all races and those who knew were destroyed. There is a carving on a cliff face on the planet Crafe Tec Heydra showing a great war of metal and flesh, then silence, and a lonely figure emerging from the destruction: destruction that he had caused. It is an interesting thing though, that every so often a single yellow flower appears at the foot of the cliff, under the scratched message "You are not alone". Nobody knows who brings it there or what it means, but it lies there always. Through the ages it lies there and no one knows what it is, although some suspect it is from that lone survivor of the Last Great Time War: the Lonely God, as a memorial to someone or something he lost. But no one will ever know who or what. That's all there is: a flower.
Always...