He didn't want to live forever.

Humans and Daleks and Time Lords and any other sentient creature in the known Universe wanted to live forever.

But he didn't.

It wasn't that he wanted to die—no, that would be silly when there was so much to enjoy in Life. It was just that Death didn't scare him, not anymore. Not for himself. He had died many times already—he had returned to life, of course, but that was the curse of his race. He held no fear for Death. Sure, it would be regrettable, after all, there would be so much left undone. But, he had no desire to live forever.

Eternal life was a curse.

What was Life without Death?

It was like sunshine with no clouds. Darkness with no light, happiness with no sadness, love without loneliness. Without pain or sadness, what would be the purpose of happiness? The Universe was infinite and beautiful and there were such terrible, terrible things out there but it only served to balance everything. The Universe was balanced on a point, held only by the equal sides of both Good and Bad. If the scales were tipped, more would have to be added to keep the Universe from destruction. Life and Death were the same.

How could you ever accomplish something if you never ran out of Time? How could you sit on the sandy beaches of Brighton or watch the suns set on Gallifrey and truly enjoy it if you knew that you would always have time for another? How could you live in the moment if you had infinite moments?

He walked in Eternity but he hadn't chosen to do so.

He knew that Life would end and Death would come but he was unafraid, even as he looked Death in the eyes. He didn't want to live forever. He didn't fear Death—in fact, he welcomed his end with open arms. He had loved and lost and loved again, forever loving and forever losing, some willingly, some unwillingly. He tried to be kind, tried to be the man he once was, long ago, but it was a lie. He loved the bright lights that were Humans and he loved the Earth, a stupid blue rock in the middle of nowhere. He took people, ordinary people, and made them shine like supernovas. He would occasionally take one for himself, take the Human (or other humanoid creature—he wasn't picky) away from their planet and show them what was out there. He loved sharing the Universe with someone he knew could be great. And, when they finally left, he had made sure that they would be the best they could be (though, sometimes, he would push too far and the tiny, insignificant being would shatter and run, fed up with Life and Death and his power over it).

He only feared Death when Death tried to claim one of his pets. After all, that's what they were—pets. He adored them and treated them kindly, but they were so small, so insignificant next to him that he couldn't think to call them anything else. They were his pets, kind and brilliant and wonderful, but so very fragile. He protected them from Death as much as he could, willing away its cold claws, sacrificing himself on occasion to save someone.

He didn't fear Death.

Sometimes his companions (his friends, his lovers, his pets, his hopes, his dreams) would burn so brightly that he had to let them go (Sarah Jane, Martha, Romana, Ben and Polly, Leela) and he let them, for their sakes. Made them, in some cases. Other times he had no choice as they were ripped from him (Zoe, Jamie, Donna, the Master, Susan, Romana, his people, River, Rose, Peri) but, most of the time, they found where they would be brilliant (Jo, Barbara and Ian, Martha, Steven, Nyssa). Occasionally, Death would steal one of his companions (Adric, Sara, River) or would come too close (Tegan, Dodo) and they would run.

He loved them all, each and every one of them. The pain of loss stung but he was addicted to the affection (the love, the worship) of those tiny, insignificant life forms. He only took the best, teaching them everything he could, teaching them to be better people. He was a god among peasants, a Lord of Time and Space, able to do whatever he wished since there was no one to challenge him, no one to stop him.

He didn't fear Death.

He was dying of radiation sickness, a slow, painful death, and he knew that he was wrong. His song was ending, coming to a close as the next song of Life (a new Life, a new person, no more pain, no more guilt, no more misery) began. He had seen them all, the Time Lords, his pets, and he had done what he could. He had used his power over Life and Death once more, for the last time.

He knew his Time was through; this body was going to die. He knew that he, Time Lord Victorious, shouldn't be allowed to continue. Death was the only way.

He died in his TARDIS, energy rippling through his new body and he felt the cold stare of Death again. He welcomed it, allowing Death's cold fingers to take his hand for a moment. He died and was reborn, a new person. He looked up at Death and thanked her as he lived again.

He didn't fear Death.

He feared Life.