Playing the Universe
Things had been going well lately, which had come as a bit of a surprise, really. He was alone right now and while he was actively looking for a companion, he had been on a few solo adventures to spend the time, meeting people and socializing.
He didn't do too well on his own; he had found that out the very hard and painful way. So, he made it a personal mission to go somewhere to have fun and be around people and interact with others at least once every week.
It was oddly working for him. Not well, and he found himself venturing outside the TARDIS to meet people more and more often now, always on the lookout for that next special someone who would be a good choice for a companion.
He had just gotten back from having a visit with Jenny and Madame Vastra, staying for a few days in Victorian London and enjoying the company of friends he didn't have to pretend to be normal around. Before that, he had spent 24 years with River, showing her exactly how much he loved her.
Since his time in the confession dial his normal had altered. While most rotations blended together in his head, he occasionally got glimpses of the first few goes in there and the time he had been stuck would catch up to him and he'd wake up screaming out for Clara, even though he knew she would never be there again.
It was oddly easy to tell River, Vastra and Jenny that she died. They then believed he was dreaming of seeing her die again.
He still had no memory of her that was personal. He'd never get those back, but something in him told him to stop looking after he had gotten his TARDIS back from the woman with the Diner TARDIS. It didn't surprise him that the Time Lords would want to keep an eye out on him again now he knew they were back, so he let it slide. At least she had been nice and listened to him.
But now, alone again. Just him and the universe, wide open for travelling in.
He had parked the TARDIS near a nebula and stared at it for what felt like minutes but was truly over an hour, before he went over to his guitar and picked it up. The black and white one he got himself ages ago, before everything bad that happened. The red one he kept as a monument to the months he spent on Earth trying to find the TARDIS and, to his frustration, his then ongoing search for the missing person in his mind.
He carried his guitar to the TARDIS doors, wide open so he could enjoy the view and slung the instrument across his back, reaching up and out, climbing the sides of the TARDIS so he could stand on her roof, sure in her ability to catch him if he fell.
Slowly, he made sure the instrument was in tune, before he began strumming out his thoughts and feelings to the universe. Sure, he knew outside the bubble of air the TARDIS was providing nothing could hear his music, but it made him feel bigger than he was, better in a way.
He played a few tunes he liked at first, trying to match his mood with music, but soon got swept away in the tide of his own tune, his own personal song. He belted it out for whatever tiny part of the universe cared, over and over again. He played loudly, he played proudly and he lifted his head, opened his eyes and was floored.
The time streams opened up in front of him and the tune changed to fit with them, ebbing and flowing with the ever changing patterns of the universe itself. He closed his eyes again, still feeling that connection and smiled widely for the first time since he didn't remember when.
He was suddenly filled with a wild, rich, furious joy. He threw back his head and laughed, his hands never stopping on the guitar strings. His eyes filled with tears that spilled down his cheeks, but he didn't dare wipe them away. He remembered crying, even if this body was not partial to it.
He had forgotten what it felt like to be happy. He was being given a gift and he would hold onto it for as long as it would allow him to.
He began to move, rocking on his feet in gentle motions back and forth, to fit the music.
He had the universe, their songs intermingling and his body following along. He was still wanted, still needed. For years now, maybe for a lot longer than that, he had forgotten even that. His purpose had lain in tatters on the ground of Gallifrey, scraped into the sand in a long line of dirt. Trapped in the body of a woman he had murdered simply for standing in his way.
It was time to let go of his past failures, make up for them and do what he did best. Run towards his future and grab hold of it with both hands.
Slowly, without really noticing, the music died down and stopped. His fingers were bleeding, stinging from overuse, but it didn't dampen his mood. In the background of his mind, always there but dampened back down to normal for him, the universe's song played on.
He was time's champion and he would never forget that again.
He kept up the rocking motion for a few extra minutes, still high from his emotions, before even that came to a stop.
His eyes, opened to the universe once more, dried from their own workout and he grinned his true smile, his real smile into the blackness of space. Softly, so softly it would barely be heard if someone was standing right next to him, he let out a gentle, heartfelt "Thank you," before he slid off the TARDIS's roof and back inside.
With his mind still full of possibilities, he ran to the console, put in the first lot of coordinates that popped into his head and waited.
He was sure this next trip would take him to his future. Wherever that may be, he definitely knew one thing.
It was exactly where he was meant to be.