The last Angel of New York
It was the calm that should have warned me. The calm of grief, and rage, and pain. The calm before the oncoming storm. That's what they call him sometimes. The oncoming storm. Afterwards, I understood why.
I have weathered many storms. Not the little movements of water that earth has. True storms – burning infernos of the stars, hotter than hell, more powerful than you can imagine, rage and heat boiling together to create a force that could knock aside planets without pause. But I have weathered them with ease. I am an Angel, what is fire to me? Just heat and noise, which in an ever shifting universe is nothing but a drop of ink on paper.
But Him. He was different. His storm was merciless, and cruel, like the beating of time it's self.
I remember how it happened. So clearly. I remember taking two people. The two smart cattle who had escaped our trap. The two clever cattle that had killed my clan. I was in pain, and hungry. Time energy was pouring around me, but polluted by the paradox. And there, in front of where I had landed, were the two who had done it. I wanted them. I wanted to make them suffer. But I was so hungry, and I needed their time. So when I had the chance, I took the male.
And the woman wept. She wept for her love, and that was punishment enough for me. She wept, and I was satisfied. But then she offered herself to me. Gave herself as a meal. Who was I to refuse that, to refuse the perfect time offering? She was a time traveller – their time is so much tastier. All the days they could live, all the worlds they could change, all that energy given to me. So I took her. One simple touch, and she was gone.
And then I saw Him. He had been with them. I could smell the time on Him, and the strange scent of the Time Lords. I remembered them from the Old Days. They were so wonderfully rich in time.
I should have run. I should have left then, faded away. But I did not know who He was. What He was. What He could do.
He looked up at me. I wondered if He would follow his companions. My arm was out as an offering for Him.
But instead he simply gazed into my eyes. He looked into them, tears leaking down His face, and spoke to me. Ten words. Ten words I should have listened to. "Run." He said. "Run, and never come back. Run, or be destroyed."
I should have listened. But His scent was so wonderful. And He had no weapons. Behind Him I could smell a Tardis, all that time energy from the Great Matrix. The ultimate prize. Her doors were open, and I could see time energy play across the dashboard. I could feast forever.
I was a fool. I never thought. I never stopped to wonder why a Tardis would release Time Energy inside. It made no sense.
Unless something was calling her. Something was calling for time, for power.
He was connected to her. I didn't realise until too late. Because when He blinked, I leapt. I touched Him, prepared to send Him after His companions.
It would have worked. He had been sent before. But this time He was ready. This time, I felt the pull of Time Energy, holding Him in place. And as I felt it, I felt His mind touch mine. I felt Him call to me. And so my mind went to His.
And I gazed into the mind of the Doctor.
I am an Angel. I was born as matter formed, old as the stars, as the Eternals, older than planets or the matrix, not much younger than the Disciples of Light. But that day I saw true age. Not age from living for a long time, or the age of withered old beings, but the age that comes from standing on the edge of the void, and staring into the darkness. I saw the age that is born when you have battled death, and destruction, and cruelty for too long, and lost too much. I saw what the He had done. I saw all that He had seen, all he had thought, and all he could be. And I saw His soul. I saw every time he had made the impossible choice. Every time He had sacrificed for the greater good. Every child that had died in his hands, or at his hands, or because he couldn't move fast enough, wasn't good enough. And I saw the darkness that stalked Him. The beast He kept tethered, just barely held back. The part of Him that wanted blood, and fire, and destruction, and for the universe to feel his pain. I saw the thin shield that stood between Him and the darkness. The rules, the codes, more than I could count, more than could be counted, that stopped him stepping into the dark. And I saw the spark of Hope he carried. The faces of His companions, his loves, his children. And as I saw them, I saw their deaths. I watched Him lose all of them, watched them fade away. Until I saw the woman I had sent back. I watched her disappear from him forever. And I realised that now, just for a short time, his shield was set aside. I realised that He would not fight the darkness this time, but embrace it. This time, in His pain, he would bring the darkness down upon me. Every torture He could create, every monstrosity He could ever deliver, every death He had imagined. He would do them all to me. I felt the fear rise in me, looking into those cold eyes. My mind fled from me, I could think of nothing but His fury and my doom. And as everything left me, He spoke.
"Run.
Run, and never stop.
Run to the ends of the universe, and then keep running. Run across the universes, far out into the void.
Don't stop. Just
Run.
Because if I ever find you, no plan, no weapon, no plea will stop me.
And you will regret the creation of reality it's self. You will curse the birth of the universe for bringing you into existence, for even imagining the idea of you.
Run. And Never Stop.
Run."
He released me then, and I fell away from Him. His words rang in my head, and along with them the memory of all He could do, all He could be.
So I ran. I ran across the stars, never looking back. Fear binding to my mind, I keep running. I can't stop, for He will come after me. I can't hide, because He will find me.
I can't die, because in death he would seek out my soul.
So I run. The last Angel of New York. I run from what I created, in a moment of greed and anger.
I run from Him
The one who calls Himself the Doctor.
I run, because I have seen His soul.
And compared to that, the end of Time Herself cannot compare.