All rights to Doctor Who are the BBC's.

PS: I hate Steven Moffat. *sniff*

As the Doctor set foot on Trenzalore for the first time, he wasn't sure whether the terrified feeling he had deep down was his or his TARDIS'. That's all that Trenzalore was – a graveyard, spread on the surface of what used to be a town, if not on the surface of the entire planet. As he studied the graves, he could see almost every known race in the universe, the way he had only seen once before in his life – when the Pandorica opened three hundred years earlier, and they all gathered in order to lock him inside.

Clara, walking by his side, was unaware of the meaning of the diversity of races. He could, however, hear River Song directing her to the answers she was looking for, directing her to the entrance to his grave. He knew she would be there as soon as Clara, his Impossible Girl, mentioned her and Trenzalore for the first time. He knew she would try to protect him, even though he did not think she could. No one could. It was the end of the Doctor, somewhere in the near future, and deep down he knew there was nothing to do to avoid it. At last, the Doctor's enemies have won.

And then, after entering what used to be his TARDIS, he realized how come he had seen her so many times before. She ran into the time stream, his time stream, in order to save him the way she had done so many times before, leading him to everything he had experienced ever since he stole his TARDIS. Billions of years of time and space flashed in the blink of an eye as the Doctor entered his own time stream and saved Clara.

But even as they left the planet, even as they rematerialized back in London and each of his friends left, even as he continued traveling in time and met his past incarnations, Ten and the War Doctor, he could never forget that one day he would end up back on this planet, and this time will not leave.

"Trenzalore," She said, and for the first time in his long, long life, he felt relieved.

Twelve hundred years. It's been twelve hundred years since the day he was born. Right there, on the planet waiting in the other side of the crack. On the other side of the crack in the universe lay his planet, his orange-brown planet, with the orange sky and the red grass. His planet, the planet that almost burned what seemed to him like thousands of years ago. His only home. Gallifrey.

Some days he thought his twelve hundred years were actually millions of years. Billions of years. He saw the creation of the universe and he watched it burn as the Master regained his memory. He watched his people burn every night for four hundred years as he relived the Time War over and over again. He was there as the only people he has ever loved disappeared from his life, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Some days the burden he was carrying was too heavy even for him, and so he tried to forget; move on; pretend like nothing ever happened. But deep down, the things he's seen in his life were still burning up his soul, attempting to regain control over him.

And so as Tasha said the name of the planet, as she told him that this was the planet in which he would live until the day he dies, as she said the name of the place he had seen so long ago and yet was still burning in his mind as if it happened the day before, the Doctor finally felt relieved. As he looked around at the town called Christmas, his mind battling with his heart about whether or not he should speak his name, he knew that this will forever remain the only unanswered question in the universe. And even though Gallifrey was his home and the Time Lords were his people, the Doctor knew he could never find a better place or time to die in.

Because like he told Rose Tyler once, everything comes to an end. Even the Doctor. And even though he almost never thought he would say this, the truth was that he didn't mind dying, not anymore. Even though he was terrified as he first set foot on Trenzalore, and even though he knew there was more to do in the universe, he was finally peaceful. Twelve hundred years of memories were bothering him no more. As he stood there, in front of the place that became his home, he knew that once he dies, once this final war ends, he will finally rest right where he always wanted to rest. His home.

And all of a sudden, he was not afraid anymore.