A/N: So, Chapter 2 is now up! I decided to add this short bit in because I felt as if the Doctor deserved a moment of reflection/meditation on himself and his overall life. I do believe that the Doctor is the eternal optimist, but I also believe that he has periods of self-loathing that need to be more explored. Either way, I hope you enjoy it - and don't forget to tell me what you think. Allons-y!
They were flying – he and the Pandorica. Everything around him was shaking. Everything around him was vibrating so violently. The Doctor grunted and held on for dear life, securing his hands around whatever he could find. So fast... they were traveling so fast, all the way back up to the TARDIS. Back up to the explosion in the air. Back up to the one catastrophic event that would somehow manage to reboot the entire, bloody universe.
The Big Bang Two.
No one would remember him. Not River, or Rory... not even Amy. The whole of existence would forget his in only a matter of a few seconds. He bit his lip to keep from crying out at the thought and noticed his breathing grow more uneven as he continued to toss about his caged chair like a useless rag doll. No more family... no more friends... nothing. He was almost glad right about this point in time – the Doctor was glad that his life would come to an end.
No... that was wrong.
His life would never have even started.
The Pandorica's tremors picked up in measure as his mind raced with such terrible thoughts, and he felt his whole body clench and unclench as he fought to remain intact as the big, sickly box bruised and battered its way around him. They were flying – they were crashing... they were all wrapped up in some sort of cosmic tornado. It was hot... the Doctor felt his hands and neck slicken with sweat as they continued to near his beloved spaceship. Feeling his throat utter a desperate growl, the Doctor leaned his head back and shut his eyes for the last time, his memory jumping to the faces of those he would miss the most.
He suppose that this was the end that he deserved. He was old – he was an old man who had lived too long. Too long... and had done too much. Running for all of that time – he was exhausted. He didn't want to run anymore. He didn't want to do anything anymore. He'd managed to destroy so many lives in the process of his own. His one life. So... what did that make him?
Oh, right.
It became him the Time Lord Victorious.
He was a murderer, a liability... a monster.
But even then... every lonely monster needs a companion, right?
Swallowing hard, the Doctor's lips parted as his matted hair fell around his temples. He allowed this to be, and remained focused on the thoughts at hand. It no longer mattered that he was hurting. It no longer mattered that the universe had imploded on itself because of his actions alone. It no longer mattered that everything was coming to an abrupt and impossible end.
Because he was going to fixthat.
The Doctor would fix everything.
Every last, little detail of every single thing was going to be alright.
Because that is what the Doctor does.
That... is what he does.
Sucking in his last mouthful of air, the Doctor braced himself for impact as the Pandorica shuddered powerfully, and he felt warm moisture brim behind the closed lids of his tired eyes.
"I'm so sorry..." he whispered to the universe, hearing the simple words immediately dissolve into the noise of his collision.
Feeling the air leave his body, the Doctor went limp as the Pandorica trembled for the final time, leaving everything in complete and total darkness.
He was then simply... gone.