A/N: Holy batman! A new chapter! I know I'm a failure at updates. Thanks for those who put up with me anyway. I have actually mapped out the last couple chapters, so the end is in sight, and I might actually get some time to finish it! Additionally, I did some major editing on all the previous chapters which was loads of fun (actually, it totally sucked) but there were some bits that should now make more sense, so if you started reading this a bajillionity years ago, and you're looking at something that's confusing. Well, it's entirely possible that I changed it. It should be just minor tweaks, plot wise. Most of the edits were just making it vastly LESS TERRIBLE! Any who, thanks for reading! Love the reviews! Always up for a critique as well!
"Um, what was that?" Rory asked in a tone verging on panic. His eyes darted back and forth down the largely empty halls, he was almost certain he had heard a gunshot. It echoed down the halls and masked where it had come from originally.
"Oh, I've been shot." The Doctor said dismissively, his face set in a frown.
"Oh my god, are you alright?" Rory's instincts kicked in immediately and he began to search for the exit wound, wondering where he could find some bandages to patch it up. "I don't see…" He stopped his search and peered curiously at the Doctor who showed no signs of being injured at all.
"Well, not now." The Doctor shrugged. "Not me now. Me before." He waved his hand as though that would help Rory to understand and ducked down another corridor that looked the same as all of the others.
"You?" He turned to James; he looked no more injured than the Doctor had.
"Naw, before me. Well, before him too."
"But…it's happening now…" Rory felt as though his brain were about to do some serious damage.
"Yeah," James saw how bewildered Rory looked and stopped. "It's…complicated. What do you say we just forget it?"
"Done." Rory agreed.
"There's a good lad." James grinned. They rounded the corner and stepped through an open set of doors leading back to the council chambers.
"About to go on a little trip, are we, Rassilon?" The Doctor spoke to the cloaked figure that stood at the top of the dais, peering into the Eye of Horace as it cracked and spun, suspended within the protective dome, it had been supporting the time lords for eons. Rassilon turned to face them; rage contorted his face into that of a monster.
"You are a difficult man to destroy." He sneered.
"Yeah, I get that a lot actually. I always tell people it's in the legs, but of course, no one listens." The Doctor shrugged. "Oh, guards!" He clapped as two men in capes and headgear stepped in from the side entrance. "You've got us good, Rassilon! We're doomed! Oh, hang on, what's this? Oh, you're all wearing the same bio-signature dampeners to avoid the Dalek's from finding you up here? Hope I don't do something rash with that kind of information." The Doctor pulled out his sonic and as Rassilon recognized it, his face turned to shock.
"Doctor!"
"Oops." He held the sonic screwdriver aloft and flipped it to its highest frequency; Rory had to plug his ears to keep the noise from drilling into his brain. The guards dropped where they stood and Rassilon collapsed on the dais, struggling to keep himself conscious as the Doctor lowered the screwdriver with a grin. "Hope I didn't overload the power cell."
"Did you kill them?" Rory looked back at the guards, horror crossing over his features.
"Of course not Rory, I always set my phaser to stun." The Doctor walked slowly toward Rassilon who clutched at his chest, beads of sweat forming across his forehead. His other hand lay limp on the ground, but as the Doctor tried to approach, he tried to lift it, made one last effort to attack. "How about I just take that off your hands for now, shall I?" Rassilon wore a pair of the gauntlets, but he could feel which one was the original, and which was the fraud. He plucked the glove from his right hand, it slid off easier than he expected. He looked from it, to the Eye of Horace and knew what he had to do.
The glove slid onto his hand like it had been made for him, the metal seemed as though it fused to his skin as it went on. Impossible for him to tell now where his flesh ended and the glove began. It was instantly warm like the rest of him; he slowly flexed his fist and inspected it carefully. There was no damage, no marks to imply its age, and yet he knew it was the one; this was the Hand of Omega. Of that, there was no doubt. Each beat of his hearts coursed more of the power through him, probably why Rassilon had stayed conscious while his guards had fallen. This one little glove could shift whole universes, change entire time lines without consequence, he could reprogram the human race to live for centuries at a time, he could make it so the Time War never was.
"Doctor?" Rory spoke up quietly; the change over the Doctor's face had made him nearly unrecognizable. A sly grin had stretched across his lips as he stared wide-eyed at his hand.
"Quite the feeling, is it not?" Rassilon spoke from where he still lay, clutching his chest. "All the power of the universe, in your right hand."
"Yes," He responded, finally noticing everyone else in the room again. He blinked once but continued to stare at the glove. "It is."
"You know now, what you could do. What that kind of power could create." Rassilon managed to lift himself into a sitting position with his weight supported by the throne. "And what you could destroy."
"There's been plenty of that already." The Doctor spoke remorsefully.
"Yes," Rassilon spoke in a whisper. "And now you wish to do more. But just think, think for one moment. What if you didn't have to destroy Gallifrey? You are the Doctor after all, is it not your calling to heal our wounds instead of aggravating them?"
"I wish I could. I wish I could be more." The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Rassilon. "And yet here I am." He turned to the Eye of Horace, it stood silently in the dome, glowing brightly like a white-hot star. But it was just the seal, protecting it; he knew that within it was the darkest black, an endless void through which no light could escape.
"You are here because of what the war has forced me to do. What the Dalek's have forced upon us. Perhaps I am a foolish old man, I think only of Gallifrey, of my people, can you blame me?" Rassilon shook his head.
"No," The Doctor frowned. "I suppose I can't."
"I see that hatred burn within you, Doctor. I know how it consumes you, that blame, that guilt. All those lost lives, all those tragedies. But it doesn't have to be that way. Doctor," Rassilon's voice rasped but he spoke with intensity. "You do not have to suffer alone. Suffer needlessly."
"He's not alone." Rory finally spoke up; the way the Doctor was listening to this man was starting to concern him. This same man had turned Amy to stone and laughed about it. "He's got us."
Rassilon shot him a dangerous glare and Rory found himself taking a step back instinctively. "Humans," He spat the word out. "They are not your people. Look at them, weak, cowardly, fragile like glass. They are not fit to be companions to you. To travel the whole of the universe, all of the stars, and all the galaxies; and you are trapped with tourists." He laughed. "Fumbling apes who look to you to protect them. You are not a shepherd, Doctor. You are a wolf. You should be with other wolves."
"You cast me out, long ago." The Doctor spoke, but it lacked any real emotion behind it.
"We only did that because you so cavalierly threw us aside all those years back." Rassilon chuckled good-naturedly. "To be spurned by your own kind, in exchange for such a weak little species." He shook his head. "You must understand why that made us so bitter. Join us Doctor. Heal our wounds. Save Gallifrey, and yourself."
"But." James spoke then, eying both the Doctor and Rassilon warily. "In order to do that, you have to blink everything else out of existence." The Doctor blinked and finally took a moment to look up at the rest of them, but his eyes were filled with sadness.
"Yes, such is the price to live forever, among your own kind. To be reborn as a being of pure consciousness. No physical needs, no weakness; only strength. And you would never be alone," He had the Doctor's ear now. "Ever again. Never wander lost without hope, the last of your kind. You don't have to be that man anymore."
"We're still here." John said determinedly. "What you want is death for everyone, Rassilon."
"Not death." Rassilon glared at John. "Death is what you bring when you go gallivanting around with this common species." He spat the words out and returned his attention to the Doctor. "It would not be a death, it would be a 'never was'. To cease to have existed in a universe that was never meant for them. Would that be so wrong?"
The Doctor looked at Rassilon for a long hard moment. The need was within him, that need to not be the very last; to not have that burden placed on him. Rassilon knew that, he could see that dark mark on his soul, and the words he spoke all sounded right. What could be so wrong about that?
"He's not alone." John said fiercely, repeating Rory's sentiment and walking toward the Doctor.
"Aren't I?" He gave a sad smile and stared down into nothingness. "Who do I know that won't eventually leave me? Who among you won't wither and die, leaving me here again, alone?"
"It doesn't matter." John took the Doctor by the shoulders, shaking what sense he could into him. "That's not the point; it's not all about you. Life is for living, not avoiding pain. It's miserable and horrid and exquisite all at once. The miracle of births, the tragedy of war, watching a species reach further than it ever has before. It's all worth it, it's worth everything. No matter how alone you may feel. That doesn't matter."
"He's wrong." Rory spoke suddenly. The Doctor's distant look cleared a little and he looked directly at Rory.
"What?" James was incensed. "What do you mean 'He's wrong', I have it on good authority that he's never wrong!"
"Well, it does matter. But even if you are miserable sometimes, even if you feel alone. There are times you aren't. Amy once told me, about when the two of you saw Van Gogh. She said you told her something that made her feel better. That life was made up of piles of good things, and bad things. And the thing is, I think you've got quite a lot in your good pile. But all you're thinking about now, is the bad pile." Rory mumbled at the end, not sure how to finish his point and uncomfortable under the full attention of the Doctor. "It does matter, but…you know it matters more that the world continues. Because if it doesn't…" He didn't know what else to saw.
"Van Gogh killed himself." The Doctor said bitterly, remembering the cottage filled with beautiful paintings.
"Van Gogh was alone." Rory shrugged. The Doctor's eyes glittered then and his lips slowly curved into a smile.
"He's just a human." Rassilon insisted, realizing he was losing the Doctor. "He is limited by a weak physical form and mind."
"Hush." The Doctor's eyes were still on Rory, but he held the gloved hand out to silence the President. "It's not about what he is. It's about what he could be. Thank you for reminding me, Rory."
"Not a problem." Rory nodded and felt more comfortable when the Doctor's gaze finally returned to Rassilon.
"It's about potential, Rassilon. Rory here has got loads of it. He wants a family, he wants to be a doctor, he wants to grow old with Amy." He grinned at the thought of the two of them finally settling down some day. "And there are billions of people just like him, wanting all sorts of things. Oh, Rassilon, you should see it. The things they'll accomplish, it's mind boggling." And then his smile faded. "But you, with a time traveling empire. All of space and time, the things you could do. And yet, when I look into your future, there is nothing. You were always heading for this. Always going to bring the universe to a complete halt, denying everything an existence simply so you can live forever. Eternal peace, but also, eternal damnation. Your existence has stagnated, Rassilon. You are nothing."
Rassilon sneered at him, up on his feet quicker than any of them expected. "A betrayer to the last." He growled and launched himself at the Doctor.
"Look out!" James shouted, John spun to see him coming and threw himself between the dagger and the Doctor.
"No!" The Doctor shouted, but it was too late. The dagger hit home, John and Rassilon tumbled to the ground, John emitting a painful groan as he fell. The Doctor raised his gauntleted fist, fury plain in his eyes, but before he could unleash it, Rassilon began to vanish.
"Ah, it is time to go Doctor. Can you hear the drums?" He grinned and dissipated entirely.
"No, no no no!" The Doctor shouted, yelling his frustration at nothing.
"I've got to get something to stop the bleeding!" Rory was leaning over John who was growing paler as he laid there, a dark crimson spreading through his shirt.
"John, you listen to me. Hang on. You've got Rose out there waiting, right? You know how angry she'll be if you…" The Doctor sniffed and shook his head. "Best not to think on that. Just hold on." He stood and tore some of the cape from one of the fallen guards who still had not stirred and tossed it to Rory. "See what you can do with that." He then turned his attention back to the Eye of Horace. Opening his hand slowly he shook and let out a slow breath, hesitating a moment. "This one was still difficult to make." He spoke mostly to himself but nodded once and brought his hand closed into a fist. The ground around them rumbled and the building itself groaned. "Get back to the TARDIS. I'm going to wait for Rassilon." He strode over to the throne and sat himself down.
"What? You can't wait, you've just unstabilized the black hole, this place is going to be torn apart!" James shouted at him.
"I've got two minutes. Leave the vortex manipulator." When they didn't make a move to leave he stood again. "Go!" He shouted.
Rory didn't want to argue with the fury in the Doctor's eyes and he didn't want to stick around to find out exactly what James meant by the place being torn apart. He hoisted John into his arms, who moaned pitifully and started back down the path they had taken in.
"I'm not leaving you!" James argued defiantly. "Not after all this."
The Doctor smirked. "You left me ages ago; you're the man that could never be."
"I could travel with you! You don't have to be the last anymore."
But the Doctor just shook his head. "It's alright James. It's okay, I've got it sorted. You better go; John is going to need you." He said with a sad smile. James could see he was determined and thought of Rose then, and how she'd never be the same if he let John die.
"Don't lose yourself." James locked eyes with the Doctor until he nodded once, and then he turned down the hall to run after Rory.
"Good luck." The Doctor muttered to his retreating form.