Oh my gosh, I forgot to update on Saturday. You can shoot me.
oOo Doctor, oOo
It doesn't last.
It does stop up your voice. That all-consuming bit of time that you always ran from (Ten most of all) - it swamps everything else. Everything is open behind it. But for one silly second, a count of one, a tap on a drum, regeneration swallows it all.
And you stop.
It's like riding a wave. You know the ocean is ready to crush you, yet you feel like you have a measure of control.
You ride it out into sight, and find that you're lying on the floor, cheek in a pool of sticky blood, gaze fixed on Amy's eye.
She blinks.
You start back.
It feels like everything in the universe starts back, too, everything. Like the mountains copy your movement. This, this is too much power.
"Doctor?" She says.
You pull yourself to your feet (the sky raising itself) and offer her your hand - she gets up, shirt drenched in blood, but without a trace of pain on her face.
"Rory!" You say, voice far, far too loud.
Because everything else is muffled. Every power. Every heart you hate is beating at half its normal rate. Silence has fallen.
And somewhere out there, the Order of the Silence have all hit the ground.
Rory stands up, eyes clear of hurt.
You kneel beside a little wrapped form.
"He's gone," you say, voice blank. Pick the body up. Press it close. More red on the red on the red on the red on the red on the -
"Why can't you bring him back, like you did to us?" Rory says, voice oddly muffled. He's rubbing his arms like he's trying to shake off the feeling of death.
You weren't dead. He is. Healing is easy. Souls are not.
You stay quiet.
There's someone hunched at your feet - the redheaded Extractor.
You don't feel anything emotionally. No hate. And no compassion; he isn't dead. That's what you just stopped. But in the few seconds you were letting yourself out, he was drained to the last of his energy. Which has all gone to you.
What you do feel is a physical push, toward him. He isn't a fixed point. So kill.
It's like resisting the urge to scratch an itch.
And with the focus on staying away from that, you feel all the other itches around that you'd love to blot out. This place is a field full of flowers to pick.
Oh, why not? They'll die anyway, when your past comes around with a gun that erases planets.
No, no, you couldn't. You know you pity them intensely, somewhere in your heart, a place that is being blocked by this raw power.
You take a deep breath.
"Come along, Ponds."
But it isn't funny, it isn't happy, it's an order from the Master of the Universe.
Little family heading home from a long day. All dead - one inside, two in the universe named "what should be". One in the arms of his father, who is crying tears of Time.
It's quiet as deafness.
There's a TARDIS, the one they took you to Trenzalore in. You don't even have to touch a control - it lands you noiselessly beside your old one, back in the city.
She's repaired herself, lying in a heap of ashes, sparkling clean. You consider just leaving for a moment - it's another destructive, nagging urge - then decide you could never and go to her.
Take off.
What's a time lock when Time's on your side?
But even Time has trouble. And when you're done, you feel your connection slipping like a landslide, pebbles scraping on pebbles, away, away.
And when it's gone, and you're left floating in the middle of space, normal, safe space, you're empty.
Amy takes a step towards you. "Doctor? Doctor, are you all right?"
That's funny. You laugh, so hard tears wet the creases around your eyes.
"Doctor?"
Lean against the wall of the TARDIS, slide down, curl in and over the baby. Wretched.
The emptiness spills from your chest. You're drowning inside. That's what drowning is, water in the lungs. Well, you have acid in your lungs and you're coughing it up, salty, poison in your stomach.
You've never cried like this. Not since the Time War. Not since the Time War. The war. The blood in your wrists, you can feel it, too hot. Your muscles cramp, your face coats itself in tears. No one bends down to comfort you because they can't. Comfort is for children. Hands tremble as you run them over Theta's curls. "Wake up," you tell him. "Wake up."
Disobedient little thing.
"Why couldn't I stop this?" You sob.
You turn your glittering face up to Amy and Rory, who have backed away. "They had to kill him so much faster than you two?" You say. "Why aren't you dead, and Theta -" you push back his curls again, looking away from them and back at his eyes.
They're still open.
You lurch to your feet. "Please, kill me too," you say, stumbling towards the Ponds.
Amy shrinks away, but Rory steps forward, and steadies you. "Doctor."
You shut your eyes, head flicking distractedly like there's something buzzing and you're trying to get it away.
"Doctor," Rory repeats, and puts his arms around you. A minute later, you feel Amy join, and they're crying with you. You stay, curled in, stiff.