The Last Great Time War: part III

Epilogue

"Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise."
-Les Miserables

The Time Lord awoke to the sound of complete silence, lying on the floor of the TARDIS. He was surrounded by ruined wires and other debris. Almost all of the roundels were blown out, the console was blackened, scorched, and smoking, and the coral pillars lay in charred pieces all over the floor. The room was faintly illuminated, but from where he could not tell.

He pulled himself up. The two pieces of the broken bandolier hung over his shoulder, still attached by the buckle. He noticed a faint crack of light coming from the doors. He walked over and opened one.

The TARDIS was near Totter's Lane in England, where it all began. The early pre-dawn glow was hanging over the horizon. The stars were still visible, as was a brilliant meteor shower. Many worlds across the universe were experiencing similar showers. The Time Lord knew that this was the dust of the Time War, dispersing and raining down across creation. It was all that was left of the mighty armadas and engines of destruction that once threatened to destroy all reality. All that was left of the greatest threat history ever faced.

And all that was left of Gallifrey. It was gone. Just rocks and dust.

He wasn't just A Time Lord, he was THE Time Lord. The Last of the Time Lords. His people were no more, vanished from time and space. Forgotten except in myth, legend, and the memories of the higher species who were still in reeling in awe of the War's stunning, cataclysmic conclusion.

"They're all gone," the Time Lord said in his new northern accent as he stumbled forward. "I'm the only one left."

He watched the sun rise as the TARDIS repaired herself. It would take a long time for the repairs to be fully complete, but when they were far enough that the TARDIS could fly again, the Time Lord walked back in and flew away.

He went to memorials of the War. There were many of them. The mist-covered plains of the Eye of Orion, the Fifteenth Broken Moon of the Medusa cascade, the Grand Memorial Gardens of Moldox, and several others. All were connected to each other by spatial gateways that a person could walk through. At each one, there were enormous gardens of plants and animals. Each species was from a planet lost in the War. Not every world could be represented, but at least Gallifrey and Skaro were. The Time Lord shed a tear at a bed of Skarosian flowers of the same variety that Susan found fossilized all those years ago.

The Time Lord cut up the pieces of Cass's bandolier and buried each one at the obelisks in the center of each garden. These towering pillars were inscribed with descriptions of the Time War (as far as could be understood) and the devastation it caused, in order to preserve the memory forever.
Some even had tales of a mysterious lone survivor walking away from the destruction, the only one who could end it, carrying the weight of the galaxies on his shoulders.

"Warrior no more," said the Time Lord as he buried the last piece.

He went back to the TARDIS, and did not leave for weeks, months, maybe over a year. He didn't know what to do with himself or what to call himself. He couldn't even bear to look at his face.

Finally, at the TARDIS's insistence, he started going outside again. He tried on different outfits, but none quite suited him.

He did not remember the form that the Moment appeared to him in, but he did remember that it spared him. He did not know why, but for a long time he suspected it was a punishment.

But one day, he found someone in trouble, and he saved them. So that's what he started doing again. Saving people. Helping where he could. The War was over, but the work was not. There were still the power vacuums, refugees, and other threats to peace. This was bigger than him and his moping. It wasn't about him, it was about what the universe needed. It needed a Doctor.

Perhaps he couldn't fully live up to the promise of that name, but he could try. It was a clean slate, a fresh start. A chance to make good again. He need never look back on that life of War if he didn't have to, and no one else had to know. So when the TARDIS presented him with an outfit that contained a leather jacket very similar to the Renegade's, he didn't protest. It did suit him, after all.

The Doctor had so much to do. Not just people to save, but sights to see and adventures to have. He hadn't recovered, not by a long shot. The horrors of the Time War haunted his dreams every night, and the guilt and trauma were always present in the back of his mind. But it was a start.

Perhaps one day, maybe lifetimes in the future, the Doctor could forgive himself. Perhaps he'd realize that under the surface, the one who fought in the Time War to save creation was the Doctor the whole time. The most courageous of them at all, the one who was there on the day when there were no good options but did what he had to do anyway. The one who the Moment had spared out of kindness, not retribution.

But until then, he still had work to do. People and planets to meet and see, adventures to have.
And it was going to be fantastic.