It was so quiet in here now. Even the constant barrage of thoughts had dimmed some time ago. The black was all encompassing, feeling long forgotten. He's not even sure if his fingers exist anymore. If they did, they were as lifeless as he was. His hair a bit longer, still all sticky-uppy, but he thought it was only because of the regenerative field that kept him his youthful guise.

A hollow feeling in his chest, heavy and almost drowning him in nothing. He wanted something, anything to stop the hollowness. He begged and pleaded. Someone please. I'll do anything. Please let me out please.

Usually his enemies would answer. They'd try to kill him. And he'd welcome that. He'd even thank them. Just please, let him out.

It occurs to him, in the passing of the rare thoughts, would he be able to see again? His eyes have been in the dark for what feels like centuries. Animals born and raised in dark, cave-like environments always went blind in their lifetime. After all, other than the nightmares, he hasn't seen anything other than the inky dark. It was maddening on his senses, his hearing so sharp he felt he could hear his blood being pumped to his toes.

To make matters worse, the moments trickled by, so painfully slow, as if each microsecond was stretched out to an hour. The familiar turn of the planet spinning was making him nauseous. He hated it, loathed that this place was trying so hard to train him to never run again. To be pliant and obedient, to tame the Oncoming Storm. What was worse was that he was slowly starting to comply.

He had tried to fight it for so long. It was who he was, what he'd been doing for so long. His wanderlust had kept him so tied to his morals.

But after he thought about his love for running through time and space, he began to feel the coolness of something slipping into his blood stream. He didn't know what specifically they were for. The needles had ingrained themselves into his wrists since his first hour had passed in the prison.

The dull ache came when he expected it to. These weren't the nutrient tubes or the hydration drips. The nightmares were coming again. It wasn't subtle, something constant and painful whenever it was used. A drug from some foreign planet it hurt to try and think of the name of. He started to panic as lucidity was beginning to slip away again, and he was just left in a state where a single thought couldn't enter his head. He gripped the armrest, manacles tightening against his arms to ensure he doesn't try and hurt himself or yank out the drug line. He's tried so many times to resist that he felt the manacles dig into his hands and something start to compress his chest that he had to rely on his respiratory bypass to keep him somewhat awake. His head felt like it was stuffed with lead and if he even thought about moving it sent his head into a spin.

His wardens had made him see so many of his failures. So many faces of those he failed to save. Their haunting eyes, begging for something he could never give them. I tried. Oh good Rassilon I wanted to save all of you. You all deserve so much better.

And then there was Adelaide.

Her eyes scared him the most. Her gaze of pure disgust that made him feel ever the failure of a Time Lord that everyone expected him to be. He broke the sacred rules of time. He warped them and laughed as he spit on the very essence that kept the universe stable. All because he was just so tired of losing. Tired of rules and delegations and pride that stopped him from saving all of those people. All of those people (wonderful, stupid, brilliant people) that had marred his sleep and he spared no day without thinking of them. It was because of them that he always was counting his limited blessings on his fingers and his failures that were just as endless as time. He just wanted to save someone for once, a day where everybody lived. Could he not have one more day like that? But his hearts had finally said enough, and he impulsively just began to fight all of that he was taught to obey. And of course it had to be on the bloody Bowie Base One. Of bloody course.

And it proved to be his worst mistake since The Moment.

The eyes were back, staring and searching for a man that no longer existed. Or maybe never existed at all. All that was left was what he himself was beginning to acknowledge as unquestionable truth. About what he was.

A Monster. A Warrior. A Killer. A Coward.

Never a Doctor.

And with that knowledge, he screamed as once more the Pandorica subjected him to his darkest fears.

Outside, a dusty TARDIS mourned that she couldn't protect her Thief. Her precious pilot. His telepathic connection to Her was severed. He was completely cut off from Her, and She could hear his thoughts. The screams, the swears, the despair.

She had never heard him so hollow.

The TARDIS tried for so long to send messages to his Strays, the ones he brought along and taught and changed the world. But something kept stopping her, enough to the point she almost activated one of the protocols to teleport her out of Stonehenge in order to send it. But She could never leave her beloved Thief. Until she found a crack in the fields surrounding Stonehenge, the ones keeping her messages from sending. A crack, worn away by the centuries spent here in the dark. She reached for it, desperately, throwing her own power into it, so similar to what her Thief did for her in the parallel world to give her life back.

She sent it through her keys, to any electronic able to receive it nearby. just a few words, a single message to as many connected to this Thief as possible.

Beneath Stonehenge, help me.

Timelines shifted and changed but She didn't care. What She hadn't realized was which keys got the message, including ones that shouldn't be possible.

First story written in such a long time! I've missed it and I hope you all enjoy it!

Dragon Out!