Another Doctor Who story! I was finally convinced into writing this one that I'd been putting off - the inevitable Death of the Doctor. This is assuming that the Doctor only has thirteen lives.

Please enjoy and review!

The stars had always been a wondrous thing to the Doctor. Even as a child, even before the Untempered Schism, before Koschei, and before Rassilon, before he even knew of a race called the Daleks, the Doctor had been fascinated by stars. He wouldn't sleep at night until he'd seen them, and would wake early simply to see them go, knowing that he'd see them again.

Kasterborous was his home. He'd never questioned it. Gallifrey. The home of the Time Lords, brave, mighty, and powerful. Sworn never to interfere, only to watch.

Somehow, that had never seemed quite right to him. Yet, he loved his people, and he swore to protect them. On the day he chose his name, he'd looked into the Schism again. And in it he heard the name that would one day be feared, awed, and eventually revered.

Doctor.

"Help me, Doctor!" he heard, "I want you safe. My Doctor."

He heard screams, he heard fear. He saw the citadel burning, weapons scorched and spears splintered. Shields lay across the crimson grass, unaided by a sword, and his people, his people, were strewn across the red fields as if they were merely sleeping. But through that, he still saw the suns burning high, the burnt orange sky keeping a watch over the once-mighty Time Lords.

He knew in that instant what would happen, and what must ultimately be done.

He spoke of it to no one.

And the next morning when he awoke, he remembered nothing.

And once he finally took to the stars, those things of his dreams, in a rickety old TARDIS, he never looked back, never once. An outcast, or as good as. He'd ruined friendships, left his family behind, never caring, never pretending. He kept running, just as he had as the young age of eight, and this time. he never planned to stop.

Because he wasn't that child. That scared child who huddled in his dormitory room, only to be discovered by his roommate, a boy who would later become the Master. He wasn't Theta Sigma, the student, playing practical jokes on the others with his steadfast best friend, Koschei.

Not anymore.

He was the Doctor.

He would go by many names, over the years, travel with many wondrous people. Those brave people that would come and go, those mere humans. Those humans that he once looked down upon, and had come to revere. Stupid apes, he'd called them, many a time. But he'd taken them for granted, all of them. All of those humans who had laid down their lives for him.

You're dangerous, he told himself, and heard the voice of Rory Williams ringing loudly in his head. "You make people want to impress you."

Oh, didn't he just know it.

Davros had been right. He never looked back. Because it hurts. It hurt to see what he had become. He never carried a weapon, because he didn't need to. Everyone else did. And in the end, what choice did he have? To save the universe, or save the people that mattered most to him?

You can't simply save those you love. Otherwise you're just a vigilante.

The universe had never been kind to the Doctor, never once. Never as a child, never as an adolescent, and certainly not after nine-hundred years of living. So old, so old now. Over a thousand, and still no kinder. Still no hope of finally getting his reward.

And what would that reward be, he couldn't help but wonder, if anything? Anything at all? All of time and space. Everything that ever was, ever has been…ever could be…all at once, all in his mind.

Something that no human companion, no matter how dear, would never understand, would never remember. Those who ever had were gone. Just as everyone he'd ever loved, he'd lost.

"Everyone leaves home in the end."

Maybe Rose had been right. His brave Rose, his Time Goddess. So selfless, so devoted. And where had that gotten her in the end? Stranded on a beach with a copy of himself.

Now, all he could do was hope that she'd had a fantastic life, a life he'd always wanted for her. She was always so much more deserving than him, deserved better. But she wouldn't hear of it. She promised to stay with him forever.

Now, in a way, she could.

A thousand years of memories, and then some.

He lay upon the TARDIS grating, short, lean body pressed against the glass-paned floor, ginger hair unusually a mess, as he struggled to breathe.

Thirteen lives, thirteen long lives, full of memory, love, and loss. Susan, who he'd left, a bitter old man. Ian and Barbara, who he'd kidnapped. Sarah Jane, who he'd left stranded, too much of a coward to even say goodbye. Adric, who had risked his life. Ace, who had the guts to stand up to even an old man such as himself. Rose, who taught him how to love. Martha, who taught him to always soldier on. Donna, who told him it was okay to not "always be alright." Amy, who believed in him as a fairytale, whose life formed around him. Rory, her steadfast companion and knight in shining armor. River, who had the timelines woven around her so that it even confused him. His River, who had died for him before he'd even known what she truly meant to him. A Dalek, a Dalek who cared. A human-turned-Dalek who saved his life.

"Remember me."

Oh, he had. Oswin Oswald. He remembered her as a hero.

Surely, after all that, he deserved some peace?

After the fall of Arcadia, after the Nightmare Child, after all the devastation he'd caused, all the deaths he'd brought about, surely it was finally his time? Finally, to reconcile himself.

He reached a shaky hand to pass through his silky ginger hair – oh, how he'd been so pleased, with that regeneration – and swallowed. He stroked the console lightly, and heard the TARDIS hum into his mind, heard his old girl's beautiful song one last time.

"I think it's finally time, old friend," he whispered, his voice soft and consoling as he heard a mournful hum, this time.

Her semblance surrounded him, wrapped him in a warm cocoon. Her thief, just as she'd been his. And always had been. Time Lord and TARDIS. Travellers, that's all. Travellers.

"But it's alright," he said, swallowing the tears he knew were yet to fall. "It's all okay. I'm ready. It was brilliant though, wasn't it?" His face adopted a sad smile as he still, even so, attempted to console his most faithful companion. "Everything we did. Everything we did together. Wasn't it?"

His eyes slowly began to cloud over, and then the tears came as he began to blink. Don't blink, he told himself, blink and you're dead. But then, he was already dead from the time he entered the TARDIS. Dying, about to die. A death, all alone.

And this time, he wouldn't bounce back. This was it, this was the end. His memories began to fade, and the Doctor reached out a weak, pitiful hand as he tried to recapture him. All of them, all his companions.

And then, only then, he realised…

He would not have traded any of those memories, the pain, the loss, the grief…any of it. Not for the universe. Not even for his life. To live or to die. He would go on, even just as atoms in the air. But his memories would live on in the hearts of those he'd touched, in the minds of those he'd changed. Even in the recesses of the memories of those who didn't remember, because they couldn't. Even in the souls of those who found others.

Always, because he would be their Doctor. Always their Doctor. No matter what form he may take.

And instead, now, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. The memories seemed to be fading, the pain seemed to be disappearing from his chest and through his veins. The poison seemed to be having the desired effect.

This would be the death of the Doctor. The final death.

There was no flash of gold, no pain, nothing. Just a white light, like the Void closing over, and then he was standing, his short, ginger self, blue eyes wide at the sight.

Everyone he'd ever saved, everyone he'd ever died for…companions, old and new, bright, shining. Brown hair, ginger, peroxide-blond, and all others. Everyone he'd ever changed. Everyone he'd ever once loved, or cared for.

So this, after all, was his reward. After everything. After all his pain and suffering. In the end, it was love.

His eyes turned upwards, and tears threatened to fall. Above him were twin suns, below him was grass as crimson as his blood, behind him, trees with leaves of silver. That ginger hair blew in the gentlest of winds, and he…for the first time in a long while, smiled.

Those constellations, those stars, still rested above him. Those very same stars he once looked out upon as a child, never knowing what he would see, never knowing what was waiting for him, what had always been waiting.

In the end, the Doctor returned to the stars.

In the end, the Doctor returned home.

Fin.

Review please! Tell me what you think, I'd be most grateful for your input. I know I didn't mention all the companions, there are some I'm more familiar with than others. Other than that, I just mentioned my favourites. ^_^

Cheers,

Teddy