Title: Carry That Weight
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 3, 10_hurt_comfort
Prompt: 3, Anguish
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

He'd wanted so much for his home planet. For his people.

The Doctor sighed, gazing at the image of Gallifrey that he'd brought up on one of the Tardis' viewscreens. He never tired of looking at his home planet; it helped him to keep the image of Gallifrey amongst the stars strong in his mind.

As for seeing his home from the perspective of someone who lived there -- that was never going to happen again. Gallifrey was gone; he'd never be able to walk its avenues, see its burnt-orange skies; he'd never be able to enjoy being there again.

He'd never be able to feel that he was home again. Other places could substitute, but they would never really feel like home.

No place was Gallifrey. He might feel that Earth was a place he enjoyed being, with all of his friends there, but again, it would never be a substitute. Nothing would ever replace his home -- the home that was gone forever, due to his own actions.

Gallifrey would never be there for him again. And the sooner he accepted that fact, the better off he would be. He had accepted it -- but he couldn't get past his grief and guilt. They would be with him forever, no matter how long he lived.

He didn't want to carry that kind of anguish in his hearts and soul for the rest of his life. But no matter how much he attempted to put the experience of the Time Wars behind him, the Doctor knew that it would always linger.

Those wars had been such a large part of his life that they'd had much to do with shaping who he was. And his own part in them was indelible.

He'd never be able to erase those memories from his mind. There were nights when the memories would turn into dreams -- or rather, nightmares. He would awaken drenched in sweat, his mouth open in a silent scream that refused to come out.

The anguish that he carried deep within him hadn't subsided, even though it had been a fair number of years since Gallifrey had been destroyed and the Time Wars had ended. He had a feeling that the pain would never completely go away.

It was more manageable now, thank goodness. He could tell himself over and over again that he'd had no choice; what he had done in sacrificing his home planet and his own people had saved the rest of the galaxy from utter extinction. He'd done what he had to do.

But that hadn't made it any easier -- and it hadn't kept the nightmares or the guilt at bay.

Was there anyone else in the world who could understand his feelings? The Doctor didn't think so. After all, there was no one else out there who could say that not only had they condemned an entire race to extinction, but destroyed an entire planet as well.

Oh, all right, so there were warlike races who'd done just that. But they had no guilt, no remorse over what they'd done. They were far different from him; they didn't have his sensibilities. And they hadn't destroyed their own people.

The Doctor allowed himself a wry smile as a thought struck him. Maybe his own guilt and anguish over what he'd done made up for all the remorseless killers out there in the universe. But if that was so, then he was certainly compensating for a lot.

He couldn't take on the guilt of others. He already had too much of that piled onto his shoulders, like Atlas balancing the world.

Sooner or later, that guilt would weigh him down. He'd withstood it for this long, but if he didn't learn how to deal with it better and not let it eat away at him, it would destroy him. It would eventually overwhelm him, and he would disappear underneath it.

Just as he'd destroyed the millions of people on Gallifrey, cut them off in their prime. Just as his own actions had made them and their world disappear, never to be heard from again, leaving them only a footnote in galactic history books.

No. The Doctor shook his head, his lips compressing into a thin line. Gallifrey and her people -- his people -- were more than that. They might not be known throughout parts of the universe, but they were much more than just a passing mention.

His people would go down in intergalactic history. He knew that much. And he would be right there in that history -- as the one who had obliterated them.

The Doctor bowed his head, closing his eyes and letting himself lean against the console. He didn't want to see the planet that was on the viewscreen any more; just looking at his home brought the bittersweet, painful memories flooding back.

This kind of anguish shouldn't be something that anyone had to feel. It was too painful; it was too much for one person to take. Yet he'd made the decision to carry it, to let it weigh on his soul and become heavier with the passage of time.

When would it become so heavy that he couldn't carry the weight any more?

There was no way to know the answer to that question. It could be soon; it might not happen for another few centuries. But one thing he was sure of -- that guilt would catch up to him sooner or later, and crush him under a weight that would become too much for him to bear.

How much time would pass before he'd be able to put the Time Wars and his part in them out of his thoughts? That woud probably never happen. The pain of that time was never going to fade; and if it did, it would still be there, lurking in the back of his mind.

That was the worst thing about being the survivor, and dealing with the aftermath, the Doctor told himself with a heavy sigh. He was the one who was left to pick up the pieces and try to fit them back together haphazardly, in any way he could.

Only there were no more pieces left to pick up -- other than pieces of himself and his memories. There was nothing more left of what had been his home.

He opened his eyes, letting his gaze linger on the planet that filled the viewscreen. It wasn't there any more; he could never look out into the stars and see Gallifrey, know that he had a home to go back to. It was gone forever.

Sighing, the Doctor reached for the switch that made the screen fade to blackness. There was no use in feeling guilty; the choices he'd made had been hard ones, but he'd done what he had to do, no matter what anguish it had caused him.

He would have to learn to live with those choices, no matter how long it took.

***