'Verse: Personal canon—any 'verse, really. I'm sure he does this in his multiverse!verse, too.
Prompts: None, just me—and watching Castrovalva. This was a 30-mins., no real rewriting, I just want to write something, I haven't in ages piece. So rather stream-of-consciousness and undisciplined.
You often do, these days. It used to be all running, and saving, and the worlds around you, the universe, a blur of sights and sounds and new experiences and friends by your side.
It used to be wonder and each moment new and nothing constant except the beauty and the terror and the new faces you would see in a crowd, the eyes met across a room, the adventures. The invitations. The stowaways and the tagalongs, and the human beings you loved the moment you saw them and loved until the moment they left and love still and will always love.
Even though you destroyed their future.
Even though you ended what they become.
Because you chose. Because something in you said, yes, you loved them, but the universe mattered more. The final death of the destroyers mattered more than the possible life of those you loved.
So you retreat.
You come here.
They made repairs for you, when you came back, the renegade returning, to volunteer for the Time War. They didn't have to summon you. You knew. You knew that War would need you, and you knew there was nowhere to run. For the first time.
The TARDIS runs better now than it ever did, though it maintains those idiosyncracies you love, the round-and-round-she-goes-where-she-
stops-nobody-knows unpredictability of her travel. She doesn't have to. She does it because she loves you.
You don't know what to do with that. You don't know where to put that, how to accept that gift.
It doesn't matter. Because she gave it to you anyway. Your life, your body, your freedom, your mind. She remembered them all for you and put them back together and you are her labor of love and you cannot give that back. This gift that keeps on giving.
And taking.( The Zero Room. That's where you retreat to. )