Hello again. :D

DW not mine. Nope not at all.

Don't know what this actually is... but, it does have a vague spoiler for Series 6, if you've watched the new trailer...where the Doctor says that 'I've been running my whole life. Now it's time for me to stop.' so this is based on that line. No other spoilers.

This may/may not be the start of a series of Doctor one shots...but I have a few ideas... If it does progress then more one worded titles to follow! And if it doesn't, then these two lines will be deleted. If you have a word, then let me know!

Reviews are appreciated as it means I can improve! =)

Running

Time Lords have two hearts. But when one is mangled beyond repair by the destruction of his home planet, his people burnt and dead, the other heart is affected too. Left cold and numb with a crack running down the middle, a jagged line. So he runs, and tries to fill up the gap with the stars, the vastness of space and the beauties of time. Trying to keep it from falling apart. He runs to keep it safe.

Because he is the Oncoming Storm. He destroyed planets and peoples, and if he stays long enough to see what he's done, his effect and the consequences, his other heart might well break too. Icy shards splintering as they hit the floor, musical tinkling and crumble to dust. Last of the Time Lords.

So he ran fast and far. Occasionally he stumbled, tripped over and he looked back. Just turned his head round a little and glanced over his shoulder, in case his past was catching up to him. Forever running forwards because he couldn't bear to look back.

He had stood in front of Rose Tyler, waved the explosive device and then said, "Run for your life!" before he beamed and then ran off up the stairs. Only he had been lying then, he wasn't running for his life, he was running for a different reason entirely. Trying to fix things, events which didn't set well in his mind. Giving others a chance, whole planets a chance, when he was out of chances. Out of luck. And it dragged him down. Made his feet heavy as they took one step after another.

"Is it always like this?" Martha had asked him.

"Like what?" He frowned as he moved around the TARDIS console, flicking a couple of switches and whacking the monitor with a hammer.

"All this running." She replied with a wave of her arms and a half smile.

"Sometimes, I suppose." He shrugged, not looking her in the eye.

"But," she began, leaning against the railings, "Don't you ever get tired?"

He didn't look up to reply; instead he released the handbrake and sent them flying off into the vortex.

"You're mad, you are." Donna had commented once before, rather breathlessly. They had been running down a stretch of corridor as a troop of aliens with violent thoughts and ostentatious guns chased them.

"Don't you just love it though?" He grinned at her and she laughed at his face. There was a loud thud as the door was blasted open and they exchanged a brief look of panic before running once more.

The second time he picked up Jack, he could see it in the ex Time Agent's eyes. He had gotten old, even if his face didn't show it; there was something behind his eyes. They stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, and they both understood.

The thing was, Jack wasn't running from his past. He had welded himself to Earth, one place, one time and had stayed there. He was hidden, but he didn't attempt to leave. After all, what would he be leaving behind? The Time Agency had stolen his memories, years of his life. Jack hadn't made any attempt to recover them either. Just let it be, and he continued on.

The Doctor saw it, he envied him. His own past couldn't be wiped away so easily or covered up. It was in his very fibre of being. Wrapped around in Time and he could feel it every second, when he took a breath in. That was why he ran, it was there, yet he wanted to forget. Prejudiced, maybe, but it was only because he wasn't in the position to be free of it himself.

But he never realised that if he kept running, one day, eventually, there wouldn't be anywhere left to run. The ground under his feet would come to an end and he would be cornered. Hearts thumping with fear and dread. He would have to turn around, look behind him, into the past and relive those burning memories. Feel like he lost everything once more.

And then he would fight...and the ground beneath his feet would change into something different, the cries and screams in his memory would fade into silence. There would be another path, one he hadn't noticed before. Then he could walk away, not run, because his past would follow him, as always, at a measured pace, just far back enough for him to move forwards.