A/N: Just a short, exploratory piece, obviously inspired quite a bit by The Girl Who Waited. Enjoy!
He sees all of the timelines- all of those tiny instances where he changed one thing, giving birth to a whole new set of events. But the alternate timelines are still there, as real and tangible as the ones that humans remember as actually happening.
she's not real not there not alive-
"She's real, she's there, she happened!"
Rose Tyler grows up with her loving father. Donna Noble makes a right-hand turn on her way to a job interview, and destroys the world. Amelia Pond experiences a happy, normal childhood with two parents. John Smith marries Joan and they have beautiful children and long lives. All those things that happened- or didn't- because he interfered- or didn't.
"Does it ever bother you, Amy, that your life doesn't make any sense?"
Parts of them will always remember the things that never were, the days that never came. But these things will be tucked deep inside, where only dreams can find them, and they'll never properly remember-
a daft old man who stole a magic box and ran away...you'll dream about that box...the bluest blue ever...
"When you wake up you won't remember me. I'll be a story in your head. But that's OK. We're all stories, in the end."
He knows he should stop interfering, that he's breaking all of the rules that the Time Lords set forth. Rules that were there for a reason. But how can he stand by and do nothing while those magnificent, stupid, brilliant humans are screaming, bleeding, destroying themselves, destroying others?
I can't I can't I can't help me please-
"What couldn't you do then? You couldn't just stand there and watch children cry."
The Silurians live peacefully alongside humans on the surface of the Earth. The Master regenerates and they travel the cosmos as friends instead of bitter enemies. The universe wilts to nothing and time grinds to a stop while he sits imprisoned in a locked box, waiting for the Void to consume him after erasing... everything... else.
"It's like there's a door inside of my head."
He holds these memories of the never-were and the could-have-been, and he arranges them next to the little boxes that made him angry and the camera-specs that showed him the consequences of his carelessness,
why must i get everything wrong-
" Whatever happens today will change future events—create its own timeline, its own reality."
and then he looks around his empty TARDIS, sighs, and sets the co-ordinates to where he wants to go (though it's doubtful he'll ever get there). He'll find new places and new adventures, will track down a new companion- because no matter how often things go wrong and how many timelines he produces and kills, he can't stop. He needs to keep running, and he needs a hand to hold.
i'm not a hero
"I can't see it anymore."