a/n: And now this story is coming to an end. I can't believe I started writing it last October almost exactly a year ago. I hope you all enjoyed it.
I am planning one more story in this 'verse, but I'm not sure when it will be ready for posting. I am committed to it, though, and I'm looking forward to starting on it.
Many thanks to bittie752 who has become an expert hand holder and sounding board.
And as always, anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.
Three months later
The Doctor stood on a dark, snowy street, staring arrogantly at Adelaide Brooke.
Captain Brooke asked hesitantly, "You saved us?"
The Doctor strutted toward her, grinning. "Just think, though. Your daughter and your daughter's daughter… you can see them again. Family reunion."
She shook her head. "But I'm supposed to be dead."
He smiled smugly. "Not anymore."
"But… Susie, my granddaughter…" she said, "the person she's supposed to become might never exist now."
"Nah." The Doctor sighed deeply. "Captain Adelaide can inspire her face to face. Different details, but the story's the same."
"You can't know that!" she protested. "And if my family changes… the whole of history could change!"
The Doctor stopped smiling.
Adelaide continued. "The future of the human race – no one should have that much power!"
"Tough," he responded coldly.
She backed away from him in horror. "You should have left us there," she realized aloud.
"Adelaide, I've done this sort of thing before. In small waves, saved some little people. But never someone as important as you. Ooh, I'm good."
"Little people?" she said angrily, her rage increasing as she continued. "What, like Mia and Yuri? Who decides they're so unimportant. You?
"For a long time now, I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not," he said, returning her anger. "I'm the winner. That's who I am. Time Lord Victorious."
"And there's no one to stop you," she said, recoiling from him.
"This is wrong, Doctor," she responded. "I don't care who you are. The Time Lord Victorious is wrong."
"That's for me to decide," he said coldly. After a long pause, he continued with false cheerfulness. "Now, you'd better get home. Oh, it's all locked up." He pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. "You've been away. Still, that's easy."
Pointing his sonic at the door, he unlocked it. The door swung open and he put his sonic away.
"Is there nothing you can't do?" she said, fear and uncertainty in her voice.
"Not anymore," he told her flatly.
As Adelaide walked to her door, the Doctor turned and walked towards the TARDIS.
Who does she think she is, he thought angrily. I saved her. I SAVED her. And I can save anyone. Do anything. It's my choice. My RIGHT, as the Last of the Time Lords. The Time Lord Victorious.
Caught up in his mental diatribe, he missed Captain Brooke pulling her gun out of her holster as she entered her house and closed the door.
At the sound of a gunshot, the Doctor turned and slumped against the TARDIS. Shock and horror were written on his face at the realization of Adelaide Brooke's suicide.
"I've gone too far," he said quietly to himself.
As he stared down the street, he spotted Ood Sigma under a lamppost. He sunk to his knees.
"Is this it?" he asked tearfully. "My death?" As the Ood didn't respond, he continued. "Is it time?"
When the Ood vanished, the Time Lord stood and turned to the TARDIS, with a quick glance back at Adelaide's home. His hands shaking, he pulled his key from his pocket and fled inside. He crossed to the console, his eyes unseeing. Above him, behind him, surrounding him, he could hear the toll of the Cloister Bell as it echoed through the TARDIS.
"No!" he shouted.
In a bedroom in a centuries-old farmhouse on the outskirts of Cardiff, Wales, on a different Earth in a different universe, the Doctor tossed and turned in bed while in the midst of a nightmare. After a moment, the movements turned into thrashing.
"No!" he shouted.
Heart pounding and panting heavily, he shot up to a seated position, his eyes filled with fright and horror.
His shout and the sudden movement of the bed woke Rose from a sound sleep.
"What? What is it?" she cried and reached for his right hand. It felt as if it were on fire.
He turned to her, staring at her wild eyed, hair sticking up every which way, the pain in his hand and arm reflected in his face. He tried to catch his breath and slow his heart rate.
"Oh, Rose," he whispered, shaking his head, his expression serious and worried and still somewhat frightened. "He did something bad."