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War. It scorched through the stars, gouging holes in the universe. Time; devoured. Histories; re-written. Whole worlds extinguished because the Daleks and the Time Lords would not suffer the other to live.
Perched on an asteroid, the Doctor watched the universe plunge towards oblivion. Primed, watchful, ready to rescue the worthy and the innocent. Snatching them away to start over somewhere new, a merciful saviour in a filthy neck-tie and riding boots.
Another fighter exploded, a pitiful spark against the dark, burning for a second, then gone. It was not his war, and he would not fight.
Death beckoned, and the Doctor waited.