Title: Dust in the Wind
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: R
Table: 10_per_genre
Prompt: 1, Death
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

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The Doctor strolled along the winding path through the woods that the Tardis had materialized in, looking around him but not really seeing the lovely view. He had too much on his mind to notice his surroundings, no matter how pleasing they were.

Maybe he shouldn't be so morbid on such a beautiful day, he mused, squinting up at the sky at the bright sunlight that filtered down through the leaves. But it was hard no too, given what he'd been brooding about for the last several hours.

Death was something that came to every living being, of course. He didn't question that. But it seemed that death found the people close to him all too soon -- or that he was responsible for far too many deaths that weighed on his mind.

So many of his companions had died during their time with him. And there had been times when those deaths had been his fault. He might not have caused those deaths directly, but he'd been responsible for them, even if he hadn't wanted them to happen.

It didn't really matter that those companions had willingly sacrificed themselves for him, or for the good for the universe. Their deaths still tore at his soul.

Others might think that after so many centuries of living and watching those close to him pass on, he would be used to the concept of death removing treasured friends from his life. But it was something that he would never get used to, not as long as he lived.

There were people in the universe who thought that death was noble and proud, something to acutally look forward to. The Doctor wanted to snort in derision at that attitude; there was nothing noble about dying, at least not in his eyes.

Yes, people could sacrifice themselves for a noble reason. But it didn't negate the sadness of those left behind, or the wrenching guilt that the survivors could feel. He knew that from bitter experience; he'd been carrying the weight of his own guilt for longer than he could remember.

And then there were those who hadn't wanted to die, but who had been thrown into situations where death was inevitable -- unless some hero in their midst had managed to save them, to pull them back from the edge in the nick of time.

It always fell to him to become that hero. And he always tried. He tried his best, and sometimes he succeeded. But not always.

That guilt cut into him more deeply than a knife at his throat. The fact that he couldn't always be the conquering hero, that he couldn't save everyone. there had been more deaths caused by his inability to be the hero than he could count.

Some of those who had passed on could still be felt in the world -- or at least in his own sphere of it. He could still remember Adric with affection, and there were times when he could swear that the spirit of the young man was still with him when he was needed.

Were all of those people who had sacrificed themselves for him nothing now but dust in the wind, only memories that would cease to exist when the people who could remember them had passed on into another dimension? He didn't want to think that.

The Doctor sighed, stopping to lean against a tree trunk and look up at the bright sky above him again. Maybe the kernel of truth that he was trying to bring to the surface in all this musing was that he didn't want to be forgotten when the last person with any memory of him was gone.

He didn't want who he was in this body to fade from existence. He loved this body; he loved the person he'd become since he'd been in it. He didn't want it to fade from the world.

That was the way of existence, wasn't it? People were born, they died, and only a vague memory of who they were continued on into the future. Only a very few distinguished themselves enough to burn brightly in the memories of others through the ages.

He didn't want his light to burn out. Oh, he would be remembered by many for centuries; his exploits in the galaxy had become the stuff of legend to some. But that wasn't what he wanted; it didn't matter if he as a single entity was remembered.

He wanted to be remembered as he was now. This particular body, the man he'd become while he was residing in it. He didn't want the memories of this regeneration to die away, to become hazy and unformed and eventually not exist at all.

Each time he regenerated, he died. The person he had been died, and even though he retained all of his memories and even a part of the personality he'd had in his last body, a virtually new man walked away and continued to live as the Doctor.

He didn't want to die. Not this time. This was the first body he'd ever had that he actually liked enough to want to remain in it for as long as he possibly could.

He didn't want to become dust in the wind, either in his life or in other people's memories. He wanted this incarnation of who he was to be remembered long after any regeneration he lived through in the future was gone, to have who he was now immortalized.

Was that possible for anyone? He sighed at the thought, kicking a pebble away from under his foot. It bounced along the path before it disappeared from view across the path he'd been walking on, hidden in the tall grass of the woods.

It was more than a little daunting to think that he wouldn't be remembered, that once all the people who had known him in this body had passed on, he would fade from the world as though he'd never existed. The thought almost made him want to cry.

But at least the good things he'd done would live on, he told himself, taking a deep breath and searching for a bright spot in the gloom of his thoughts. He himself might be forgotten, this face might not live on in anyone's memory, but his deeds would stand the test of time.

Maybe that was enough, he told himself with an inward sigh, pushing away from the tree trunk and turning back in the direction of the Tardis. It would have to be enough. Remembered only for what he'd accomplished in this body, not for the person he was.

His body might be reduced to nothing but dust, but some of the things he'd helped to achieve would hopefully go on, long after his name was forgotten. And even if he himself wasn't remembered, that just might be enough of a legacy to be worth leaving behind.

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