Title: Sparkle and Fade
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: doctorwho_100
Prompt: 73, Light
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.

***

It was always terribly sad when a planet faded out of existence.

The Doctor stood on a hill somewhere on Earth, watching the night sky with sadness in his dark eyes. He'd known that this was going to happen; he'd been sure that the star he kept his eyes fixed on was going to wink out of existence soon.

Tonight was the night. He could feel it, and he wanted to be there to watch as the planet died and there was one less pinprick of light in the velvety darkness of the night sky. He felt that he owed it to the place to witness its extinction.

Fortunately, there were no people on the planet -- only the tangle of vegetation that grew there. Any people who had existed there were long gone; it was really only a dying star that had more or less served its purpose as part of the galaxy.

But still .... at one time, it had been more, and it always tore at his hearts to think of any place being destroyed, ceasing to exist in the blink of an eye.

No matter how many times he told himself that it was the way of the world, that everything had a finite space of time to live, it still saddened him. It was one less place that he was familiar with on the plane of his existence.

Seeing a light in the world fade away was always cause for sadness, at least from his point of view. He'd seen too many planets destroyed, too many lives taken with them, to feel indifference when he knew a planet was doomed to destruction.

Of course, he'd known that this was coming for a while. A planet without a thriving population was going to fade away; it was the law of the universe. The place could only have sustained itself for so long before it had to cease existing.

He'd turned a blind eye to the death of this planet for a long time, but now, he was keeping vigil. He'd probably be the only person in all of the universe to witness this, and he wanted the planet to have one person who knew of it's demise. Somehow, it seemed fitting.

He had only been there once, but still, he felt that he owed it to this planet to pay his respects in its last moments.

As he'd known they would, his thoughts turned to his own planet. There had been so many who had witnessed Gallifrey's last moments -- including himself. That was a sight he would never forget, one that would stay in his mind's eye forever.

Would he ever be able to shake off the guilt that had haunted him ever since the destruction of his home? He seriously doubted it; that was something he'd always carry on his shoulders. There were some burdens that never lightened with the passage of time.

He wasn't responsible for the death of this particular planet, but for some reason, there was a heaviness around his hearts that felt similar to the guilt plaguing him. Maybe it was just that this was yet another planet that would be lost to the world.

There was nothing more that this planet could offer to the world in general, he told himself, gazing up towards the pinprick of light in the night sky. It had already given all that it had to give; it was time for it to fade into the mists of time.

But he would be the only person witnessing that star fading away, the only one who might possibly mourn its passing.

Was he? Were there others, somewhere in the vastness of the galaxy, looking up at the sky with the knowledge that there was a planet giving up its existence? Were they, too, focused on that faraway light, waiting for it to go out?

He had no way of knowing the answer to that question; all he could do was hope that there might indeed be others who were gazing up at the sky, watching as the planet that now seemed so far away winked out of existence.

It was something that most people wouldn't think to do, but then, most people weren't like him. They hadn't seen universes built, and then watched them collapse in upon themselves. Their lives were only a fraction of the time it had taken those universes to live an entire existence.

This wasn't something he could control, the Doctor reminded himself as he kept his eyes fixed on the planet. He could already see it starting to sparkle; a slight dimness, then a bright flare, then a fading that was starting to signal the end.

He would stand here and watch it until the last moment, when it faded from his view entirely. He owed all the planets in the universe that much.

After all, wasn't he their protector? Hadn't he sworn to keep the galaxy safe from those who would enslave the people who lived their lives through on all the many planets in existence? Not only this galaxy -- but many others, as well.

That could be wearing, certainly. But it was an obligation that he couldn't turn his back on; it was a promise that he'd made long ago, one that he meant to keep .He wasn't going to turn away from that promise just because it wasn't always easy to keep.

The planet was sparkling rapidly now, looking like a twinkling star far up in the sky. For just an instant, the Doctor almost wished that he was in the Tardis, closer to the planet, able to see its last moments up close, on a more personal level.

The thought left his mind almost as soon as it was fully formed; that wasn't something he wanted to make himself go through. He'd seen the destruction of his own home planet in living color; he didn't need to see yet another world come to and end.

He would probably see many more planets sparkle and fade before his own end, he mused, keeping his eyes fixed on the twinkling light. This wouldn't be the last, he was sure.

Swallowing hard, he blinked for a moment, then opened his eyes wide, hoping that he hadn't missed the last seconds of the planet's existence in the expanse of sky stretching above him. Not after he'd stood here all this time, waiting patiently.

No, there it was, still sparkling, the light fading in and out more rapidly now. The Doctor caught his breath; that was a sure sign that the end was near, that rapid pulsating of light. In just a few seconds, the light would be no more.

He was right. As he watched, the pinprick of light dimmed, then brightened to an intensity he hadn't expected before it disappeared. He kept watching for the telltale sparkle and fade that would tell him it was somehow still there, but .... nothing.

It was gone. He'd stood here and witnessed the end of a world.

But for some reason, he felt strangely at peace, as though he'd stood a vigil that no one else would have bothered to keep. He felt a lingering sadness for the death of a world that would never be again, but it was the way of the universe.

Everything came to an end, in its own time. Even he would someday cease to be, leaving behind only memories of what he'd been. And hopefully, leaving the universe safe and protected as best he could. That would be his particular legacy.

Turning away from his view of the night sky, the Doctor walked back to the Tardis, pushing the door open and going inside. But not before he took one last look at the sparkling stars in the sky above, wondering which of them would be the next one that he'd see sparkle and then fade.

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