Just run and never look back || thethingmonstersfear
Sometimes the goal becomes you. You spend your childhood chasing a dream and you pour your life into it. Every choice you ever made has brought you towards that childhood dream, and one day you finally realize you're an adult. Except it's not a dream anymore, just an endpoint that you have sought after so long it's impossible to let go. There is no joy, no passion, just lifeless action: kill him and escape.
He's finally done it. Here he was, clinging to the console of his own Tardis as he scrambled to input instructions - take me away, somewhere, anywhere but here!- and at the sound of the engines going off he finally relaxed, collapsing to the ground, staring emptily at the blood that covered his hands and clothes. The Valeyard's blood.
The moment the Tardis landed, he scrambled for the door. He couldn't stand being in here, not yet. It was in the exact same condition as it had been that day he had crashed into this universe. Knowing the Tardis, it probably was the exact same day.
He wasn't ready to look through his old room, to see the photos of Rose and the Tylers and Torchwood on the walls, to see the neatly folded clothes he had placed on his bed because he hadn't had the time to properly unpack. He wasn't ready to walk through the kitchen and be greeted by the smells of a hundred different teas that had been a gift from Jackie. He just wasn't ready to remember that life so long ago, such a good life that he had given up for two hundred years of...of what? Hell? Servitude? A sense of belonging, order, and freedom from responsibility?
He desperately fumbled at the door lock, tumbling out as it finally opened and dumped him in a heap outside. He fell heavily to the ground, gasping desperately for the fresh air as if he had been drowning. When the goal becomes you, fulfilling it does not leave satisfaction; just a hole.
