All my works are self-beta, so any and all mistakes were foolishly made by me. I do not own any DW characters. If I did, there would be quite a few changes in the Whoniverse. I do not profit from this story. If I did, I'd upload a lot more and a lot sooner, don't you think?

Enjoy (…or don't…)

New Face for the New Year

He was the Doctor. Was. Until he did that. That unspeakable act. In those moments, he was the Doctor no more. He was a stranger. No, worse...he was a soldier. The man who never carried a gun, who always chose words instead of fists, who claimed to be a healer...he had become a soldier in what could have been an endless war. Soldier...an "honorable" title for a murderer. No, that man, that beast, was gone now. His actions died with him. Although, no flames are hot enough to burn away the sins of a guilty man. Especially a man with as many wrongs as him.

So, who was he now? The warrior was burned and replaced with a new face—one he has not even bothered to look at yet. Could he possibly be a Doctor once more? After all that he has done? He could spend the rests of his lives helping people throughout the universe, but that won't fix the mistakes he has made. True, there wasn't any other option...or was there? In truth, was he simply just too tired of the fighting to find another way out? If given more time, would he have found a better solution—one that did not involve the blood of countless beings soaking his hands? How could he call himself a 'Doctor'? "Never cruel nor cowardly". Yet, in those moments, he had been both.

What would he do now? Where would he go? His home was gone. Although, could he even call that planet his home? He left centuries ago and only ever returned when he was summoned or if the mood happened to strike him. He chose an endless adventure over his friends and family, and, yet, he still called it "home". And now, he was homeless. Perhaps he should just stay in the TARDIS. Out of sight, out of trouble. He wouldn't bother anyone ever again. Yes, it was the best option.

Then, another thought popped into his mind. Earth. The Earth was a troubled planet, but he has long considered it his second home. He could return... No, he would only be a threat to every species on the planet. He needed to keep his distance before he destroyed anything else.

Although...the silence was rather noisy.

During the War, he did not have anybody but destruction by his side. But, at the time, he was too busy to dwell on that. Now, with too much free time and too much thinking and reflection, he craved for the presence of another. Yes, the TARDIS was always there. But interacting with a machine simply was not the same as communicating with a being of flesh or ooze or scales or even gas. Days passed, with only the light hums of the TARDIS accompanying him. It wasn't enough.

To say he lost track of time would be a lie, considering that Time Lords have a natural ability to feel time in multiple ways. But he did try his best to ignore it. He willed the days to blend into weeks and then months. Eventually, he managed to ignore his boredom as well as his loneliness.

He began to sense the TARDIS's disappointment and annoyance with him. He knew she wanted him to return to his adventures, but he was no longer the Doctor. What right did he have to interfere with other people's lives? He ignored every attempt the TARDIS made to interest him in what the universe was doing. He ignored her pleading hums. Eventually, it seemed that the TARDIS had given up. He felt sorrowful, knowing that the War had not been easy for her either. After all, he had murdered all of her sisters. He stole her away without giving her any time to properly grieve. After all he had done, after he had used her like a slave, she still cared for him. She still stayed. He knew she was capable of leaving him at any moment, but she chose to stay. She could see the universe on her own, but she stayed. If only he had been so considerate when deciding whether to leave his planet.

One random day, alarms resounded throughout the TARDIS. He rushed to the control room. On the screen, he saw what looked like moving mannequins. He asked the TARDIS why she was showing him this. She ignored him. When he tried to leave the room, alarms sounded again. He looked at the screen again and noticed a man walking out of a mall. The man took out a cigarette, placing it between his teeth. He could see that the man wore a name tag. From what he could tell, the man was an electrician named Wilson. Wilson pulled out his lighter, but before he had the chance to ignite it, a plastic hand lifted and knocked him unconscious.

Every fiber within the man no longer known as the Doctor told him that something was wrong. That something needed to be done. That he had to help. But he was poison. How could he possibly help anyone anymore? He told the TARDIS that he wasn't that person anymore. She replied by replaying Wilson's final moments. Earth. He already failed one home. What sort of monster would he be if he turned his back on another?

Fine. One trip to Earth. Just one. Then, he would live the rest of his life in solitude.

And so, he began investigating. He had been away from the Earth for too long. He had forgotten how beautiful it could be.

There was a tradition on the planet Earth. People gathered in celebration as one year ended and the next year began. Some called it "Día de Año Nuevo". Others called it "Capodanno" or "Yuándàn" or "Nyårsdagen" or "Nieuwjaarsdag". He knew it best as "New Year's Day". A day on which the people of Earth make resolutions and look back on the previous year. Sinners look to correct their mistakes and start again.

Start again.

Perhaps, he could do the same. He had a new face—a new life. Maybe he could use this life to correct the mistakes of his previous. He can never undo his actions, but he could spend the rest of his lives attempting to compensate for them. "Never cruel nor cowardly". It was a promise he had made so long ago, but perhaps it was time for a new oath. The Earth was the only home he had left now. And he would do everything in his power to protect it. If there was trouble, he would do what was necessary to save as many lives as possible. Not everyone would live every time. But he would still try. And if ever again given the choice of destroyer or coward, he'd choose coward any day.

Yes. He could be the Doctor once more. Perhaps not the same Doctor he once was, but a Doctor nonetheless.

"I'm the Doctor, by the way. What's your name?"

"Rose."

"Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life!"

He felt alive again. He felt…like the Doctor. This was why he kept running. This is what he lived for. He missed it.

Rose. He kept running into her. All pink and yellow. Maybe that's what he needed in this new life. He looked in her mirror.

"Ah, could have been worse. Look at the ears."

Nestene Consciousness. Murderous mannequins. Rose Tyler to the rescue.

Pink and yellow. What's the worst that could happen?

"Is it always this dangerous?"

"Yeah."

She declined. He accepted. The TARDIS did not. She gave a vicious hum. He tried to go to another planet. She refused. Finally, he agreed to try one more time.

"By the way, did I mention? It also travels in time." He left the door open. She came.

A new face. A new companion. A new Doctor.

Yes. This was going to be a good year.

A/N:This is my first DW fanfic. It did not go quite as planned, but, hopefully, it was still enjoyable.