A fic exploring the times the Doctor has cried. A cookie to those who know the Classic references that will be revealed in the next "chapter." This is a oneshot btw.
He has to be strong. He's got to be. Who else but him? Because he's the rock. Always there, never moving, never wavering. If he's not strong then what about the rest of them? What about Nyssa and Tegan? They've just witnessed it too. They're grieving as well. They're crying.
Tegan tries to be strong at first as Nyssa buries her head in silent tears. She approaches the Doctor, a sense of urge filling her voice. But even then, when the Doctor doesn't respond, she cries. The two women cry and the Doctor just stares, too numb to even fully register the seriousness of the situation. To numb to realize what has truly happened.
He quietly leaves the console room, leaving the women to comfort each other. In one of the back hallways, a place that neither Tegan nor Nyssa have ever reached, the Doctor cries. His sleeves become soaked. He cries for Adric and he knows it's his fault.
So when Tegan takes it out on him, he doesn't snap right back. He tries to avoid the conversation and mildly control himself as he explains the laws to her. To the Australian flight attendant, he must sound just like the Cybermen they encountered because a little part of him has died.
They tell him Peri's dead. He doesn't believe them though, even though he sees it. It can't be. There's a suspicious nagging feeling at the back of his mind. However, his compassion and emotions override his intelligence.
The trial is put in recess for him to grieve. He hides himself away and he cries, silently. This is too soon. Too soon. Adric, the Cybermen. Too soon.
He's extremely pleased when he finds out Peri's alive. The part he thinks has died regenerates.
His planet burns. A little part of him dies if not all.
He cries forever.
He takes a slow breath and barely mouths the beginning of the word that hovers at the tip of his tongue. He looks down and sets the controls to random. He needs a surprise and a place where he can grieve. And although he's a Time Lord, the time to mourn is taken away from him by the bride in the TARDIS. Still, the bride sees that he's sad.
It isn't until hours later, when the sun has fallen, that the Doctor hides in his room and cries. He feels hopeless. Another part of him dies again.
He doesn't hold back this time. He shows his tears. For so long he's thought himself as the last one. He tried to be the Doctor, to save the Master. Now he's holding a dead body. Now he really is the last one. And everyone sees his pain, his grief. His heart is unmasked. He cries, and another part of him dies.
Too much like him, that was the problem. She was too much like him and reminded him too much of them. That's why it struck his heart so. The determination, the smile, the joy, it all reminded him of himself. But she was untainted, still innocent and pure. Maybe he could have kept it that way as they traveled among the stars. Now, he'd never have the chance.
He told her that she had a choice to kill. She didn't have to if she didn't. He wasn't about to go out on his own word. And because of that, a whole civilization thrived on the man who could but never would and his daughter.
He drops Martha off and escapes from Donna, crying in his room again. Crying on a bed where he rarely ever sleeps on. He cries until a part of him dies again.
He's philosophized and lived. He's fought and played the game. He has done so many things like saving the world. Because truly and honestly, how many people can say they've been to the end of the world? Not many.
He has done so many things that he shouldn't want more. He should learn to accept the final defeat, but he can't. He doesn't know why. Four quarter notes tick off the glass and he breathes in and out. It's possibly his last breath –a breath of acceptance.
In the end, he still doesn't want to go. So he leaves with a bang, leaving his legacy. Leaving behind burning tears.
He doesn't want to go, but he dies.
Another man saunters off.
It's been a while, and he knows it. It's been a while since he's truly cried. With this new mindset, he thought of himself as invincible. As mad, crazy, impossible. A totally new man in which bad things would now happen to.
Boy was he wrong… Again.
He sits in his room, again. How many times has this happened? He doesn't know. He's lost count along the way. So he sits in his room that looks like a tornado has ripped through it. Amy sleeps soundly down the hall, unafraid and oblivious.
His tweed jacket is halfway across the floor after being flung there in a fit of rage. His suspenders aren't on his shoulders. His beloved bowtie is being pulled to death with his fingers. He screams. The bowtie joins the jacket on the floor. No one hears his outburst.
He thought he left it all behind, but it's still his fault. Another death, just like Adric. Another death, another mark on his heart. And not just a death. The graphite has been erased. Not just gone. More than gone but less than remembered.
He hits the wall and curses himself right after at the pain he feels in his knuckles. He collapses on his bed, crying. Not just crying for the friend he's lost, not just crying for Amy's oblivion. But crying. Crying for everything and nothing.
A new part of him dies.
Just because you're from the most powerful race in the universe and the worlds beyond, just because you're the last of that race, doesn't mean you're not allowed to cry. And when you do, a little part of you dies.