First attempt at writing in the Doctor Who universe! Starting with drabbles. Prompts welcome and encouraged!
Alone.
It had to be the saddest word in the english language. And it didn't get much better in other languages either. The Bright Worlds of the Casta-Lupion System used the word ShheorĂ¥ (loosely translated of course), which meant a crying heart. Loneliness often involved a longing for something more. For a friend, for family, for a lover or for something else. Something that couldn't be defined. You didn't feel more alone, then when you were the last of your kind and it was kind of your fault. He supposed that was why he still took on companions, when his mind told him it was foolish and dangerous. And sometimes one would come along and he would think, this is the one, this one will last. Which was a lie of course. Because they never stayed. They would become disillusioned, scared or bored. Sometimes they just thought it was the right time to go. They probably all thought, oh I'll see that daft old man again. But they wouldn't. And then there were those who never chose to leave.
Those that died, those that were trapped forever. And those that forgot he ever existed.
How he longed for a familiar face, or another of his people. A timelord or timelady popping by for a visit, having miraculously survived the Time War and the Moment. Someone friendly, of the good sort. But he'd even be happy to see the Master again. If it meant not being the only one. The lonely god, the dark angel. He Who Walks Among The Stars. All fantastic titles, but they weren't deserved. He wanted to be one of a million, a billion, a trillion more. Not one in the entire cosmos. The few chances he had he'd lost. Proving once again, the universe doesn't care.
He'd lost Jenny to the cruelties of war, he'd lost Donna, though strictly she hadn't been a timelady. But she would have held her own against any of them. And then there was River. Lost the first day he met her. He'd thought that would sour al future meetings but he was wrong. Here was someone he really thought he'd have a chance at being with forever. She was his match. And even though she was but an echo, much like Jenny, she would have excelled on Gallifrey. Top of her class and in trouble all the time. Just like himself. She would have fitted right in with his year group.
River Song. The Archeologist.
The rooms of the Tardis were so empty now. No laughing gingers and good natured nurses filled it's halls. No accidentally walking in and creating awkward situations. No midnight snacks with Amy in her nightie or long talks with Rory over some tea. Amy, the best friend and Rory, the brother. Gone forever and ever. His first proper, actually related too, family in too long. And he had them for over two hundred years! And he married their daughter!...In an alternate universe that technically never happened. River never took that as a good excuse. We all remember it so therefore it happened dear.
The fact that Christmas was so close made it worse. So many worlds had holidays like Christmas. A time for family, celebrating and giving. On Starlight they gave out gifts on the stroke of midnight on the longest day of the year. Lanterns would decorate every street and building and family would sit in front of the fire and open presents. The next day they would visit their external families for scrumptious feasts. Other worlds colonised by humans had built upon existing traditions.
Here, in Victorian London, things were still quite tame. And that was good, because if you were going to be alone, you didn't want something to remind you that you were. Better to be above it all, high up in a cloud, that down in the snow, watching families buy turkeys or duck, children with their noses frozen to the window whilst looking at toy displays. No carols reached his ears up in his cloud.
Bah Humbug indeed.
Hardening his hearts against the universe was the only solution he had left. Too old now to have them broken again, too cynical to care. Madame Vastra could claim all she liked that it wouldn't last, he knew himself better than her. He could outlast the world, because he'd done it before. Even if her opinions were touching, they were just that, opinions. Just words. Words, words, words. Words could be powerful things, conquer mountains or topple kings. But they were also weak and flimsy things. They could be easily scrunched up into a ball and thrown aside into a bin.
He held onto her words with only a sliver of hope and get them safely by hs hearts, basking in the little amount of light and warmth they could give. But he held fast to his promise, choosing to stay in a dark and cold Tardis instead of a warm, manor house. He didn't choose to be alone however, no matter where he was or who he was with, that feeling would never leave him.
Because when you are the only one in the world, that's as alone as you can get.
