Loss (Doctor Who)
He had never expected to fall in love. Romantic, platonic, familial, whatever. It wasn't what was supposed to happen. And he sure as hell wasn't supposed to lose them all.
They weren't supposed to fall in love and leave him, or get their mind destroyed or get cut off on parallel worlds. They weren't supposed to become immortal and go off the edge or get stuck in the past. They weren't supposed to die and leave behind their friends and families.
They weren't supposed to leave him behind. They weren't supposed to hurt him.
He knew it was selfish to think like this. In his heart of hearts he knew. But that didn't stop him. He would go from companion to companion, one after the other. He knew the risks. When he had started this crazy, rebellious, renegade journey in his ship he hadn't meant to get anybody hurt. He hadn't meant to get himself so hurt.
He was damaged. He knew this. Of course he did. The war had been a breaking point in his mind. A cross over the line of cynicism that he could never come back from. No matter how much he wanted.
The new travelers he brought with him had helped. They had been bright, fun, brave and just what he needed. They had been amazing. And they were gone. The always would be. And of course he'll never forget but he wants to. He won't admit it aloud, but he wants to. He wants to forget them all and live his life anew. Forget atoning for or redeeming his sins. He wanted to leave them dead in the dust.
He knew he shouldn't bring them. They'll only get hurt beyond repair. Like himself. And yet he does. Because the loss hurts but he is too afraid of being alone for too long to give them up.