AN: Okay, I really, REALLY should be working on my other story because that needs an update this week, but I just had this idea and the plot bunnies wouldn't let me leave it alone. (I'm still getting used to that phrase... plot bunnies... plot bunnies?) Anyway, I hope you enjoy. It is rated for unashamed angst and mentions of self-harm, kind of, because it's more of him getting mad and himself and punching things and that has consequences. But if you can't handle that kind of thing, DO NOT read on. I know even I got a little like, "Wow, that's dark" while I was writing this, so please, PLEASE use caution. PLEASE! I obviously own nothing but my own storyline. Because we all know if I did I would not be here, I would obviously be dragging David or Matt back onto set. Probably David. And don't even get me started about Billie... Anyhow, here's the story. (Wow, that was a long author's note.)
It had been an extraordinarily long day, even by the Doctor's standards, and when him and the Ponds finally stumbled, sweating and shaking from exertion, back into the console room, Amy and Rory headed straight to bed.
But on the way out, Amy paused, and looking back at the Doctor quizzically, asked the inevitable question.
"Doctor, do you have a room?"
He looked up at her, smiling.
"Of course I have a room," he said. "Where do you think I spend most of my time when you two are in bed?"
Amy rolled her eyes incredulously.
"Doctor, I know what you do when we're in bed, and it is NOT sleeping."
The Doctor sighed. "Really, Amelia, I'm all right."
"No Doctor," she said, "Bed. Now."
"But I'm not TIRED," he whined, sounding for all the world like a four year old child being forced to take a nap.
Rory cleared his throat.
"Uh, Doctor?" he began. "We did just go running from aliens through fairly rocky countryside. You should at least be a little tired."
"Fine," the Doctor conceded abruptly. "I'll go."
With that he stormed out of the room and into a TARDIS blue door at the end of the hall, making a show of closing and locking the door.
Amy sighed.
"Thank you Rory," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.
Rory blushed, mumbled a quick "It was nothing," and followed her down the hall.
In his room, the Doctor plopped down on the bed.
He was not tired in the slightest, and the gentle whirring of the various machines scattered throughout his room didn't help.
A long time ago he had soundproofed this room; if not for his own privacy, it would at least hide the frequent explosions that tended to happen in here as a result of the various failed technical meddling's.
But he could still hear it, and that was what was driving him mad currently.
At least it's not ticking he thought absentmindedly to himself.
Yeah his mind answered because there's just another person you failed to save.
It wasn't my fault he retorted defensively.
Yeah his mind supplied Just one star Doctor- you couldn't do one star?
"It wasn't my fault," he whispered out loud, his voice breaking.
Oh but it was the voice inside his head taunted She died, just like the other skeletons that you keep in your closet. Because they really are skeletons aren't they? All dead. All gone. No more.
"I used that word once and I will not use it again!" the Doctor growled, tumbling out of bed and kicking the wall.
"NEVER AGAIN," he screamed, punching the wall, ignoring the slick blood that began pouring from his knuckles at the impact.
"All you want," he shouted at the ceiling, turning around, looking at the galaxies that were passing by overhead. "Is to be shown. To be shown this- that I am the incompetent coward I name myself. You asked to be saved. Well that's what I will do. What I have always done. What I always WILL do."
Tears were pouring down his face now, but he didn't care.
"Yet I will still be the coward you name me, won't I?" he growled. "So come on, demons of the universe, and show me what you have in store. Because I shouted those words once, and I will shout them once more. NO MORE."
He kicked the wall once, so hard that he could hear his toes crack from the impact, but he didn't care.
"NO MORE will I listen to the lies I told myself."
He threw an invention against the wall, and it shattered, covering him with shards of metal and glass and causing small springs of blood to form in various places.
"NO MORE will I be worthy of the companions who take me willingly at my word.
He slammed his fist down onto a dresser, tearing away skin and leaving smears of blood behind.
"No more….." he faded off, and, weak and weary from exhaustion, practically crumpled to the floor, soft choked sobs escaping his throat as he cried.
The silent cries of the Time Lord were unknown to others.
The silent screams never reached the ears of his beloved friends.
They slept on while he lay, weary and bleeding, so utterly broken, on the floor of his room.
But they would never know.
That was what he told himself.
They could never know.
And that is how he lived day by day.
The Raggedy Man, a childhood hero.
But the Lonely Angel deep inside was calling….
And he could never say no.
AN: I hope you enjoyed, and there is a possibility I will continue this but it is very slim and only if enough people ask me to. :) So if you want it to be continued, either PM me or review saying that you want me to continue and give me how I could continue or why I should continue because without that I would be staring at it blankly like "I need to do something but what?" So yeah.