What if the Doctor never recovered from his loss of Rose? Would he have met Martha, or even traveled with Donna? A fanfiction on what I believe would have happened if the Doctor was at a loss without Rose. Please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. That is simply inconceivable! However, I do own the character of Silver Andromeda Danders.
The alien bar was quite busy. It was nighttime on planet Macron-221b, and there were quite a few aliens drifting through the dim building. Some sat at tables pushed along the wall. Some wandered lazily throughout the room, gripping their drinks protectively. Some sat at the bar's counter, sipping at their drinks as the bartender lazily wiped a few dusty glasses.
The Doctor sat in the high chair, his elbows propped up on the counter. His eyes remained unfocused as he stared at the multiple glasses displayed evenly on the shelves. He had a tall glass of special rum imported from Zankrania. It'd been given to him almost an hour earlier, but it was still filled to the rim.
He was thinking. He was not the same Doctor two years ago. He was lonely, depressed, and slightly confused. Of course, the days were never exactly boring. He still chased aliens. He went to strange lands. He still had his lovely Tardis.
And this made the Doctor angry. Frustrated. Slightly guilty. Here he was, sitting in a bar drinking imported rum when he'd broken the heart of one Rose Marion Tyler.
The Doctor clenched the glass in his hand tightly as he recalled the day. He'd never even said goodbye.
"You're dead. Officially. Back home. So many people died that day and you've gone missing."
There was a strange fire that danced in the Doctor's eyes as he thought. He remembered the sad and floundering look in Rose Tyler's eyes as she nodded. Accepting the fact that she was now presumably dead. And that people would mourn for her.
The Doctor brought the rim of the glass to his bottom lip.
"You're on the list of the dead."
The Doctor let his lip run against the edge of the cup as he recalled Rose's response to the situation. An image of Rose crying flashed in his mind. The Doctor nibbled at the edge of the cup, the glass rattling against his teeth.
"And yet here you are, living a life day after day. The one adventure I can never have."
With his fingers drumming against the wooden countertop, the Doctor flicked his tongue against the rim of the drink, almost glaring at anybody who dared to look at him. How dare they watch something so intimate? So personal?
With a small clank, the Doctor slammed the drink down against the table.
"Am I ever going to see you again?" choked Rose, her voice a slight tremor.
"You can't," the Doctor replied painfully.
The Doctor played with his drink, letting it tilt back and forth in his hand. A few drops of the expensive alcohol slipped onto the counter, and the bartender pensively watched the Doctor out of the corner of his eye.
"Then what're you going to do?" Rose asked, wiping blonde hair out of her eyes.
"I'll go back to the Tardis. Same old life. Last of the Time Lords," the Doctor said, managing a weak grin.
"On your own?"
The Doctor nodded.
A few aliens stared as the Doctor growled under his breath.
"I…" Rose choked back a sob. She looked down at her shoes, weeping and hiccupping. She seemed to not know what to say. Then, with a small bob of her chin, she looked up at the Doctor and slowly enunciated, "I love you."
The Doctor gripped the glass ferociously.
The Doctor smiled a bit. "Quite right, too," he said, his voice almost a whisper.
Rose smiled at the Doctor hopefully, though her tear-stained cheeks revealed it all. She was heartbroken.
"And I suppose if it's my last chance to say it." The Doctor paused for a split second, his eyes locking onto Rose's. "Rose Tyler…"
Then, Rose disappeared from his gaze. Bad Wolf Bay was replaced by the soft orange glow of the Tardis, and a small tear slid down the Doctor's cheek.
With a swift swipe, the Doctor had the glass in his right hand. He tilted his head back and let the alcohol slide down his throat. Conversations in the bar stopped as patrons turned to stare at the Doctor. He'd seemed to shy away from the alcohol a few moments ago, yet now, he was gulping down the rum as if his life depended on it.
The Doctor audibly gasped as he pulled away from the glass. It was empty now. He'd drunken all of it.
The Doctor turned to the bewildered bartender standing behind the counter.
"Give me another."
o.O.o
"Silver. Silver," the Doctor moaned as he was dragged toward his Tardis.
"Doctor. Shut up," growled the girl. She gripped the Doctor's upper body with as much force she could muster and half dragged, half carried him to the blue police box. The girl kicked open the door with her foot and dumped the Doctor on the floor of the console.
"Silver," the Doctor moaned once more, flipping over on his belly and letting his chin rest on the grating.
The girl merely rolled her eyes. She was Silver Andromeda Danders, the Doctor's companion and friend, but most of all, she was his babysitter.
"Doctor, you're drunk," Silver said disgustedly. She was an eighteen year old high school graduate from California, with an American accent that stood out prominently against the constant British translations from the Tardis.
"Silver. It hurts so much," the Doctor said sadly, rolling over on his side. Silver merely sighed.
When she'd first met the Doctor, he'd been drunk. They met in a small café in California. Silver had pitied the poor man who seemed so lost and confused, so she dragged him back to her mother's house and watched over him.
When inquired about his purpose for being drunk so early in the afternoon, the Doctor had merely shrugged and said he was a tourist. Silver found this amusing. She lived in a small, unknown suburb in northern California. Tourists did not come to suburbs in northern California.
So, after constant pestering and annoying of the sorts, the Doctor finally admitted it. He was a time traveler, and he was looking for somebody to accompany him into the vast unknown.
Of course, Silver had accepted. It was the summer after her high school graduation, and she was not going to spend her break sitting in bed sleeping all morning. Even though the thought of leaving her family and her boyfriend scared her, she instantly said yes when the Doctor invited her into his Tardis.
Silver did not know much about the Doctor. He was a good-looking man, but she was in love with her boyfriend and anyways, he was much too old for her. Soon, Silver found herself battling aliens and running for her life. Still, there were nights like these, when the Doctor dropped her off at some nearby attraction while he spent the night drinking away his sorrows.
A few hours later, she'd find the Doctor at the nearest bar half dead with a very high bill. She'd flash the Doctor's psychic paper at the disgruntled bartender, and somehow transport the drunken Time Lord back to the Tardis.
Silver learned to never ask about these nights. Whenever she bought it up, but Doctor would become depressed and despondent, sighing and saying that it was nothing. Then, he'd retreat back into the depths of his Tardis and remain there for a few hours.
Bending down, Silver slipped her arms under the Doctor's and hauled him up. However, when she tried to stand him on his feet, he wobbled a bit before slumping back down like a rag doll. Silver sighed. She'd have to drag him to bed.
Luckily, the Tardis accommodated nicely and made sure the Doctor's room was easy to find. With a few grunts and many loud expletives, Silver managed to slip the red trainers off of the Doctor's feet and haul him into bed.
"Silver," the Doctor moaned as the young girl struggled to keep his long legs off of the floor.
"What?"
"Where's Rose?" the Doctor asked helplessly. Silver hesitated. She'd never heard of Rose.
"Who?"
"Rose," the Doctor groaned, "I need her! I need Rose!"
"Doctor, I-"
"Rose," the Doctor moaned once more before rolling on his belly and burying his head into his pillow, sobbing. Silver, not knowing what to do, backed away from the crying time traveler and turned off the lights, hoping the darkness would silence the Doctor's cries.
o.O.o
"Ungh?" the Doctor muttered incoherently, gripping the side of his head. He reached over and looked at the digital clock on his bedside table. It was three in the morning in London right now. The Doctor groaned. His head pounded and he felt like throwing up.
The Doctor eased himself out of bed and forced himself to walk out his bedroom door and towards the kitchen. The Tardis hummed angrily, reprimanding him for getting drunk, but the Doctor muttered some words and the Tardis stopped trying to talk to him. It was no use. He did not converse with her very much these days.
When he reached the kitchen, the Doctor instantly went to the cabinets, hoping to find some medicine that would help the wicked pounding in his head, but he found nothing. In a mere two months, he'd managed to wipe out an entire supply of tablets.
With a frustrated growl, the Doctor shut the cabinet door behind him and sat down at the kitchen table, contenting himself with a cold glass of water. He noticed a small plate on the table. On the fine china sat two large pills with a note that said "Eat up, drunk." The Doctor chuckled to himself and downed the pills with his water.
Despite her constant nagging and nosing around, the Doctor quite liked his current companion. She was more bearable than some of the others, and was lasting longer, too.
The Doctor had had multiple companions before meeting Silver. After his tearful goodbye with Rose, he'd met Donna Noble. After saving her from an army of creepy Santas and a giant spider alien, he'd asked the red-haired woman to come. Much to his surprise and dismay, Donna had declined. She did, however, ask him of a favor. She asked him to find someone.
And the Doctor did. He went to Las Vegas, Nevada, and found a blonde-haired girl named Valerie. Valerie was a dancer in a casino, and she was much taken by the Doctor. Valerie's blonde hair reminded the Doctor painfully of Rose, even though Valerie's hair was obviously dyed with chemicals. Within three minutes of meeting each other, the Doctor had Valerie in his Tardis.
Valerie, of course, had flirted with the Doctor. She tried everything, in fact, to get his attention. She made his coffee, she grabbed his hand, snuggled with him. In fact the Las Vegas dancer had once even hopped into the Doctor's bed and tried to sleep with him, much to the Doctor's chagrin. Soon, Valerie realized her hopes were useless, so she asked to leave. The Doctor left her in New York with some clothing and a large sum of money.
After Valerie, the Doctor broke down. He recruited companions left and right, desperate to find the happiness he'd once had with the love of his life. He invited more people than necessary into his Tardis, only to find them unsuitable.
Some companions did stay longer than others. They were usually the ones who could deal with his constant pain and loss. However, the idea of babysitting a depressed Time Lord was often too much, and the poor woman would pack her bags, asking to leave.
Silver lasted longer than the others. She'd been on his Tardis for six months now, and besides her quirky attitude and adventurous idealism, she was a good friend and understood the Doctor's boundaries. She made sure he did not go overboard. She let him drink his sorrows away. That was all the Doctor asked for. Silver was a good friend, but he could never love her like he loved Rose.
"Doctor?" a small voice piped up. The Doctor looked up and found Silver standing at the doorway. Her black hair was loosely tied back with an elastic, and her brown eyes seemed to wander throughout the kitchen. She had on an oversized shirt and sweats with a blanket thrown over her shoulders.
"Silver," the Doctor said, grinning. He stood up, ignoring the pounding in his head, and reached for the young girl.
"Doctor, who was Rose?" Silver asked, pushing the Doctor away.
The Doctor paused, staring at Silver. How did she know?
"You mentioned her in your room. When you were drunk."
"Oh," the Doctor replied bluntly. He did not like it when Silver mentioned his constant outings to bars.
"Who was she?"
The Doctor sighed. "She was a friend. A really good friend."
Silver gazed at the Doctor. He was hunched up against the table, holding the glass of water tightly in his hand as he stared at nothing in particular.
"Doctor?"
"Hm?"
"You loved her, didn't you?"
"Yes. I did. I loved her very much."