He was just a mad man with a box.

"That's what I am," he smiled, watching the small boy for a reaction. The child was no more than eight or nine the first time the Doctor met him.

The boy's brown hair stuck up in the front, so the Doctor could see his forehead clearly as it crinkled with confusion.

"You don't look mad," said the boy, though he sounded unsure.

The Doctor laughed softly. "That's what makes you humans so extraordinary," he grinned, ruffling the boy's hair. "You only see what's on the surface, but once you really dig deeper, you'll see that there's so much more that the universe—or even a single person—has to offer."

The two were sitting in uncomfortable chairs in a long hallway. It was white, sterile, and made the boy uncomfortable. He squirmed slightly in his seat, and the Doctor watched him contently.

"I didn't seem to catch your name."

"Mom says I shouldn't give my name out to strangers," mumbled the little boy. He bunched his legs up, resting the soles of his shoes on the edge of his seat. "Even to a doctor."

"I'm THE Doctor," insisted the Doctor gently. "There's a world of difference between a doctor and the Doctor."

The little boy stared at him, his cheeks flushing with warmth. "It's too hard to say anyway."

"Try me," said the Doctor. The little boy leaned forward, pressing his mouth against the Time Lord's ear as he whispered the incomprehensible word. Well, to anyone less mad than the Doctor.

"It's not that as uncommon as you may think!" exclaimed the Doctor. "On Gallifrey, I grew up with no less than ten with that name!"

With the mention of his home, the Doctor's heart grew heavy with the incredible sadness attached to the name. Memories of the Time War flashed through his mind, and his face grew dark.

"Doctor?"

The boy was looking up at him, a look of concern on his face.

The Doctor shook his head, and adjusted the bowtie around his neck. "Sorry, St—"

"Just say Stiles," the boy squeaked. "It's what everyone else calls me."

"Even your friends?"

"I only got the one," Stiles corrected sadly.

But the Doctor shook his head. "Make that two."

Stiles just blushed, and buried his head with his arms. He was a gangly little thing, an arrangement of limbs and boundless energy.

"How long's your Mum been in there?" the Doctor asked.

"I don't know," Stiles whispered. He lifted his head slightly, and the Time Lord saw a stream of tears tracing down his cheeks. "You're a doctor, right? Can't you make her better? I want her to come home."

He felt like his heart was going to break in half, right then and there. The Doctor was a softie when it came to children, and seeing them in pain upset him so much, especially since—

Especially since he had no power over the situation.

The Doctor reached out, and gave Stiles a reassuring rub across his shoulder blades. "It'll work out Stiles," he whispered. "Your Mum will get better in no time."

He stayed with the boy until his father came around the corner in his uniform. The Sheriff gave him a suspicious look, and quickened his pace. The Doctor stood up, patting Stiles' head as he did so.

"Who the hell are you?" the Sheriff demanded. Stiles looked at his father, alarmed by his sudden presence.

"It's OK, Dad," he said quickly. "He was just keeping me company. He's a doctor."

"THE Doctor," the Time Lord corrected, "Though I'm assuming that's not the point," he added under the Sheriff's glare.

"I've never seen you working here," the Sheriff growled, "I'm also sure that if I asked Nurse McCall she could check and see if you're registered with this hospital."

"I was just about to leave," the Doctor piped up, smiling to take the edge off of the tension.

Stiles' eyes grew wide. "Doctor—"

The mad man turned to face the young boy. This poor, lonely child was faced with a terrible, human situation. Death did not come easily to a Time Lord, but all the humans he's known… All of the friends he had made…

Death was permanent and premature with them.

"Don't worry, Stiles," said the Doctor. "I'll see you around." He twirled around the Sheriff's death glare, and swiveled his way down the hallway. He caught a quick glimpse of the Sheriff kneeling in front of his son, asking, "Who was that man? Did he hurt you?"

"No Dad, I'm fine. Can we see Mom now?"

He made his way to the empty hospital room, where he had left the blue police box. The TARDIS usually brought him somewhere with an alien crisis.

This time, it had been a human one, with mortality hanging on the line.

2003 in California, of all places! But he was glad to have met Stiles. The Doctor had sensed something unique and mysterious with him, but the idea was so subtle that anyone else could've easily missed it.

"I'll see you around," the Doctor promised as he opened the front door and stepped inside.