A/N: This is my first attempt at angst. I got the idea for this a few nights ago, and decided to type it up. Well, now that my day has been sufficiently ruined by writing this and listening to "Doomsday" over and over again, I hope I can transfer some of my depression to you. :P If you would please let me know how this makes you feel, honestly, that would make me very happy. :) Well, as happy as I could ever be after watching Doctor Who...
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters used in Doctor Who. They all belong to BBC, and I'm still angry at BBC (Davies and Moffat mostly) for ruining their lives as well as mine.
The TARDIS door closed. The Doctor forced himself to move to the console, the rainwater still dripping down his face like the tears he felt in his hearts. He reached out absentmindedly to flick a switch on the console, his hands moving without much thought. Just take me somewhere. Anywhere.
He moved around the round console, pressing buttons, flipping switches. The console that only a little while ago had been surrounded with some of the people he loved most. They were all happy. Exhilarated. Davros and his Daleks had been defeated. They towed the earth home. For a few precious, precious minutes, the Doctor could smile and just be with the people he loved. He could pretend he didn't know what he had to do, where Rose had to go, what would happen to Donna.
Even their names could send the familiar aching through his hearts. In the end, I suppose that's all there is, the Doctor thought. Just me, and the TARDIS, and the pain. His only constant companions. The loneliness, the aching, the longing that could never be satisfied for long.
He removed his jacket and laid it across the console. She's alive, the Doctor told himself. She's alive. They're all alive. And they're all safe.
But somehow that still didn't make any of it easier.
He was cursed. And anyone ever associated with him in any way, however small, would always suffer from the curse. While he lived on, dashing from planet to planet, through time and space, running; always running.
Davros' rasping voice rose to mind, but he shoved it away. It was the only thing he could do.
The Doctor leaned against the console, staring straight ahead, at nothing, no one. No one stood on the other side of the console- no eager face, no bright smile asking, "Where next?"
The cloister bells pumped up and down, making their peculiar humming noise that usually brought a grin to the Doctor's face and the thrill of adventure to his hearts. But not even the TARDIS and her quirky sounds and habits could fix the cracks that severed his hearts like parallel worlds that could never be crossed, or memories that could never be regained.
The TARDIS whirled through the vortex. It's so empty. The vortex. Just an empty, howling, eternal wind. Like me.
The TARDIS slowed, the cloister bells making the light screeches that said, "We've arrived! Adventure awaits through those doors!"
The Doctor didn't even bother to look at the TARDIS' vidscreen to see where they were. Wherever it was, maybe it would be able to provide the distraction he needed- the distraction that would last until he returned back to the TARDIS- the box that was bigger on the inside, and so empty at the same time. He picked up his suit coat and pulled it on. It had mostly dried during the trip through the vortex, but still wet enough to cling to him like the unwanted guilts and memories.
He grabbed his trench coat, and pulled that on over his suit. He started towards the TARDIS doors, stopping when he noticed his sonic screwdriver sitting on the TARDIS console.
He picked it up, and an unwelcome memory flashed in front of his eyes.
Donna laughed. "Going to leave without your screwdriver, spaceboy?" She picked it up and tossed it to him.
He caught it in midair, laughing. "Don't go anywhere without my trusty screwdriver."
"Good thing, too," Donna said. "Might run into a cabinet that you need to take down from the wall. Or worse, a door needing repairs. Of course, only if it isn't wood." She grinned that plucky Donna Noble grin.
Then she vanished like the memory she was. The memory only he remembered.
He slipped his sonic into his suit coat pocket and pushed through the doors.
He blinked in the bright light. He squinted up at the pink sky, scanning the horizon, then froze. No. Why, TARDIS, why of all places, bring me here?
He almost turned around, to get back in the TARDIS and leave. But he hesitated.
The voice of Wilfred Mott, Donna's grandfather, came flooding back to him. Every night, Doctor, when it gets dark and the stars come out, I'll look up on her behalf. I'll look up at the sky, and think of you.
He nodded once. For Donna. He would go, and look on her behalf. See the things she could never see, remember what she couldn't remember. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his trench coat and walked forward, toward the swaying mountains of Felspoon.
He walked slower than he normally did, his long flappy coat barely flapping behind him. He walked past the visitor's information center, not hearing the tour guide who tried to ask him something.
He stopped at the observation deck and leaned up against the rail, staring at the mountains.
"Imagine that. Mountains that sway." Donna's voice came back again. One of the last things she said that she would never remember.
The Doctor shook his head and looked up at the swaying mountains. They moved in the breeze, gently. The sight would seem so odd to Donna. She would laugh and shout "What kind of mountains move?" The Doctor would explain to her they weren't really mountains, not made of stone anyway. They were living creatures, each huge mountain its own being.
Donna would grin, unbelief and belief mixed in her eyes. She would make some snarky comment, and they would both laugh. The friends. The team. The Doctor-Donna.
The Doctor-Donna was, in the end, what caused all this. What caused Donna to be part of a Time Lord human metacrisis. What caused her to absorb all of his memories and knowledge into her own brain. What forced him to wipe her memory of any trace of him, any trace of the adventures they shared.
But no. It wasn't the Doctor-Donna that caused it. It wasn't Donna's fault in any way, shape, or form.
He knew whose fault it was.
The Doctor closed his eyes and let the breeze that blew the mountains wash over his face. He buried Donna's voice, her laugh, her smile down, down in his hearts with the hundreds of other memories he must never remember. Suddenly he felt ashamed that he would try to forget Donna, when she couldn't remember him.
Perhaps it's better that way.
The Doctor sensed someone come up beside him. He kept his eyes closed. Please, please go away, he begged internally. Just please. Don't touch me. Don't say anything to me. I'll be impressed by your intelligence, or like your smile, or be stirred by your curiosity. I'll be the selfish man I always revert to. I'll invite you to come with me in my magical blue box, to travel through the stars. And I'll destroy you.
The other person didn't say anything for a while. After a few minutes, the Doctor thought that maybe they would go away.
"Aren't the mountains fascinating?" A female voice ventured.
No. Please. Go away. The Doctor nodded, not opening his eyes. "They are."
A travel brochure rustled. "Says here that they aren't actually real stone. They're alive. Isn't that something?"
"It is."
A pause. "I don't mean to pry, sir, but are you alright?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Yeah."
Is that some sort of secret Time Lord code for 'really not alright at all'?
Yes.
"Are you sure? You look kind of pale."
Pale and thin. Skinny boy in a suit.
The Doctor finally opened his eyes and looked over at the girl.
And staggered back, having to clutch the railing to keep from sinking to the ground. "Donna?" He mouthed.
Donna Noble stood in front of him, a blank expression on her face. When she spoke, her voice didn't sound like hers, but she was definitely Donna. "Donna? Who's that?"
"Donna." The Doctor's throat constricted. "No, you can't be here. What are you doing here? You can't…. you can't…."
This was Donna's voice. "Can't what, Doctor? Can't remember?" Accusing. "And why's that? Because you wiped my memories. The best days of my life, and I can't remember them!"
The Doctor shook his head, sinking up against the railing, sinking to the ground. "No. Donna, it was for your own good, you would have died…"
"But at least I would have remembered!"
The Doctor closed his eyes, struggling to keep back the hot tears of guilt. "No, Donna, please, listen…"
"And why should I listen to you?"
That wasn't Donna's voice.
The Doctor snapped his eyes open. Martha Jones stood in front of him, her eyes filled with bitterness. "Why should I listen to you? You never did to me. There was nothing you ever said to me that you would have rather said to her." She narrowed her eyes. "You said you wanted to show me the universe, but I don't think you did. You just didn't want to be alone."
The tears streamed down the Doctor's face. "Martha…"
"Is it true?"
He shook his head. "Martha, I liked you…"
"But I loved you! And you barely even noticed I was there."
The Doctor shut his eyes again, shaking his head, trying to get her accusing face out of her head.
"Doctor."
No. Not her. No.
The Doctor couldn't keep his eyes closed. He opened them slowly, knowing he would regret it.
Rose Tyler stood in front of him, much like she had the first time she'd stood on the beach in the parallel world. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but there was something else in her eyes. A hardness.
"Rose…" He whispered.
"You left me."
A broken sob left the Doctor's lips. "Rose, I didn't have a choice…."
"But you did." The tears gave way all the way to the hardness. "Not the first time, but the second time you left me stranded on the beach. You could have taken me with you. Instead you left me with a clone of you. But he's not you."
"Rose, please…." The Doctor's vision turned hazy and she blurred in and out. He felt his heartsbeat pick up even more than they already had. What's happening? He thought frantically.
"You couldn't even say it." Rose started to fade away.
"No! Rose! I love you!" The Doctor shouted. He reached out for her, but his hand found nothing.
The grey around the edges of his vision convulsed and collapsed around him. Am I dying? Please, let me die. I want to go.
The grey turned to black.