Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who
The Doctor was a hard man. Emotions were kept under control and to a minimum. But this, this was just too much. Rose, his Rose was gone. And he was alone. Again. In a big, empty room in the Torchwood Institute, the Doctor lost it.
He screamed. He let the tears pour down his face and allowed himself to give in to agony. But it wasn't just agony. It was anger, and hatred, and depression, and grief, and guilt. It was everything all at once and yet nothing at all.
He kicked and punched at the walls. He flipped the tables and threw computer consoles across the room. He gripped at his head, sinking to his knees. He slammed his hands against the floor repeatedly, bawling until his voice was hoarse.
He placed his head in his hands, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He swallowed hard.
And then all at once there was nothing. He was numb. He looked at the backs of his hands. His knuckles were bruised, as was his soul. But he knew that with time the bruises would heal. The top layer would fix itself and it wouldn't hurt as much.
But there would always be a scar to remind him.
