A/N: Here's an idea that's been floating around in my head for a while, but I haven't really had the energy to write it. I've planned it out to about five chapters, so hopefully this one will actually go somewhere. Enjoy!
1.
In the days after the Time War, what the Doctor needed more than anything in the world was a hand to hold. But his pride kept him from seeking one out. He was too ashamed, too utterly, irreparably ashamed of what he'd done to face anyone or anything, even if they had wanted to help him.
He noticed the change within himself right away, his core, his very essence seemed to have reset itself. Gone were the grandiose—and often ridiculous—outfits. Gone were the catchphrases and the merry remarks of a youthful time lord. Jaded, he felt as though there was nothing left for him. Not after the loss of his race.
He liked the leather jacket because it made him feel tough, when on the inside he was falling apart. He liked his cropped haircut because he didn't have to bother with it. But at the same time, he hated those things. He longed to be the man he once was.
Straight away, he had gone to earth to attempt some bleak form of recovery. His favorite planet. He had friends here. He had Ace, and Sarah Jane, and the Brigadier, and so many more wonderful people to run to. But in his shame, he only watched them from a far. Wondering if they wondered about him, where he'd gone. He felt particularly guilty about Sarah Jane. He should have gone back for her, all those years ago. If anyone would have held his hand, it would have been her.
It was in this depressive stupor that the Ninth incarnation of the Doctor found himself leaning over the guardrail along the Thames, holding fast onto the cold steel, so much so that the exertion turned his knuckles white. Gazing into the water, he wished it would be that simple. He wished he could throw himself into a river and end everything, but even his own biology was working against him.
And he couldn't let himself give up.
He was the only one left, and he would be damned if he gave up that easily.
Keeping his life was a must, but he wasn't sure if he felt like being a janitor to the entire universe anymore.
The TARDIS rocked about violently before screeching to an unexpected halt.
Donna Noble had been knocked to her feet by the commotion. "It took me forty minutes to get my hair done right this morning, Sunshine," she shouted irritably, "Forty minutes."
"Yeah, sorry," said the man at the controls, "A bit of a pit stop to make before we go any further."
Donna rolled her eyes, "What, gotta fuel up?" she asked sarcastically.
"No, no, no," he insisted, "Did that a few months back." He spoke so quickly, never stopping for breath. Donna found it difficult to understand him, so instead she just nodded.
"Where're we going, Doctor?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
The Doctor pulled his glasses out of his suit pocket, placing them on his face as he fiddled with the TARDIS controls. He pulled a screen towards himself and Donna.
"You see that man sitting there?" The Tenth Doctor gestured to the screen. Donna nodded at the image of the leather jacket clad man who was leaning against the guard rail, head in hands.
"Yeah, who's he? Why's he look like someone just killed his puppy?"
"Well," the Doctor said, drawing out the vowel, making the word longer than it needed to be, "someone did kill his puppy. Figuratively speaking."
"He looks a bit old to be mourning over a puppy," Donna noted.
The Doctor rolled his eyes, "I said figuratively, Donna. Besides, why he's sad isn't the point."
"What is the point, then?" Donna asked, becoming exasperated.
The Doctor grabbed hold of her wrist, leading her to the front doors of the TARDIS. Donna kept her eyes locked on his, as if trying to discern his intentions.
"Now," the Doctor said slowly, as if easing into his idea rather than spitting it out, which was his usual method, "I've parked around the corner and up the street, couldn't risk him hearing or seeing the TARDIS materialize. That," here, the Doctor seemed to wince, "would ruin everything."
"You're doing it again," Donna complained, shaking her wrist out of his hand.
"Doing what?" the Doctor asked, seeming genuinely confused.
"Not. Making. Sense," Donna replied, as if punctuating every word would suddenly give him the inclination to explain himself.
The Doctor shook his head quickly, "Look, the point is, we're up the street and around the corner from a man who really needs to be cheered up. Or else the future of the entire universe is as risk." He said the last sentence abnormally quickly, as if he was hoping Donna might miss it.
She didn't.
"The entire universe?" she scoffed, "What's he supposed to be, the messiah? Lord of all?" She rolled her eyes.
"Uh, no," the Doctor confirmed, "Anyway, off you go!"
With that, he opened the TARDIS door, and ushered Donna out. Thinking he would follow behind her, she didn't protest.
She was awfully surprised when the door slammed behind her.
She turned around and banged on the door. "Doctor!" she yelled, "Doctor, you let me back in this instant! What's this all about anyway?"
The door opened a crack, enough so she could see one half of his face. "Would you hush?" he scolded. We can't have him knowing I'm here. Go on!"
He began to close the door again, but Donna stopped it with her hand. He was surprised at how strong she was, although he really shouldn't have been. "Does he not like you or something?"
"Ehhh, probably not," he said, cocking his head to the side, "but that's not the point! The point is, lots of things go wrong in the future if we don't brighten his day. Now. Go."
The door slammed once again, with more force than before. It seemed to Donna that the TARDIS itself seemed to be working against her. Resigned to her fate, Donna turned the corner and started up the street. She could already see this mystery man, gazing forlornly into the water. As she got closer, Donna began to feel genuinely nervous. Not only did she not know who he was, she had no earthly idea as to how she was meant to comfort him.
So she decided to do what she did best.
"Oi! Big ears!" she called from ten feet away, "Whatcha doin' pouting on the side of the road for?"
A/N: So that's all for this chapter. I'll try to have the next up in a few days. Don't worry if you aren't a Donna fan—she's not the only one who'll be visiting our lonely Doctor in this story.
Don't forget to review!