The Doctor woke up that morning, feeling not-so-very different (besides having slept the night before). It was any other day in the TARDIS at this point. He was alone, companionless, left to travel space-time with the only friend he needed. His beautiful blue box. He wandered out to the console room. In the back of his mind, he missed the days when good ol' Donna Noble would follow after, a feisty spark in her eyes, or Martha Jones would come running like a little puppy. But what he missed most was Rose Tyler, lovely, brilliant, perfect Rose Tyler, beyond ready to run for her life at a moment's notice.
Quickly, he shook those thoughts away. No reason to think about that now; he was alone, and reminiscing would only make it hurt more. The Doctor circled the console, a familiar madman's dance that seemed pointless without a companion to show off for. He used his foot, covered with a lime green high-top converse brand shoe, to flip a lever and hold it in place.
The time-and-space machine landed in an alleyway in London, disguised as a 1960's style police call box. The disguise was, of course, the expected one, what with a broken chameleon circuit and all. He didn't care all that much, and, if he was honest, he liked her better this way. With her low-level perception filter, no one would be able to see her until he wanted them to.
Silent as a shadow, and with his long overcoat sweeping around his ankles, the matchstick of a man stepped off down the street. This wasn't the step of a man with a purpose, nor was it the leisurely stroll of a man walking for the sake of walking. No, this was the slow, heavy walk of a man full of pain. A few people bothered to ask if he was alright, but walked away without question when he told them to, and that sent a shiver down his spine. Something about that wasn't right, wasn't right at all. However, he kept walking, thinking nothing of it. He probably just seemed like a miserable man who wasn't in a mood to be spoken to, despite his best efforts to hide it. But something about the fact that these humans didn't even try to help him, that was what was scaring him. Humans, they were wonderful creatures. Even when you were feeling like you wanted to be alone, they just kept pushing for you to tell them what was wrong. They would keep making attempts to comfort you, usually. But this time, they simply walked away.
Maybe this was just one of those cases where they knew it would be useless to comfort him? No...in those cases usually a kind soul decides to sit there and be sad with you until you feel better. So why, why were they just walking away when they were told? Was there something about him, an anger or authority in his eyes? He looked at his reflection in a window. No, the only emotion he could find in his brown puppy eyes was pain. "Sir!" he called out to a man passing by. He wanted to try something. "Take two steps to your left for me, will you?"
The stranger did it without question. The Doctor turned on his heels and ran back to the TARDIS. He was...he could control people's minds, basically. He could get them to do whatever he wanted. But he didn't trust himself with this power, he couldn't. How could he, when he'd already manipulated people to kill themselves in his past, when danger followed him, when he'd already caused so much destruction around the universe? He wasn't always a good man, even though he tried to be. No, he was the Doctor, the Time-Lord with death and destruction as his constant companion. He couldn't trust himself, not with a power like this. He locked the doors of the TARDIS, and set her to fly off in space, just to float somewhere, forever. And then, the trenchcoated angel went to his room to read a book. A book of old Gallifreyan fairytales, to be exact. He'd be here for a very very long while. He wasn't coming out until he trusted that he would be okay. Until he knew no one would get hurt because of his newfound abilities.
