Alone.
Again.
No matter how many people he surrounded himself with, he always found himself alone. The last of the Time Lords, destine to a life of loneliness. No human could possibly match his lifespan, he knew that, but he liked having them around anyway. He was selfish in that way; he knew he could never let them stay with him for long, yet he still took them from their homes and showed them the stars, only to dump them back in their old lives after a short time. If they survived. He had endangered every person he had taken with him on an adventure, and every time somebody came to harm, he promised himself that they would be the last. But they never were. He could never help himself from snatching up another one. They fascinated him. Their wonder with each new thing he showed them made him feel alive again, as if he too was experiencing it for the first time. After hundreds of years of existence, it was always refreshing to get that feeling of being around a human being. Their emotions; their consciences; their ability for love, hate, anger, greed; it all fascinated him. But the thing that got to him the most was their complete, blind faith in him. It was that which kept them coming back for more; their certainty that he would always be their saviour, no matter what situation they got themselves into. He wished they wouldn't be so sure in him. He was no God; he couldn't always save them, and their complete belief in him only made it worse when he failed.
And they were always so brave. So, so brave. They'd fight for him until the bitter end. And for some of them, it really was the end. Each one to go was another wound to him; the ones he couldn't save. But the ones that hurt him the most were the ones that were still out there, either having forgotten his existence or being unable to ever reach him. He could mourn the ones that were gone forever, but he could never move on from those that were still around. They were still somewhere, haunting him, sending him crazy until all he could do was scream. He was working himself up to that state as he reflected on the past, and the latest scars itched painfully in his chest.
Rose.
Donna.
Rose.
Donna.
Donna.
Rose.
Rose.
She had been the most fascinating of them all, because she had loved him. And, to his surprise, he had loved her too, more than he had ever loved a human. They had shared so much, and she had taught him so much about being a human. Before she had found him, he had been a monster; the very thing he battled against. She had found him, made him himself again. He owed Rose Tyler so much, and he had tried to show her everything the galaxy had to offer in return, but it hadn't been enough. In fact, it had turned out to be the cause of their separation, hadn't it? That was his problem: he never knew when to call it quits. He put the people he loved in danger and forgot just how fragile they were. Especially Rose. She had been the one he needed to protect the most, but he had failed her the worst.
He wandered through his TARDIS, wishing it were the same as when she had been in it. After the fire, all that was left of her was a small box of things she had left behind. He picked it up, running his hands over the things she had once loved: a necklace Mickey had bought her a long time ago, a scarf she had stolen from a market with him, a picture of her and Jackie and a few assorted clothing items she had brought with her. He picked up the scarf, hearing her breathless laughter as they ran from the market owner echo through his skull. He had joked that she should take it, since they had run out of money, but he hadn't thought that she'd actually do it. He remembered the day perfectly: the weather, what she was wearing, what she had laughed at, what she had found amazing. But most of all, he remembered the feel of her hand in his, a touch that had lingered long after they were out of the reach of guards.
Before he could stop himself, a small tear fell into the box. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He had meant for them to share many more experiences together, do so much more, help so many more people. It was cruel that she had been taken from him so abruptly, before he'd been able to realise how much she meant to him. No more cruel than you taking her from Jackie. The thought crept into his head suddenly, poisoning what little memories he had of her. He had been cruel to Jackie, though. For the first time, he wondered what she had been doing whilst they had been running through that market. She'd been sat at home, waiting for a phone call, waiting for a little blue box. He'd been cruel to all the families of those he'd taken with him. He'd take his friend gallivanting through the universe, without a care for their loved ones back home; let them sit at home, worried sick, not knowing when, or even if, their daughter or son or sister or brother or best friend was going to come home.
Home…
His thoughts turned to his own home. No, not his home. His planet of origin. His TARDIS was his home. He hadn't considered Gallifrey home for such a long time, not since the war. That awful war that had reaped devastation in his planet, torn through his brothers. He remembered the last few months: the destruction, the needless deaths, the pointless violence. The time lock, the thing that had rendered his planet practically annihilated. The thing that had locked him out, left him behind. Not even The Master could bring them back forever. He remembered the day they had returned; how they had been changed by the war, how they had been changed by solitary confinement. They had always been cruel, but what they did to The Master had been too much.
More tears threatened to fall as the memory of holding his dead brother in his arms came flooding back, but this time, he tried to regain some composure. He allowed the memory to wash over him, but he refused to let his emotions do the same. He remembered the look on The Master's face as he realised he'd been betrayed; the look of desperate anger as he had fought back, finally standing up for not only himself, but Earth too. He remembered holding him in his arms, desperately begging him to regenerate, but he wouldn't. The Master was too tortured, too beyond repair, that he couldn't hang on any longer. Selfish loneliness overtook him, craving the company of another Time Lord, but deep down, The Doctor knew that he had suffered too much, and to keep him living just for himself would be cruel. Even crueller than what the others had done to him. What had The Master once said to him? "Both your hearts would break". And they had. More than once on that day. Visiting everybody for the last time; seeing them all moved on from him, whilst he was unable to do the same. Going back to the TARDIS to regenerate, with only the flames to keep him company.
And so The Doctor was alone again.
Alone.
Again.
The last of the Time Lords, searching through all of time and space for the one thing he can never replace.