It can't be easy for teh Doctor to become a new man. Not easy at all. What if, Gallifrey forbid, it became too much? Angsty bad mood fiction spew from the Doctor's POV. Enjoy.
I hate starting again. I hate it more than I can bear.
Sometimes, I can wander the vast corridors of the TARDIS for hours, away from my companions just for a while, numb. Sometimes my fist finds its way to my mouth and I bite trying to stifle the sobs. I've lost count of the times I've hammered at the walls screaming at the shadows of the past. The times I've stood on an alien planet, new and unexplored, and stared into a puddle or a piece of rusting metal at my reflection and just stared. New face, new hair, new jaw, new teeth. Then there's my personality. I feel the same, but so different. My mannerisms, they change without explanation. And I feel so old. I see it in my eyes. They show their nine centuries, every single year of them, yet my face sees younger. By human standards in any case. I don't know any more. And, the word that kept me fighting. Rose…it's like the memories have been locked. I gave my other self to her, though now I wonder, is that even me anymore?
And then there's all this confusion with River. Because I've worked out who she is. And it's killing me. I can't bear to think about it, but I know that one day I'll run into her again somewhere I least expect it, and it'll all coming flying into reality.
Nine hundred years of time and space and nothing can prepare me for the horror that is myself. And I know I can't end it. That's the curse of the Time Lords. I know there are those out there who would fight to bring me back if I were ever to…
But what if…? I stand here, running my hand over the contour of the TARDIS console. I walk over to the doors and open them. Light from the galaxies swirling below flood in, but I don't squint against the light. I simple breathe in, and step out. Floating away. I am at peace.
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