Hello Whovians...this story takes place just after Journey's End. It's gonna be a long one so sit tight. I'll probably released a chapter or two a week, depends...I'm not finished with it yet but I'm getting there. Rated M for basically all the reasons. Bit of 'Dark Doctor' in this one. R&R please! Enjoy :)


The Doctor never drank. Well that's a lie, he rarely drank, there was that one time in France with Reinette. When he had Rose and Mickey, but mostly Rose. Rose. His Rose. Two years and he still hadn't gotten over Rose. And then just seeing her and sending off his metacrisis to be with her made it so much worse. It should've been him, not his doppelganger. Him. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair anymore. Rose, Mickey, Martha, Sara Jane, even Jackie scarily enough. And Donna…Donna Noble. His best friend…doesn't even remember him anymore.

Tonight was an exception; the Doctor was going to have a drink. Rose and Mickey had taken him to a street lined with pubs once, to get the 'London feel' they called it. He was pretty sure Mickey just wanted to prove his masculinity and try to out drink him to impress Rose or something stupidly human. Of course he didn't drink anything then, but at least he knew where to go. He felt most at home in London, near Powell Estates. Well, not as at home in the TARDIS. And not as at home as Gallifrey but of course that wasn't an option anymore, now was it? But the TARDIS had just been so full of his friends and now there was no one. There hadn't been anyone for several weeks and he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't be there right now. He needed to get out. Never thought he'd think that in his life. Much less go looking for alcohol.

He parked a block away from Lindon Avenue, the street with all the pubs. He put on his overcoat and stalked out of the TARDIS door. The night was surprisingly cold. Or maybe he just felt cold, who knew? He certainly didn't care. He just needed to get out of his right state of mind. He passed three pubs before coming to one that looked exceptionally dark on the inside. He walked in and went directly towards the end of the bar. The room was almost completely empty except for a couple in a booth in the corner. She was a blonde. Of course she was, anything the universe could do to hurt him now, the fucking universe would do.

'What had Mickey ordered that had him out of his mind in a matter of seconds? Some bomb. Car bomb? An Irish Car Bomb. You're supposed to drink it really fast, right? Any intake of alcohol really fast will do major damage to anyone, no matter their tolerance level. It all had to do with the…no, stop. Stop thinking. For once.'

"Hello? You listening?" The Doctor looked up to see the bartender staring at him, how long had he been there for? "What do you want?" The Doctor stared at him, completely confused. He quickly regained his mind, "Irish Car Bomb."

"You got it." The bartender walked off to fill his order. The Doctor searched through his pockets for his wallet. Donna had made him buy one when they went to 1980s San Francisco. He hated it at first, but then he realized how useful it was. A plain, simple, brown, two-fold wallet. It held British pounds, American dollars, Euros, Chinese yuan, his 51 century credit stick, and a picture he drew of his parents. And one he drew of Rose. He pulled it out of his wallet and admired it. It was done a bit sloppily but he got her eyes and her smile. And the way her hair sometimes fell in front of her face. Why was there water on the bar? Was there a leak in the ceiling? No, he was crying. He lost track of how many times he had cried since he left Rose, Jackie, and that imposter in Pete's World.

He shoved the sketch back into his wallet and reached for the pounds. Good, he had thirty pounds, plenty to pay for a couple of drinks. The bartender came back around with the shot glass and the pint. "Five." The Doctor handed him the five, dropped the shot into the pint and threw it all back. As soon as he set the pint down he realized that not even his superior Time Lord biology could keep up with that. Humans had fantastic ways of destroying themselves. He was already feeling a bit woozy. The room seemed much darker. He then realized there was music playing, he must not have noticed it before because now it was pounding in his ears. Some sort of slow, sad song. He couldn't quite make out the words, if there were any. 'Fucking humans' he thought to himself, 'fucking humans and their fucking alcohol.' He glared up at the bartender and nodded and he went off to make another one for him. He came back, the Doctor paid, and he set it and shot it back again. He almost fell off his seat. This wasn't nearly as much fun without Rose and Mickey. Even though he had to support them both back to the TARDIS. Take them to their room. Where they probably had sex. Rough, drunken sex. His Rose. His pure Rose. He quickly pushed the thought out of his head.

He scanned the room again and saw that it was completely empty at his point. 'At least that fucking couple is gone' he thought to himself. "Yeah, they're here a lot." The bartender responded. Could he read his thoughts? Or had he said it out loud? Was he really that far gone? "One more regular scheduled to come in tonight. She's quite the troublemaker. But she always has the best stories." The bartender said, somewhat reminiscent. The Doctor snarled and could feel his head pounding. He laid his head down on the cool wooden bar. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, but it was a nice feeling.

Then the bell on the door rang. Must've been the other regular.

"How are you doing tonight, Max-y boy?" The woman shouted. She was probably already drunk. Or he was hypersensitive to sound. Or she was drunk.

"Athena! You're a bit later than usual."

"Not my fault, fucking boss. Duchess doesn't show up, so I have to stay and finish her shift. She's not done until 12:30 and I finish at midnight. I didn't even get any extra pay. What do you expect? Life of a night dancer."

"Nah, its just cause you work for Charles. You know the kind of work he's with."

"And I thought I left all that behind." She laughed then scanned the room, "who's that?" she gestured to the Doctor, with his head on the bar. "He okay?"

"I just think he doesn't handle drinks very well."

"Y'alright mate?" She shouted down the bar. He didn't even look up, he just flipped her off. "Nice to meet you too, mister." She turned back to Max the bartender and started to laugh. "Not like I'm not used to it." She leaned onto the counter, "get me my usual sweetheart. Just make it a bit stronger than normal."

"Can do."

Did he really do that? Flip someone off? Definitely rude and not ginger. He gathered his thoughts and looked towards the girl. She was quite attractive. Taller than average. Thinner than average. Paler than average. Jet black hair but with streaks of blue and purple and red and green. Despite the cold night she was wearing ripped up jeans and a very tight, very form-fitting black tanktop with thin straps and lace. It showed off a lot of her tattoos. Definitely an unusual girl, interesting and exciting and…what was he doing? Oh, he was still a man after all. But the Doctor would never think of anything like this. Well, that was a lie too. He had, quite a few times. Rose…and besides he wasn't in his right mind. He was lonely and drunk, of course he'd feel this way. Well, he must not have been that drunk if he could argue with himself like this. He put those thoughts out of his mind too. He may be the Oncoming Storm but he wasn't a predator.
"You got a problem?" He had been staring at her for several minutes and at first she found it flattering but then she figured he was probably judging her and she found it really creepy. "I said, 'you got a problem?'" The Doctor gulped, mumbled 'no.' and turned away.

Max came back with a pint and handed it to the mysterious girl. She paid, exchanged glances with Max, and walked towards the Doctor.

"What's your deal?"

"Leave me alone." Yep, rude and not ginger.

She examined him for a minute. "You want someone to talk to. Trust me, I can tell. I deal with this all the time. Talk. You have the benefit of knowing you'll never see me again."

For some reason that last sentence stung the Doctor. He turned to her and let out his 'Oncoming Storm glare' that Rose liked to call it. "I said leave me alone."

She sat down next to him. "No." She took a sip of her amber alcohol and cleared her throat. "Lots of vodka, some rum, and lemon juice. You want some? Looks like you need some."

The Doctor lessened his glare and looked back at her. "Why are you offering?"

She smiled and let out a small laugh, "after leading a life that I have, I know any act of kindness can be what stops someone from ending it. Sure it's alcohol, but I think you just need some form of interaction."

He scanned her and took the pint off the bar, sniffed it, made a disgusted face and took a swig anyways. He coughed and spluttered and the girl laughed at him. "Happened to me the first few times too. Don't you worry." After regaining himself the Doctor nodded and focused his attention on the multi-colored bottles behind the bar.

The girl scanned him. He could feel her gaze on his back. After several minutes of this awkward silence and observation she finally spoke. "You can do better than her. It may not seem like it now but you'll move on."

At this he sprang up, knocking over his stool in the process and then before he realized it he was shouting, "You don't even understand what I've been through! You simple little human will never understand the range of frustration and despair that I am currently facing! You don't even…" He blinked twice and realized he was on his feet. The girl's drink was shattered. Max was standing behind the bar in shock. The girl was rubbing her face. There was a red mark forming on her face. He had hit her. There was blood on her arm. The glass had cut her when he must've smashed it. His hands were bleeding too. He silently vowed to never drink this much again.

Her head was spinning, both from her drink and the force of impact. She glared at him. He tried to stammer out an apology. She stood up and punched him across the face. "I don't need your shit. You don't even know me. Don't tell me I don't feel pain you prick." She stormed out of the bar. Max had retreated to a back room somewhere.

The punch had helped the Doctor sober up. He realized his surroundings and started picking up the broken glass and put it in a pile on the bar. He felt like shit. And a bastard. Rose could do better, maybe the metacrisis was better for her than himself. She could mold him into her vision. Time to move on. He picked up the stool, left the rest of his British money as a hope to somewhat make up for it, and walked out of the bar.

He walked towards his TARDIS. He walked very slowly. As he was walking he saw the girl sitting on a bench. Just sitting there, like nothing had happened, smoking a cigarette. She heard him approaching. He started trying to apologize again. "Don't bother. You're drunk. Go home, sir. Have a nice night." How was she not yelling at him? She either really needed that cigarette or she was an extremely patient person.

"I don't know what happened…" he started.

"Don't bother." She put out her cigarette. "Get home safely." She got up and walked away.

"Let me make it up to you."

She turned around and stared at him incredulously. "Make it up to me? Listen, I'm used to much worse from men like you. You don't know what I've been through. I don't know what you've been through. Don't even try. Leave me alone."

"What's your name?"

She stared at him and shifted her weight onto her back foot, as if to turn around and start sprinting. She obviously had grown up in danger. "Why do you want to know?"

"Athena, right?"

She snarled a little bit, "Athena. You know, the Greek goddess of war? Happy now?" She turned to walk away. He ran up and grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"You were right. I need some form of interaction."

She twisted her wrist out of his grip. "I'm not that kind of girl." She marched off and he shouted after her. "No not that! Just someone to talk to…anyone."

She stopped in her tracks. Even though he had hit her, someone she didn't even know, something in his hurt eyes made her feel like she could trust him. She turned around and stared at him again. "You really need someone to talk to?" He nodded. Such a sad, guilty nod. She took pity on him, "If you really need someone, meet me at this bench tomorrow then. Noon. I'll be here if you need me. This is your last chance. And only because you really need someone. And I mean really, really badly."

He gave her the ghost of a smile and walked down the alley. She watched him leave. She continued her walk back to her flat. What was she doing? She didn't even know this man. He could be a murderer or a rapist for all she knew. Well at least it would be daylight when she saw him next. She got to the Italian restaurant she lived above and went upstairs and fell asleep fully clothed.

He unlocked the TARDIS doors and went inside. He stood at the console and considered traveling to noon the next day. But then he remembered how out of himself he was and decided it would be better if he went to sleep and tried to sleep some of this off. His superior biology should only need an hour or so. She, the TARDIS, led him to his room where he stripped down to his boxers, climbed into bed, asked the TARDIS to wake him at 11 AM, and then went to sleep.