When I first saw 'The Great Detectives', only think I could think of is how messed up the Doctor is right now. I think he's even more devastated than Ninth, before Rose. I don't know what my feels are doing to me, and I broke down while writing this. Why can't it be Christmas already? Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
Days passed as if nothing happened. Or to put it another way, days passed like barren and horrid death. There was no glee, no liveliness, not a single positive aura surrounding the TARDIS after River departed. Since then, the Doctor has been alone, left to muse and embrace the pain of losing his beloved friends. He hasn't landed the TARDIS anywhere particular; two of them, the boy and his box were just swirling into the time vortex as if they were trying to be part of the flow.
The Doctor hasn't come out from his room for days. He was lying down on the couch, blankly staring at the telly which was repeating the Charlie Chaplin movies for the nth time. The Doctor wasn't watching, though. He was letting himself to relax and think back.
'Raggedy Man, Goodbye.'
His hearts ache painfully. He lets out a muffled groan and hates himself for recalling the memory. He closes his eyes. He knows that he has to move on. He needs to sweep all remnants of memory and put it into a box, where it will grow old and become a story. The Doctor buries his face into his hands. But it is too painful, letting them go. He blinks as he thinks of Amelia Pond. He feels tears wetting his eyes. Think of something else. Something good, something happy. Moments that should be treasured forever.
He thinks of Amy's wedding. What a good day it was. He traces further back, to the day he first met the little Scottish girl. He subconsciously lets himself open the box. He thinks of regeneration, a painful death. He thinks of his talkative, pinstripe wearing self.
He sees his loved ones cry and it feels like his hearts are burning. He remembers Donna begging, crying, wanting to stay with him forever. He remembers Martha, suffering tortures and making hard decisions. He remembers Rose, oh, so beautiful Rose Tyler, confessing her love, and how she made him better. He cries like a little child at memories on the Bad Wolf Bay.
He remembers how desperate he needs them now.
I can't do this anymore.
He gasps. The memories start pouring in. The regenerations, the wars, the losses; he remembers people screaming and crying, reaching for help. He remembers his home planet burning, turning into hell. He remembers people who died because of him. He remembers people whom he couldn't save. He remembers people who left him. He remembers people whom he can never see ever again.
Then he remembers his enemies. He remembers beings that resulted him painful losses. He remembers every single thing that they've done to him.
And he hates them like never before.
He screams. He wails. He begs. Make it stop.
Then he remembers.
「An ancient creature drenched in the blood of an innocent. Drifting through space in an endless, shifting maze. For such a creature, death would be a gift.」
I should have accepted that gift.
I should have died on that lake shore.
He feels drowsy.
I've lived too long.
After few days, the Doctor finally crawls out from his room. The TARDIS warmly welcomes him as he enters the console room. He softly caresses the controls.
With beeping sounds, the TARDIS shows the distress calls he missed over few days. The Doctor looks at the list of names and coordinates, and then slightly shakes his head.
"No more." He whispers. "I can't bear to lose more."
Suddenly phone rings. The TARDIS transmits the call to the monitor and shows the Doctor who's on the other end.
[Call from DR. MARTHA JONES/UNIT]
He looks at the name and blinks. But before he could decide whether to pick up, the TARDIS accepts the call.
"Hello?" Martha's voice rings the room. The Doctor closes his eyes warily. Her voice is urgent and desperate. And the Doctor knows what that means.
"Hello? Doctor, is it you?" Martha calls.
"Uh," he finally lets his voice out.
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Martha. Hello." He has to try his hardest not to let himself slip bits of his emotions.
"Is this the Doctor?" Martha skeptically asks. The Doctor realizes that he hadn't visited her after regeneration.
"Yes, it's me. I've regenerated."
"Oh. You sound… well, different."
"Do I?"
"Yes, uh- to the business. We need your help. It's the Autons. They're invading Earth. UNIT's been working with Torchwood, but we have limited sources. Jack's team and Mickey are out on the field, but seems like we don't stand a chance against them. Half the London's already- Doctor?"
The Doctor blankly listens as Martha talks.
"Doctor, you there?"
"…Yeah."
"We need your help. We can't handle this on our own. I'll give you the coordinates-"
"Martha."
"Yes?"
"I'm… sorry. I can't."
"What do you mean 'you can't'? Do you have anything more urgent than saving Earth?"
"No, it's just… I can't. I don't do this anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"Martha…" he muses. He lightly clenches his teeth. "I'm 1,200 years old. I'm tired. Tired of saving, tired of losing…." And tired of living, he adds silently.
"Doctor. What happened to you?"
"Nothing. I've got old. Too old."
"But, but you can't, Doctor, you can't just give up. There are people waiting for you, hoping you'd come and help."
I wish they'd stop.
"You are not going to let them die, are you?"
The Doctor just stares at the screen.
"Doctor?" Martha's trembling voice comes through.
"Martha." He starts. "Tell them, like you did before. Tell everyone that I gave up. Tell them the Doctor will not be there when in times of crisis. Tell them that there's no one to save them. Tell them, Martha Jones."
He could hear Martha crying.
"Tell them I'm gone."
He paused.
"And hate me."
Please, hate me.
"Goodbye."
And the line goes dead.
He sighs and flickers switches on the console. He grabs the materialization lever and pulls the TARDIS out of vortex.
Whatever happens from now on I will not interfere. I won't save anyone and I won't defeat anyone. I'll live in the shadows until everyone forgets me.
I won't do this anymore.
I won't care.
I won't.