Author's Notes:
This story came of a desire to explore the darkness that seems to envelop the Tenth Doctor more and more throughout the progression of the specials that followed Series Four. This fic begins just following Planet of the Dead, and will continue to unfold between those specials. I thank you all who read this piece and I would appreciate reviews and improvements I can make here. I'm very much experimenting with my writing abilities on this one!

#1: Lies to Myself

I am fine. Just bloody peachy. And for some reason, there's something wrong with that, but I can't quite put a finger on it. Maybe I'm too tired, or just too damned old. Or just too indifferent. It doesn't matter anymore, does it? Life, death, loss—all parts of my unending existence in this sodding universe. Danger seems to find me everywhere, and sometimes I can save the day. Be the hero, gleaming from battle. Sort of like today. There's always a cost, though, and sometimes it's saving the life of someone who truly does not deserve it. I think I'll go away for a while, let these people fend for themselves. I need a break from all this noise in my head. The blackness in my hearts. Need to feel some semblance of joy again, or else what is there for me to live for? I've lost everyone I ever actually cared for well enough to be a part of their lives for more than a fleeting moment.

I've been tinkering lately, figured that since Time Lords of Old could jump between parallel dimensions it's not out of my grasp. I am a genius after all. Didn't realize it would take so long, but my Old Girl helps. I'm sure she knows where I intend to go, and she always reveals the exact locations of the exact pieces I need to make this thing. This blasted machine sitting in front of me that I just…can't…FIX. It doesn't matter how focused I try to be, how intently I work on it or how badly I need to see her one more time, because I simply cannot make this stupid hunk of junk in my lap work. In my exasperation, I throw it across the console room. And then, it activates. Lights up like Christmas, and in a nanosecond I'm dashing across the room, snatching it up. It's shaped like a football, round with bits of gears and wires sticking out of it. A monitor half its size is attached to the top and reads one simple command in blue against the black screen.

ENTER COORDINATES

I wire the last few bits into the console and secure my new device to it. Then, with shaking hands, I type in the coordinates to that dimension, to that Earth, to that city. London. 2009. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't show up so soon following my departure. My self-imposed abstinence of the pink-and-yellow girl and simultaneous abandonment of her could still be… a tender issue. Instead, I type in 2016. There, not too far off but definitely not so far into the future that she'll have… well, forgotten me. Now to start the TARDIS up and press ENTER.

My hands sweat and shake, my hearts beat double their normal speed. No, make that triple. Part of my mind is screaming for me to NOT do this. To NOT disrupt what I have already locked away. I pull my fingers through my overly-neglected brown hair, making it stick up in ways never achievable by conventional means. You know what? Sometimes you just have to leap. Allons-y!

After several minutes of sheer terror, while the TARDIS cycled through periods of lurching, groaning, and shaking so violently I thought I'd be permanently cross-eyed, I sit upon the floor of the console room, deciding whether I should risk opening the doors. Blast! Why is this so hard? Well that's obvious, I tell myself aloud, you're a git. You've ruined every change you've had at happiness with her and basically stepped aside so a braver man than you could take your place.

In my mind's eye, I see her smiling at him, sticking her tongue through her teeth and squinching her nose in that adorable way. I see a little version of her, my pink-and-yellow girl, gripping her mum's hair, babbling nonsensical words, hugging them both. The Other Me. The Me that was human… mostly. I can see them at their most intimate; naked and writhing. That sparks a fire inside of me that spends most of its time buried underneath my despair and guilt. It should be me. I should be tasting her tongue, feeling her body underneath mine, panting as my face rests upon her bosom. Listening to her heart beating. Smelling her shampoo. Loving her as she loved me.

I must see her.

I stand, step over to the doors, and grasp the handles. Despite my wavering resolve, I open the doors to a beautiful, sunny morning, occasionally obscured from view by a passing Zeppelin. I've landed at the edge of a small wood, the TARDIS doors opening into a grand garden. Trees in full green are strewn among beds of flowers like a rainbow to my eyes. Bushes line a stone path that winds between the beds, finally coming to rest at the French doors of a white cottage covered in vines. Blooming blue flowers randomly speckle throughout the vines, and if I let my eyes blur, it sort of resembles the TARDIS. How quaint, the darker side of my inner self sneers sarcastically. Mostly, I'm in awe. It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen, and definitely not in London. At least not the one I remember. Maybe I'm outside the city? Must be, this much green is not easy to find in a bustling city.

One of the doors open, and I quietly stand my ground, observing, the TARDIS and myself slightly hidden by the garden's mass of foliage. A small face surrounded by a thick tuft of brown hair timidly pokes out the cottage's entrance, followed by that of a little yapping Yorkie. The rest of this tiny boy, of no more than six years in age, gives chase to the equally small dog. The child's laughter rings in the air like that of…

It's her…

For a moment, I stop breathing.

She steps into view, and leans against the door frame, tasting what I can only imagine is tea from an oversized white mug. Her yellow hair blows in long wisps with the breeze. Flowing around her, a baby pink ankle length dress gently enhances her curves. Oh, those curves. She smiles at the giggling boy, who runs to hug her once he spots her standing in the sunlight. She moves to place the mug on a small round table to her right just as the boy gladly wraps his arms around her waist.

This is too much.

Tears swell at the corner of my eyes, but I force it down. I can feel my hearts ache to touch her skin, kiss her lips, stand within the light that emanates from her, but I bury it deep. I need to see this, to remember why I continue my thankless existence.

She steps back within the darkened rooms of the cottage a few minutes later, followed closely by the boy and his pet. The door closes. After a deep breath, I reenter the TARDIS desperately needing a distraction from the creeping sadness that threatens to take over my mind. Coordinates home placed, and TARDIS engaged, I head for home. For a planet, any planet, that wouldn't remind me of Rose will suit my hunger for a thrill. Maybe Mars? That will have to do.