Disclaimer: Doctor Who, I do not own.

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry I did not write anything for a while, it's been so busy with Uni work and everything. I thought of this just before I went to sleep last night. I don't know whether to keep it as a one shot or to add more chapters. It depends how many reviews I get! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it!

One in, one out. Quite tired and only mindful of his comfy seat, the only simile that came to his mind was Piccadilly Circus. It's like Piccadilly Circus in here!

The Doctor rubbed his tired eyes with one hand, daring to breath again and again. His machine matched his pain; the whirring echoed in old age. It's space would become packed once more.

Her voice was distant, he didn't even look up. He didn't have the energy to speak back. One case after another was slammed next to the console by his feet. She would rush back outside, retrieve another of her belongings and run back in. He didn't care to stand, perhaps the running was catching up with his age.

Slam! He finally looked up, slowly removing his hand away from his face. The door was shut and she was finally inside. She hadn't noticed how tired he was; she set about exploring the TARDIS if he didn't mind, taking a couple of cases with her. Alone again by the console, the Doctor thought deeply in the silence.

She was just like Rose. In her sweeping long hair, the blonde tussles reminded him of the beautiful young Wolf that he had loved…still loved. Her youthful energy, her questions, her big bright eyes as they set on the TARDIS console for the first time. She was just like Martha. He hadn't realised that until just now. She was smart, independent, always bold. She had only just finished university and was in the middle of her Gap year working as a teacher's assistant. The Doctor rested his head on his knuckles, leaning to one side. Donna's face swam into view. Donna before the terrible loss. Her cracking humour, her impatience, her silly little habits. He smiled to himself and a tear ran down his cheek.

Yes, she was just like Donna too. Loud, bubbly, fiery and inspirational. But not like the Donna he knew. He sighed and sat up, placed his face in his hands and tried not to think about her.

One in…one out. Could he do this anymore? Could he take the pain after…departure? One way or another, Joy would leave him. The events leading up to their meeting, their battle against the alien threat and her decision to go with him was like looking into one long drawling diary entry. 10AM met beautiful woman. Lunchtime: Confronted alien threat. 5PM: Fought deathly battle on the roofs of Westminster. 8PM: I go back to TARDIS after successful victory. 8.10PM: Beautiful woman demands to come with me. I hesitate, thinking about Donna. 8.20PM: She's hugging me and letting me know she'll back in half an hour with her things.

He liked the company, no doubt about that; but the heartache was ten times worse then facing monsters. Sometimes he wished he was back in the good old days when companions would give him notice that they were leaving, or back in the days when they left without getting too attached to him. However, seeing Sarah Jane again and Jack and even Mickey – well – how he never regretted meeting them. He would definitely be seeing them again some time in the future (or past). Martha would always be present. How proud he was of his companions. Would he be proud of Joy?

He stood up. He walked around the TARDIS, pushing buttons and checking scanners. The usual. His expression said it all; another loss, another heartache to cope with. And another girl to fit the shoes of the former, most fantastic companions. He shrugged his shoulders, sending the TARDIS in flight. What am I doing? He cupped his face into his hands again, ready to give up.

Footsteps… 'Doctor! Where are we going?'

He pulled a lever with a slam but didn't look up. 'You choose,' he muttered solemnly.

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