The first time his hearts were broken, he was a small boy. He was much too small, to understand how big love could really be, and how much it often cost. Looking back, it was a minor heartbreak, that of a childhood friend, moving far away.
He had shed his tears, up on an empty hill, while a cold wind whipped around him. Back then, his mother had come for him. She had scooped him up into her arms, and let him sob against her until he felt whole again.
But that was a long time ago, and a place he could never return. That little hill was lifetimes, and bodies away. Burnt now, along with everything else he had ever known.
The Doctor slammed the spanner down against the console, and she let out a noise of anger. He sighed, and ran a hand down his face.
This was the cost of saving everyone, being alive. Surviving when death would have been a gift he would have welcomed, one he would have embraced like an old friend.
Now he was too much of a coward to end it himself, despite the bottles he'd held with shaky hands, and despite the plans he made that he couldn't follow through. Something was keeping him here, working against him, or maybe for him. He was half mad these days, hadn't left the TARDIS since it happened.
Food should be running out, but he hadn't been eating. A just bite here and there, sleep was long blinks. He needed to shower, to shave. He needed to really eat, and really sleep, and maybe see the sun again. But more than anything, he needed to fix the TARDIS, so he could get off the damn planet.
He hadn't wanted to land here, or anywhere. The TARDIS was acting up, and he had assumed she was just pouting because he'd been screaming at her a lot lately. Now she refused to move, sitting in a field, on a planet he hadn't planned to ever return to.
The Doctor hadn't been able to locate the problem, wasn't sure there was one. She might simply be mad at him; she'd done it before, after all. But he kept looking, because he didn't know what else to do. At least if he pretended he was doing something, he wouldn't have to go outside. He couldn't bare facing anyone, letting anyone see him for fear they might see right through him.
Words could break him now, were likely to break him now. It's the reason he was still alone- well, one of the reasons he was still alone. He could have sought out a companion, but even the dimmest one he could find would know he was the farthest from okay that he had ever been.
He pulled up the grating, and slid down into it once more. Outside he could hear rain, pouring for hours now. He shivered, despite the fact that he was quite warm, and began to pull off a cover.
The first knock was soft, and he was able to brush it off as nothing. He couldn't imagine who would be knocking on his door, especially in the middle of a field, in the middle of the night.
The second was louder, and the third louder still. He sighed, pulling himself out, and wiping his hands off. He stared at the door for a moment, before finally shuffling over. There was no reason to answer this. He could simply leave it, let the probably curious stranger go on thinking it was just a silly empty box, in the middle of nowhere. It's what he should do, but something from beyond those doors called out to him.
He opened it, and poked his head out.
Rain ran down his face, cold and heavy. It seemed thick and determined to soak beyond his skin, to get the chill it carried all the way into his bones.
"I'm busy in here," he said, turning until he saw an older man, holding two small children.
The three of them were shivering; the man looked so weak he could barely hold his precious load any longer. The children lacked jackets, and shoes, bare skin exposed to the elements. The Doctor wanted to be angry, until he saw the state of the older man. He too had bare feet, diluted blood could barely be seen by the Doctor as it gathered around the man's exposed feet.
Wherever they had come from, it had been quite a walk. They were all pale, and exhausted, and this wasn't a mistake. This man hadn't stumbled upon him, he had set out to find him. The Doctor just wasn't sure why, not yet.
"C…can we come in?" the older man stuttered out.
The words cost him, the sag in his shoulder more pronounced now that he had said them. Or perhaps it was relief, because the Doctor somehow understood that this was a journey coming a close.
He might be a lot of things, but he wasn't evil. He swung the door open, moving back so they could enter.
There was no hesitation, the man slipping past him, and depositing the kids on the ramp. They didn't react, other than to reach out, wrapping tiny arms around each other to keep warm.
He looked down at them. There was one boy, one girl. Blond hair on both, the boys straight, where the curls curled up tightly. They looked to be about two, maybe more or less, but close to that. Tiny compared to him, tinier compared to the room. They were holding each other so tightly, he wasn't sure how they were able to breathe, little toes curled up against the ramp, trying to keep warm.
He looked at the man now, racked with a coughing fit. His mind was screaming at him, medical needs and fixes flashing behind his eyes. He needed to get them warm, examined. He needed to spring into action, but shock had paralyzed him.
"They-" the man wheezed out when the coughing paused. "Are yours."
The Doctor looked down again, then up at the ceiling.
"That's impossible," he said, though he was quite sure it wasn't. "And why the hell don't they have shoes, or jackets?"
"No…more," the man wheezed.
The Doctor shook her head, scooping up the both of them. Their skin was ice beneath his palms, and he was worried they were going to freeze to death before his eyes. He sat the kids on the jump seat, and hurried off down the hall. The med bay had warm blankets, always, even when he didn't have a companion to offer them to.
He pulled three of them out, and hurried back. He tossed on at the man, who caught it and fumbled to unfold it. The Doctor took the other, wrapping it around the kids, who refused to let each other go. He tilted their heads up, so he could check them over. Their eyes were both bright, though they had circles under them that he didn't like.
The boys were crystal blue, the girls green and a mossy color. They both had a blue tint around their lips, they he hoped was only cold. A cough racked through the man again, and he looked over.
"What do you have?!" he asked, rubbing the blankets over the twin's skin, trying desperately to warm them. "Are they sick?! Why are you here?!"
The man coughed again.
"Dying…I'm afraid," he rasped out. "But they aren't sick…can't get it….got vaccinated. All the money gone…"
He sagged against the railing, and the Doctor fumbled for words. Finally he reached out, grabbing his stethoscope, and pushing it into his ears. The twins said nothing, as he listened to first one heart beat, and then the other. They both had two hearts inside their tiny chest.
Adinites…the species of this planet, only had one. And he knew that this wasn't such an impossible thing. He had been here before, some time back. A different body, a desperate night. He'd met a girl, Lane, she had been beautiful and kind, and receptive.
A simple scan would be all it would take to prove they were his, but he didn't need it. He could tell, could see it clearly. But that didn't change the fact that he wasn't going to take them, couldn't take them.
"I don't know what you want from me," he said, pulling them back into his arms. "But I don't live a life fit for kids, take them back to their mum….they can have the blankets….I'll even give you a ride."
"Lane died a cycle ago," the man said, coughing again. He wiped blood off his lip. "I don't have long…our world is dying. Most kids…shipped off…distant relatives. Only the rich got vaccinated…and the children. I was neither. They'll be alone when I'm gone. Soon…everyone will be gone. They have no one….but you."
He looked down at them. A weight in his arms, he hadn't felt in so many years. And he realized that for the time they'd been there, he hadn't been in agony. He'd been distracted, putting them before him. He couldn't let them go out there to die, couldn't send his children –even if they were unplanned- to a world on their own. They wouldn't make it.
"Let me try to help you," he said after a moment. "You can all stay. I might be able to cure you."
"I've lived long enough," he said. "But you could take me home. I'd like to see it one last time."
The Doctor nodded, and settled them onto the jump seat again. He carefully flew the TARDIS, moving now as he knew she would. He knew that he should argue, but he could see the exhaustion in his face. He might be able to cure him, could probably find him someone that could, but he wasn't going to argue.
Even if he should.
"What are their names?" he asked, as the man walked to the door slowly.
"The girl is Shy…the boy is Gav," he said, coughing roughly. "Take care of them, it was Lane's last request."
He coughed again, and slipped out of the doors. The Doctor watched for a moment, but he didn't return. He took a slow breath, and tried to reel in his thoughts. He'd gone from alone in the universe, to a father of two, in a very short while.
He counted slowly, to five- a number he'd always enjoyed. And then turned and looked at them. They were looking up, the shivering less than before. He came over, and gathered them up, before heading back to the med bay. Clothes were on the counter, boys and girls, folded and waiting.
He undressed them each, and then redressed them, giving them a check up. They were both healthy, despite the chill, and warming quickly now.
"Shy?" he said to the girl, when they were both dressed in warm pajamas. She nodded and rubbed at her eyes.
"'ats me," she said.
"And Gav," the Doctor said, to the boy. He nodded, but didn't speak.
They were both ready for bed, he could see it in their eyes. He picked them up, carrying them down the hall. He opened the door next to his, and was relieved to find it filled with supplies. There were two little beds, with side rails. They were matching with a comforter of some cartoon bear. He went over, putting a child in each, and covering them up. He searched the shelves, until he found two stuffed dogs, and brought them over. They each snatched it from him, and curled up in their beds.
The ceiling had fake stars, and the TARDIS hum filled the mostly dark room. Their breathing evened out, almost at once, and he stared down at them.
He didn't know if he knew how to be a father anymore. He wasn't sure that he wasn't going to make a complete mess of them, but he was going to do his best. He had long since given up on living for himself, but he could live for them. When the waves threaten to overtake him, he could keep afloat, because two people needed him now.
The Doctor carefully slipped out of the room, and back to his. He shed his clothes, and dug out new ones.
The shower was hot against his skin, and he let it burn away the months he'd neglected himself. When he finally deemed himself clean, he stepped out, and went to shave. He wiped the steam from the mirror and started at his face. He hadn't looked, hadn't cared, but now he did.
His ears and nose were large, but his eyes were bright, like his sons. He shaved off the beard, and looked again. If nothing else, at least he was faking his way to a new start.
He shuffled out of the room, ignoring the growl his stomach produced. It was hard to focus, and his bed looked more inviting then it had in ages. He dressed, and went to their room once more. Shy had crawled into her brother's bed, and they were holding each other and the dogs. But they were still asleep, and he retreated to his room once more. He was asleep, the moment he hit the pillow.