When he was young, he dreamed of adventure. He dreamed to go out and explore. To escape the dusty books and boring lessons, and instead experience the things he was assured were essential for him to know. He had a few friends. Some of them were content with their lives of passive observation. Others caught the virus and started dreaming of adventure as well.
He failed most tests and most classes in general. But that never bothered him. He knew things they never taught, things they never spoke about, the dark secrets and the obscure facts that he deemed worthy to be remembered.
The adventures he dreamed of having started at home. He gained the reputation of that annoying kid that is too curious for his own good. No place was too dangerous or too outlandish to go, he went everywhere.
But as he grew older, he married, had children and grandchildren. And, like many, he had drastically matured, no longer the adventurer he once was, but he wasn't as serious as most of the others of his age group. That earned him the love of his grandchildren, though one in particular was at his side almost all the time.
Her name was Susan, and she was what inspired him.
One night he decided he'd had enough. He left, with Susan in tow, down to the TARDIS storing area. No one stopped them, and no one was there, save for one girl who only told them to take the one with the faulty navigation system, saying it would be more exciting for them.
They left, 'borrowing' a TARDIS, and started their adventures. They met so many people, like Barbara and Ian, and for a long time it was all joy and adventures. But as many of you know, this story is not a happy one. The grief was soon to come.
It started with his granddaughter leaving. He had hoped to travel with her for a long time, but she decided to leave. He should have been happy, but he was just sad. She was his first companion, and for her to leave was something he never dared think about. But he was also glad for her. She was going to live a full life with someone she loved, content to live the way he never could stand.
Then more and more people left, fed up with the adventures, or forcefully removed from it. Either way he dreaded the time when his latest assistant, companion, friend, would leave. Sometimes he would put on a bright face, some he didn't bother, them knowing him too well to be fooled.
But everything ended eventually. Everyone left. He grew to dread endings, and in some ways fear beginnings as well. But he kept going, saving people and planets and galaxies. But he had a soft spot for one in particular.
It was a small planet near a single sun. Its name was Earth. His enemies often asked or taunted him about his love for that planet and its inhabitants. He never told them why. Sure he told them facts about the humans, and their outstanding qualities, but never the real reason, the original one.
The first time he visited, his TARDIS malfunctioned, trapping it as a police box. The first time he met two teachers. The first time he gained true friends. Every time he went back, there was something new to know, someone different in more ways than one to meet. He loved that planet because of the memories, the good and the bad, the friends, and the adventures.
More and more tragedies befell him. Companion after companion left, or in some cases died, but he always recovered eventually. Moving on, finding someone else to fill the void that was left.
Life after life he lived, always finding adventure and turning more and more childish with each new body. Then the Time War happened.
He killed them, all of them. His family, his friends, his race, himself, all of them died that day. This time he didn't recover. He met people, and they always distracted him from the things he'd done, the people he'd lost. All of the people he'd lost.
Rose did the most. She pulled him out of his self-pity and gave him reason to live again. She had a bubbly personality and a smile. Her cleverness and charisma were the things he loved most about her. But eventually the time came when she had to leave. They all did eventually. But he didn't consider that it could happen to her. Rose. His Rose left him, and he left her.
Martha was fantastic. She was clever and determined. He never gave her what she deserved, still being caught up in memories of the adventures he'd had with Rose, and always comparing her to Rose. That was his greatest regret about Martha. That he couldn't see the good in her like he'd been able with so many others. She left, but she was still breathing, still in the same universe.
Donna. Donna was so special, so brilliant. He never wanted her to leave, and he certainly never wanted her to forget. Like Jamie and Zoe did. But she did, and she had to leave. Again, a companion left. Again and again, he couldn't escape the loop that he was trapped in.
The Ponds were his salvation. All of them were fantastic and brilliant and brave beyond measure. They left sometimes, but they always came back. They used to always come back. But they too left. Amy Pond, the red headed, independent girl who waited and Rory Williams, the Last Centurion, the boy who waited no matter what.
Clara came along, once, twice, three, too many to count. She left every time. Every. time. She was the Impossible Girl. But even so, she was no match for the Girl Who Waited, or the rose that pulled him out of the darkness. Or even his granddaughter who didn't need a title to be special to him.
But at the same time she was. They all where.
Are. They all are.
He was once the runaway from Gallifrey, but now he is more. He is the Oncoming Storm. He is the Predator.
But really, he's just an old man that misses his friends.