A/N: My British English is rather rusty, so please bear with me. Needless to say, I don't own Doctor Who.

Jaywalking

When you first meet the Doctor, you know immediately, instinctively, that he is a broken man. His eyes, a dark shade of brown, so ancient for a man who looks about thirty-something, are piercing and quixotic. The smiles he sends your way to encourage and reassure ("oh no, no no no, there's nothing wrong, really, don't mind those lethal-looking tentacles, these fantastic creatures are a peaceful lot despite their appearance-") never quite reach those eyes. Perhaps you are reading too deep into him, but wouldn't anyone who met him do the same?

—

He saves the day. Of course he does, you think with a fond smile stuck on your face.

"Not that I could've done it without you, you fantastic little girl. You are brilliant, you know," he winks at you.

It's ridiculously easy to return his manic grin with an even brighter one.

—

You say yes the first time he asks to show you the stars.

—

He keeps his promise.

You go surfing with some species called cerodauphins that strangely resemble huge seals with great agility; shop in Renaissance Italy and even meet Leonardo da Vinci by accident (you bump into him while turning around the corner, quite romantic on your part and irritating on his since you happened to break one of his inventions); visit the planet Barcelona, comparing it to the city with the same name in every aspect you can think of (including the dogs); watch a supernova blast from what the Doctor tells you is "deadly, dangerously close" ("-but the TARDIS will feed on the raw energy and we'll be good to go again, won't we, old girl?"); end up crashing the very first General Assembly of the UN unannounced and gawking at the Doctor trying to persuade people into them being the real representatives of the UK; etc. You end up running away from many disgusting monsters that are hell bent on making the Doctor and you, his companion, suffer as well as possibly causing your death one way or another while visiting more planets and timelines than you can keep track of.

Basically, you two go and wreak havoc on the Universe.

And you love every second of it.

—

"So where are we going next, Doctor? You promised to take me to that planet called Itchy-something, and to Japan in the Heian Period, remember? Oi! Oi, what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer first. With a worried look on your face, you approach him where he stands with his hands grabbing a set of controls tightly. His teeth are clenched, and you are scared not only for him but of him for a split second. You shake your head a little bit, convince yourself the murderous expression can't be reserved for you although you did once insult his affection for the weird hats he keeps wearing. It can't be, there is no reason, really, he-

"Ah, I was just thinking, you know, of some particularly disgusting specimen called-"

"I don't think I need to hear that, Doctor. Seriously, the last time I let you finish that kinda sentence, we ended up almost dying in the hands of some godawful creatures you mentioned before."

He offers a half-smile laced with sheepishness and a forcefulness that begs you not to ask. You have a hard time swallowing despite the mellowing your throat should be experiencing due to the excessive amount of orange juice you've been drinking for the past hour.

"Anyway," you say with an airy tone in your voice, "it doesn't matter. I understand if you need your rest, Doctor, you must be tired from all the running. A man your age, Time Lord or not, needs their rest, right?" Praying he would answer with his usual wittiness, you pass a cheery grin at his direction.

By his lack of reaction, you deduce that he needs his time alone. You leave him be in spite of the ticks of worry gnawing at your heart. Pursing your lips, you realize that he didn't even notice you leave the room.

You hope it passes quickly, whatever this ailment that's affecting him is.

—

Next time, he finds you, in a room right next to yours filled with various musical and non-musical instruments. Apparently, the TARDIS likes you a bit more than she used to the first time you came aboard the ship. You are busy playing the piano hungrily, as if you haven't touched the keys in a thousand years and it might as well be true, who knows what happens and how much time passes in the (your, that is) Universe while you are in this ship?

"Beethoven's such a classic, try some Lizst, wouldn't you? He was a charming fellow, very vain and big-headed too, you'd like him if you met him. D'you want to meet him? Oh, that's a brilliant idea! Let's go meet Lizst! Of course, I'll be meeting him again, in a different incarnation though, or it could be our first time if the old girl gets the year right, and it's such a brilliant idea, why didn't I think of it before? That's just what we needed, wouldn't you agree? Oh, I'm so excited, so much, Rose-"

You stop playing with a loud flat B eerily lingering in the air.

"My name's not Rose, Doc. Thought you hadn't gone senile yet, 10th life or not."

A calm voice with an underlying question mark. He stiffens immediately, switching to that "business mode" that you loathe with ferocity.

"Not yet, not yet. Still time for that. There is still a few more lives left, you know. Despite this body's tendency to dysfunction-" he cringes, "-occasionally, I'm still alive and kicking, mind you. And I know perfectly well your name's not-" insert an attempt to clear his throat here, "-it's not R-Rose, I know that much. I was... I simply mistook you for someone else for a moment."

"I'm not even blonde, Doctor. Can't see how you could."

He sends a bitter smile your way. You don't like the way his lips curl, it ridiculously urges you to stare into his eyes and you aren't brave enough for that.

"You should know by now that appearances don't matter."

"I do, believe me, but it's really hard to bear the fact that you ache after some blonde girl whose absence broke your heart and changed you. You still ache over her loss. You told me yourself you've had dozens of companions before, why can't you move on like you did with them? Why do you cling to her? Why-"

You stop as you catch yourself almost-shouting at his now impassive face. Slowly exhaling, you command yourself to calm down and wince as you fail miserably, the anger bubbling in your chest uncontrollably. His deceptively calm voice catches you off-guard.

"I would like you to leave my ship, as soon as we go back to the Earth."

With that, he turns around on his heels and leaves the room. It's not until you are sure he cannot hear do you let the silent tears terrorize your face, accompanied by equally silent sobs and a desperate punch landing on the case of the innocent piano.

—

Your departure from the TARDIS and the Doctor's adventurous life is a quiet affair, one that you can't help but try your best to stall. It's not just that you don't want to leave this magnificent ship and the prospect of time-travel; you don't want to leave him all by himself, either. He is miserable, he really is. You can see that now, your eyes are open. You know that he keeps comparing you to her, that Rose girl with a lovely smile and a mischievous glint in her eyes, in every way possible. You know that he used you to rid himself of his guilt and the pain that came with it (or is it the other way around? You don't really know the details).

Just as you used him to escape the high expectations of your equally high-maintenance family as well as the repeated back-stabbings of your so-called "friends".

Just as he used you, you used him. Just as he left you alone, all alone in an uncaring crowd, you left him alone and lonely in the entire universe.

What you don't know is which one of you is more alone now.

—

"So," you start, not knowing how to continue.

"So," he echoes, a bitter smile grazing his lips.

"I'm leaving, eh? Well, it's been... it's been good, I guess."

He quirks an eyebrow.

"Just good? Not fabulous or fantastic or brilliant?"

You pretend to think, then with a curl of your nose, you reply.

"No."

"Not even great?" He nearly whines, forcing the corner of your lips to twist into the barest of smiles.

"Nope, not even great."

"You're lying, I know you are."

"Nope, not lying. Not at all."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you a-"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes-"

"No-"

"Yesss-"

"Ye-I mean no! NO!"

"YESS, YOU ARE! I WIN!"

It's so similar to the childish bickering you two had while on board that you almost forget you're leaving.

Almost.

As always, he's quick to remind you of the reality:

"You're leaving."

He makes it sound as if it's your own doing. As if you wanted to leave him all alone, only with the company of a TARDIS that doesn't speak to him anymore. Or can't, you don't know. What you know is this: You're going to open you mouth and retort at his stupid comment and perforate his walls one last time so he can feel guilty about you leaving, like he did with that Rose girl he can't forget. Like he still does with that Rose girl he probably never will be able to forget. Thus, filled with that familiar sense of anger, you open your mouth—

And you stop. Something stops you, prevents you form speaking. You stop and look at him. Really look at him, like you did before and in the piano room and after. Right then, you come to a sudden realization: You had to leave anyway. You had to leave him all alone with a TARDIS that doesn't speak to him anymore. Or can't even if she wants to, you don't know. You don't even know if a TARDIS has gender. For all you know, it's the most wondrous ship in the world with the loneliest being as her captain, crew, owner and sole company.

You smile instead, as gently as you possibly can despite the ache in your chest.

"I lied, Doctor. It's been great. Fabulous. Fantastic. Brilliant. But my time has come."

It sounds eerily prophetic, as if your life's ending. In a sense, it is. After all, who can willingly leave the TARDIS and the promises it brings? The wonders of the Universe are endless and to have the chance to explore even the tiniest bit of it is a gift of inexplicable value. In a way, this is the end of your adventure and the life you knew as a part of the Doctor's companion.

And yet... There's nothing you can do, but leave. Not that you can ever forget by leaving.

You will never forget this. Never forget the TARDIS, never forget him.

Not that you will ever need to.

Never ever.