Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
"Don't interfere" really is quite a good rule. Nothing hurts quite so much as interfering. The Doctor stalks back towards the TARDIS. He's been feeling rather contemptuous lately. He's not really sure why, but it probably has something to do with River and Amy and Rory and interfering. He sighs. It's always difficult going back to visit them. Of course, he loves them and wants what's best, but it's so difficult to let go once he's started with this interfering business. He forces himself to step back, though. He doesn't want to interfere them to death or deformity, which seems to happen too often for his taste.
So yes, he's stalking. His mood is only made worse by the fact that, in attempt to prevent interference, he parked the TARDIS almost three blocks away. He'd hoped that not landing in the backyard would at least give him time to think about what he had done. It had, but he would have preferred it to be before he knocked on the Ponds' door and not after he was pushed out by a laughing Amy, insisting she needed sleep and that he probably had a planet to save.
Suddenly he hears a sound that made him tense. Crying. Crying had always been his weakness. He glances to the right slowly. He tries not to, but there's crying. He just knows it's a child. Children crying. He can't just do nothing. There's already an older child wrapped around the crying one, and he slowly breathes a sigh of relief. The child already has help.
He finds that he's not as happy as he should be at this realization. He wants to be relieved at this. He doesn't want to interfere. Of course not. But... he wanted... he wanted this child to need him. He's never met this child. He never would have noticed her but for the cry, but it wasn't for him. This child needs the older one wrapped tightly around her, protecting her from her demons.
But... he so wants to be needed. It's painful to wake up one day and realize that no one needs him anymore. He still needs Amy; he needs Rory; he needs River, but they don't seem to need him anymore. It hurts.
He turns forward again, trying to force himself to move forward again with this heavy weight on his shoulders. He's shouldered so many weights, but this one is different. Most weights are about things he needs to do because people need him. Now it's as if there's no weight, like he's a balloon that's been cut loose. He isn't needed any more. He has nothing to hold him down. To make him human. He's not human, but it's still nice to feel like one.
Just as he takes the first step away from the children (it hurts; it's like admitting that he's unneeded), he hears a shout, and the small cries immediately cease. He glances back, startled. Children don't just stop crying like that. The older child's hold has tightened around the younger one, and he's glaring to left, but there's fear behind the glare.
He's trying to protect the smaller child from the noise.
The Doctor tries not to turn. This doesn't concern him. He's not needed. It stings, but he needs to accept - oh screw it. He spins around. It's an angry man with a beer bottle in hand. He's shouting at the children, who seem to be trying to make themselves disappear. It's not that unusual to see parents yelling at the children. They often deserve it. This is different. They aren't guilty; they're just scared, even if the older one would obviously deny it. The man isn't chastising, he's tyrannical.
And suddenly, he feels needed again. He leans down in front of the children, still looking like they want to disappear. He's willing to help with that.
"Come with me"
The boy looks at him for a second before glancing down as his sister, for it can only be his sister. He glances back and forth a couple of times before looking back at the still shouting man. He looks at his sister once more before his head snaps back up and he nods vehemently, if nervously. The Doctor grins. He can't help it. He's needed again.
He grabs the boy's hand, running with him back to the TARDIS as he drags his sister along. He flings the door open, and pulls them inside. He drops the hand quickly as he starts fiddling with knobs and levers. He propels them into space, letting them get the full effect of the TARDIS before spinning back around to look at them again.
"I'm the Doctor. This is the TARDIS. She's a time machine." He waggles his eyebrows for emphasis. He spreads his arms wide and does a twirl, "Welcome aboard!"