Nearly all the Doctor's backstory in this series will be made up. Just a little warning there, though when canon can come into it, I will use it.
Chapter Two
"Sit," Jeremy stated, leading him towards a chair which, with a rather loud thump and a dull pain in his rear, he sat down on.
He wasn't really paying much attention to how he got to the room, he had been too preoccupied with having been slapped again by Martha. It looked like a small version of the big and spacey room that Jeremy had over at the place he was normally used to seeing when stuck in a room with the man. "I'll never be able to take back what I said to her, will I?"
"No, you won't. But you can apologise, and she can forgive you."
Frowning, he nodded. Yeah, forgiveness, that was all he needed in life. He didn't need friendship, or people not to hit him, or to feel good about himself. No, all he needed was to be forgiven. Then his life would be the shiny ball of something it had never been before.
If only it were that simple. But, to him, nothing was. Ever. He was a cosmic joke and the universe could do nothing but laugh at him slip up and make a fool of himself. He blinked. "Great... You know, before I got that phone call I was the happiest I had been in a long time and now I feel worse than ever. I'm cursed to never feel good for longer than an hour at a time."
Jeremy shook his head. "I'm sure that's not true. You would probably still be in a good mood if it wasn't for bad news."
Nodding, the Doctor waved his hand in the direction of the therapist and grinned. "That's my point. I can't escape bad news. It follows me around like...like something that follows something around that is bad."
"Surely not everything is bad in your life."
Huffing out in what should have been amusement, the Doctor shook his head. "The only good things I have are the people I travel with and one of them is Martha. She's not too pleased with me, and neither is Donna, definitely not Tish...no one likes me anymore. No friends, no family, no planet, no home. I have nothing..."
He wasn't going to cry, damn it. He'd done enough of that to last this lifetime in the past few weeks. He didn't need to continue doing so. He had the odd urge to hit something then. Hit something and keep on hitting until either his hands were broken, or whatever he was hitting was. Energy coursed through him and he jumped to his feet. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore! I'm so damn angry right now and I don't know who at, or why, and damn it I want to break something!"
With that last said, he slammed his fists into the table, felt the sting of the move and did it again. He was expecting Jeremy to stop him, and he was stopped. He wasn't expecting being gently herded over to a punching bag he hadn't noticed tucked away in a corner. It wasn't a proper one, as it was squishy instead of hard, and soft on the hands, but it looked right from a distance.
It didn't do anything to stop his anger. If anything, it made it worse. He needed that sting. He needed to hurt. He yelled out and turned back to the table. When Jeremy put a hand on his shoulder to steer him back to the punching bag again, he hit him. And just like that the anger stopped, changed to horror at what he had just done. He hadn't hit him hard enough or in the right place to break his nose, but already a bruise was forming on one of his cheeks. He hadn't heard a crack which he thought was good. Breaking the therapist wasn't such a good move.
"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"
Jeremy nodded and this time the Doctor went quietly with him, when he was led over to the seat again. "Sit."
He sat. He was going to be locked up, he knew it. He was actually going to be sectioned for this. It was a long time in coming. He'd been quite mad for a long time. Not as mad as the Master, thankfully, but still quite nutty.
"Did you read the pamphlets?"
He blinked. What? No section looming over his head? Just a question that was quite easily answered. "No. I left them in your office."
"I gave them to Martha to give to you. She may still have them. Things were rather hectic after you left. You had everyone rather worried."
He grimaced, but calmed down slightly. He didn't seem to be in trouble, even though he had just hit someone. "Yeah. Like I said, I don't know what I'm doing any longer. I feel I have no control over my life any longer."
Jeremy nodded and leaned forward, staring at him for a bit. It made him uncomfortable, so after a few minutes he looked away. It felt like these minutes were lasting forever. "I'm concerned for you right now, Doctor. Your state of mind right now is not a healthy one. You're lashing out at everyone, verbally and now physically."
And the being sectioned he had worried about earlier seemed to be made reality again in his mind and that was when he started crying again. He didn't want to be locked up...he was too flighty for that. "I don't want to. I hate it, I hate this! And now I'm crying again. Why am I always crying?"
"You're crying because you hurt, Doctor. The reaction is a normal one. I think you've been denying yourself the comfort and release that tears can bring for a long time and now that you started over the Midnight incident, you are finding it difficult to stop."
It was true, he knew it was true. He had shed a few tears over lost friends before, Rose, Martha, Donna even, when she had refused to come with him that first time and loneliness crept up on him, but he didn't fully break down. Then he remembered the deaths of three of his companions, the fake death of Peri he'd been shown when on trial for his life, all the absolute crap he'd had to deal with by his own people, the death of his own people and the wish that they'd once again start interefering with his life...
How utterly angry he had become the first time he had been put on trial for stealing the TARDIS and travelling with a lesser, inferior species. Oh god, Zoe and Jamie. Right then, what happened to them stung him the most. Because they would have forgotten about him, except for the time he had spent rescuing them the first time.
It must have haunted both of them for the rest of their lives, knowing something was missing but not having any way to remember what...
Jamie's leaving had left him feeling more inadequate then Zoe's leaving, since the boy had been with him much longer. He had travelled with Jamie most of his second incarnation. It had been quite a blow to lose both at once, and in such a way.
He hadn't gone back to ask about either of them. Zoe would have led a rather quiet life, he thought. Her job helping all on board the Wheel from which she had stowed on board the TARDIS from. But Jamie...Jamie he had no idea. The Time Lord's had set him down and almost got him killed right away. It was possible Jamie hadn't lasted a few days, let alone the rest of his natural lifespan.
Silent tears were soon joined by sobs, his whole body rocking with them. How could he have never gone back and checked on them?
He needed to know. He needed the comfort of knowing that Zoe had lived a long life helping with mankind's exploration of space, while Jamie lived long enough to at least reach his home. Please, oh god, please say he made it...
"Made it where, Doctor?" came the voice of Jeremy, but too caught up in his own misery, the only answer he could give to something he hadn't even known he had spoken aloud was a shake of his head.
He wasn't able to stop himself. At all. He only stopped when he had exhausted himself past the point of tears. He laid his head on the table and felt himself wishing for sleep. A box of tissues was pushed in his direction.
He decided as he yanked out several tissues, that anyone who said that crying was comforting or could be felt as a release of feelings were lying through their teeth. He felt worse now than he did before he had started. His nose was runny, his eyes hurt him, he had a headache and his mood had dropped even lower than it had been.
"Doctor, how are you feeling?" Jeremy asked him, after his face was presentable.
He grimaced and shook his head. "Bad...tired. Can I go to sleep now?"
"I'm told that you slept for a bit out in the hallway, before all the fighting started. Donna told me while you and Martha were yelling at each other. She was worried that you've been sleeping too much."
He shrugged. "I had only 2 hours sleep before then, and was woken by Tish calling. That's not too much sleep. That's too little."
"She's worried that this has sent you into Depression. Or will send you into Depression."
He shrugged again. "So? Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"
"Doctor...how old were you when it happened the first time?"
He almost asked when what happened the first time, but knew that it wasn't the answer to give. He didn't want to give an answer. He'd been far too young, his own people had pushed it aside as him just begging for attention. It didn't endear him to his people very much. It was probably one of the things that got him named trouble maker before he had even finished school. And definitely through his adolescent years.
"Doctor...I'm guessing you were rather young by your silence."
He nodded at that. "Yeah. Young would be the answer to that one. I'd also add on very."
"Your people are a long lived race. When were your people declared legal adults?"
"Usually roughly around 100, 110 years old. Depending on when they finished their schooling."
"So anything under 100 is classed as young for your people. Very being, what, anywhere under 50?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It was a long time ago."
"Doctor...when does a Time Lord's rate of aging stop being like that of humans?"
Sighing loudly, he sat back and angrily rubbed his aching eyes. "Usually when we are through the worst of puberty. Still adolescent, but over the 'rough patches' as they called it. Some were late bloomers, some were early. Some you could run a clock off. They went by those you could run a clock off. Usually roughly the age of 16 or 17."
"Where did you fall in this...categorisation?"
Grimacing, he shook his head. "I was unlucky enough to be in the early section. 11 years old...the other boys were at least 12. I had a year of that crap before other boys started talking to each other about it, and going off to read on what was happening."
"Why didn't you go and read up on it? Weren't there lessons?"
He actually managed to laugh, in humour at that. "What? Stuffy old set in their ways Professor's, teaching young students about something like that? Hell no! We just had to look it up ourselves, but it was safest to do that in groups and ask one of the people in the Libraries for relevant information."
"And why didn't you look on your own? Because it wasn't safe?"
He grimaced and shook his head. "Not really. Apart from lesson work and whatever I was studying, I wasn't welcome in the library to borrow out books. I stole them sometimes though, and yeah, bad, I know, but I was bored a lot. I could read in there on my own free time though."
"Then why didn't you do that?"
He closed his eyes. "You are asking a lot of questions about this. Why?"
"Because you're at least answering me now, and it is all relevant. It was a bad time for you. You just stated that yourself. You couldn't talk to anyone, you had no idea what was happening, and you didn't know what to look up and didn't bother asking anyone. Why didn't you ask someone?"
"Because they wouldn't have believed me. Thought I may have been talking to boys in a higher year then mine to find out the signs...that sort of stuff."
He could see the beginnings of confusion cross over Jeremy's face. He grinned. "Depression in my race, was something people only developed when they reached at least half way through their regeneration cycle or if they couldn't regenerate, half way through life. Only Time Lord's were given the power to regenerate, it's not a racial ability."
He saw Jeremy blink and a quick flash of understanding flash through the man's eyes. The Doctor winced at the sight. He had just given away at least partly just how young he had been.
"It was before you reached puberty. How did you learn of it, so young, when it must have been something not talked about?"
He shrugged, hoping that it came off as not worried. "I was disruptive in classes. Wouldn't do my work. They thought I may not have fully been weaned off my parents like all the other children and sent me to the counsellor, but that wasn't the problem. It started after that, just before I started in the Academy."
"You were 8?"
He nodded. "Yeah. 8. Very young. In my species, completely unheard of. They couldn't understand that I wasn't acting the way I was because I missed my parents, or because I wanted attention. I really needed help and support and they threw it in my face! I was told what Depression was in Gallifreyan terms, was called a liar and a cheat and thrown out of the office to never return, no matter what I did. That happened when I was 10."
"What did you do after that?"
He grinned again, but it had nothing to do with humour that time. "What any child who had been dealing with something so big and scary and no adult believed them. I decided I didn't need any adult's help. I went to the nearest bathroom and smashed a mirror, took a bit of glass and stared at it not knowing what the hell to do. I was afraid of pain, but I was so full of it. I remember thinking what I should do. Should I stab myself? Should I cut myself? Should I just put it down and damn well cry?"
Jeremy leaned forwards slightly at that. "What did you do?"
"I thought maybe if I cut myself it would let some of the pain out. And it wouldn't hurt as much as stabbing would. I left trails of little cuts all up and down one of my arms, but it didn't do anything except make me bleed everywhere. I ended up throwing the glass on the floor and bawling like a bloody idiot instead. Never did that again..."
Leaning back in his seat, Jeremy nodded. "I can understand why talking about things like this is so hard for you. And why it's taken so long for you to try again to reach out for help."
The Doctor knew right then he needed to get out of that room. He felt like he was suffocating and he needed fresh air and away from all this...talking. Why had he said so much, given so much of himself away like that, for nothing? He quickly got to his feet, the chair scraping across the floor.
"I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I really, really can't. I've got to go. Bye. And thanks. Or...whatever."
"Doctor! Wait and sit back down for a moment. I'd like to talk about a few things. Afterwards, you're quite under your own control to walk out that door and never see me again, but I would like you to listen to me for a few minutes. Please?"
He wanted to go now, but it was fair that he let the man have his say. He let everyone else have a chance, why not this man too? He grabbed at the chair and dragged it back to the table, before sitting heavily on it, folding his arms across his chest and pouting at the table.
He refused to look at Jeremy, even if he did decide to listen.
"Good, thank you. Like I said before, I can understand how this would be hard for you. You are putting a lot of trust in me with information you haven't shared with anyone. That level of trust doesn't come easily to most people. I told you at the beginning that this wouldn't be easy, that it would be hard. I also said that we'd go at your own speed. Correct me if I am wrong, but I think this situation with Leo has gotten you to push yourself past what you are ready to deal with because it is a situation that is traumatic to you and all involved, but is so in a way you haven't yet had to deal with."
He grimaced, but nodded. This situation with Leo had him so far out of his comfort zone he had no idea what to do. "Is that wrong? There's so much to deal with in my own head and now it's like everyone else's problems are piling on top of me too. I can't deal with this. So, I'm going to do this neat trick I have learnt through my life. And run. This is too much for me right now. I'm just getting over the whole Midnight thing. I don't need this!"
He slammed his hands down on the table again, out of frustration more than anger this time. He quickly shook them as pain made itself known. "Ow, that hurt..."
He got up to leave again, when Jeremy cleared his throat. "Doctor. One more thing..."
Sighing, he nodded his head. "What?"
"Have you ever kept a journal before? A diary?"
Blinking, he nodded. "A few, at different times in my life. Why?"
"I want you to start another one. Starting tonight. A half hour before you go to sleep, I want you to write down what you did or what happened during the day and how you felt about it. No lying. I want you to try and be honest with yourself. There's a shop in the hospital which sells diaries."
Crossing his arms, he glared at the psychiatrist and frowned. "Why should I do this?"
"Because you're not going to be here, Doctor, and right now, I feel you are on a very steep edge and someone is standing behind you. One shove and you will fall off, some pulling, and you can be back safe on your feet. The pull is the hard part, because you may find yourself hanging by your fingertips by the time you are helped back up. I don't want you to fall, Doctor, and I doubt that's what your friends want either. Do it for their peace of mind, if you won't do it for mine. You need an outlet. You need to say it, even if you can't right now. Writing can help, sometimes. Just, you can't lie."
He was going to refuse, but then remembered he was currently standing in this room, because of how worried Donna was of him. He closed his eyes and nodded. "Alright, I'll go grab a diary then."
Jeremy smiled at him, before pulling out a pen and a small piece of cardboard which he supposed was a business card.
"I'm giving you my mobile number. You can call me at any time, no matter whether it is night or day. The only time the phone is switched off is when I am with or about to expect a client. So, if I don't answer if you do call, try not to do anything until I can get back to you. I have voice mail, so leave a message for me."
Nodding again, he reached out and grabbed the card, looking at the number written on the back. Flipping it over, he saw he was correct, the number which was called to get in touch with his office was there, for appointment reasons.
"Don't forget the pamphlets! Martha has them."
Nodding again, the Doctor walked out of the room, a slight reluctance now moving over him, as he knew that to get the pamphlets, he'd have to face Martha. And right then, he was afraid that doing so would lead to another fight.
The hallway was now empty except for them, considering that visiting hours were over now and night was here. The hospital was in the stages of closing the canteen and gift shop, when the Doctor, looking like he was about to fall asleep on the spot, walked out of the room, fingering a card he held in his hand.
Martha froze upon seeing him, worried that he'd try to pick another fight with her.
She was sure neither of them wanted that, and as she saw how reluctant he was to come any closer to her, she knew he was feeling the same way as she was.
Throwing caution to the wind, she made a sound in the back of her throat to try and say what she felt, and failing miserably at it, she walked determinedly up to him, gave him a brief glance, before she pulled him into a hug.
"I'm sorry, Doctor. It was unfair on you to have called you here."
He went stiff in her arms for a few seconds, before loosening up and returning the hug. "I'm sorry too. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to say those things to you, especially not in such a hurtful way."
They stayed in the friendly embrace for a minute, before they parted and the Doctor grimaced at her. "Umm, Jeremy wants me to start a diary. I need the gift shop for that and...well, it's kind of dark now."
Martha chuckled and shook her head. "Great timing, I was just thinking that the canteen and shop were closing. If we hurry, we might get there in time, otherwise I might have to get someone else to open it."
He frowned, but nodded at her. Taking his hand, she led him to the ground floor, where the shop was, just in time to see it in the process of having its doors closed for the night.
"Wait, stop! My friend needs to buy something. It's important!" she managed to get out, the Doctor looking very uncomfortable beside her.
"Martha, it can wait until tomorrow. It's not like I'm going to do anything too stupid between tonight and tomorrow morning..."
She looked at him, really looked, and what she saw she didn't like. "Doctor, you're more a wreck than me, and it's my brother who's in the hospital. What did Jeremy say anyway? Why a diary all of a sudden?"
The Doctor was shifting about, that was never a good sign. It usually meant he was trying to hide he had done something wrong, but didn't feel guilty over doing it. He'd ruffle his hair or rub the back of his neck if he was feeling guilty over something. And look at her with puppy eyes.
"What happened?"
He coughed and grinned a little, to try and soften what he was about to say. "I quit therapy."
Martha blinked. She hadn't been expecting that, mainly because she knew that even after running out of his last session, he had still planned on going. Or at least, it had seemed he was still willing to go.
"And what's the diary for?"
The Doctor shrugged. "He doesn't think I'm in a good state of mind and said to come down here and grab a diary from the shop so I could write down what happened today and how I felt about it..."
Sighing, Martha shook her head, but caught the look in the security guard's eyes. He quickly opened the shop again and let them in, probably thinking that the Doctor was a lunatic from the psych ward. Well, right then he looked the part.
She dragged him over to where the diaries were kept and he scrounged around both the lined and non lined diaries, locked and not locked ones too, until he chose one that made her smile. It was TARDIS blue.
It was also one without a lock, but she knew the Doctor could write one language she'd never be able to translate, so let him have it. If he felt comfortable enough writing in it than good.
Martha left the pay for it on the counter, with a note as to what happened.
"Oh, also, he told me to tell you that I should read the pamphlets from the other day but that you had them."
Oh. Yes, yes she did. Plus the ones for Donna. She had been reading through those ones herself, though she had already read some of what was in them, from things her mum had gotten.
"Well, there's no use me staying here then. Why don't you take me home in the TARDIS and we can go through them together. You me and Donna that is. She can keep the ones not for you, though you might want to read them yourself."
He nodded at her and she was quite suddenly aware that he was being all too quiet. He really must be as tired as he looked if he was being this quiet.
They made their way slowly back to the TARDIS, Donna waiting outside the ship, tapping her foot on the ground, an angry look on her face.
"Where did you two go?"
The Doctor walked over to the red head and smiled. It wasn't a very convincing move on his part.
"Down to the shop to get a diary. I've got 'homework'..."
Martha left those two to talk for a bit while she entered the room Leo was in, said bye to her mum and left them for the night. Come morning, she knew she'd be back. She soon joined the Doctor and Donna who were waiting inside the TARDIS for her. The coordinates were already set for her home.
She just hoped that's where they ended up.