The Doctor
The Doctor finished his last bite of curry and pushed the bowl away. It had become his habit to take his evening meal at this restaurant. It was cramped and run-down, but the curry was tasty and they didn't mind if he sat for hours nursing his cup of Chai.
It had been 1 month, 3 days, 22 hours, and 19 minutes since he had left Rose's apartment. He had seen her twice from afar at Torchwood since then, but either she had not seen him or she had pretended not to. He still worked for Torchwood, though mostly he did it from home. He was expanding their translation software, identifying alien tech, and safely dismantling anything he deemed too dangerous. It was boring, tedious work, but he felt he owed Pete and he needed to earn a paycheck somehow.
He was renting a small furnished flat in the middle of town. He had bought a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and a tea kettle. He spent very little time there. It was too small, too quiet. He missed the constant companionship of the TARDIS. Mostly he spent his days wandering the city, watching people, wondering what their stories were. Is this what his life had become? Is this how he was expected to live out the last few decades of his life? A few decades was nothing compared to how long he had already lived, but the time seemed to stretch out endlessly before him.
The Doctor stood up suddenly, upending his chair, and threw some money down on the table before hurrying out of the restaurant. His fellow patrons eyed him quizzically, but he didn't notice or care. He needed air. Outside he began to walk aimlessly, his shoulders hunched, his jacket pulled in tight around him. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him, tears nearly spilling onto his cheeks.
"Get ahold of yourself Doctor." He whispered to himself harshly. "For pity's sake, you're a Time Lord!"
Of course that wasn't entirely true. He was only 56.8% Time Lord, but still, he had the knowledge, the experience, and the education of a Time Lord. How dare Rose accuse him of being arrogant. Well, perhaps he was a bit arrogant, but he had been travelling for hundreds of years, spoke billions of languages, and had saved more lives than she could possibly imagine. Taken more lives than she could imagine for that matter.
At that thought, the tears began to fall. He paid them no heed, simply kept walking letting them slip silently down his face. He was rubbish at being human. Come to think of it, he was rubbish at being a Time Lord too. That's why he had spent centuries running. Some of those years he spent on his own, but he had never felt as alone as he did right now.
He fingered the piece of TARDIS coral in his pocket. He had gotten the last of what he needed to help her grow only three days ago. In about 4 ½ years he could have a fully grown TARDIS of his own again. He could be out there travelling the stars as he had done for centuries. Same old life, last of the Time Lords. But the very thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He leaned over a trash bin and emptied the contents of his supper into it. No, it was supposed to be the Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS, wasn't it?
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He didn't have a plan, but he knew something had to change.