Happy New Year, sheep. Glad to have celebrated this passage of time with you. In the meantime, we can read my next and final chapter. Sigh, to be a competent and consistent writer. See you all soon, likely for spring break. 3 Enjoy!
It was a Sunday. The Doctor didn't like to do any world-saving or physically taxing traveling on Sundays, for reasons unknown. Clara knew he wasn't a religious man; he was practically a God, himself. But whatever the case, he was sitting in the observatory of the TARDIS, looking out into his home- the vastest place in the universe- space itself. She took a seat next to him, and he handed her his glasses.
She had been traveling with him for about two earth months, and she was rather clever, so she picked up on the technological stuff fairly quickly- considering she was a human. But however much she knew of the TARDIS- a limited knowledge, for sure- The Doctor remained a mystery. The small amount of things she knew of him came from the museum.
She had just gone for a stroll through the spaceship- there was never the exact same layout, and there were never the exact same rooms. She had started her adventure at her room, squinting at the locked doors that surrounded her. They had continued to flummox her, even two months later. What was behind those doors?
A flower? A torch? A stethoscope? A Dress? A lake?
As she looked up at the sky through The Doctor's glasses, and saw the dancing of the stars and the wind and the colors and the sun and the other suns and the thousands of suns and the moon and so many rainbows all at once, she just had to know one more thing about the universe for now.
"Doctor what is inside the rooms surrounding mine? The locked ones. They're the only locked ones on the entire ship. They're always locked. What could possibly be in there? I don't mean to pry, but those are the only four rooms that have always been in the same place, and locked. For months."
The Doctor stood abruptly and moved to the gigantic window that looked out onto the whole of creation. "Why do you need to know, Clara?"
She sat up and crossed her legs in the large leather chair. "Because my room is right in the middle of them. Who's to say when my door will be locked forever?" He looked at the ground at this response. It was a valid question. She remained seated. "Come on, Doctor. A flower? A torch? A stethoscope? A dress? A lake? What's the connection?"
He turned to her, and the light of space and time cast ghostly shadows over his form, causing him to appear rather frightful. "There is a connection. They are all my previous companion's rooms."
"Previous…"
"Yes, previous. I'm nine hundred and nine, you thought you were the first?" He snapped. She reacted as one would expect. She bowed her head and pulled a knee to her chest. It was clear by his face that he immediately regretted his comment. "I'm sorry, Clara, I really am."
"I know."
"It's just a touchy subject. Not a flower, a rose. Not a torch, a torch made of wood, not a dress, a wedding dress, and definitely, not a lake. A pond." He retreated to his chair next to her and sunk into it, rubbing his eleventh face with his eleventh hands.
It was silent in the observatory. The stars danced above them as the black marble floor below them reflected the images onto the slabs of mirrors on the walls. It was The Doctor's favorite room.
"Where are they, Doctor?"
"Everywhere."
"Where, though?" He turned at looked at her, pleading with her to please not make him go into it. "No dice, Doctor, I want to know." He sighed, and clicked a button on the remote that sat on the table in between the two chairs. A projection screen covered the middle of the enormous window. The Doctor clicked another button and sighed at the image that appeared.
Blonde hair, big, brown eyes, and a smile that could soften even the most tortured Dalek, Rose Tyler. "That's Rose Tylah. She got trapped in an alternate universe with a mortal version of me. We're married. We have a kid. Jack. It's complicated." He flipped the slide, revealing none other than "Jack Harkness. Immortal. Good guy. He is off at the Torchwood institute doing some wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey business. A really big sleaze ball, honestly. Good guy though, good guy." Another click. "Martha Jones. She fancied me. She married Mickey, Rose's ex-boyfriend. It's complicated." Click. "Ahhh, Donna Noble. She absorbed a Time Lord's knowledge, or something like that- still a little unclear on that one, honestly- I had to wipe her memory of me. She has no idea I exist. She's better off. They all are." He didn't click next. "You happy?" he looked at her with the tired eyes of a nine hundred year old man who had lost more than could possibly be fair.
"No. Not when you're so sad. You want to be alone, a bit?" He gave her a depressed little smile, and she came over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Oi, you got me, Doc." He looked up at her, smiling. "Doctor… they aren't better off without you. They're better off for having known you. All of them, I'm sure."
Left alone in the simultaneous dark and light of the observatory, he flipped to the next slide. "Little Amelia Pond." His hearts sunk. He missed them all. He missed them all terribly. Especially Rose. Especially Jack. Especially Martha. Especially Donna. Especially Amy, and especially Rory.
And it hurt. It hurt horribly, every day. But what hurt more was knowing that, no, they weren't better off without him. They missed him. All of them. Even Donna, with her wiped memory, she feels a crack in her soul that will never- can never be healed. Even Rose, with her husband and kid, she misses the TARDIS and the traveling. Even Martha, with Mickey and her happiness, a part of her will always love The Doctor, and he can do nothing about it. And as always, what hurts so much more than his own pain, is knowing that all of them are in pain, because they miss him. They need him. And he will never be there for them.
Never.
OOOOOOOOOH ELEVen.
Have a nice year, folks. Try not to drown in feelings in April.
