A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fanfic so I apologize if it's not that good. I wrote it all in 12 hours, so don't mind me. Also, even though I edited this a bunch of times there may still be some mistakes in it. Whoops lol ;P Reviews are welcome, I will take any constructive criticism ;)

Chapter 2

After taking some pills for his throbbing head and nauseous stomach and tending to his injured hand with some bandages and ointment, the Doctor treated himself with a banana lollipop (his favorite flavor, of course) and made his way back to his bedroom to clean up the mess he made. Truth be told, he was somewhat uneasy about coming face to face with it all again. He was already starting to feel a lot more like himself and triggering another emotional breakdown would certainly not do him any good.

He was hesitant the moment he came up to his bedroom door. Taking a deep breath he twisted the knob and stepped inside. The first thing that came to his view was the desk. Well, what was left of it. It was utterly destroyed, shards of wood lying in the center of the room near the foot of his bed. He tore it apart with his bare hands and noticed how some of the pieces had dried up blood stained on them. The largest parts had split in many directions, creating wooden stakes. A few of the points had been dulled down broken off. That's how he got those pesky splinters. Nasty buggers they were. Luckily thanks to his healing capabilities, he now had not even a scratch. Mechanical parts he had tinkered with, along with his notes were scattered all over the floor.

The smell of blood attacked his nose. Though not as strong, it was still lingering in the air. The Doctor turned to his right to face the wall. The bloody handprint stood out predominantly, contrasting with the coral designs as it darkened and dried. Its smeared Mark stretched all the way down to the floor where he had slid to his knees. Moving closer he was able to make out the small prints of his knuckles where he punched. A shiver shot through him as he put his now bandaged hand next to the print.

If he wasn't already starting to feel sick again, then the en suite was definitely going to make sure of it.

Walking numbly to it, he was greeted by the dominant stench of blood again. Shards of glass covered the sink both inside and outside around the floor. They cracked as he walked across them with his trainers on as he surveyed the mess with somber regret. Blood stained just about every shard lying in the sink, small streaks and drops splattered like paint. The large, thick piece that he grasped tight which had given him the deep cut in his palm was crusted with blood on the sides, smeared and faint fingerprints on the flat surface. Looking up at the mirror as he did earlier, the Doctor was greeted by the hole where he punched through. His reflection no longer even was now distorted. The face he stared at wasn't that of the seething monster he met earlier - no, now it was the remorseful, guilt ridden Doctor. It was him. Truly him. Bile rose up in his throat as he looked hard at his eyes. That monster was still inside, he could feel it.

Taking a deep breath he walked out of his en suite and back to his bedroom. The Doctor noted how he had managed to knock over his complete stack of books lying on his bedside nightstand with the table leg he had broken off and thrown from the other side of the room with such precision. Well, that was…fascinating. In an ironic sense, for that matter.

After examining the damage the Doctor stood in the center of the room and stared at his shoes in shame. He had done this. Destroyed a part of his home, his life. He hadn't meant to hurt himself or the TARDIS in such a violent, unnecessary way that was far beyond his mindset. Closing his eyes he scrubbed his good hand down his face. Rassilon, he was a wreck. He had not been this beaten up since after the war. That was when he wanted to take his own life. He wanted to shoot a bullet to each of his hearts so that he wouldn't regenerate, to just be dead permanently. He hated guns with a passion which all the more pushed him to go out by one - with a bang, two so to speak.

A gentle hum interrupted his thoughts. Opening his eyes the Doctor wiped away soft tears and looked up at the ceiling. He could always count on his reliable and faithful ship. She had put up with him for so many centuries and so many regenerations. Looking around he noticed how his room was clean again. The desk had been replaced with his notes and tools rested upon it. The handprint on the wall disappeared without a trace. His books were neatly stacked on his nightstand. Looking in the en suite he saw all of the shards of glass that once covered the sink and floor picked up. The mirror above the sink was brand new and shining. Even the smell of blood had been replaced with a sultry scent of bananas. With a soft smile, he sent her his love and thanks as he headed to the console room.

Sometimes the Doctor thought his beautiful ship spoiled him too much.

The TARDIS was still drifting in the vortex after leaving Donna. He had left her exactly 28.819472 minutes ago but it had really seemed like hours ago. Then again one can easily get lost in whatever thoughts were buzzing around in that huge Time Lord mind of his.

No, he was not going to go back in that dark, damaged place again. He was completely spent at the moment after the breakdown he had had in his bedroom and revisiting the damage he had done. All he wanted to do was sit and relax for a few moments. There were some parts of the TARDIS that needed some tune ups and tinkering here and there. Maybe he could start rereading the Harry Potter books again. He could catch up on his favorite television shows. It has been a long time since he watched Intergalactic Spawns of Yolarbex on channel Alpha 4X-8. It used to be Rose's favorite…

'No,' the Doctor thought to himself, 'Not right now.'

While he was genuinely stable and calmed down for the moment he did not want to start up with breaking down again over the loss of Rose. The pain in his hearts will always be there and might not be rid of in a long time, or probably never at least in this regeneration. He still needed someone. Someone to stop him, as Donna told him. Though a part of him deep down still believed that it was better that he traveled alone, he still needed someone to be there for him.

The TARDIS hummed in his mind playfully as if to say, 'Hey, what about me?' The Doctor let out a soft chuckle and sent his love and thanks to his ship. 'Cheeky old girl,' he said through their telepathic link. Of course she would always be there for him.

Walking over to the console he stared at the screen with his fingers gliding over the controls, deciding where and/or when to visit next. He thought for a moment then came up with the perfect place. "Oh ho, you'll love this old girl," he said out loud with a happy chirp in his voice. He began punching in the coordinates with a smile tugging his lips. "It's been a real long time since you've been here. Well, I should say the same for me since I haven't been here in a long time also. I mean, how else could I get here? Unless I magically grew wings on my head like a Eunairy - which I hope never happens. Can you imagine that? Me with wings on my head?! What would become of my hair or - "

The Doctor was interrupted by an annoyed, but sounded like laughing, hum in his mind from the TARDIS. With a smile still on his face, he pulled the lever and set his beautiful ship in motion towards their destination. He looked up as the time rotor made that famous wheezing sound he loved so much as it moved rose and fell.

The TARDIS had made it to the special place that the Doctor had brought them to. His ship was already buzzing in his mind before the wheezing sound had even stopped. The Doctor circled the console and walked towards the doors and opened them slowly to take in the beautiful view that lay beyond him.

The Medusa Cascade, in all it's beauty.

The closest place to home left for the Doctor. He came here when he was just a kid, ninety years old to be exact, just as his ambitious urge to run across the stars and explore the vast galaxies and everything out there was beginning. His history from all of his past selves and timeline were here. Everything that was the Doctor burned with the vibrant amalgam of colors of pink, turquoise and gold. Of all that lies behind the mystic beauty of this part of the galaxy, the most important thing that was hidden here was the very thing about him kept locked away - his very name.

The Doctor stood at the open TARDIS doors as he gazed upon the breathtaking scenery. Though there was a slight haunting chill about the place, he still felt a sense of solace here. He drifted closer to the Cascade where he could see everything from his past in the stars and swirls of color. He, himself, was a mixture of so many things. Darks and lights and the bits in between. He was damaged but at times felt fixed in some parts. He was full of sorrow and regret and guilt but also with wisdom and faith and kindness. He was a coward but at the same time he was brave. He was smart and brilliant but also… well, he may be the dumbest genius too.

He may be called an angel and a hero, but one thing is for sure and that is that they are not perfect. He was definitely not perfect. He has flaws and imperfections and demons hiding in the deep, dark depths of his conscience. Whatever pain lies inside the Doctor's Time Lord hearts, he will take it and accept it and move on.

After a gentle hum from the TARDIS, the Doctor backed away from the doors and closed them tight. As he walked back to the console he recalled some things he had admitted to during the incident with Mr. Lumic and the Cybermen in the parallel world. The conversation with Lumic came to him as clear as day:

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"You are proud of your emotions?" Lumic asked.

"Oh, yes."

"Then tell me, Doctor - have you known grief - and rage - and pain?"

"Yes. Yes, I have."

"And they hurt?"

"Oh yes."

"I could set you free," Lumic said. "Would you not want that? A life without pain?"

"You might as well kill me," the Doctor said in a calm, hard voice.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

It was true. As masochistic as it was, the Doctor would rather have pain than nothing at all. Always. And he would do it for everything he believes in, the one who will always kept him fighting - her.

End