We're back to the Doctor's POV now...
CHAPTER EIGHT: AFTERMATH
The Doctor thought of it as 'after,' despite part of it taking place before. It was rather confusing, being a time traveller.
His head still spun. It had happened so suddenly. One moment Remus was there, his presence everywhere, a jumper slung over the control panel of the TARDIS, and his mild tones carrying on the air towards the Doctor's ears. And then he was gone.
It was probably something about magic. The Doctor still felt like he knew nothing about this whole new side of Earth.
He sat in the battered chair, staring towards the console. Where to go, now that there was no-one to show around? What could he get away with saying, to himself, without sounding like a madman? (Who was there to hear? Who was there to care?)
Suddenly, the blinking lights and gently glowing console felt dim and pathetic. He was a mess.
(Though wasn't he always? Perhaps, now, he was starting to care that he was a mess.)
And he slapped his hand on the lever, headed to Earth.
He'd never be able to get away from that blasted planet.
Something about the moon, and a hospital, and Martha Jones. He kissed her partly for DNA, or whatever excuse he gave himself, but mostly he wanted to prove something to himself: he could kiss all his companions if he wanted. And it meant nothing.
(Nothing.)
He mentioned Rose to her as much as he could. Because of course he missed Rose. Of course, he still loved Rose.
And he didn't mention Remus. Remus had been brief and beautiful and now he was gone. And the Doctor had no more business in his magical life.
Donna. Donna, Donna, Donna.
Oh, she was brilliant.
(Fantastic, but he couldn't really say that anymore, could he?)
And, for a while, he forgot Remus. (Forgot, a little, as in, he wasn't constantly on the Doctor's mind anymore. It was difficult to forget a boy like that.)
And then he changed.
A new face. Even younger. Perhaps he wanted to be free, to be silly again.
With the regeneration came a sort of seasickness, as always, that not-quite-steady feeling like he was walking wrong, talking wrong, thinking wrong. In that haze of confusion, Remus fell further and further to the back of his mind.
He was happy with the Ponds. (Pond. A great word to say, and he relished it.)
Clara: an enigma. Oh, how he loved a mystery.
(And that was how he was reminded, but still, he pushed the thoughts back, back, back. Who else had been a mystery, mmm, Doctor?)
The only memento that remained was a blue rock from a purple planet, sitting somewhere around the TARDIS. He still had no idea what it was.
And when someone asked what it was, at some point, he stared. Could only stare. "Just some souvenir, or something. Leave it, please." Please.
Changing. Changing again.
He was old this time around. He found, after a little while, that once he got past the creaks, he was comfortable like this. His mind matched his body, (well, as closely as he could get, as an I-can't-even-count-anymore Time Lord) for once, and he had terrifying eyebrows. Terrifying!
When the point came that he was companionless (again, one of those times where he attempted to convince himself being alone was best for him—though it wasn't, of course it wasn't), he wandered alone for a while.
And he stumbled across magic again, when he met some real witches during a trial in East Anglia.
Though older, with his stern face and darker thoughts, the Doctor's memories were still intact. He still remembered Remus Lupin.