It's a strange concept. To be jealous of oneself.
Especially of one's previous self.
But he can't help it.
This regeneration was the most youthful looking, at first it didn't bother him, the smoothness of his face, the gentle voice, and the soft hands all made people underestimate him. It didn't hurt that this body also seemed quite athletic, being able to climb and run for a while before his stamina wears out.
But then the comments started.
And they just wouldn't stop.
"You're the Doctor? I thought you'd look older."
"I thought you'd be taller."
"You don't look very intimidating."
"Young man, if I wanted the opinion of someone barely old enough to dress themselves I'd ask."
He rolled his eyes so hard at that statement that Tegan thought they wouldn't come back.
He was almost eight hundred years old. He had at least seven centuries on that guy.
How ironic that he was currently at his oldest chronologically, but in his youngest looking self.
But the standards were there, piled up higher than he could ever hope to reach, it would appear that his reputation precedes him and then goes further beyond the more he helps people. The more lives he saves. The more enemies he stops.
Rumours spread like fire amongst the galaxies, of a man who never aged, of a man who only went by one name, of a man who could bring entire planets down to their knees and forgive them with his whole heart.
He was placed on such a high pedestal, people were always going to be disappointed in him.
Especially in this body.
He still had a flair for the dramatic, instead of curls bouncing his hair would swish and land on him. The length of it hitting his shoulders and stopping just above his eyes. His long coat would flail behind him when he ran.
Yet it just wasn't enough.
He didn't look like a leader. He didn't have the authority of his third body. He didn't hold the charm of his fourth body. People wouldn't listen to him like they would his original self.
They thought he was too young. They thought he was naive and inexperienced. When he met his previous self, some of the first words out of his mouth were,
"You look young."
"How do you get any respect with that youthful appearance?"
"Don't you get ignored a lot?"
Yes, but that was besides the point. He was able to use his youthful appearance to trick other into thinking he was naive, to then gain the upper hand and strike them down at the opportune moment. But of course, he had to prove himself in the process, sometimes that took entirely too long.
Sometimes he wished he could change into someone taller, someone older, someone who radiated power and authority instead of naivety and vulnerability.
But that would mean being like his precious selves. And he didn't want to be like them anymore. He wanted to distance himself from them. Their arrogance had gotten him into so much trouble, he didn't want that to happen so much anymore.
But still the comments kept coming.
"I thought the Doctor was supposed to be older."
"Someone more commanding."
"I wouldn't take instructions from someone who looks like they've only graduated uni a year ago."
Such high standards.
Such a high pedestal.
In this body he would never hope to reach it.
Yet everyone still expects it of him.
For The Doctor to come rushing in to save the day.
For The Doctor to talk the enemy into standing down.
For The Doctor to come up with some brilliant plan just crazy enough to work.
And that's exactly what he does. He stops the Daleks, he stops Davros, he saves the universe from another one of The Master's schemes.
He ignores all their comments, acts like he never heard them and carries on with his day.
After almost eight hundred years, he doesn't let those comments bother him at all.
Except for when they do.
During the quiet times of the day, when his companions are off sleeping or relaxing or whatever it is they do, he thinks of those comments
This body was so much more vulnerable than the previous ones. Took so much more to heart. The ability to care and empathise with another was so great that he couldn't ignore it. Felt the need to protect everyone at all costs.
And so when the comments become too much, when they hurt at his hearts in a way he never thought possible, he would find himself wandering aimlessly down the Tardis' many corridors, wandering through its many rooms, hands in his pockets, thoughts to himself, thinking about how strange it was to be jealous of oneself. Such a contradiction.
He decides however, that he doesn't care for the disappointment others might feel about him.
He's The Doctor.
He's been alive longer than most other people combined.
He's watched galaxies be born and he's watched them die.
Bounces from the beginning of time to the end of it.
He doesn't care for what others think.
Only that the universe is safe.
And that he is the one to protect.
He is The Doctor. Protector of the universe. Guardian of time and space.
He will save them.
He will protect them.
Regardless of what others think.
Because that's who he is.
That's who he always will be.
