The Best of Him

His Granddaughter

He still remembers when he first took her away. She was so young, just a child, and she trusted him implicity. That was her first mistake. She was the first companion he lost, his first mistake. She would not be the last. And oh, how sad he was. He had failed his loving, dotting granddaughter and he had been nothing but cruel to her, really. A gruff young man that wanted to make himself look so old and wise when he was nothing but young and silly and misguided. (Knowing her, she would laugh and say that although it may have seemed reversed for a bit, hehand't really changed that much). That had not changed much actually. Except that now he was old and tried to act young, that is, until he couldn't anymore. It was so tiresome, and oh, now he was truly old and travel weary. And yet, he was still cruel, he was still the man who lied, who dragged his companions around and after showing them wonders, hurt them, just like they hurt him. (And any after meetings, oh Lord, how painful were those, and of course, his granddaughter would be the one to start such a trend. Well, besides her, but that was an entirely different matter, a really special case.)

He is so tired and he remembers his sweet Susan, his Arkytior. The first Rose he had ever loved. The first Rose he had to let go, so she could be safe, so she could be happy and live her life with a strapping young man. Well, she wouldn't be the last.

His Thief

He twisted and turned nobes, pulled levers, giave a soft caress. He danced around the console. He changed the settings, changed the look. He messed around, messed things up. He travelled everywhere and everwhen...

Ah, his oldest most faithful companion, the one who had seen him through all. His lovely Type 40 TARDIS (Time and Relative Dimensions in Space) who never left him. (No, wait, he knew better now, she wasn't the most faithful or the longest but oh, how close she came, especially when he had barely noticed her). The companion who only got to hold his hand once. The one who had taken him on adventures. Who took him where he needed to go, rather then where he wanted to. His lovely machine, his Sexy. Who he loved so much only second to... her, the one that introduced them. Yes, his companion who was so solid under his feet, yet with no other physical form of comfort. She who suffered his heart breaks beside him. Who stole him and let him bring about the strays.

She is his TARDIS, she has almost always been there, and he simply cannot lose her.

His Revolutioner

To him, her name always sounded like an adventure. Sarah Jane, the young girl who warmed her way into his hearts multiple times over, the one who revolutionized what it meant to be a companion. She had been so young when he met her, and so was he (well at least, relatively so, now that he was over 2000 years old). She had been smart, brave, brilliant even. She was the revolutioner, the girl who did not stand to be the damsel in distress in need of saving but rather helped saving others. She was the one who changed it all. The one who had personally met more incarnations of himself than anyone else, even his wife, and only if you excluded her (although well, he wasn't sure her echoes counted, but then again, if they didn't she would follow in second place having met even his darkest secret). Yet, Sarah Jane, lovely Sarah Jane who couldn't keep out of travel. Sarah Jane who found her way to him again, who wormed her way into his hearts once more. Sarah Jane who he had been reunited with.

Sarah Jane who was brave, and brilliant, and lovely, and his friend, and his companion, and who was so much like her (or was she so much like Sarah Jane) brown hair, warm eyes, brave. Sarah Jane who he had loved dearly and who he had so sadly lost.

His Lover

A sigh, a thought. The Bard, he expressed this adequately: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Yes, another Rose. His old friend Will might have been right, but this Rose, this Rose was the sweetest. This was Rose, all human and sweet, all pink and yellow, all light in the dark. Oh, how he had loved her. Rose who was so good and pure and honest. Rose who fought hard and cried harder and sacrificed so much, Rose who became one of the three (who in such a short time did the impossible and spread herself all over his timeline). Rose who was the Bad Wolf and saved him. Rose who turned a Dalek into someone good. (Just like her, when even as a Dalek she was good and nice and kind hearted. Who, when she a Dalek needed saving did so immediately, who forced him to see, yet again, for a third time now, that even Daleks could be good). Rose who he saved. Rose who loved him. Rose who he loved. Rose who left for best. Who he gave to what he could not give others. A piece of him, a life, a happy ending. Rose, Rose, Rose. All pink and yellow and so human.

She was Rose who was seared into his hearts. Rose who he missed.

His Support

Pain. Self-loathing. Shame. That is what he felt whenever he remembered Martha Smith-Jones. A woman who had been brilliant and wonderful and smart and lovely and kind and practically perfect all in her own right. A woman he had not seen. Ghosts. They had haunted him, and he kept seeing them, and Martha, poor Martha was forgotten. So she did what was right, she walked away... "this is me, getting out."

She, who would not compete with ghosts, would have been so proud of Martha And he is glad she did, because he couldn't see her. Couldn't see Martha, who was a real, proper Doctor. Martha who walked the Earth. Martha who take care of him when he forgot, when he was human. Martha who loved him. Martha who could love someone like Mickey, out of all people, and even marry him. Martha who deserved better. Martha who knew what she wanted.

Martha who was brave enough to let go even when he, who had lived so much, couldn't.

His Best Friend

Regret. Not because he lost her. Not because she couldn't remember him. No, it was because she just couldn't remember how brilliant, how wonderful, how amazing she had been. Donna Temple Noble, the human Lady Time Lord, the Most Important Woman in the Universe, the woman who forgets the man who regrets. Oh Donna, his best mate. The granddaughter to an amazing old man. Donna who was brilliant yet could not believe she was so. Donna who helped him get his Rose back (even if only for a bit). Donna who helped him get Rose her happy ending. Donna who saved the oods. Donna who is the stuff of legends. Donna the fiery ginger he loved dearly (Oh and Amy, these two lovely gingers who suffered because of him.). Donna who saved him from his darkest, who saved his life through the impossible (much like her, lovely her).

Oh, Donna, who deserved all, who got it all... who won't remember it.

His Daughter

Jenny. Jenny. Jenny. So beautiful. So perfect. So brave. So willing to impress. Jenny who loved him, her gruffy, stupid, nondeserving father. He who didn't care at first. He who was so cold. And yet, thanks to Donna, thanks to Martha, thanks to Jenny herself, he fell in love with his baby girl. The daughter he never asked for yet couldn't help but love (even if he did fight it so). Jenny who was a soldier (although he hated to admit it, that he'd been a soldier, and really he still hated soldiers... oh the pain it came with them, with remembering, why did she choose a soldier ugh, and why couldn't that soldier be him, if that is what she wanted...). Jenny who was so much like him, yet not enough. Jenny who had been truly kind. Jenny who had died for him. Jenny who he wished he still had. Jenny who he raised a gun for.

Jenny, Jenn, Jenny, another daughter lost to soldiers and war. Oh, how he hated soldiers (almost as much as he hated himself).

His Family

Gingers, red heads. Why couldn't he be one? Never mind... Amelia Pond, the name in a fairytale. Amy Williams, the woman who loved Rory, the woman who had lost a child, the woman who became his mother-in-law. Who was, indeed, for intent and purporses, his family. Amelia who grew up with a fairytale about her favourite Raggedy Man. Amelia who raised Mels, who lost Melody, who had to give River Song away to her fairytale friend. Amelia who was brave and kind-hearted. Who was the Girl Who Waited. Who had a temper and ire easy to raise. Who never forgot him. Who wrote fairytales. Who lived one herself... "we are all stories in the end."

Amy who loved Centurions. Amy who grew up. Amy who gave her life for Rory. Amy who lived with Rory. Amy who lived life. (Amy who meet her echoes twice.) Amy who he missed. Amelia who he adored. Amy who loved and lost. Who stood by her husband and daughter. Who was everything you could imagine a Scottish, red head little girl could become.

Amelia Pond Williams was a story he would never, ever forget.

His Wife

Melody Pond. Mels. River Song. Damn, that woman. She was a whirlwind. She was confusing and tantalizing and intriguing. She who met him in the wrong order. Her last, his first. (Their meetings where too much like his with hers, she was spread around and became one of the three.) She who was born to kill him, yet saved. She with gravity defying hair. She with the wicked grin. She who was her parents best childhood friend. She who kept secrets. She who TARDIS almost as much him (or okay, maybe better than him, but never better than her, who guided him to the right, who fought his TARDIS, who could simply click her fingers and the doors would move at her command). She was River and Mels and Melody. She was the daughter of his friends, his companions, his family. She was brave and smart and had so much heart. She who suffered through so much, so much torture, so much pain, so much loss.

River Song who took everything by a storm.

His Saviour

Her. Clara. HIS Clara. Who was so much like his Rose and his River (just as seared into his hearts, one of the three who was spread all throughout his life, his timeline in order to save him), who sacrificed so much and suffered quietly like them and brave, lovely Martha. Martha who like Clara he hadn't seen, who like Clara wanted her own place, not someone else's. And Clara, she was brave and brilliant as Sarah Jane. Kind-hearted as Susan. Permanently there as his TARDIS. Who was his dear, beloved friend like Donna. Who could do anything for those she loved like Jenny. Who always believed in him like Amy (even after seeing him at his worst, even after he had dissapointed them multiple times over). Clara who had a bit of alll of them in her and yet was so much more.

She was Clara, brave heart Clara, the only mystery worth solving.

Clara who was meant to save him, was born to save the Doctor and who did just that. Who had lived in every era, in every age, in every corner of the Universe. Who died again and again for him. Clara who had been a Time Lady. Clara, the only human who had made it to Gallifrey (twice over now). Clara who knew every version of him, who had seen his most hidden secret. Clara who knew his name. Clara who saved his lives, Clara who saved his hearts, Clara who saved his home. Clara who made him better. Clara who made him. Clara who gave him a promise and a TARDIS and companions and a hand to hold and more lives to live. Clara who was in every inch, every centimeter of who he was. Clara who was...

...His Everything.