Title: Cry For Love
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 1, 50ficlets
Prompt: 28, Cry
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

He hated crying. It made him feel like so much less than what he was, like he was a child in the body of a man. It made him feel weak, vulnerable, helpless. And that was the thing that he hated to feel above all else.

Well, maybe not. The loneliness was worse than the vulnerability and helplessness. There was no feeling in the universe that could possibly be worse than the utter loneliness he felt each time one of his companions left him.

It had happened so many times before that he should be used to by now, the Doctor told himself, heaving a sigh and raising a hand to wipe away the tears coursing down his face. But it always hurt afresh each time he thought about it.

Why would he be thinking about this now? It had been a while since he'd had a companion. He'd told himself that he didn't need one, not any more.

What he'd told Jackson Lake not so long ago was true. His companions always left him, whether by choice or not. They couldn't give him the forever he needed, even if they wanted to do so. And in the end -- they broke his hearts.

He hadn't said "hearts" to Jackson, of course. Even as much as the other man had understood about him, he didn't think someone from Victorian times would have been able to believe that he actually had two hearts. So he'd kept that fact to himself.

There had been times during that Christmas dinner with Jackson and his son that he'd wanted to break down and cry, but he'd held himself back from that. He wasn't going to let anyone else see how he was feeling, not even someone who he'd come to think of as a friend.

Being that vulnerable was something that he wasn't going to allow himself to do. It was starting to seem that any time he let his feelings come to the surface and bubble over, they ended up being crushed. That hurt far too much to let it keep happening.

It was ridiculous to sit here in the Tardis in a nearly dark room, crying over something that he really couldn't put into words.

What exactly was he crying for? His own loneliness? The fact that no one could stay with him? It wasn't their fault that they couldn't. They had their own lives to go back to, lives that he had no right to expect them to give up to be with him.

And, of course, their life spans were so much shorter. He couldn't ask a human to give up a large part of that short life, to put their existence at risk in the way he did. He could come back, albeit in a different body. They couldn't.

Knowing that his chosen human companions wouldn't always be there, and even accepting that fact, did nothing to eradicate the pain he still felt each time one of them left. It wasn't so much the leaving -- as knowing that he would be alone once they'd departed.

He'd still have some of them in his life, of course. They'd remain friends, and he would still be able to see them from time to time. They hadn't just vanished.

But the crux of the matter was that he was still alone at the end of the day. He would go off in the Tardis, to wander amongst the stars, and they would go back to their lives, their families, their friends, their work. The full lives they led -- without him.

Thinking that brought on a fresh burst of tears, a sob welling up in his throat. What was it about him that made people want to leave? Was there something about the life he led that they couldn't deal with -- or was it him?

Was there some horrible flaw that he couldn't see that made them want to not be here? Was he destined to be some sort of pariah, constantly searching for companionship -- and love -- and never being able to find it no matter where he might go?

Sighing, he wiped at the tears again, angrily this time. It was ridiculous for him to be crying. For him, being alone was a fact of life. He'd just have to learn to live with it, to get used to being alone. He should have been used to it a long time ago.

This was terribly self-pitying, and he had no reason for that. He couldn't change who and what he was; this was the life he'd chosen, after all.

Clearing his throat, the Doctor stood up, straightening his tie as he did so. Enough of sitting here in the dark and feeling sorry for himself. He had responsibilities, places to go, things to do. And who know what could happen? The possibilities were endless.

He might even find a new companion in the next place he went. There was no telling who it could be. Maybe, just maybe, he could find someone who would be able to stay longer than most did, who would want to stay.

That thought didn't exactly bring a smile to his face, but he could feel his spirits lifting slightly. That was better. Wallowing in self-pity and crying in the dark wasn't going to accomplish anything. He wasn't going to indulge in that again, not if he could help it.

If there wasn't a spring in his step as he headed towards the control room of the Tardis, at least the depression was starting to turn to anticipation for what the future might bring.

***