Title: Hiding Out
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 100moods
Prompt: 87, Scared
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'd never been this scared in his life. In any of his lives.

The Doctor squeezed into the back corner of the closet he was hiding in, trying to make himself as small as possible. There wasn't a huge chance that a Cyberman would open that door -- but if it did, he wanted to have a chance to surprise it.

And then what would he do? a voice in the back of his mind taunted him. Politely tell it to get out of his way? Or jump at it and hope that he could somehow manage to escape before his life was ended in the proverbial flash of light?

Hopefully, neither of those things would happen. If he was lucky, they wouldn't be able to find him -- or whatever else they seemed to be searching for -- and he would be able to hide here safely and then make his escape after they'd left the house.

What were Cybermen doing here on Earth, anyway? He frowned as he searched his memory for any reason they could possibly have invaded the planet this time. There was nothing in any recent history he could recall that would have sent them here; but then, he hadn't visited the 37th century in a while. He could be unaware of how things were here.

He almost wanted to curse himself for waiting so long to pay a call to this time, after some of the trouble that he'd had here before. But there had been so many other places to go, so many other things to see that had claimed his attention ....

And anyway, hindsight was always 20/20, wasn't it? He always cursed himself for being too late to stop the beginnings of situations before they could bloom into something dangerous.

Well, maybe it was enough that he showed up many a time after the seeds had been sown -- and managed to find a way to keep them from coming to fruition. There had been a few failures, but he could take pride in the fact that he usually prevailed against his enemies.

Well, that certainly made him sound like some kind of superhero, didn't it? The Doctor's lips twisted wryly in a smile. He wasn't that, not by any means. He simply tried his best to do what was right. It was all he could do.

A sound outside of his hiding place made him stiffen, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the gasp that would otherwise have made itself heard. Were they out there? He strained to hear, to try and focus his senses outside of the closed door that was his only protection from what would be certain death if he was discovered.

Yes, they were. He could hear them moving around -- clanking around was more like it -- but they didn't seem to be approaching the closet, thank goodness.

If they did, he would have no choice but to face death stoically -- or face whatever else they might have planned for him. Though he was fairly certain that they would simply kill him; it wasn't as though they'd ever wanted to do more with him than eliminate him.

Fear gripped him again, shooting through him again in a paralyzing wave. Would he be able to face death with equanimity if he knew that it was definitely going to happen? He'd done it several times before, but somehow, this time it felt .... different.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to give up the body he was in and regenerate into a new one. He hadn't done enough in this one; he hadn't lived, not in the way tht he wanted to. He still had so much he wanted to experience in this particular life.

Besides, he liked this body. He wasn't ready to lose it yet. It was by far the most attractive one he'd ever had; he enjoyed being in it, enjoyed the way that people looked at him. He could even look in the mirror when he was shaving and admire what he saw, more than he'd ever been able to do in any other body he'd had.

All right, so maybe that was a selfish way for him to think. But he didn't care. He'd been through nine bodies before this; he had a right to be a little selfish for once.

This wasn't how he wanted his life in this body to end -- alone facing a horde of Cybermen, in a century that he really wasn't all that familiar with. He wanted to keep living in this body, to do all the things he'd never gotten a chance to do before.

His small hands clenched at his sides as he tried to beat down the fear that was rising within him, make it manageable and chase it away. He wanted to compress that fear into a ball and hurl it as far away from him as he possibly could.

He wasn't going to go to his death meekly, if that was what had to be. He would accept it, and he would die making sure that whatever the Cybermen planned was stopped. He'd risked his life many times before; he would do it again if he had to.

It wasn't what he wanted; it wasn't what he'd ever wanted, if he was honest with himself. But it was one of the responsibilities he'd taken on when he'd become a Time Lord, and he would never turn his back on that, no matter what personal risk it put him at. He'd always known that being a Time Lord was dangerous, but it was all he'd ever wanted.

Well, certainly not all. But it was the life he had, the life he'd chosen, and he wouldn't back away from it. Not that he would ever have the chance.

Oh, he might, he thought to himself, closing his eyes. He might be offered the chance to turn his back on the responsibilities he'd taken on. But he could never do that. He'd spend the rest of his life feeling guilty -- and nothing would be worth that.

Maybe facing death here at the hands of the Cybermen wouldn't be so bad. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been in this position -- but for some reason, he was more scared now than he'd ever been before. He had no idea why that should be.

It was probably only because he wanted to spend more time in this body. True, he was alone now, with no companion and no one special in his life. But he was the eternal optimist, no matter how lonely he might be. Things could always get better.

He didn't fear death, not when he could regenerate. He never had. Of course, there would inevitably be that final death that everyone came to -- but by that time, he would have lived so long that it would hold no fears for him and it would be something he welcomed with open arms. At least, that was what he could always hope for.

Who knew what the future would bring? He didn't, though he'd been tempted to try to look into it several times. He'd always held himself back; there was a part of him that didn't want to know how he would eventually end.

The Doctor closed his eyes, gradually letting himself relax. He wasn't going to be discovered here. He was going to slip away, and find a way to defeat the Cybermen.

There was no point in letting his fears take him over. He'd been in much worse situations than this -- though he had to admit that the will to live had never been quite so strong before. He was going to hold onto that will with all his strength, and not let it desert him when he most needed it.

Yes, he feared death. He feared the Cybermen. Who wouldn't? He'd seen the kind of destruction they could wreak. But he was no mere mortal, not one to cower away from a challenge and let his fears rule him. He was Gallifreyan. More than that, he was a Time Lord. And he had a weapon in his arsenal that no one could deny.

His enemies feared him. With good reason.

He'd destroyed worlds. He'd done it without a second glance, when it had been for the good of the universe. And he would do it again, if he had to. He might have regrets, but he wouldn't hesitate if it was what he felt had to be done.

After all, he destroyed his own world -- though that had been the biggest regret of his life. But his enemies didn't see that regret. They only saw the fearsome storm that he could be when he had to be. They didn't see the fear that could take hold of him at times; he wouldn't let it show when he most needed to be strong.

It was fine to be scared. But he would never show it -- not where anyone could see it, anyway. Least of all his enemies.

Silence. They seemed to have gone, and they hadn't found his hiding place. The Doctor closed his eyes, finally letting out the breath he felt as though he'd been holding since he'd first scuttled into the closet and closed the door behind him.

He'd been frightened, true. But now that the immediate threat was past, he could feel confidence returning to him, and a steely determination to triumph over his ancient enemies. It was time to get out of here and be what he was. The Doctor. A Time Lord.

He squared his shoulders, opening the door to the closet and stepping out cautiously. There was no one in sight; the Cybermen had apparently decided that there was no reason to keep searching the house. Whatever they'd been looking for wasn't here.

But he was here. And overlooking him had been their biggest mistake. The Doctor smiled grimly, his mind racing ahead to form plans, his fear forgotten in the rush of adrenaline that always hit him whenever he knew that he had to come to a decision quickly.

It was his turn to strike fear into some Cybermen. And he intended to do just that.

***