Title: Outside Looking In
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 2, 10_per_genre
Prompt: 3, Isolation
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.

***

Being isolated from the world was something that he should be used to, wasn't it? the Doctor asked himself with a sigh, sitting down cross-legged on the couch in the control room of the Tardis. After all, it was a fact of life for him, and had been for a long time.

Even when he had companions, he was still alone in so many ways. Strange how he could feel alone even when there was something standing right by his side, saying words that he didn't really hear. Sometimes, that was when he felt most isolated.

When he was younger, he'd never been quite able to figure out just why he always felt so isolated from the rest of the world -- especially from humans. But now, he was older, he'd spent more time with them, and he had a better vantage point.

He felt that he was apart from them because he wanted so much to be accepted into their world -- and he knew that he never would be.

Oh, he could be accepted on the outside. He looked just like a human; there was no way for any of them to know that he wasn't just like them unless he slipped up and made some mistake, let it slip that he wasn't one of them.

And then he'd be on the outside looking in yet again -- the way he'd been all of his life. Not only with humans, but with his own race as well. He'd always been the one outside the charmed circle, trying desperately to find a way in.

Nothing had ever hurt so much as the realization that he would never truly be a part of anything, not as long as he was different from everyone else. Even with his own people, he was an outcast, just for being who he was.

Other Time Lords hadn't had the problems that he did -- but then, other Time Lords were all too ready to conform to all the strictures that he'd always chafed against.

Keeping out of the affairs of the rest of the universe? He couldn't do that. He couldn't let hostile races take over and destroy planets that were defenseless against them. If he could do something to even the score, then he would.

Wasn't that part of what being a Time Lord was about -- righting so many of the wrongs that were perpetrated in the world? He'd tried to argue that point so many times, and he'd thought more than once that he was winning, making others of his race see his side of the issue.

But even though he managed to make small gains, and get a few people to reluctantly agree that maybe, just maybe, he could be right about a few incidents, he'd never really managed to make them see things in the same way that he did.

And now .... it was too late. Gallifrey was gone, and with it, his chance to be a part of the world that had given him life -- and had, at the same time, rejected him.

That was one sense of isolation that he would never be able to correct. The only one left of his race now was the Master -- and expecting any kind of acceptance from that madman was almost enough to make him laugh.

Of course, in a way, he'd chosen to isolate himself -- but what else could he have done? If he had broken down and knuckled under to all of the things that the elders of his world insisted he should be, then he wouldn't be himself.

That was something that he refused to turn away from. Maybe it was bad in some people's eyes that he was an individual -- but he would rather hold on to his unique self than become just another part of a well-oiled machine with no individuality.

That was far too close to Cyberman mentality than he was comfortable with. It still sent a shiver through him to think that his race could have veered so closely to that sort of thinking.

Well, it wasn't that the Gallifreyans had eschewed individuality -- but more that they'd wanted to set down a standard for behavior, draw lines that shouldn't be crossed. And the Doctor, being who he was, had never been able to resist stepping over those lines.

He wasn't regretful of not doing so; he'd thought about his actions before he'd taken them, and he was still sure that the things he'd done to defy the higher powers of his people were right. If he could do all of those things over again, he would.

Of course, that was fairly easy to say when he knew that Gallifrey was gone, that he would never have to face any sort of consequences for anything he did that directly defied the rules they'd laid down. He was free to do as he chose now, with no constraints.

And that was yet another form of isolation. Being one of the last two surviving members of his race isolated him more than ever.

If only he and the Master had some kind of friendship between them; if only the other man hadn't run mad when he'd taken the tests to become a Time Lord all those centuries ago. Then, he might have someone who he felt something of a kinship with.

But instead, the two were bitter enemies -- each isolating themselves from the other, until the Master broke through that self-imposed exile and went on the offensive, and the Doctor was forced to feint and parry in the never-ending battle that had been fought over centuries.

It was far too late for "if onlys." Any chance he'd had of the friendship between himself and the Master continuing past their childhood days had ended with the other man's madness, when he'd decided to pit himself against everything the Doctor believed in.

He'd had to isolate himself from the Master to protect himself from the attacks, the mad schemes that the other man had to control him -- to own him.

Wasn't that a form of acceptance, in a way? The Doctor snorted, pushing that ridiculous idea away from his mind the moment it came into being. That wasn't acceptance -- that was an attempt to turn him into something he would never consent to be.

That wasn't the kind of acceptance he wanted. He wanted to be open about who and what he was, to be accepted with all of his faults and his weaknesses -- which was something he'd long given up looking for. It was something he simply couldn't have.

He would always be the outsider, always the boy standing outside the window of the house with the lights and the warmth and the people inside who belonged to each other. He would always be isolated from the rest of the world.

But maybe that was for the best. He heaved a deep sigh, sitting up and letting his eyes roam around his ship as if seeing her for the first time.

After all, if he had that kind of acceptance, maybe he would have wanted to turn his back on this, forget what he'd wanted to be since he was a child, and make a life for himself that would be very different from the one he led now -- and he wouldn't have all of this.

His bond with the Tardis wouldn't exist. He wouldn't have been able to travel the galaxy in time and space, see all the things that he'd seen, have experiences that most people in the world would only be able to dream of.

Yes, he'd made a lot of sacrifices to be what he was -- and being isolated from the world in many ways was the biggest one of all. But this was the life he'd chosen for himself, and if he was honest, he wouldn't want to walk away from it.

In the end, he had to be isolated to be what he was. That was a decision he'd made long ago -- and one that he had a duty to stick with, even when everything in him cried out for more than the empty centuries that still stretched far ahead of him.

***