Title: Memories of the Past
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: past Jack/Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 30_losses
Prompt: 28A, Past
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Tenth Doctor, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

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The Doctor sighed as he flipped the pages in one of his many photo albums, wondering why he was sitting here perusing them. Once in a while, he felt the need to look back on his past, though he didn't know why; it certainly didn't make him feel better about himself.

There were times when he wondered why he even bothered to hold on to these old pictures. He could, of course, go back in time to visit any of his former companions if he wanted to; they wouldn't know who he was in this new body.

And if he went back far enough in their lives, they would have no memory of having been with him at any time in their lives -- because they wouldn't have originally met him yet. The paradox was almost enough to make his head spin.

But somehow, he could never quite make himself do that. He didn't want to get to know those companions all over again as a new version of himself; he wanted to keep the memories of what they had been to him compartmentalized, to remember them as they were.

He didn't want to start relationships anew. Those companions belonged to the past, and that was where they would stay. Even the ones he'd been particularly fond of had no place in his life as it was now. He was a different man, in all the ways that mattered.

The only companion who he would gladly take back was Jack -- and that wasn't going to happen, he told himself with a wry twist of his lips that barely resembled a smile. That ship had sailed; the immortal had made his decision long since.

Jack was a part of his past, as much as any of his other companions. Even if things were to somehow miraculously change, and the immortal came back to him, things wouldn't be the same. His feelings for Jack hadn't changed, but the trust was no longer there.

No, he couldn't revisit the past. He could, but he'd done that before, in a different incarnation, and he knew enough from that experience to know that it wouldn't make him happy. So the past would stay where it was -- in his memories, and in these photo albums.

He closed the book that he was looking at, setting it aside and reaching for a more recent one. He didn't actually have any photo albums of himself and his companions in this body yet; the pictures were there, but he hadn't put them into a book yet.

He didn't really want to, he reflected, feeling melancholy at the realization. It just didn't mean as much to him to keep his memories of those companions in a place where he could look back at them. Donna had been like a sister to him, but the others --

The Doctor shook his head, making a wry face. The others had only been interested in what they could get from him, in satisfying their own egos. They'd thought that if they somehow "had" him, it would make them better, elevate their position in the world.

But he'd realized early on that neither of them had truly cared for him, only for themselves and what they wanted. He'd been fond of them, of course, as he was of all his companions. But to him, they were spoilt children, not equals.

He'd had to depend on one of them for quite a lot -- and in the end, she'd come through. But even though he'd felt sad when she had made the decision to leave and pursue her career, he'd known that it was for the best. He could never be what she wanted -- and he didn't want to be.

He had to admit that there were times when he missed Donna; she could be acerbic and witty, a verbal sparring partner that he'd enjoyed going up against. And when the chips were down, she'd proven that she would walk through fire to help him.

Yes, she'd been like the sister he'd never had, and there were times when he missed that. At least she hadn't tried to get him to sleep with her, or find her attractive in a sexual way! He shuddered at the thought of the companions who had, pushing the memory away.

What good did looking into the past do him, anyway? Yes, some of those memories were good ones, and they never failed to bring a smile to his face. But those times were far in the past, and they were already beginning to get a bit hazy.

There were some companions that he had a hard time remembering -- even though he could remember some of the situations they'd found themselves in, their faces had begun to fade away, and he knew that his mind wouldn't hold them forever.

But that was how the past worked, wasn't it? the Doctor thought with another soft sigh. It was designed to fade, so that new memories could supersede them. The memories might fade with time, but at least he had these books to keep some of them alive.

Besides, he had a much longer time to keep his memories alive than most people did, he reflected, closing the book and leaning back to stare up at the ceiling. The only person who had longer than he did was Jack -- and even then, he wondered.

He was immortal -- though not always in the same body. He could regenerate an infinite number of times; there was literally no end to his life. And since he was the last Time Lord -- other than the Master, who could hardly be counted on to help the world -- he had to keep going.

Even though there were times when he felt that all he wanted to do was lay down the burden that he'd brought upon himself of being the last of his people when he'd been the catalyst to destroy Gallifrey, he had no choice but to keep existing.

The past had its place, of course -- and it didn't always make him melancholy and nostalgic to make forays into the past by way of these photo albums. Sometimes it only brought back good memories, though more often than not lately it only made him feel lonely.

These photos had a way of making him feel less lonely when he looked at them -- until he'd been sitting and looking at those faces from long ago for quite a while. Then the loneliness began to seep through him again, more acute than it had ever been.

Still, he wouldn't get rid of these books -- and he wouldn't stop moving forward with his life. He had a place and a purpose in this world, one that no one else could fulfill, and he owed it to the world to be there when he was needed, even if that wasn't always the easiest thing to do.

It would be a lot easier if he had someone with him at the moment, the Doctor thought regretfully. Not someone who could take Jack's place in his bed -- he wasn't looking for that, not again. But a companion, someone to laugh with, to share his adventures with.

Someone who he could talk to -- so that he could stave off the loneliness that always seemed to snap at his heels, even when he was traveling with a companion by his side. That was all he'd wanted in the past, and more often than not, he'd been able to find it.

But for the moment, he had to put these memories back into the past where they belonged, he told himself firmly, putting the stack of photo albums aside and turning his mind to more practical pursuits. The past was over and done; looking back on it served no purpose.

Getting to his feet, he moved the books back to the shelf where they'd originally been, turning and leaving the library of the Tardis abruptly. He didn't want to sink into the past for a moment longer; if he did, it would make looking towards the future all the harder for him to do.

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