Title: Mirror Mirror, On the Wall
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 100moods
Prompt: 39, Exhausted
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 might as well face it. He was on his tenth regeneration; he was getting to the point where he felt tired more often than he used to. He might look young, but the truth was, he'd been around for a very long time.

Longer than anyone else that he knew of -- except, of course, the Master, the Doctor told himself as he leaned against the dresser in his bedroom. The Master was actually older than him -- though no one would be able to tell that by looking at them now.

Truth be told, he was exhausted sometimes, more so than he'd been when he was less advanced in age, but in bodies that looked older than they were. It was strange how he seemed to be getting so much younger on the outside ....

But those youthful looks didn't extend to how he felt inwardly. He hated that, but it was apparently a kind of inevitability.

Did he look tired? he asked himself as he straightened up and glanced towards the mirror that hung on the wall. He really didn't want to look; he was almost afraid of what he'd see, but he felt himself drawn towards that mirror.

Tell me, mirror mirror on the wall, he recited to himself, the old nursery rhyme coming back to him. What would it show him if he looked closely? Would it show lines, wrinkles, the beginning of age in an otherwise fairly young face?

so many people had commented on how young he looked. Anyone who had known him in his first few regenerations would be shocked; he'd looked so old then. And now .... the older he got in years, the younger he looked each time he changed bodies.

The Doctor couldn't keep back a wry smile at the thought of reverse aging. Did that mean that when his last regeneration occurred, he would be back in short pants?

He sincerely hoped not. As much as he liked the idea of looking young, he had no desire to look like a child. That would seriously undermine his effectiveness as a Time Lord; no one would have any confidence in his abilities.

Taking a deep breath, he stopped in front of the mirror, peering into it. Was it his imagination, or did he look more tired than usual? His face wasn't lined, but there were definite signs of strain around his mouth and eyes. A tiredness, an aging that couldn't be hidden.

The crow's-feet actually didn't look too bad, he mused, squinting at his reflection. They added a bit of character to his features, even though they did probably make him look older. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He could still consider himself a handsome man. And with the Gallifreyan process of slow again, he wouldn't have to worry about losing his looks for a very long time.

No, his exhaustion didn't show on his face. Not more than he should expect it to, at any rate. It was more of an inward feeling than a physical manifestation. The tiredness was starting to show, but it wasn't overtly apparent.

Why had he been feeling so tired lately? he asked himself, frowning into the mirror and watching his reflection in the glass as his brows drew together. The Master hadn't been hounding him. He hadn't failed some planet when they'd needed him the most.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he just hadn't had enough to keep him occupied. And of course, there was the fact that he was alone at the moment, with no companion to keep him interested in anything outside of himself.

That was probably it, he decided. He had no one to give him outside interests, no one to share the wonders of the universe with.

Could loneliness make him look older? He hadn't thought of that before. Maybe it was possible that being lonely was making him old before his time, making him sink into himself and his melancholy to the point where it was affecting him outwardly.

But he couldn't just go out and find a companion. It wasn't that easy to connect with someone who could travel with him, someone who was enough like him in their thoughts and attitudes to want to be here on the Tardis with him on a permanent basis.

And besides, it hurt too much when his companions ultimately left. Was it worth letting that kind of pain into his hearts again for the companionship of someone who would decide to leave after he'd felt a close friendship with them?

No, he thought, shaking his head and turning away from the mirror. He didn't want to feel that way again. It had happened too often in the past.

His exhaustion could more than likely be cured by getting more rest -- that was something he'd never done. There always seemed too much to see, too much to do. Though he didn't need as much rest as a human, he still needed sleep to function properly.

At the moment, he felt as though he could strip off his clothes, sink into his bed, and sleep for hours. He'd rarely felt this exhausted, this depleted in mind and body. The troubling thing was that he had no idea just why he felt that way.

He turned back to the mirror with a frown, raising a hand to his face. How much longer would he retain the way he looked now if he let this exhaustion wear him down and take him over? Aging was inevitable, but he didn't want to bring it on too quickly.

Why was he so worried about that? It wasn't as though he had a lover in his life, or anyone who cared about how he happened to look.

Though there was always the possibility of that at some point. No matter how inevitable it might seem that he would always be essentially alone, he couldn't keep back that spark of hope that things would change and he'd have more than mere companionship.

He wasn't looking for that, of course. There had been times when he'd wanted it, but it had never worked out that way with any companion but Jack. He just hadn't felt that way about the people who'd traveled with him.

Who knew what could be waiting for him around the corner? Maybe the next place that he went, he'd find someone who was perfectly compatible with him -- someone who would want to stay with him, who would fit him in every way.

The Doctor shook his head, another wry smile on his features. That was a pipe dream -- a lovely one, to be sure, but not one that was likely to come true.

Still, he'd hang onto that hope. It was what kept him going -- and probably one of the things that kept him looking youthful. It kept the exhaustion at bay, made him feel as though there was a reason to keep looking ahead to the next new day.

He turned away from the mirror on the wall, starting to unbutton his shirt. He could combat that exhaustion he was feeling by losing himself in sleep for a few hours, and hopefully he'd wake up feeling refreshed and ready to meet whatever might lie in his future.

***