Title: Secret Identity
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: Beta 1, challenge_the
Prompt: 1, Name
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 told anyone his real name. No one had needed to know it -- at least that was how he'd felt for a very long time, and he didn't see that changing.

Would he ever meet anyone who he could reveal that name to? And why did it matter so much, anyway? He'd become comfortable being known as the Doctor; he didn't feel that anyone needed to know the name that his parents had given him at his birth.

That was something that he'd never felt he had to reveal. Even his closest companions hadn't known it; they'd only known him as the Doctor, and he was fine with that. If they weren't satisfied with it, then that was their problem, not his.

Of course, some of them hadn't been. There had been that child who had demanded more from him than he'd wanted to give, insisting that she was in love with him when what she was really searching for was nothing more than father figure.

She'd found that in him, but had developed a monstrous crush on him, and had expected him return that. He'd thought of her as a daughter, utterly repulsed by the fact that she tried to force him into being more than a friend.

He had been sad when she'd been left on a parallel world, but that was because he missed having a companion. He would have felt that way about anyone.

And, of course, there had been that woman who claimed to be from his future, who claimed that she knew his real name and had whispered a word into his ear. The look that people around them had seen on his face hadn't been because she'd known his name -- because she hadn't.

That look had been mixed incredulity and revulsion; he'd hardly been able to believe that anyone could have the audacity of that woman, to claim that she had some sort of close relationship with him when she'd obviously been nothing more than another companion.

Why did he seem to inspire that in people, especially since he'd been in this body? They always wanted more from him than he was willing to give -- demanded it from him, in fact. And that was only going to make him back away all the more.

He hated that people couldn't accept him as he was, accept that he only wanted to let them get so close and no further. It was easier for him that way, but they refused to believe that. They wanted all of him; they weren't happy with what they could have.

It started with wanting to be closer to him than he was comfortable with, and then it would spread over into other things. Flirting, casual remarks loaded with meaning.

And he ignored them all. It would eventually get to the point where he became uncomfortable and drew away from them more and more, until they finally gave up in frustration and left -- or they were forced out of his life in some way or another.

Did it make him some kind of a horrible person because he wanted to keep his real name to himself? No, he didn't think so. It was one of those lines that he simply wasn't comfortable with people trying to cross, and they should respect that.

It was unnerving -- and more than a little annoying -- that no one could seem to grasp that concept. They always had to push too hard, until they'd succeeded in pushing him away. He might be friendly with them still, but he'd never completely trust them.

And until he met the person who could respect his need for a certain amount of privacy, who didn't demand what he couldn't give -- and wasn't willing to -- and accepted the lines he'd drawn, then he wouldn't have anyone in his life who he could give that ultimate trust to.

Why was his name so important to people, anyway? Why couldn't they accept him for who he was -- the Doctor, nothing more and nothing less? Why did they always have to try to pry too far into him, and make him uneasy and distrusting?

The only person who hadn't tried to do that was Jack -- and that was the one person who hadn't wanted to stay, even though he was the one who should still be here.

The Doctor allowed himself a small, wry smile at that thought -- he'd always known in his hearts that Jack wouldn't stay. It was ironic that the one person who had the capacity to give him what he needed -- the forever that he craved -- wasn't willing to give it.

But he had to respect that, just as he expected others to respect his limits. And he had, really; he wasn't going to beg Jack to come back to him. What they'd had was over and done with; there was no going back, even if Jack would somehow change his mind.

He had to get used to the idea of being alone for the rest of his life -- because he certainly wasn't going to reveal his name to anyone unless he felt that he could do it. And if he hadn't felt that way in the centuries that he'd lived, then it wasn't going to happen suddenly.

It was an interesting thought, though, wasn't it? The Doctor caught his lower lip between his teeth, worrying at it as he contemplated what it might be like to open himself up enough to someone to actually be able to reveal his given name to them.

Would that ever happen? No one other than that repellant woman had ever claimed that he had -- and he didn't think that he would ever be able to. It was an identity that he didn't want to reveal.

He didn't have that kind of trust in him. He was sure that he didn't. There was no person who he could give that kind of complete trust to; there was no one who he could let himself fall in love with enough to give over that last bit of himself that he kept sacrosanct.

Oh, all right, so maybe a name didn't mean that much to most people. But he wasn't most people; he was the Doctor, a Time Lord. No one had known his real name for hundreds of years, not even the man who he'd at one time wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Of course, the Master knew it. A shadow crossed his features at that thought, clouding his eyes and making him frown. Yes, the Master knew his real name, but he hadn't uttered it once in al lthe centuries that they'd been pitted against each other.

Mortal enemies, at each other's throats until one of them bested the other. Yes, they'd been friends at one time, and he'd grown used to hearing the Master call his name. But those days were long gone, the friendship replaced by a deep-seated enmity.

Their names hadn't meant much to them then, when they were children and they could still call themselves friends. They'd used those names without thinking, without knowing that one day they would call each other something very different.

If things had been different -- maybe they would be uttering each other's names in something more than friendship. Maybe they could have been close in another way.

The Doctor shook his head, his frown growing deeper as he dismissed that thought. If they hadn't both become Time Lords and the process hadn't robbed the Master of his sanity, maybe that could have happened. But life hadn't worked out like that.

And in a way, he was glad that it hadn't. The Master had always had that latent streak of cruelty in him, even when they were children; even if the other man wasn't completely insane, he wouldn't want to be in a relationship with him. It would be too dangerous.

He'd forgiven the Master for so many things, but there were also experiences that could never be forgiven. The Doctor simply couldn't find it within himself. But there was one thing that the Master had never done, and the Doctor had to wonder why.

He'd never revealed the Doctor's name to anyone. Which was strange, considering that it would be a good way to reveal more of him that he'd ever wanted known. But maybe it was just something that the Master was keeping in his arsenal of tricks, waiting to hold it over his head.

If that was so, then it became even more important not to reveal his name to anyone. That wasn't something he wanted used against him.

And it never would be, the Doctor told himself with a sigh. There was no one who he trusted enough to reveal that secret part of himself to -- and if he hadn't been able to do it in the course of his life so far, he doubted that he ever would. He wanted his identity to stay a secret.

It all came down to trust. And that trust had always been lacking, at least for him. Did other people trust him enough to reveal themselves completely? He didn't think so; there had always been barriers between himself and all of the people in his life, no matter how close they'd been.

Those walls would always be there; they would always separate him from the rest of the world. The secret of his name might be the last wall that he hid behind -- but it was also the strongest and highest of them, the one that he would make sure never crumbled to the ground.

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