Title: The One and Only
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 6, 12_stories
Prompt: 8, Apart
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.

***

It didn't matter how long he contemplated the state of the universe and his place in it, the Doctor thought, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. He was probably always going to feel that he didn't belong, that he couldn't possibly fit in anywhere.

What was it that set him apart? It wasn't merely the fact that he was Gallifreyan; there were plenty of races in the galaxy that could be termed "alien." For him, humans could be called an alien race, even though he looked like them.

No, it was more the fact of who he was that set him apart from everyone else in the world. He was a Time Lord, with abilities that went far beyond those of many races. Not only abilities, but also intelligence, he added, smiling a little.

Now, that sounded vain, didn't it? he admonished himself. One of his many failings, though he didn't usually like to admit that he had those.

Even though his human friends accepted him, he couldn't quite disabuse himself of the idea that they still looked at him as being something out of their little circle. Yes, they acted as though he was one of them -- but only to a point.

Would there ever come a time when he could feel that he was accepted by everyone around him? Of course not, the Doctor told himself, mentally snorting at such an idea. He dealt with too many races to ever think that they could all accept him.

What bothered him the most, if he wanted to be completely honest about it, was the fact that he'd never be able to completely reveal himself to the human race. Only the few who were his close friends -- and some in the government, of course -- could ever know what he was.

He hated that. He'd always hated it, though the deception was born of necessity. If scientists on Earth ever found out what he was, they'd want to study him. Keep in a cage and look at him as nothing more than an animal.

He certainly wasn't going to let that happen. He was surprised that it hadn't already, really, considering that humans were all too quick to do things like that without thinking first.

He'd had too many narrow escapes on that front for it to be an idea he took lightly. It would be all too easy for him to inadvertently give himself away to the wrong people, and find himself a captive in a situation that he might not be able to get out of.

Of course, there were some people in positions of power who did know what he was who would be all too happy to see him caged. He still had a bit of an edgy relatioship with some branches of the human government because of that.

But he tried not to let that poison him against the human race. No, they weren't all like that -- in fact, he found humans rather more good than evil. It was his infernal optimism, he thought with a wry smile. He'd never really be able to see them in any other way.

He wasn't the same man he'd been in other incarnations, other bodies. He was less likely to give second chances; he'd proven that fact several times over. But he still couldn't help maintaining an optimistic view of other races, particularly humans.

What was it about them that so fascinated him? He'd never really been able to put his finger on that. Suffice it to say that he felt a protectiveness towards them.

Why that was, he'd probably never know. Oh, there were reasons -- secrets that were hidden deep within himself that he didn't really want to confront, or tell anyone else. They were reason enough for him to feel a deep-seated loyalty towards the human race.

Though that still didn't change the fact that he'd always feel he was apart from them, no matter how much he wished not to be. He could never be like them, any more than he already was. He tried his best to understand them, but he never would.

What had he been like when he'd gone through the Chameleon Arch and become human? Martha had told him, but she didn't seem to have been too fond of John Smith. In fact, she'd preferred not to talk about that time at all.

He hadn't really wanted to ask her just what he'd been like, and he certainly wasn't going to go to Earth and track her down so he could do that. No, he'd be better off to leave well enough alone, and to assume that he hadn't been overly likable in some ways.

It was sad to think that was very likely the only experience he would ever have of being human -- a time that he couldn't really remember clearly, when he definitely hadn't been himself. If only he could have had some clear memories to bring back to his real life ....

The Doctor shook his head, scowling. What did that matter? It hadn't exactly been a part of his existence that he'd want to relive. He should be glad that it was over.

Why should he want to be more like humans? They were weak creatures, as the rest of his race had always said. They didn't have the Gallifreyans' intelligence, and they certainly weren't on a par with many other races in the universe.

But they were so .... curious, the Doctor thought, sighing again. They were constantly searching for new achievements, new ways of being. They wanted to better themselves, and not just in a way that would bring them individual gain.

Humans had such a childlike naiveté about them, in so many ways. As Jack had pointed out more than once, he had that same quality -- which was probably one of the reason why he'd always felt so comfortable around them.

There was much to admire in the human race, though several of the other denizens of the galaxy would never see that. He sighed again, shaking his head.

Why did any races have to draw barriers between themselves? The universe should learn to get along, and reach out to each other in peaceful ways, rather than drawing a line in the dirt and daring others to cross over it.

Everyone should be able to find similarities with others, instead of focusing on their differences, the Doctor thought, mentally snorting again. As if they would. Different races had been fighting each other since time immemorial -- even when they existed on the same planet.

Besides, wasn't he doing much the same thing himself? He was spending his time drawing lines and putting up barriers to separate himself from others, which was exactly what his mind told him was the wrong thing to do.

If he couldn't practice what he himself preached, then it certainly made no sense to expect others to be able to do it. He was being a terrible hypocrite.

That thought brought a bit of a smile to his face, and he couldn't help shaking his head in wonder at himself, as well as at the other races scattered throughout the universe. Maybe he was more like humans than he thought. Hypocrisy was certainly a very human characteristic.

Really, though, it was a trait of most races -- even Gallifreyans, if he was going to be perfectly honest. His race wasn't perfect, though there were those among his race who'd like to claim to be. Perfection didn't exist, no matter where one might look for it.

Another sigh, and another slight smile. How many times had he said that he was perfect -- in jest, of course? Too many to count. At least that was one thing that made him something like a great deal of the human race. He had a lot of faith in himself.

But that didn't negate the fact that he would never be like them, no matter how hard he tried. He'd always be set apart, from every other race in the galaxy, not just humans. He was the last of his kind. There wee no others.

He would never find another being in the world like him. There were no more. He was the last -- the one and only.

There would always be a wall between himself and every other being out there -- simply because he was what he was. He couldn't change that; he could only try to bridge the differences, to hold out a hand and hope that someone would choose to take it.

What good would it do him to brood over it? None at all, the Doctor told himself, raising a hand to run it through his hair. He was a Gallifreyan, a Time Lord. This was the existence that fate had given him, whether he wanted it or not. This was his destiny.

That was something he'd have to get used to, he thought, clearing his throat and standing up. He was apart from not only humanity, but all life in the universe. And the sooner he learned to accept that fact, the better off he would be.

***