Title: Wasteland
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: past Jack/Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: VRD challenge - Black, 5_prompts
Prompt: Dark side of the moon
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.

***

The Doctor stood in front of the Tardis' viewscreen, silently studying the sight in front of him. He hadn't remembered the moon as looking quite so desolate as it did now; it seemed to reflect the desolation that he felt within his own hearts.

He'd felt this way ever since Jack had left; he'd never expected to feel this empty, as if there was nothing but hollow space inside of him rather than the living, breathing man who had inhabited this shell before. There was nothing left of him, only empty space.

Why had it been so hard for Jack to stay? And why had it been impossible for him to reach out to his lover, to swallow his pride and beg Jack not to leave him? He should have done that; he should have been able to let go of that pride just this once.

But he hadn't done it. He had let the man he loved walk out of his life without a backward glance. He hadn't even watched Jack as he'd left; he had merely turned his back after their last, formal goodbye. He hadn't been able to watch the man he loved as he left.

If he'd watched, he would have broken down. He knew that; he knew himself well enough to know that this was one wrenching goodbye that he would never be able to withstand. If he'd made his gaze follow Jack, he would have been sobbing before the immortal had made it out of the door.

So he hadn't watched. He'd held himself aloof; the tightness in his throat growing with each step Jack had taken. He'd actually felt it when his lover had left the Tardis; he'd felt that emptiness start to press down on him from the moment Jack was gone.

Yes, he'd held onto his pride. He'd stayed stoic until the end, forcing himself not to run after Jack and tug at his coat, forcing back the tears that had crowded into his throat and choked him until he'd thought that he could no longer breathe.

And what had it gotten him? Absolutely nothing, he told himself as he stared at the viewscreen, not really seeing the planet in front of him. He was alone, for the first time in what felt like forever. He had nothing to show for the time he'd spent loving Jack but his memories.

His heart was as empty now as the desolate, pitted surface of the moon. The Doctor smiled wryly at the comparison; his heart was just as marked as the moon was, albeit in a very different way. The moon hadn't suffered the loss that he had.

Every person in the universe who had lost someone they loved felt this way, a little voice in the back of his mind piped up. He wasn't the only person who had suffered this kind of desolation; everyone who had ever loved and lost felt exactly the same way he did.

But this was different, because it wasn't some person whose life he wasn't involved in and didn't even know who felt this way. It was himself and Jack, not someone whose life had nothing personally do to with his own. It was his life and his own happiness.

Ever since Jack had left, he'd been plunged into darkness -- just as though he was existing on the dark side of the moon. There hadn't been a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel; just unrelenting darkness, a certainty that he would always be alone.

His heart had become a wasteland since Jack had left; he'd learned how to harden that organ, to push away his emotions and lock them down as if they didn't exist. It wasn't always easy, but he was learning how to turn away from them.

If he wanted to move forward with his life and continue to be useful to the universe as a Time Lord, then he would have to stop looking back at his time with Jack, the Doctor told himself, his inner voice firm and steady. He couldn't let his broken hearts weaken him.

The moon wasn't weak or emotional, the Doctor thought as he reached out to the screen, as though he could actually touch the pitted surface of the planet he was looking at. It was simply .... there. It had been there for untold centuries, and would last for many more.

Why couldn't he be like that? Stoic and unmoving, unchanging, never letting what was inside his hearts show on the outside. He'd tried to go down that road, but somehow, his human side had always peeked out; he'd never been able to keep his emotions under control for long.

He'd been better at doing that in other bodies, with other personalities. But with this body, his emotions seemed to take center stage in everything he did. Any time he tried to suppress them and to think with his head rather than his hearts, everything ended in tragedy.

Maybe his fellow Gallifreyans and Time Lords had been right about him, the Doctor thought as he slumped dejectedly into his chair in front of the viewscreen. Maybe he should never have become a Time Lord. He simply didn't have the personality for it.

But if he hadn't become a Time Lord, the galaxy would be much worse off, wouldn't it? He averted some disasters, for untold planets across the galaxy. He'd done more good for more people than any other Time Lord could claim. Wasn't that a good enough legacy?

What did it matter if, in the end, he was alone? He'd thought when he and Jack had finally connected in a romantic way that the immortal would always be by his side; Jack had been the one person who could have given him the forever he needed and craved.

That was in the past, the voice in his head told him, the words loud and clear. Jack was gone; he was never going to be able to go back to that time in his life. He had to accept it, put it behind him, and move forward as best he could.

His life stretched out in front of him, a wasteland that was bleak and empty without Jack's presence. And just as dry and arid as that dark side of the moon, never being warmed by the warmth that he desperately sought and that had slipped from his grasp.

***