Title: All Alone Tonight
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 3, 10_hurt_comfort
Prompt: 9, Alone
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.

***

Maybe the Master was right. Maybe, in some corner of his psyche, he ultimately wanted to be alone. Maybe that was why he always ended up facing the Master on his own. It didn't seem to matter if he had a companion with him or not.

This time, he'd been truly alone. There hadn't even been a friend with him to back him up. He'd had no one, nothing. There had been times in his life when he'd had to face the Master and felt alone, but not like this.

He'd thought that not having a companion with him the next time he faced that maniac would be the best thing; he didn't want to risk any more lives. He'd told himself that he was going to spend the rest of his life alone, and that even his friends would be kept at arm's length. It was best for all involved, even himself.

But he hadn't realized just how much it would tear at him to feel so completely alone. He'd felt naked, exposed, more helpless than he'd ever been.

Or maybe that was just because he had been physically naked.

The Doctor closed his eyes, slumping against the console of the Tardis. His body still ached from the physical pain that the Master had inflicted on him, but he should have expected that. He'd known from the moment they'd faced each other that he was in for a bad time.

He'd accepted it stoically, as he always did. He'd kept telling himself over and over that it didn't matter if he was alone, that he was doing this to save the Earth. Maybe there was no one to thank him for it, but he had the satisfaction of knowing that he was sacrificing a bit of himself for a planet that he'd become fonder of than any other.

The Master had taunted him as he'd thrust into him, whispering in his ear that he was well and truly alone now, that no one ever stayed with him for long. And there had been some point in time where the Doctor had started to think he was right.

How had he gotten out of there? He couldn't remember. It all seemed hazy, part of a dream. All he could remember was blacking out, then waking up to darkness all around him.

He had gotten to his feet, forcing himself to move despite the pain of his bruised body, reaching for the pile of his clothes on the floor and slowly dragging them on. He'd stumbled out of the building he'd been held prisoner in, and slowly made his way back to the Tardis.

And now .... here he was, safe in his ship. The Master couldn't reach him here, at least not in a physical way. But the taunts that he'd leveled at the Doctor, the poison of his words, still lingered in his mind, the words ringing in his memory.

Was the Master right? Did he want to be alone, and was that why he deliberately chose companions who would leave him? Was there some sort of self-destructive force at work within him that he didn't even realize existed?

No, of course he wasn't right, the Doctor told himself fiercely, clenching his small fists and almost banging them down on the console. He didn't want to be alone, dammit. He didn't choose the almost overwhelming loneliness that he dealt with at times.

He had no choice but to live with that loneliness. It was easier to be alone all the time rather than to care for people who would only end up leaving him eventually. He always pretended that he was fine when one of his companions left, but it always left a gaping void in his life -- and in his hearts. It became harder to let them go each time.

Even though his companions weren't lovers, only friends, it still ripped him to shreds emotionally when they turned their backs on him. He'd always known that they had their own lives to go back to -- but that didn't make the farewells any easier.

There had been some that were worse than others. There had been times when he'd thought that his hearts were going to leap out of his chest and lay there on the floor, bloody and beating, pumping out his life's blood until he lay there in a heap beside them, unmoving and lifeless.

But that had never happened, of course. He'd been able to put on that face of nonchalance and pretend that he was all right -- at least when anyone was there to see him.

Shouldn't he be used to the loneliness by now? he asked himself, closing his eyes and leaning over the console. After all, there had been many times in his long life as a Time Lord when he'd been without a companion.

Somehow, he never got used to the loneliness that weighed down on him. And it only seemed to get worse each time someone left. Even when he knew that his chosen companion would eventually leave, he always managed to convince himself that this time would be the time that a companion would tell him they were going to stay.

That would never happen. He should know that by now. He'd fooled himself long enough, and for some reason he still allowed his need for companionship to lead him to believe that he wouldn't inevitably end up with the loneliness eating away at him.

What the Master had said was wrong. He didn't expect his companions to leave him. He never chose people who he thought would leave -- but then again, he should know that he was asking too much of anyone to expect them to stay.

Silly of him to feel that a human could ever give him that kind of importance in their lives. He had to stop thinking that they ever would. It would only hurt him in the end.

The rest of what the Master had said was coming back to him now, words that he didn't want to remember. He wanted to clamp his hands to his ears to drown them out, but that was useless -- the words were there in his head, repeating themselves over and over in his brain.

No one was ever going to stay with him because of what he was. He wasn't human. He couldn't give them what they needed, what they craved. He wasn't like them, and he never would be, no matter how much he might try to pass himself off as human. They would never understand him -- and so, they would never stay with him.

He would always be alone. Always. Today, tonight, and every other night. For all of his life.

The Doctor blinked back tears, clearing his throat and glancing around the Tardis? Why was he doing that, he asked himself with a wry smile. As usual, there was no one there to see him. It didn't matter what he did, what he said .... how he felt.

He sighed, thinking that for once, maybe he was glad that there was no one around. The cracks in the facade were starting to show, after centuries of keeping them carefully hidden. And he really didn't want anyone to be around as a witness when that facade fell away.

***