Title: Alone in the Dark
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 1, 50ficlets
Prompt: 8, Dark
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.

***

The Doctor lay back against the pillows of his bed, staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling of his bedroom in the Tardis. He hadn't been able to sleep lately, and tonight was no exception. He'd been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, and sleep refused to come.

Funny how he could somehow manage to see more clearly in the dark when he was in his ship than he could sometimes see in broad daylight when he wasn't here. That was one of the odd things about his bond with his ship, the way that she seemed to intensify his senses.

He had no problem seeing every object in the room -- the desk against one wall, the overstuffed chair that his clothes lay carelessly draped over, the mirror, the lamp on the small table by the bed. Even the book that lay on top of the table.

When he was a child, he'd had a fear of the darkness. He hadn't wanted to go to sleep, sure that he would be kidnapped and carried off somewhere, never to be seen again.

But that fear had diminished into nothingness as he'd grown older, as most childhood fears did. Only a few of them were left -- and darkness wasn't among their number.

No, he was at the point of his life where he found darkness comforting, in so many ways. It was easy to sneak around when it was dark, for one thing. He couldn't count all the times that he'd had to use it as a cover, and been grateful for it.

The darkness had been his friend for a long time. He'd long since learned how to enfold himself into it when he needed to, how to let it swallow him. Those childhood fears were long gone and forgotten, a part of the distant past.

He sighed, closing his eyes. There were other kinds of darkness that he'd rather not think about.

There was the darkness of being alone -- and that was a fear that he would never escape from, no matter how long and how fast he ran to try to get away from it. He would always fear that sort of darkness, even when there was a companion here in the Tardis with him.

Maybe he'd just been alone too long, and that was why he was thinking of such things now. Yes, that was it. He'd start looking for another companion. Soon.

But would a companion relieve that darkness? No, not really. It would still be there, threatening to overcome him when he least expected it, ready to sink its teeth and claws in and shake him as a cat would shake a mouse it had caught.

Nothing was going to relieve the particular kind of darkness that he dealt with on a daily basis, even when he had a companion. The darkness that ate deep into his soul, that never dissipated even when he was surrounded by people.

Loneliness. The aching wound that had seared itself into his soul years ago, centuries ago, and was always going to be there.

It didn't matter if he had a companion, or even two or three. They could only come so far into his life before they were held back, not by any conscious force of his will, but by the very fact that he was who and what he was. That he was so fundamentally different from them.

They'd try to be a part of his life, and to some extent, they would be. He'd care for them, share his life with them -- to a point, fight alongside them, depend on them. And his hearts would break when they decided to say goodbye and walk away from him.

Or when circumstances forced them to leave -- or when they died. That was the hardest thing to deal with. Knowing that they were gone forever.

That kind of loneliness was a wound that never healed. He could slap a bandage on it, and it would stop bleeding for a while. But the wound would always reopen, and hurt more than ever.

That was the darkness that would always be his greatest fear. One that he couldn't combat.

The Doctor sighed, blinking and clearing his throat. He'd almost fallen asleep, thinking along those lines. Maybe it was a sign that he'd finally be able to drift off into slumber -- though that wasn't the kind of thought he wanted to have haunting his dreams.

Still, it was better than not being able to sleep at all. He closed his eyes again, hoping that this time, the darkness that he sank into would be kind.

***