Title: Chase the Dragon
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1, fanfic50
Prompt: 7, Betray
Author's Note: A one-shot fic that begged to be written. In no way is this connected with the Ten/Ten.5 fics that I write! The Doctor would never abandon his clone to a fate worse than death.
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 slumped over his drink, not looking around the bar as he usually did when he came here. He had no interest in seeing anyone; all he wanted was to let the absinthe work its magic, to give him some sort of oblivion, however brief.
How many times had he tried to do this in the past few days? It didn't work; he should know that by now. No alcohol, however potent, could grant him the dark oblivion that he wanted to sink into for very long. Nothing could erase the sense of betrayal.
Not someone else's betrayal, even. His own. He had never thought, in all of the many centuries that he'd been alive, that he would betray someone who needed him. He might do it out of necessity, for the greater good, but for no reason other than that.
Only this time, he had done it out of his own fear. He hadn't been able to deal with what had been right there in front of him, just as he hadn't been able to deal with Jack when his companion had been made immortal. So instead of dealing with the situation, he had run away from it.
This time, he should have made himself do the right thing, instead of losing his nerve and running away because it was the easiest thing to do. He usually never let others dictate what he should do, but this time, he had -- because it had been easier for him.
He could still remember the look on his human clone's face when the Doctor had told him that he would have to go away to an alternate universe, a universe where they would never see each other again. Where he would have to live out his life with someone he didn't love.
She had been pleased, of course. Well, at least to a point. She hadn't wanted his human clone -- she had wanted him, and as usual, she had behaved like a spoilt child when she realized that she had made the wrong choice in which one of them she had kissed.
That had been his betrayal; he had felt that it was far better for his human clone to be trapped into a life with her than it would have been for he himself to live that life. It wasn't one that he wanted -- or one that he could live. He wasn't meant for that world.
He had been meant for the Doctor. And because of his own fear and inability to deal with what the other man was, he had turned and run away. He had betrayed someone he loved, condemning him to a life that could only be miserable for him.
He could still see the hurt in his clone's eyes; he had seen how the words that had come out of his own mouth, all of that blather about how it would be all for the best for the man who was a human version of himself to go off to a life that didn't include him had cut as deeply as a knife edge.
The betrayal couldn't have been more complete. They both knew that the spoilt child had really wanted him, that she wouldn't be happy with what she had. Like the child she was, she would grow tired of his cline after a short space of tiem and turn away from him.
Once he began to age, as any human would, she would no longer fancy herself in love with him. He would find himself on the outside looking in, in a way that he would never have been if he had been able to stay with the Doctor. There, he would never have been abandoned.
But then, with the Doctor, he would always have been loved. He wouldn't have been wanted merely for the fact that his face and body were an exact replica of the Doctor's; he would have been loved and cherished for himself, not for how he looked and nothing more.
The full weight of how badly he had betrayed his human clone seemed to press down more heavily upon the Doctor with every sip he took of the potent green liquid in his glass; it didn't seem to dissipate the memory of what he had done, only to make it stronger.
It was too late for him to reverse that betrayal now. He couldn't go back and make things better; his clone was gone forever, lost in that alternate universe that he himself could never enter. He had been given over to someone who didn't appreciate him, someone who could never truly love him.
The only thing she was capable of loving was her own reflection, her own selfish desires, the Doctor told himself, shuddering at the thought of a lifetime spent trapped with that spoilt, whining child. How could he have been so cruel as to consigning his clone to that sort of a life?
But he had done so, and there was no going back now. The other man would have to make the best of the life he had been forced into -- and the Doctor would have to live out the rest of his lives trying to assuage the pain and guilt of his betrayal.
There had been so much between them that could have been explored -- the longing looks, the attraction that had made his hearts pound in his chest. There had been a few moments here and there when he had been sure that they belonged together.
If only he had listened to what his hearts were telling him! Then he wouldn't be here, alone and drowning in his own guilt. He would be with someone who, even though they might be inhabiting a human body, could understand what it was like to be who and what he was.
He had been wrong to run away. He knew that now, when it was too late to do anything about it. He could never go back, could never make things right again. All that he could do was hope that his clone could forgive him for the horror that had been forced upon him.
His clone would have to spend that short human life span locked into a place where he didn't belong. And he himself would spend far too long chasing the dragon, forever trying to drown his sorrow and his guilt. It didn't seem to be a fair exchange.
His clone deserved better. He deserved to have a life with the Doctor, traveling the galaxy and being with someone who truly loved him for who he was. He shouldn't be in a place where he would never fit in, a place where he could never be appreciated.
And as for himself? What did he deserve? The Doctor smiled wryly as he lifted the glass to his lips to drain away the last of the green liquid, knowing deep in his hearts that no matter how long he chased the dragon, he would never assuage his own guilt and pain.
He would never be able to drink away the longing for the one man he couldn't have, the man who was now as far out of his reach as anything could possibly be. He would never be able to dull the pain of losing the one person who could have completed him.
He could spend the rest of his days chasing the dragon, losing himself in that deep green, drinking enough of it to drown -- but he would never be able to rid himself of the image of those dark eyes, so like his own, reproaching him for the decision that he had made.
In the past, he had always thought of himself as a brave man, a man who would never fail to step up and try to do the right thing. But this time, he had turned his back and run away; he would be ashamed of his actions for the rest of his life, and beyond.
There weren't words enough to castigate him for his betrayal; no shame was too great for him to suffer. He had wrecked someone's life with his own doubts and fears, a life that might have been lived with him, a life that could have been so different.
It was his fault that someone he loved was trapped in a life that had to be a living hell. His clone had such a short life span already, compared to his own. And now, he was forced to spend that short life in a waking nightmare that he could never escape from.
The absinthe coursed through him, bringing nothing more than a momentary warmth to his veins. Drearily, the Doctor wondered if he would ever feel warm again, or if this coldness, this shame and regret, would surround him for the rest of his life.
He would spend his life chasing the dragon, and wondering what his life could have been like if he had taken a chance and done what he had so desperately wanted to do. He would spend his life looking back, contemplating the choices that he had made and bitterly regretting them.
No matter how long he might chase the dragon, he would never drown all of his sorrows, all of his regrets. He would live with them day by day, a myriad of days stretching out ahead of him. He would spend all of those days running from his own shame and guilt.
Sighing softly, the Doctor slid off the barstool and made his way to the door. He would go back to his ship and try to sleep, though he knew that any sort of rest would be a long time in coming. And he would wake to chase the dragon yet again, every day for the rest of his life, into a long, lonely eternity.***
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