Title: The Price of Freedom
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: slash_me_twice
Prompt: 11, Free
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.

***

One of the things he loved the most about the life he led, the Doctor thought to himself as he looked out over the impressive vista of the Grand Canyon, was that he was free.

Free to do whatever he wished, whenever he wished. He didn't have to stick to a schedule; he didn't have to punch a time card or look at a clock. He was free to come and go as he pleased, with no one telling him what to do.

It was a life that many people would envy. He'd always known that, and there had been times when he had sympathized with people who'd complained about the regimented lives they led, and said that they had no choice but to stay in them.

He hadn't really believed that, of course. He always felt that people could break ouf of a situation that didn't make them happy, if they tried to hard enough. They might need a push, or a bit of help along the way -- but they could get out.

He was envied his freedom by those people. But what they didn't seem to understand that freedom like his came with a whole new set of conditions, ones that they probably wouldn't like any better than the ones they lived with now.

Freedom could be just as much of an albatross as a constraint, he told himself ruefully. Maybe even more so, for some people.

Having his freedom meant that he was alone. There was no one to care what happened to him, no one to care where he was, who he was with, what he was doing. And most of all, there was no one to go back to, no one to greet him, to be with him.

There was no one to care for him. And even when he had a companion by his side, he could feel even more alone than he would have thought possible. Those companions weren't what he needed in his life; they were merely friends, not lovers.

He couldn't bring himself to get close to them in the way that would completely satisfy him. Oh, he could do it. He could force himself into a relationship, pretend that he was happy, that this was the person who loved and was meant to be with.

Maybe he could have done that, if he'd wanted to. But he'd been unable to lie to himself in that way -- or to any of them.

That gave him a certain amount of freedom -- not getting his hearts involved. But there was always a drawback to that: the fact that he would always feel alone, that he was always the outsider looking in and desperately wanting to belong.

He'd always been that way, really, even when he was a child. The Doctor sighed and looked down, absently kicking at a stray rock with the toe of one Converse. He'd never been accepted, even when he'd lived among his own people. So how could he expect to be accepted by anyone else?

Oh, yes, he had freedom. But it had long since occurred to him that the novelty of being free to do what he wanted wore thin after a while; it didn't seem to matter that he could do whatever he wanted when he had no one to share his experiences with.

That was why he took on companions -- and that worked, to a certain extent. But he'd never feel that they really filled the emptiness within him that wanted more than just people to be his friends, to laugh with, to have that sort of bond with.

No, that wasn't what he wanted, what he needed. He wanted a lover, someone he could give himself to wholeheartedly, without holding anything back.

It certainly didn't seem that he was going to find that person any time soon. Of course, that was because he hadn't been looking -- not even for a companion, he told himself sternly. If he didn't go searching out people, how was he going to find anyone?

But he was tired of always searching and never finding. That certainly got old after a while; and not only that, but it was terribly disheartening as well, to keep looking for someone who he had a rapport with on at least a friendly basis, and never finding them.

It should be easier, he thought, not realizing that his features had become set in a scowl. It should be simple for him to find someone that he connected with in a friendly way, someone who could fill that empty space over time.

But that hadn't happened, not in a long, long time. How long had it been since he'd found someone who had meant that much to him? He didn't want to think about it.

Humans could find their mates so quickly, fall in love and settle down into their lives, make a home for themselves, have a family .... find the happiness they craved. All of those were things that he'd never been able to find for himself.

Just some of the many sacrifices he'd made to be what he was, he told himself with another heavy sigh, letting his gaze rest on the magnificent sunset that was being presented to his gaze. Too many sacrifices, made over too long a life.

Not that he would ever give up this life. He couldn't; he felt that he had no choice. He'd wanted to become what he was, and that involved taking on responsibilities that he wasn't going to relinquish until he knew the time had come to do so.

And no one would ever be able to accept the life that he led. They would, for a while; then they would realize that this wasn't the sort of life they wanted, and no matter how much they cared about him, they would inevitably turn their backs and leave.

He'd be left alone again -- though he should be used to that state of being by now. It seemed that he'd been in that state almost all of his life.

The companions he took were there for a short duration, the blink of an eye. He couldn't expect any more from them than that. They had lives to go back to, lives that they'd interrupted to give him some of their allotted time in this world.

He should be grateful for that -- and in most ways, he was. Humans had such short life spans; he couldn't expect them to want to give up all of their time for him. It should be enough that they were willing to give him some of that time.

But to him, time stretched far out in front of him; too much time. He didn't particularly want to spend all of that time alone, with only companions to take away the loneliness for short bits of that long existence. He'd lived that way for far too long.

But what choice did he have? This was the way he had to live; there was no other alternative. It was the ultimate price he paid for the freedom that he had.

Oh, yes, he was free, he told himself bitterly. Free to weigh his options, and to forever wonder if he had really done the right thing for himself by taking on this life. Free to feel that he might have made a mistake, but never free to find out if he'd be happier by rectifying it.

Sighing again, he turned his back on the canyon, on the sunset, and headed back to the Tardis. He'd go back to the dubious freedom he had amongst the stars -- and keep wondering if it was more of a prison than anyone could possibly know.

***