Title: A Place To Call Home
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: doctorwho_100
Prompt: 90, Home
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.

***

When had he started to think of Earth as a sort of home?

The Doctor frowned, propping his chin on his hand and staring at the console of the Tardis, not really seeing what was there in front of him. He was focusing on the question that loomed large in his mind, one that he'd been pondering for a while.

Of course, one reason was that there were so many people on the planet who he cared about. There were reasons for him feeling drawn to Earth, and the people there who had been close to him in the past were the main ones.

Then there was the fact that he somehow felt drawn to the planet -- as though he somehow fit in there. The Doctor almost snorted at that notion, shaking his head at the idea. He must be going a bit barmy to even let that thought slip into his head. Of course he didn't fit in on Earth. He didn't fit in anywhere.

He might look like a human, but he certainly wasn't one. There were times when he had thought he wanted to be, but he'd disabused himself of that fancy very quickly. No, he was happy to be Gallifreyan. He wouldn't change that even if he could.

He'd changed once .... he'd been human. Another thought that he wanted to push away from his mind as quickly as it had surfaced.

It hadn't been a pleasant experience, all in all. And really, he couldn't remember what it had been like all that well. He had vague memories of what he'd done, things he'd said, and he hadn't been proud of them. In fact, he shrank from them now.

He couldn't even remember what it had been like to have one heart, what it had felt like to wake to each new day in a human body. Only the disturbing realization that he'd only had one heart at the time -- which still sent a shudder of distaste down his spine.

He'd thought that Earth was his home then -- he'd thought that everyone around him was just like him, a human being. He hadn't had the slightest notion that he wasn't human; maybe the feeling of being at home on Earth was some residual feeling from that period of his life, the brief sojourn of being human.

Well, it hadn't taken long to disabuse himself of that notion, had it? he sighed, leaning back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling. He'd found out sooner than he was supposed to that he wasn't human, and he'd gone back to his life.

Had he regretted it? If he was honest with himself, no, he hadn't. Not for a moment. There were people who had thought he should -- but he couldn't agree with them.

Maybe he'd seemed cold to them, but that was an opinion he couldn't change. He could still recall the look in that woman's eyes; the gimlet stare that had seemed to bore right through him, the blast of hatred that he'd felt from her when he'd said that he wouldn't change back.

Even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't have done it. He had responsibilities that he couldn't turn his back on simply because he wanted something. He'd made many sacrifices in his long life -- and he knew that he would have to make many more over the course of time.

But choosing to be human again wouldn't be one of them. And if anyone couldn't accept that, then it was their problem, not his. They simply didn't understand that it wasn't that easy a choice for him, that he couldn't abandon everything he was.

Had he really felt comfortable with himself when he was human? He couldn't remember; he'd spent so much time trying to recapture how he'd felt when he was John Smith, trying to bring back what he'd felt so he could examine it.

It hadn't been possible. He'd thrust those feelings so far away from him when he'd become himself again that he couldn't bring them back, no matter how hard he tried. And again, if he was brutally honest with himself, it was best that he didn't. He wouldn't go back to being human, and it was better than he not have any residual feelings to tempt himself with.

He heaved another sigh, blinking up at the ceiling of his ship. No, Earth could never be his home, no matter how much he might want it to be at times. His home was Gallifrey -- and that home was gone forever.

Gallifrey, with its burnt-orange skies. The planet that he'd grown up on, that he'd loved above all other places. So many memories he'd made there ....

His parents. Friends who he'd loved and lost. The Academy where he'd gone to school. His first steps along the road to becoming what he was. His formative years, places that he'd frequented, people he'd been close to ....

The friendship that he'd forged with the Master, a friendship that had long since gone sour.

A friendship that he'd thought would stand the test of time when they were young, but which had crumbled into dust when they'd both chosen to become what they were. A test that had separated them, and turned his closest friend into his most bitter enemy.

That was one of his biggest regrets in life -- though he didn't know what part of those regrets was the strongest. Was it the loss of his home, or the loss of a friendship that he'd thought would last for his entire life? The loss of each one was so inextricably bound up with the other that, even now, it was impossible for him to separate the two.

Since he'd lost that home -- and that friendship -- he'd felt bereft, as though he didn't really belong anywhere. And it had been a weakness that the Master had played on too many times to count. He couldn't afford to start feeling sentimental about Earth now.

If he did, then he would only play into the Master's hands. He knew that the other man knew how he felt about humans; he'd never been able to hide his fascination with them. But if he knew that the Doctor almost considered Earth a home ....

No, he couldn't let the Master have the slightest inkling of the fondness he felt for Earth other than what he already knew. The planet that was so dear to him had already come too close to utter destruction at the Master's hands too many times; he wouldn't increase that risk.

Which meant that even though most of the people he cared about were on Earth, he could never make the planet his home. He wouldn't put them in danger.

Would he ever be able to feel that he had a permanent home, a place where he belonged? The Doctor sighed again, wishing that these thoughts would go away, slink into some back corner of his mind and lose themselves. He didn't want to deal with them at the moment -- really, he didn't want to think of them at all.

He might as well get used to never having a real home, he told himself gloomily. Ever since his home planet had been destroyed, he'd been a nomad, a wanderer. He didn't really belong anywhere -- and he should be able to accept by now that he never would.

But even as that depressing thought struck him, he realized that he was wrong. Yes, he was a traveler, a wanderer -- but that only meant that the entire universe was his home. Anywhere that he wanted to be was where he belonged.

Besides .... The Doctor looked around him, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. He already had a home, didn't he? One that had looked after him and been his refuge for centuries, and would do so until the two of them ceased to exist.

The Tardis would always be his home, more than any other place. Not only his home, but a part of him that nothing and no one else could ever replace. Their connection had been special even on Gallifrey, and even considering another place his home almost felt as though he was being, in some way, unfaithful to her.

"Sorry about that, old girl," he apologized as he got to his feet. "You know I appreciate you, even though I don't always show it. But even though you're definitely permanent, you don't exactly stay in one place, you know."

Even as he said the words, he paused. He wasn't the sort of person who wanted to stay in one place, was he? No, that had never been the sort of life he craved.

If he was truly honest with himself, he loved wandering, traveling, being a nomad. Yes, it could be lonely at times, but it was all he'd ever wanted, ever since he was a child and he'd first known that he was going to take the tests to become a Time Lord.

This was the life he had chosen -- and even if it meant that he would never feel as though he had a home that was permanently in one place, he wouldn't trade it for anything that the world could give him. He might not be perfectly happy -- but he was satisfied.

And that, he reflected, was all that mattered. Maybe he would be able to fulfill his yearning for a place to call home one day -- but until that happened, he'd appreciate what he had, and take what he was given as it came to him.

***