Title: Places That Are Gone
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 6, 12_stories
Prompt: 5, Leaving
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.

***

He was always leaving. Leaving people behind, leaving places that he'd like to stay in. It seemed to be his destiny never to be in one place long enough to put down roots there.

But that was part of what he was. A traveler. He'd taken on that mantle when he'd gone through the tests to become a Time Lord; he hadn't shied away from the idea of being a traveler then. No, he'd embraced it, wanted nothing more.

That was before he knew how lonely it would be. How many places he'd long to stay in, just to have some place that he could call his home. He hadn't known that he would be constantly searching for some sense of stability.

How could he have known? He was a child then. A child who had dreamed of being a Time Lord since he was old enough to understand what it meant to be one. And he had been one of the few chosen to enter that privileged order.

And now .... now he was the last of them. Oh, there was the Master, of course -- he would never believe that man could die -- but for the most part, he was the last Time Lord. His planet was gone. His home was gone. And there wasn't any place in the galaxy where he fit in.

If he had known what it would be like, would he still have wanted to become a Time Lord? Would he so willingly have left his home, knowing that it wouldn't always be there?

The Doctor couldn't answer that question. His whole life would be radically changed if he could; he would probably never have wanted to leave Gallifrey if he'd been able to grasp the fact that someday it would be gone, that he would never be able to see it again.

It hadn't seemed hard to leave his home planet in the past -- but then, he'd always thought that he would be able to go back. He'd never guessed that he would be the instrument of its destruction, weighing the death of one world against the death of the universe.

A lonely god, with the power of life and death in his hands. That was what he'd seemed to be, and it wasn't a title that he wanted conferred upon himself. He didn't want to remember the Time Wars, or his part in them.

There were a lot of things in his past that he'd rather not remember. And just as many that he'd like to cling to, to preserve the memories crystal-clear, sharply etched in his mind.

Humans often said that their memories faded as they grew older. Well, thankfully, that wasn't the case with him. But he'd found that his memories did grow dim with each regeneration; though they always seemed to come back at some point.

All the places that he'd left in the past, all the people that he'd turned away from, whether willingly or not, and left behind him. Those faces were still clear in his mind, even though the names could sometimes escape him.

It seemed to him that he'd had a lifetime of leaving. There had always been goodbyes, all too soon after the first greetings. Some more painful than others, some that made him smile and some that tore at his hearts as though they were being ripped from his chest.

Some partings had made him feel relieved; it had been best for those people to go their own way, to live their lives without his interference. Those were the easy ones.

And then there were the ones that never should have happened, the partings that cut deeply into his soul and made him feel as if a part of himself were being excised. Donna, and Jack. Those had been the hardest. The ones that had taken the longest to get over.

She had been like a sister to him -- another part of himself, really. He'd loved her, not in a physical, romantic way, but as though she were part of his family, cut from the same cloth. And he could never see her again, never share a laugh, never remind her of things they'd done and seen.

He missed her. He missed having a companion with him, someone to talk to, someone to share his life with.

He'd had to leave her behind, just like he'd left so many former companions behind. Or they'd left him behind, going back to their own lives. It had been best for many of them, and he'd tried to comfort himself for their loss with that thought.

Then there had been the ones who'd left because they couldn't deal with the complications of being with him any longer .... like Jack. The immortal had simply turned his back and walked away, to a life that the Doctor couldn't share.

Being bitter about that wasn't going to change things, the Doctor told himself fiercely, blinking back the moisture that he could feel gathering in his eyes. Jack had made the decision that he'd thought was best for himself, and he couldn't argue with that.

He couldn't argue with any of the companions who'd left him, really. They did what they needed to do, and he'd always known, even when he hadn't wanted to admit it, that their time with him would be brief. They had their own lives to lead, just as he did.

But once, just once, he wanted to have a companion who would give him forever. Someone who would be completely unselfish, who would stay with him out of love, not because he could give them adventures and experiences that they'd never otherwise have had.

Was that too much to ask for? He didn't think so -- but maybe it was. Maybe he was going against his destiny to want more than he was given.

After all, he had so much. A very long life span, longer than most people -- or even most races -- could even begin to hope for. A highly developed intelligence. And really -- though he didn't like to seem vain about it -- a body that was incredibly attractive, at least this time around.

He really didn't have the right to ask for more than that, did he? And yet, there were so many drawbacks to what he was, as well. So many things that he'd taken on centuries ago, that sometimes he fervently wished he could rid himself of.

The Doctor shook his head, sighing and leaning back in his chair by the Tardis' console. That didn't bear thinking about. He'd taken on the responsibilities of a Time Lord, and they weren't taken -- or given -- lightly. He wasn't going to back out of them, not now.

Those responsibilities could be wearing. They were the weight of the world upon his shoulders. But he was the only Time Lord left, the only one who could carry them. He had no other choice.

If he didn't do it, no one would. That was the crux of it all. There was only him. No one else.

He had to live up to those responsibilities that had been given to him. He had to make the people who had bestowed the title of Time Lord on him proud -- even though they were no longer there to see what a difference he made to the world.

Straightening up in the chair, the Doctor looked around him, at the ship that he'd grown to think of as a part of himself, at the place that was now his home. The one place that would always be there for him, that he would never have to leave.

People in his life might come and go. So would places. But that was a part of who he was, and really, he should be used to it by now.

He would leave many more people and places behind him before his life was through, he was sure of that. But at least he would still have the memories to look back on.

He stood up and went to the console, a smile settling on his face as a thought crossed his mind. Who knew .... maybe the next place that he went would be one that he wouldn't have to leave. Maybe he would finally find a place, a time, that would fit him like home.

Highly improbable -- but he wasn't going to give up hope.

***