Title: Torn
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 3, 10_hurt_comfort
Prompt: 2, Conflicted
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 drummed his fingertips on the console of the Tardis, staring down at it without really seeing anything. He'd been lost in thought for the last little while, and he was somewhat surprised to come back to reality and remember where he was.

Not that he'd expected to be anywhere but in the Tardis, of course.

There had been so many times lately when he'd been started to realize that he was spending more and more time away from her. That hadn't happened before; in all of his other incarnations, he'd kept close to his ship the majority of the time.

But now .... in so many ways, he felt that he had reasons to be away from her for extended periods of time. He would always return -- that was obvious. His bond with the Tardis was too strong for him to even contemplate abandoning her.

He was spending so much time with the Torchwood team that he hadn't been staying in the Tardis much. He knew that his ship would, sooner or later, start to feel .... well, a bit jealous, really.

The Doctor didn't blame her at all for that. If he'd been in her place, he would have felt exactly the same. After all, she was used to having him to herself all the time, even when a companion was with him. Now, he was gone more than he was there.

Maybe he shouldn't be spending so much time away from the Tardis. Maybe he shouldn't even be here on Earth so much. But he couldn't help being drawn to the members of the team, wanting to get to know them better.

Especially Owen.

His hearts seemed to beat much faster when he thought about the young man; there was some indefinable quality about him that made the Doctor want to break down those walls he'd built up around himself, find out what made him tick.

What made him want to be a doctor? What had made him join Torchwood? Why was he impelled to put on that blasé facade, to push people away from him? There were so many things about Owen that fascinated him.

Yet .... he couldn't stay here forever. He couldn't spend so much time trying to get to know this young man. He had other things to do that pulled him away, other responsibilities.

The Doctor sighed, propping his chin in his hands and frowning. He didn't have anywhere special to go at the moment, that was true. But he couldn't bury his head in the sand and pretend that he could stay here on Earth for much longer.

He'd always been pulled in different directions by the loyalties he felt to different places, and to the people in his life. Feeling conflicted on that score wasn't new to him, but he'd never felt this torn before.

If only it were possible to ask Owen to be his next companion, to take the young man out into the galaxy with him. But Jack couldn't -- and most probably wouldn't -- spare him from Torchwood. It would be useless to ask.

Besides, if Owen were to come with him as a companion, it would have to be his choice. He could make it seem as though great adventure awaited the young man -- which it would. But he wouldn't want to influence Owen's decision in that way.

He'd have to tear himself away from here sooner or later. He knew that. He'd start feeling restless, and so would his ship. He'd begin to feel as though he wasn't living up to his responsibilities. In some ways, he already felt that.

Yes, a part of him was anxious to go back out amongst the stars, to be what he'd been born to be. After all, a Time Lord didn't do much good sitting in one place and being stationary.

But it would be so hard to leave. He almost felt as though he belonged here, in this place, with these people -- and that was a feeling he'd never had anywhere else. It would be so hard to make himself leave them, not knowing when he would be back.

He'd be leaving the only people who he felt really accepted him for who and what he was, and that was the hardest thing of all to deal with. Even though he was different, they cared for him and wanted him to be with them. He'd never had that before.

His differences had always been what kept him apart from other races; he'd never felt comfortable with others, even humans, as much as they fascinated him. But with the Torchwood team, he felt accepted. Almost as though he was one of them.

They'd always regard him as an alien, of course. He was an alien, even though he looked human. But in spite of that, they'd taken him into their fold, made him one of them. Made him feel wanted and appreciated.

How was he going to be able to leave that? He'd be out there in the Tardis, alone, his loneliness all the more pronounced by knowing that he could have stayed with people he cared about.

And more importantly, how was he going to be able to leave the young man who he couldn't keep himself away from? He'd be constantly beseiged by thoughts of Owen once he left, wishing that the other man was there with him.

The Doctor sighed again, letting his eyes roam around the interior of his ship. This was where he belonged, really. Yes, the Torchwood team had accepted him, and made him feel that he had a place to go on Earth. But it wasn't his home.

He didn't belong there in the same way that he belonged in the Tardis. It wasn't a place that could ever accept him unconditionally. He would always have to be careful, not reveal what he was, follow a set of rules that he didn't have to deal with here.

And it was past time that he left, at least for a while. He could feel that inner restlessness starting to build up; soon it would take him over, and he'd made some fragile excuse for going. He didn't want his sojourn here to end so abruptly.

He pushed himself away from the console, straightening his tie and running a hand through his hair to make himself look more presentable.

It was time for him to go the Torchwood team and tell them that he had to leave. Not for good, of course; just for a while, though he had no idea when he'd be back. He only hoped that they would still welcome him when he returned.

They would. Of course they would. They'd accepted him now; there was no reason why they wouldn't accept him later. He would be on his own for a while, yes, and he would be lonely. But he would always have a place -- and people who cared -- to come back to.

And there was one person in particular who would inevitably draw him back.

The Doctor couldn't help smiling at the thought. Who knew how that would work out? Maybe it would. Maybe it wouldn't. But he was willing to give himself some time, to explore his own feelings and make sure that he was ready to confront Owen with them the next time they met.

Taking a deep breath, he headed for the door of the Tardis, already formulating the words he would say in his mind, hoping that his reasons for leaving would be accepted in the same way that he himself had been.

***