Title: Truth and Bone
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 50ficlets
Prompt: 48, Bone Deep
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.

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There were times when he felt so weary of it all, the Doctor reflected, rolling over onto his back in bed and staring up at the ceiling above him. He'd been doing this for so long; and without a companion, it was hard for him to work up any enthusiasm for each passing day.

He hadn't felt like this for a long time, he told himself sternly, shaking his head. He needed to get over this attitude, this lethargy that he felt creeping insidiously over him. But it seemed to cut to the bone more with every day that went by.

Why was he feeling so particularly worn down lately? He had no answer for that question; there didn't really seem to be any reason.

The truth was, he told himself with a sigh, he was weary of running. It felt as though he'd spent most of his life running from the Master, trying to avoid tangling with the other man. Not running, really but more trying to keep himself under the radar.

It wasn't that he was cowardly about doing what he knew had to be done. The Master couldn't be allowed to run amok in the galaxy; when he threatened the safety of any planet in some way, the Doctor was going to be there to stop him.

But it seemed that he'd spent nearly his entire life doing so; and when he wasn't chasing after that scheming megalomaniac and trying to stop him from doing harm in the universe, he was trying to find the Master and return him to Gallifrey so that he could be locked away.

Of course, now there was no Gallifrey, no high council, no place to be sure that the Master could be kept away from the universe in general.

He was the person who stood between whatever plans the Master might concoct in his crazed mind, and the world those plans were intended for. All of the responsibility fell on him. And there was no one else to help him now, not even a companion to watch his back.

There was always Torchwood. But his relationship with Jack since their breakup had been strained at best; he always hesitated to ask the other man for help, unless he was in dire need. And even then, he had to swallow his pride before he could go to the immortal.

Even having a companion might not be the help it had been in the past. It seemed harder and harder to find people who meshed with him in that indefinable way that his companions had to; he wasn't overly keen on having another one in his life.

If someone happened to present themselves, someone who formed a bond of friendship with him, he wouldn't hesitate. But until that happened, he wasn't actively looking.

After all, he didn't need a companion; it was just pleasant to have someone with him, someone who he could share little things with. Someone he could show the universe, have adventures with, a person he could talk to ....

And if he was truthful with himself, he'd never really done that with any of his past companions. He'd only shared so much with them; he'd always held back about the most important things in his life. None of them had ever seen him without any artifice.

He'd never revealed his hearts completely to anyone. Even the companions who'd been his closest friends had never seen him unveiled, stripped down to nothing more than the bare truth and bone of his life and his emotions. He couldn't risk that.

Not even Jack had seen that much of him. The one companion who had been his lover hadn't been allowed that far inside -- and if he hadn't been, then no one ever would be.

And he was tired of trekking across the universe, tired of trying to keep the world safe. He was only one man; there was only so much he could do. And there had been times when he'd failed in what he considered his sacred trust to keep the world safe.

But what could he do? He didn't feel that he could simply turn his back on that obligation and walk away from it. He'd feel that he was failing in his duty, that he had no right to call himself a Time Lord. Everything he was would be stripped away.

No, he had to continue on as he was. If he found a companion, someone to assuage the loneliness that was his only constant companion throughout his life, then so much the better. That would help to keep him strong in his resolution to continue on.

If not -- then he would still continue. He was a Time Lord, after all. He could do nothing else but be what he was, no matter how hard it might seem at times.

There might be times when his weariness seemed to go bone deep, to cut to the very core of him. But he'd had over 900 years to get used to that feeling, the Doctor told himself. After all these centuries, he didn't see how he could allow himself to do anything else.

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