Chapter Text
Rain-soaked and weary, the Doctor left the Noble family for the last time. As he removed his wet jacket, his mind was swirling with the internal struggle of emotions and logic… so many threads in his head. So much had happened. He looked around the darkened console room of the TARDIS, lit only by the green light of the glowing center column and the few lights that had survived the damage. It seemed to him that only moments before it had been bustling with his beloved companions saving the world together; his family, Sarah Jane had said. Yes, to a point, but of course he knew better. A "family" that all had families of their own. It was always the way of things, the Doctor in his TARDIS, adventures in time and space. Everything passes but he lives on. However, it didn't make it any easier each time, especially this time.
As he watched the central column rise and fall, he thought of her. Rose. A twinge of guilt surged through him for forcing his decisions upon her again. She had tried relentlessly to find him – ripping open the fabric of time and space for him. She was brilliant before, but oh how much she had grown. She was more brilliant than a million suns.
The Doctor knew what he did was the only way. He hated leaving her on that cursed beach again, without a proper goodbye or the words she had wanted to hear so much from him. The words he had wanted so much to say. He had wanted her to find him. He had let such hope well up inside him after Donna uttered the words "Bad Wolf..." And then he saw her again for the first time in what felt like ages – the one thing he wanted more than anything in the universe.
He had to convince himself what had to be done. His other self was an anomaly and one he saw as born full of blood, anger and revenge; possibly dangerous, unstable. He needed Rose. Rose had healed him more than once, her name had also kept him fighting. It kept him so very alive, though the years without her had been some of his hardest. He was so much better because of her. He wanted to spend the rest of her life with her. But, despite their shared memories and experiences, he felt this version was more likely to make rash decisions, more likely to let his emotions take over. More... human. The Doctor knew that good and bad, this other self had always been a part of him. A human part of him that he just couldn't free, even for Rose. He'd come so close so many times... but he never felt he deserved those feelings, anyway. He would never be human and never be what a human needed. This new self could be so much more for her, and could have the one adventure he could never have. They could be together "forever" as only humans can. Despite the fears he had about his other self, he trusted him to take every care with Rose he ever would and express every feeling he never could.
He looked up as he recalled those words – those three precious words. He couldn't say them. Again. His hearts could have burst from pain when he was robbed of the chance the first time, knowing his own hesitance had cost him precious time with her. He never thought he’d have the chance to finish that sentence. But once he was with her again, things had gone so very wrong. He knew then it was impossible. His words would complicate things. He had to leave Rose and his other self in the care of each other, and he knew from experience Rose would need to be assured that the other Doctor was just as much The Doctor as he was. Rose knew how he felt about her; he knew she did. He didn't have to tell her that. But she still needed to hear those words, as any human would. His other self could unequivocally give himself to her. He could love her, kiss her, protect her and say those words without the curse of an immortal life—to watch all he loves wither and die—slowly eating away at him. This version of himself was free of the Time Lord's burden.
The Doctor never thought he would be so jealous of himself as he was when Rose grabbed his other's lapels for the intimacy he had wanted for himself. He thought it best to leave then. Quick like a bandage, it would hurt him less and he never was one for long goodbyes. He was so glad to give her a piece of himself she could never have if he stayed with her, but it pained him to his core that he couldn't be with her. What was worse, he would never know the life they shared. Their dreams and their adventures would not be his. To want them was to wish impossible things. But he gave her the best life he could, because his love for her made sure that her happiness always superseded his own. Rose had touched his life in a way nobody else could. She would always be a part of him.
There was no time to mourn his second loss of Rose. Donna was dying and he had to take away everything they had ever shared to save her. Everything, he knew, that had made Donna begin to shine as bright as all the stars in the sky. She was brilliant, he knew it so well, but she never did. Being with him had changed her, made her better. She didn't want to leave him. Donna Noble was his best friend; she had saved his life. He swallowed hard as he remembered how she had begged not to go back to her old life. All the adventures he recalled as he sealed her memories away stung with bittersweet chills. Her last cries rang in his ears. He abruptly stopped this train of thought. He had saved her – she was brilliant to begin with and her mum and Wilf would watch over her. She would be safe, he told himself. She would be brilliant without him.
Lost in thought, the Doctor walked slowly around the console pressing the buttons just as his friends had done only hours ago to pilot the TARDIS as they saved the world together. Dalek Caan had called them his "Children of Time." The family he could never really have, he thought. Sarah Jane and Dalek Caan had been right in that each and everyone of them were like family, they had a special place in his hearts. He would do absolutely anything to protect them, just as a father would. The Doctor thought of his previous experiences with fatherhood. He was painfully reminded that everything passes and always will. But many of his adopted family were still out there, with their own families, but so very much alive—brilliant, beautiful humans with conviction and love in their hearts – fighting to save the universe as best they knew how.
The Doctor leaned forward on the console, staring into space. Davros had accused him of turning these "ordinary people" into weapons. He taunted him with the deaths of those who had tried to protect him and dared to trust him. "The Destroyer of Worlds." Those words – the truth he tried so hard to deny – bored deep into his soul. Davros didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but his words had rubbed so many old wounds. He tried to convince himself that those people were out there fighting to help, to make a difference. But even their good intentions could turn sour. He feared that just like him, they had become so willing to murder in the name of justice. Just what sort of example had he really been? Then his other self wiped out every last Dalek (again), without remorse. He couldn't escape death at his hands. Were the lives he had saved – the lives he had tried to make better, the very purpose for which he took his name – were they worth the lives he lost? How many lives had he complicated? How many lives had he hurt? How many lives had he lost? It was truly a doctor's dilemma.