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One fun fact about Timelords is that they are a species that requires only 2 hours of sleep a night to function. Scientist on Gallifrey had spent years trying to solve the question about why they could function with such little sleep as compared to humans (who they share a proportionate amount of physical and psychological similarities with). The thing is, although they could live on only 2 hours of sleep a night, it was not an enjoyable experience. Many Timelords reported increased amounts of anxiety and dread after living on only 2 hours of sleep a night for a week. Researchers had spent many years trying to solve this problem and find the root cause of this strange adaptation, and they were right on the brink of solving this mystery once and for all.
Then the time war started.
Many Timelords then had to live (often not by choice) on 2 hours of sleep a night. The Daleks used the period of sleep many Gallifreyans had to attack and kill mass groups of civilians so they wouldn't interfere with their military advances. The fear of these night attacks drove some Timelords to stay awake all the time, just in case they came when they slept. This drove many to the point of insanity and in more severe cases, suicide. Choosing the eternal rest of death, then spending another day awake and living in fear. The war had ended a millennium ago, ending with the total destruction of the Daleks and Gallifrey, killing nearly all of the Timelords. Many nearby planets prayed for the dead, praying for their smooth transition to the afterlife.
But there were no prayers for the last of the timelords. No prayers for the coward who ended this war. No prayers for the coward who now has to live every day of his eternal existence hearing the screams and cries of the less fortunate. No prayers for the coward who hasn't had a solid night's sleep since the start of the Time War.
The Doctor sat awake in the library of the Tardis, trying desperately to forget about the day he'd just had. Trying not to let the memories of the war catch up to him by reading books about whatever. The book he'd just picked up was called Death and The compass. He couldn't tell you about what the plot's about, for he wasn't actually reading the book. He was just staring at the pages, trying fiercely to forget, but he just couldn't.
For a while, he thought that what he did was worth it. Worth it in the sense that no one else had to watch their species be killed off one by one. Worth it in the sense that nobody else would ever have to watch their planet explode, knowing they caused it. Worth it in the sense that the Daleks wouldn't cause any more suffering.
He realised he failed in this when he stared into the "eyes" of the lone Dalek.
What? How? Why? He'd seen the Daleks fleet explode. He made it happen. Were all those years of suffering for nothing? And it had the sheer audacity to try and call for help. If he hadn't been stopped by Van Statten and his men, he would have ripped the Dalek apart, piece by piece. It was Van Stattens stupidity that caused many to die when it escaped. He thought of the families of the deceased. He imagined their screams when they found out that their loved one had died. He imagined what it would be like if Rose had died. All these images flew into his head, but it wasn't them that caused him the most distress. It was something it had said over the intercom.
"You would make a good Dalek."
The Doctor placed his book down and sat up in his chair, placing his head in his hands. These words bounced around in his mind. No. He was nothing like a Dalek. He cares, he loves, he mourns. Those things didn't have the capabilities to possess such complex emotions. But at the same time, he was cruel. He was unfair. He was manipulative. He thought of what Rose said to him.
"You're the one holding the gun."
At this point, his hands began to sweat and his breathing had become labored. He looked down at his hands, but instead of seeing sweat, he saw blood. He knew that this was a figment of his imagination. He knew that all of this was irrational so why wouldn't it stop? He frantically began rubbing his hands against his jeans, in some attempt to clean the blood off his hands. But it didn't work. Every rub just seemed to add more blood.
Images suddenly appeared in his head. Images of the deceased. Their glazed eyes. Their stiff hands. The way their faces were contorted into sheer terror in their final moments.
He stood up from his chair and began to pace around the library. His heart racing, hands shaking. Is this what death feels like? Is this what he caused? Were the other Timelord's last thoughts about the bodies? Did they hear the cries of mourning parents like he does? Is it peaceful? Is it quiet? Will he ever find out?
This became all too much for him. The thoughts were practically screaming at him. He collapsed onto the ground and curled himself into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. All he could do was repeat the words "I caused this" under his breath whilst sobbing. He needed someone. He was begging for someone to help him. But he knew that was never going to happen. He knew he would have to suffer forever mor…
"Doctor?"
Rose's voice echoed around the vast library. She hadn't noticed the sorry state he was in yet.
"Listen, I was getting a drink and I heard a thud. Just checking if your alri-"
She suddenly stopped speaking when she located The Doctor, who was curled up into a ball in the middle of the floor.
"Oh, Jesus, right ok."
Approaching The Doctor, she analysed the state he was in. All she could hear from him was the same repeating phrase. She couldn't tell exactly what this was, but she could see this was causing him a significant amount of distress. She crouched down beside him.
"What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong."
He didn't respond. He couldn't respond. He wanted to tell her, but every time he tried to he choked over his words, and this caused him so much distress that he began to cry even more. Rose realised that he was having a panic attack. She thought back to all the times she'd had a panic attack in the past and what her mum did to comfort her. Usually, it was just being around her, telling her everything's going to be ok, and gently rubbing her arm. The strange thing, though, is that it always worked. She reasoned it was worth a shot, even if it didn't help.
She was hesitant at first. Rose knew that he could be a little jumpy when it came to unexpected things. She learned not to sneak up behind him after past experiences. It was clear as day that he was a traumatised man and that he was deeply ashamed about this. But she didn't want him to hide this away from her. She wanted all of him, not just the sanitized outward mask of himself he put on.
She began to softly rub his arm, moving slightly closer to him.
"Squeeze my arm if you want me to stop, ok?"
He reacted better than she expected. She thought he might have flinched, or entered some sort of panicked 'fight or flight' state. Instead, she noticed that his breathing actually slowed down. He was still curled up into a ball, sure, but any progress is better than none.
"Listen I'm here. Everything is gonna be alright, I promise."
I promise. These words confused The Doctor. How could she promise that? That's the unusual thing about humans. Their sheer and undying belief that everything will get better. Their naivety. Their ability to be able to be kind to a world that has given them nothing but cruelty and death. How stupidly brave of them. But without this naivety, would they be human? Would they have been able to reach the moon if they didn't think they could reach space? Many species have aimed high, but the difference between them compared to humans is that when they fall, they don't get back up. They wait for someone to help them up. If someone doesn't help them up, they rot and die in the same spot they fell. Humans, on the other hand, get up. They understand that to fall is to have once been moving. They understand that they only have themselves at the end of the day. The Doctor admired this trait.
She saw that he'd stopped crying so she decided to lay beside him. His head was still curled up into his knees. She reached over and began to run her fingers through his hair, still repeating that everything will be ok. Slowly he looked up. He couldn't make eye contact because she'd be able to see just how truely tired he is. He didn't need someone to tell him he's sick. He didn't want Rose to see this side of him. This was pathetic. He was meant to be strong. He was meant to protect Rose. Not be protected by Rose.
She reached down and held the side of his face, rubbing away his tears with the side of her thumb. Seeing that he was deeply embarrassed and distressed about this whole ordeal, she decided to break the silence they'd created.
"Are you ok?"
The Doctor nodded. They both knew this was a lie. A lie to avoid the deeper question about why he was like this.
"You shouldn't have seen this, I'm sorry."
"There's no reason for you to be sorry. You had a panic attack. Can't really control that."
He looked up and made eye contact with Rose. A warm smile appeared on her face, as if to say, "I'm here."
"Why do you stick around? I nearly got you killed today, and you just forgive me?"
Rose thought about how she was going to word her next statement.
"I stick around because I care about you, Doctor. I really do."
They both knew what she really wanted to say, but neither one would ever admit to it. Over the short amount of time they'd travelled together, they'd become completely infatuated with each other. He'd often catch himself admiring her in quiet moments, and occasionally, he'd catch her doing the same. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to confess about how much of a love struck idiot he is for her. But he knows what would happen if he fell in love with a mortal. She'll somehow get hurt or (heaven forbid) die, and he'd have to live out the rest of eternity without her. So he decided not to tell her the truth.
He decided to steer the conversation away from this uncomfortable truth by talking about something else.
"I must have woken you up somehow."
"You didn't actually. I was reading that new book ya got me. The one about those aliens that we saw in Downing Street. Can't remember the name of them. Long name."
"Raxacoricofallapatorions?"
"That's them, yeah!"
Both The Doctor and Rose chuckled softly at this. He enjoyed these moments with her. Moments where he felt like they were the only people alive. He longed for these moments to naturally occur more often. He didn't want this to end. Unfortunately, it was bound to end eventually, ending with Rose sitting up.
"It really is late. I should be asleep."
She turned to look at The Doctor, pointing a finger at him.
"You should be asleep as well."
"I'm not tired."
Out of all the lies The Doctor has ever told, that was the most untrue lie ever. Rose knew this was so untrue that she just stared at him with a look on her face that just said, "Really?"
"It's not that I'm not tired, it's just that I…"
He thought back to before the Time War, when he was able to go to sleep without having nightmares. When he was able to get 8 hours of sleep without being awakened by an image of a person crushed under rubble. Each time he attempted to sleep, he'd just wake up an hour later from these visions. Eventually, he gave up on sleep. The only rest he would get would be when he passed out from exhaustion on the Library chair after being awake for 2 days straight. Even then, he wouldn't wake up refreshed. He'd wake up somehow even more exhausted.
"I don't really sleep well."
"Well either way I'm heading back to bed,"
Rose stood up, but before walking off, she turned back to him.
"You could join me, if you like."
One trait he liked about Rose is her sheer fucking audacity. Her ability to tell a person what she really thought about them, even if it was egregiously out of left field. Her determination to make sure everybody gets what they deserve, both good or bad. If he had to say what he found most attractive about Rose, it would be this. And now for him to be receiving her audacity?
She held out a hand to help him up, as if she knew he'd take her on this offer. Like predicted, he grabbed her hand and pulled himself up. He followed Rose to her room.
It had been a while since The Doctor had stayed in a companion's room, so he wasn't totally sure what to expect. Surprisingly, it wasn't too far off what he imagined. Dark navy blue walls, A grand old Victorian style desk in the corner of the room, A queen sized bed with checkered bedsheets and a small bedside table. It's like the Tardis designed this room with the intention of both of them sharing it.
He placed his jacket on the back of a chair (which he still had on, for some reason) and got into the right side of the bed. Even though there was a hint of shyness in the room, it completely disappeared soon after they began to hold each other. Nothing else was said that night. Nothing needed to be said. They enjoyed listening to their breathing as they both fell asleep.
Do you want to know the best thing about this?
This was the first night in 2 generations where The Doctor got a full night's rest.