Work Text:
There were so, so many times where the Doctor wished he’d been better.
A better savior.
A better friend.
A better person.
No matter how many times he would regenerate after them- after Rose, after Jack- he would regret what he did. What all he didn’t do. Each aspect of his life was glaring in his mind, memories he couldn’t let go of that clawed away at his hearts.
---
There were moments with Jack, so many, where he’d see that cheerful, flirtatious front fall. It was less frequent before everything happened with the Daleks on the Gamestation, but afterwards, it became harder for the captain to hide. The Doctor was no stranger to that feeling of loneliness that came with travelling the universe, that came with being immortal. There were so many times, looking back, where he wished he'd helped Jack more than he did.
A memory came to mind, a night in the TARDIS with Jack, when The Doctor’s hair was cropped short, and he was far colder to his companions.
The night before Jack died the first time.
The two men stood in the control room, long after Rose had turned in for the night. As soon as the girl left, Jack’s shoulders slumped. He let his eyes close as he leaned against a post, sighing and, oh, he looked so tired. The Doctor stood beside him, a silent offer of company.
It was painful. Domestic. Painfully domestic. Two things that The Doctor usually hated. But he could stand it with Jack. Always, with Jack.
It was like there was no one the captain needed to impress anymore, like he could finally take a moment to stop putting out. Like he was finally settling in, the fact setting in that he wasn’t alone in the universe anymore, he could stop running and conning and sleeping around just to stay warm in the night.
Somehow, it felt lonelier when he didn’t.
The Doctor brushed the backs of their hands together, and Jack melted at the touch. It took a few ticks before he opened his eyes, turning slowly to The Doctor.
“Doctor,” he had said, an uncharacteristic quiver in his voice. There was a short exchange between the two travelers, wordless, only through familiar glances: Jack’s was uncertain, self-conscious, and fatigued, where The Doctor looked right back at him with a look like cold steel- sturdy. Reliable.
A lapse of time, vulnerabilities shared in one glance between two individuals- both so different, yet the same as the other.
Jack was the first to turn away, leaning his head on The Doctor’s shoulder, and it felt the same way he felt with Rose- a soft feeling, entirely foreign and human. The Doctor leaned back against the captain, his captain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack smile.
“I love you, Doctor.”
He joined their hands, kissing the back of The Doctor’s before dropping it again. Jack took a moment to find his feet again before retreating to his room. The Doctor looked after him, smiling softly despite himself.
“Goodnight, lad.”
---
It was easier with Rose, he thought.
She was consistently there for him- his companion, his Rose, his home, with her soft blonde hair and her youthful, loving eyes.
Rose was always there, yes. She stood by him, no matter what he did. She was his rock, his moral compass through most any situation. They balanced each other out, working best together than apart. The Doctor was always sweet on her, from the moment that she first stepped into his TARDIS. She continued to be a breath of fresh air, light and beautiful and unchanging. Sometimes, he had to remind himself that she wouldn’t always be with him. Rose was something new, someone he latched onto like a lifeline once he let his guard down.
There was never a specific memory with Rose, not like with Jack. She was continuous to him, everlasting. If he had to choose, he might think about New Earth- at least the beginning of their journey.
Rose was always in love with new things. She adored the beauty of nature, and it showed in the way it lit up her eyes. So soon after his tenth regeneration, The Doctor was feeling more human- more like her. But Rose was still a force of her own, spinning and shouting with glee about her love for the world. Apple grass and flying cars awed her, made her cheeks rosier and her grin brighter. The picture she painted in The Doctor’s mind was a pretty one, very human, very Rose.
When he thought of that picture, he’d think of countless others, too.
Rose looking out of the window of the observation deck on Platform One, her face a mixture of awe and sorrow. Rose grinning widely at him as they sat together in her London, sharing chips. Rose hugging Rita Connolly as she cried, overflowing with compassion for a woman she had just met. Rose again, that same day, smiling brightly at The Doctor after he had stopped The Wire, her eyes showing just how much she’d missed him.
To The Doctor, there was no sweeter gift than a smile from her.
After each adventure, Rose was always more exhausted than he was, since she was younger and human. She’d hardly admit it, but it showed in the way she would lean against him as they returned to the TARDIS, or in the way her eyelids would droop as she looked at him. Little reminders that she was more fragile than he was. Of her humanity. Reminders that their time together did have an end, and that he wouldn’t always be by her side.
It was a type of vulnerability, of domesticity that he wasn’t used to: something that Time Lords were never taught.
So, The Doctor would always help her back to her room, standing just outside the door as she changed into her pajamas, then slipping in the door as she tucked into bed. They would talk softly as she began to drift off, her words slurring together with exhaustion. He sat on the edge of her bed, brushing through that blonde hair with his fingers- something he thought she might’ve done to him on their first Christmas together, when he had just regenerated. It made him smile, just the thought of it.
Often, their nights were just as banter filled as their days, though there was less fire behind it in the evenings. Rose might recall a shopping trip with Shareen, or The Doctor might bring up one of his old adventures, and they would tease each other to no end.
One night, when Rose had been talking about her school years, he had chimed in with something smart-mouthed and nippy, something about how simple a solution was to a situation that went over her head.
“Well, Doctor,” she’d said, flipping onto her back to look up at him. Her tired eyes burned with that passionate fire they always had, so familiar to him. “If you know so much, did you know that…” She trailed off, yawning quietly as her eyes shut.
“Did you know, Doctor... I love you.”
The Doctor stiffened, his eyes blowing wide. Rose giggled at him as she turned back on her side, cozying up under her comforter.
“Goodnight, Rose.”
---
It was a wish he had, that nothing bad happened to either of them, Rose and Jack.
He knew it was foolish to think so, having lost both without ever saying what mattered most.
Sooner than he knew, he’d be back in a body he knew. He was back in a body that they knew, too. The teeth, the legs, and the feelings- far more familiar than they should’ve been.
He’d tried to forget so much, until now. He was alone, again. He knew that there were people he loved after them, before them. But Jack was like him, maybe the only person in the universe like him. Maybe that was why they kept meeting. Rose was something else, something he’d forgotten until now. How human she was, how much she loved everything.
The Doctor loved humanity.
He hated how quickly it was spent.
---
He never needed to sleep; it simply wasn’t something he had to do. He did, sometimes, in order to recover faster, or to feel more grounded.
It was always helpful, too, when The Doctor regenerated, and he needed time to help his cells settle again. It was so much easier when he was with someone else, when they could coax him to sleep and make sure he was okay. He wasn’t so lucky this time around.
In his mind, behind closed eyes, he pretended they were there with him: Rose and Jack. It was a familiar feeling; one he hadn’t had in quite a while. Perhaps nostalgia came easy with a repeated form. He pretended that they sat at his bedside, Jack cracking jokes and flirting freely, Rose beside him, running her hands through The Doctor’s hair. The ghost of a feeling lit up his weary senses, and he smiled. It would never make up for everything that he’d missed out on- everything that he never said.
When he felt himself drifting off and the images of his old companions began to fade, he heard himself whisper to the empty air.
“I love you, too.”