Chapter Text
"Tell me one thing. All those facts and figures I saw of the Doctor’s life, you were never alone. All those bright and shining companions. But not anymore?”
******
The Doctor entered the TARDIS, exhausted from his Victorian Christmas adventure. He'd helped a good man find his identity and his son, saved London from a Cyberman attack, and filled himself to bursting with a delicious Christmas dinner. Later, he'd taken Jackson, his son, and Rosita up for a spin in Jackson’s “TARDIS”, the hot air balloon. It should have cheered him, but it didn't. The Doctor felt drained. Jackson tried to make him promise to return, just to visit. The Doctor agreed. He was fairly sure Jackson knew he was lying, but didn't mention it.
He hoped for a happy, calm life for the Lakes and Rosita. They deserved it. Jackson and Rosita might have made good companions, (provided Jackson could have gotten over the shock of seeing the TARDIS), but that was never meant to be. Jackson had a family and his own brilliant life.
And it was just as well. The Doctor didn't need anyone.
He wasn't used to feeling this exhausted. He rarely needed to sleep, he hardly ever did. But tonight, all he wanted to do was lie down and perhaps induce a restorative coma for a while. The TARDIS would take care of him. It wouldn't be the first time. The Doctor suspected it was more due to his mental state than actual physical activity causing the exhaustion, but he didn't feel like engaging in self reflection at the moment. That usually caused trouble.
With the decision made, he began the dematerialization sequence. As the time rotor began to pump, a phone stored under the console began to trill loudly.
The Doctor stared at it dumbly for a few seconds. He'd forgotten he still had Martha's phone. He was in no mood to answer it. It rang several times and he stared at the storage drawer where it was kept as if it would explode after the ringing stopped.
Eventually it stopped, and after staring at the drawer for a few more seconds, he began to wearily walk away.
The squeak of the drawer opening stopped him in his tracks. “Nope,” he addressed the ceiling, popping the “p”. “Taking a kip now. The universe can do without me for a while.”
The TARDIS clearly disagreed, as the doorway to the corridor faded into a bare wall.
“Oh, come on!” the Doctor yelled.
The phone beeped.
“They can fend for themselves. I'm tired.”
The standoff lasted three minutes before a grumbling Doctor picked up the phone. Looking at the screen he read, “Missed call from Martha.” The screen also indicated a voicemail. Of course, he wouldn't get off that easily.
And of course, his curiosity got the better of him. “Hey..Martha here. Erm….not an emergency, but, at any rate…..just wanted to let you know I had some good news to share…..Mickey and I are gettin’ married. And we want you there…..We didn't know where to send the invitation. Probably couldn't afford the postage to wherever or whenever you are.” She chuckled nervously and added, “Anyway, we'd love you to be there. Twenty-sixth December, two o'clock sharp at St. Mark’s chapel by my mum’s. We'd love for you to come.”
The Doctor snorted. Yeah, he was sure Mickey would love to see him. If he concentrated really hard he could still feel the tender spot from Mickey’s punch to his jaw when the Idiot found out about Rose’s return to Pete’s World.
Amazingly, Martha was still talking. He thought voicemails had a time limit. “I know what you're thinking. And yes, Mickey wants you to come. We'd all love for you to be there. If you're traveling with someone, bring her...or whoever along. Well, anyway, call me back. Hope...all is well. ‘Bye, Doctor.”
The Doctor stared at the phone screen, expecting yet more talk from Martha, but the phone went silent.
He supposed he should call her back and decline the invitation. Rose would have demanded that he be polite.
Well, he wasn't polite. Rude and not ginger, that was him. He dropped the phone back in the drawer and closed it with a bit more force than necessary.
He had to cut ties. It was best for all of them. He'd destroyed Martha’s family. Even though the year had been reset, they still remembered. Why would her parents want him there as a further reminder?
And selfishly, he knew seeing Martha and Mickey happy would remind him of all the people not there. It wouldn't bring closure or help him cope with the loss of Rose and Donna.
No, best stay away. Far away. He'd pretend the call hadn't happened.
The corridor still was not making an appearance.
“Now. I mean it,” the Doctor commanded, the Oncoming Storm in his voice. The corridor materialized, but not without a telepathic wave of sorrow from the TARDIS. More gently he added, “It’s better this way.” And then he entered the corridor, determined to lose himself in the maze of corridors.