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Three
"Uh, Doc? What are you doing?"
"What does it look like, Luna? I'm trying to kill myself,"
The incredibly casual conversation did not distract from the fact the Doctor had his head in a bowl of chemicals, huffing it like a coke addict. Luna blinked. It had only been about 24 hours since Liz Shaw had left, and it was clear the Doctor was not taking it well. In fact, although he still hadn't gotten used to being stuck on Earth, the monotony hadn't appeared to effect him until today. Until the one person he thought understood him just up and left, leaving him in a pit of despair.
So, Luna sighed, pulling him by the hair from the bowl of chemicals - being careful not to pull any of the hair out. She then went over to the office phone.
"Okay, I'm calling the Brigadier—" She looked over at the Doctor, about to grab the bowl again, "don't you think about it,"
"Why are you calling him?"
"Because - and you absolutely hate me saying this - he's your boss," Luna explained, dialing the Brigadier's number, "and he would personally rather his Scientific Advisor not be dead, thank you very much,"
She called the number, as the Doctor pouted petulantly in the corner, like a kid who'd been told he wasn't allowed to play in the oven.
"Hi Brig, it's Luna. Uh… The Doctor stuck his head in a bowl of chemicals,"
The Doctor could hear the Brigadier's indignant response.
"Seems Liz's loss is affecting the Doctor more than we thought," Luna frowned, "no, he's conscious. Already gave him a very firm talking to. I'll stay here and keep him company - he might need a distraction. Alright, toodles!"
She hung up, and turned to face the Doctor.
"So, he said that if you try that again - 'cause apparently you've done it at least twice when I wasn't looking -" the Doctor gave her a sheepish, guilty expression, "- he's going to have to put you on a mental health watch."
She sat down next to him.
"Have you told him about the exile yet?"
The Doctor shook his head, "it's beyond his understanding,"
Luna frowned.
"I truly don't believe it is," She nudged the Doctor, "hey, wanna give fixing the circuit another try?"
The Doctor smiled, weakly.
"I would like that very much."
Six
"Woah, woah, woah, hey!"
Luna had to pull the Doctor down from the coat rack. His old scarf - not the one his Fifth self ripped up, but rather the one that was kept in the TARDIS wardrobe - was wrapped around his neck, and he was dangling. He coughed, and slowly came too, as Luna sighed.
"Gods… I was gonna have to give you CPR…" She said, "what the actual fuck were you thinking?!"
"Language," the Doctor coughed, "I probably would've been able to survive - Respitory Bypass and all—"
"You nearly hung yourself?!" Luna interrupted, gaping like a fish, "why would you even think about that?"
"I've been going through a difficult time recently," was the Doctor's only explanation.
Immediately, Luna caught what that was a reference to.
"I-Is this about…"
The Doctor swallowed. The image of Peri's dead body on screen flashed behind his eyes. He felt his eyes swell with tears as Luna raced towards him, pulling him into a hug. She stood up on her tip toes and rested her chin on the crook of his shoulder.
"Hey… She'd be so mad to find out you killed yourself for her…"
"I've failed her…" The Doctor sobbed, "I failed her…"
"You didn't," Luna sighed, rubbing his back, "you didn't…"
Nine
Luna wiped the blood off the Doctor's wrists.
He glared at her.
"I was just…"
"Hush," Luna interrupted, looking at the slits.
They were surprisingly thick. Probably big enough to put a coin through. She had a limited amount of medical knowledge, but the second she saw the Doctor slitting his wrists in the bathroom, she dragged him to the medbay, kicking and screaming.
She was wiping the blood with antiseptic wipes and wrapping it with gauzes. The Doctor was clearly upset.
"Look, PTSD is not fun," Luna stated the bleeding obvious, "but like… You're still the Doctor. You're still a hero at the end of the day,"
The Doctor scoffed, "sure, you believe that,"
"Of course I do," Luna smiled, "I wouldn't be a very good constant companion if I didn't believe that,"
Ten
"This is… A very counterproductive way of killing yourself,"
The Doctor was face down in the TARDIS pool. Luna was sitting at the end, dangling her feet in, ready to jump if he showed any signs of lack of breathing. She heard a bubbled response.
"You do realise if you want to talk you have to turn around to face me, right?" Luna said, in response, "which again, would defeat the whole purpose of attempting to kill yourself,"
The Doctor did so, spinning a complete 180.
"Oh that's…" He frowned, "that's just not fair,"
"Proves you don't actually want to die as much as you think, eh, pretty boy?" Luna smiled, "but seriously, I think we should go have a little fun to distract from the whole 'prophecy' thing,"
Twelve
"I don't want to change again! Never again!" The Doctor exclaimed, "I can't keep on being somebody else. Wherever it is, I'm staying!"
Luna gave the Doctor a very disappointed look.
"Doc,"
"Oh, and don't you dare," the Doctor interrupted, "I really don't want you pulling the whole constant companion card and making me feel guilty for making this decision. I'm staying, and that's final!"
She rolled her eyes.
"No, absolutely not," Luna said, "important advice - you don't leave your friends out to dry when they're having a mental health crisis,"
She looked up at the scanner, and smiled, seeing the North Pole. A few miles away was the First Doctor, and a Luna from the past. She knew the perfect people to help the Doctor get through his funk… Unfortunately, it would take them getting out of the TARDIS in order to start that.
+Luna
Luna's eyes blinked open to white light.
For a second, she thought she was dead, until she saw a nurse walk up to the side of her bed.
"Ms Derbyshire?" She asked.
Luna felt like she was going to be ill. She'd just swallowed an entire handful of pills and managed to make it out, mostly unscathed. She coughed.
"Wh-Where am I?"
"Coast City hospital," the nurse said, "you got brought here by someone - they found you unconscious on your bathroom floor in a pool of your own vomit,"
Luna paused. Gods, she got rescued by a burglar?
"They seemed to know you," the nurse continued, "I'll contact your mother and tell her where you are,"
"She's probably going to be disappointed I'm alive," Luna muttered, as the nurse left, assuming that she was making a joke.
In the hallway, a blue 1960s Police Public Call box stood, its occupant waiting for their soon to be friend to recover.