It wasn't unusual that the Doctor went missing. Especially when the TARDIS was in the Vortex. Sometimes, she'd just pop off and the gang wouldn't see her for quite a few hours. She claimed some deeper engine maintenance, exaggerating how little they could possibly comprehend about her elegant ship.
But this time, she'd been gone for very nearly a week. They could more than handle themselves and the Doctor had showed them how to get right back to when they left with a mini-sonic, likely only useful for that specific TARDIS trip. So, if they wanted to go, they could. But this was the first time they'd made the TARDIS more like their homes. Graham finally brought the blanket he needed to sleep, one Grace made for him, on board so he could finally linger beyond a few trips. Yaz brought her own clothes so she could stop using the wardrobe. And Ryan put posters on Bruce Lee and his bike on board.
Meanwhile, you had always treated the TARDIS like home. But you had had stuff ready to transfer, after... well, after the incident. Which left you with belongings you had fazed out of your own home. So, the gang were a bit ready to veg and become part of the ship. But you... you'd spent more time on the TARDIS. They'd all been eager to get home when you'd all accidentally been sent with them while you marveled at the alien planets, the time travel (even if the visit itself made you want to hurl), and you'd been sympathetic to the spiders. You were exactly the kind of person she wanted to show the universe to. She made that clear.
So what you couldn't figure out... was why she wasn't. She never went missing for more than a day and this was a week. With a sigh, you left Team TARDIS in the kitchen the TARDIS loved to move around. Wandering the halls, you let your fingers graze the walls as you walked. You remembered the Doctor mentioning the TARDIS could think and she was a bit telepathic. You thought that's what she had said. But you were on an alien planet so a blue boxed time/space machine's mechanics had been a bit much so you hadn't given it much thought. So you focused on your concern for the Doctor and let your feet wander thoughtlessly. You found an old, worn down door, one which you would never associate with the Doctor, but you grasped the surprisingly elegant handle, pulling the whittled door open.
The inside was lit lowly, less orange than the console room. But it was a more depressing shade, barely lighting the room. In a large, four-post bed, a bundle of blankets hid a bulging form. You knelt beside the quilt fabric covering a clearly not sleeping blonde. "Hello," you greeted softly.
Hazel eyes popped open. They stared at you at the surprise of your visit.
You propped your fingers on her mattress, cushioning your chin. "Cozy?" you whispered.
Shame riddled those star beamed irises and a pout manifested. She nuzzled her hand to dry her wet nose, streams leaking down her face.
You pulled the lace of your wrist's sleeve, pressing the antique hankie to her face a little inexperiencedly. You brought it up the middle of her nose, watching from afar. You brought your arm back into your lap. "Wanna talk?" you asked gently. That did seem to be one of her more favored pastimes.
"Thought you lot would have gone home by now," she whispered.
You smiled sympathetically at her. "The Fam finally settled in. They've been exploring the TARDIS. They're liking the calm while it exists. Wonder why they didn't find you. Didn't take me long."
You saw the thought your statement provoked. She followed it to a solution and went back to staring at the space behind you.
You turned, following her face, and found she was looking at the door: old, barely keeping out any light through the damaged slacks of wood. You looked back at her. "Anything specific the matter?" you asked.
More tears and she shook her head.
You nodded, seriously wondering whether she was going to kick you out for your gall. With a huff, you stood, walking around her bed, then plopping down behind her. You cuddled as close as you could, not allowing any time for argument or over-thinking. You propped your chin around her shoulder. "The world - worlds, I guess - they're so full of hate, of fear. There's so much hate," you mumbled, sympathizing.
She managed to pull herself from her deep, dark mind and listen to you intently. This was a sympathy speech. You knew depression was common among humans of your century. You all came to terms with your helplessness to stop the world's cruelty. 2001 ended so badly. What a horrid century. Oh, which was why she loved when she found those like you.
"You know, Newton's third law?" you asked.
A small nod.
A grin pulled the side of your mouth at the response, tiny as it was. "Everything is just shuffled around. Including emotions. Depression, mania, euphoria; they're all medical symptoms. All it means is your picking up on what's everywhere. We all have to shoulder this sometimes. You take your turn. And you, my dear Doctor, are taking it like a champ. All you have to do it get through it. Once you're on the other side, you can help someone else or just love your love."
The Doctor turned in the bed, lowering the comforters between you.
"It's better to have someone to share with while your in it." You held out your arms, offering.
She looked at your arms, looking scared of hurting you or like she had to be strong enough not to admit she needed help.
"I'll let you share with me when it's my turn," you promised.
Sympathetically, she looked up in your eyes, letting herself cuddle against you. After a few seconds of uncomfortable cuddles, you laughed and whispered, "Hang on." You wiggled your way under her covers with her, letting her sleep on top of you. You carefully draped an arm over her waist, letting her slide her hand inside your free one.
The Doctor let out her age in her sigh. "Who hurt you?" she asked curiously.
You petted her hair, abandoning her waist. "Oh, so many," you alluded, letting her take her comfort in your, in shared suffering, even if incomparable.