(David’s POV)

 

I knew he’d be here.  I was aware that even before I opened the door that I would find him sitting on my couch, wringing his hands, waiting for me to get home from the theatre.  Using a key I gave him a long time ago.

 

And I was right.

 

Too bad I forgot to imagine what his eyes would be doing when they met my gaze.

 

Those beautiful, soulful pools of blue are killing me.  Breaking my heart even more than I thought it could when I uttered the words this evening that I was…

 

That I am…

 

Hell, I can’t even say them now to myself.  I’m such a wanker.

 

John’s eyes are just begging me to tell him it isn’t true, that I didn’t put the Doctor Who fandom into a crazy tailspin tonight on national television.

 

But I can’t.  Because it’s fact. 

 

After I film the four episodes that will air over 2009 and 2010, my incarnation of the Doctor will cease to exist.

 

There, I said it.  Not so much of a twat now.

 

“Why?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, hands still wringing together in his lap.  Had I not been staring at him, I never would have heard the soft tone.

 

With a sigh, I took a seat at his side, grabbing the now clenched fists into my own, hoping to relax him.  “John, you know why.  I thought you would understand that I needed to…”

 

Jerking his hands from mine, he jumped from the couch and stormed over to my large picture window, wrapping his arms around his middle.  “Damn it, David!  That’s not what I am talking about.  Why didn’t you tell me?  Why in the fuck did I have to find out on the telly like a commoner?  I thought I meant more to…,” he trailed off, with a choked sob.  His face, lit by the moonlight and street lamp glow coming in the window, highlighted the moisture forming at the corners of his eyes.

 

I should go to him.  Stand behind him and slip my arms about his waist, reassure him that everything will be fine.  It’s not like I will be leaving him.  I’m just leaving the show.  Find my way in the world doing other things.  Putting down the key to the TARDIS before it’s too late.

 

I’m not moving though.  Neither is he.  Well, unless you count the small trickle running down his cheek.

 

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I finally said, after the silence had become almost unbearable.

 

“What’s so hard about- Hey, John, I’ve decided to stop being the Doctor, I thought you should know and all.”

 

“This wasn’t an easy choice, Russell, Julie, Steven and I talked a lot…”

 

“Of course they all bloody fucking knew!  But nope, didn’t think to tell the man that has been filling your bed for the last couple of years that you were going to make an announcement like that!  I had to find out while watching the damn awards show, with Scott staring at me wondering why the hell I didn’t tell him that I knew.  Well, you know why, David, because I didn’t know.  Because you didn’t think I was worthy enough to tell.  I wasn’t important enough to be graced with the news beforehand.  Did you not think I could help you through this?  I saw what that statement was doing to you, what that damn BBC interview did.”

 

John kept rambling on, now pacing back and forth in front of me, arms flailing to make his points.  I didn’t stop him because I knew he needed to get everything out.  It’s his way.  Hurricane Barrowman.

 

Plus, he does have a right to be pissed at me.  I should have told him.  I tried a couple of times over the last month, came damn close the night before he left to go to the Hub Convention for Torchwood.

 

It was just that admitting it to John, telling my Captain Jack, would have made it real.

 

Then again, telling thousands of people via a satellite link was pretty damn real too.

 

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize John had stopped his tirade and was staring at me, hands on his hips.

 

“So, are you done now?”

 

“Fuck you, David!  Were you even listening to me?”

 

“Of course I was, John.  I always listen to you.  It’s just…”

 

How can I tell him how scared I was to let him know of my decision?  My real fears about this whole mess.  So worried that he wouldn’t want me after I hung up the long brown coat and Converse trainers, locked the door to the blue box one last time.  I know he is terrified that I will leave him.  What he doesn’t realize is I am so damn frightened he is not going to want me anymore.

 

We have known each other for a long time, but it was Doctor Who that really brought us together.  John used to joke with me that he had been in the TARDIS longer than I had.  Guess that is true, depending on how you look at all that wibbly-wobbley timey-wimey stuff.

 

Good lord, I am never going to say things like that again.  Never going to look across the set and see John as Jack, his greatcoat flashing behind him and that infectious grin on his face.  Well, I don’t necessarily know that because Russell hasn’t told me what he has planned for my big farewell yet, an appearance by Captain Jack Harkness might happen.  Still, if it did, it would be short lived and I’d be left without my companion.

 

You daft sod.  Do you honestly think John is going to leave you because you are no longer the Doctor?  That he is going to stop loving you?  You know he is worried about losing you.  He’d only be that apprehensive for one reason.

 

“Do you love me, John?”

 

Silence.  I have done the impossible and rendered John Barrowman mute.