Finally got this written and typed up. Don't read this if you want fluff and happiness. It will kill your entire mood. You have been warned. Enjoy! Disclaimer- Nope. Still don't own it. Maybe I could visit the Winchester's and get them to summon a crossroads demon. That might work...

The Doctor.

What type of name is that?

Not a proper one.

John Smith.

Who's named the Doctor?

Why is your name the Doctor?

Doctor who?!

He clenches his teeth, grabbing and pulling at his hair, breathing heavily, and stares at his ship's controls as hard as he possibly can. No. No, no, no. Rassilon, no. God dammit, no! He doesn't want to focus on this. He can't focus on this. Not if he wants to keep his act together.

But it's too late. The thought has entered his mind, and now it just will not leave him alone.

It hurts. It hurts so, so much. Every time somebody goes and asks that bloody stupid question. People asking him, 'Doctor who?' people and their curiosity. They just couldn't seem to leave well enough alone. Never had been able to, never would be able to. He gives them a name, tells them that he's the Doctor, but everybody's curiosity gets the better of them, and thy always revert back to the same question; 'Doctor who?'

And that question, it jut eats away at him. Always. He wishes that he could answer it. He wants to answer it so very badly. Honestly, if he could, he would. He would answer that question with a grin on his face every single time that someone asked him about it. But he hasn't answered it in so very long. He didn't want to answer it, didn't want to associate with his people like that.

Then, when he did want to answer it, really and properly answer it, when he wanted to associate with his people, after the Time War, when all he wanted to do was remember his race, his friends and family, and even his enemies, he couldn't. He couldn't remember himself and answer what should have been the simplest question in the universe.

He needs to stop thinking about this. He can feel himself starting to lose whatever hold on his emotions he has.

And now he can hear Donna's voice behind him, asking what's wrong. And then she says that word. The word that he's learned to hate.

Doctor.

What little grasp on his emotions he had collapses. His breathing is louder, he's shaking, gripping at his hair tighter than before, and struggling against the very nearly uncontrollable urge to break something, to hit the TARDIS until he's too exhausted to even move.

"Doctor?" Donna asks again, clearly concerned. The Doctor tries to ignore the fact that his best friend had just called him that word yet again.

He stumbles backwards from the controls until he ran into the guard rails that surrounded both him and Donna, and grips them a hard as he can, knuckles turning white with strain.

"Don't." He pleads, casting a look at the worry ridden Donna who stands not ten feet from where he is. His voice matches his body; He sounds broken, desperate. He looks that way as well, angry too, furious even.

"What?" Donna asked. The Doctor screwed his eyes shut.

"Don't- Don't call me that." He managed to stammer out.

He needs to calm down, but he can't. His hearts are pounding away in his chest, and he can feel himself starting to sweat.

Donna took a few steps towards the Time Lord and placed a hand on her friend's shaking shoulder. At the contact he he flinched violently, stiffening.

"Why not?" Donna asked quietly, looking her friend over.

What the hell was going on with the Doctor? Was he having some sort of emotional breakdown? It made sense, the man had plenty of weight on his too-thin shoulders. To be perfectly honest, Donna was amazed that he was still going after all he had suffered through.

The Doctor took a shallow, shuddering breath before he answered.

"Just...No. Don't."

Despite herself, Donna scoffed

"Then what am I supposed to call you?" She inquired, trying to decipher the not-quite conversation she was having.

The moment Donna finished her question, the Doctor jerked away from her, moving out from underneath her hand and standing at his full height, positively glaring at Donna, the look on his face almost hateful.

"I DON'T KNOW!" He yelled.

Donna took a slight step back, confused, and maybe just the slightest bit intimidated. Not because she was afraid of the Doctor, no; He would never hurt her, that she was entirely positive of. Rather it was because she had never seen him this way and wasn't quite sure of how to handle the situation.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO CALL ME!" The Doctor continued shouting. He took a shaky breath and shot Donna a look, one that was filled with absolute terror, before burying his face into his hands and leaning on the ship's guard rails.

Relieved that her friend seemed to have calmed some, but still down right worried about what was happening to him, Donna walked over and stood next to him, trying her best to ignore the seemingly ever present flinch that occurred when she touched him.

"Spaceman?" She prompted, trying to get the skinny alien's attention.

"Just...Leave me alone, Donna." The Doctor replied quietly, completely contrasted from how he had been just a few moments ago.

Well.

Donna raised a skeptical eyebrow.

She sure wasn't about to leave the Doctor alone in his current state. No telling what he might do then, either to the TARDIS, or himself.

"Doctor,"

Flinch.

Donna started over.

"Doctor." He flinched yet again, but Donna continued this time around. "I'm not leaving you. You need tell me what's going on, and I'll try to help you."

"There's no way you can help me, Donna." The Doctor said, voice bitter.

"Why don't you at least let me try?" Donna suggested.

"Because I already know what will happen."

"Just tell me what's happening. Please."

The Doctor glanced at Donna, appearance beyond shattered.

"You really want to know?" He asked, voice deadly quiet. Donna was slightly thrown by this, but she nodded anyways.

"Of course." She said.

The Doctor set his jaw and swallowed, staring at the ground.

"I-" He stopped and cleared his throat before continuing. "I don't...I don't remember my name."

Donna's expression softened and she wrapped an arm around the abnoramally cool shoulder of her friend, once more doing her best to ignore the way he almost struggled against the contact. What was with that? He normally loved human contact.

"Oh, Doctor..." She muttered. The Doctor stiffened and tried to move away, as if the words of his companion had physically hurt him.

"Sorry." Donna apologized. "I didn't mean to call you that."

"...I know you didn't."

Silence.

"It's killing me, Donna." The Doctor said, voice no more than a hoarse whisper. "I can't remember my own name and it's killing me."

Donna pressed her lips into a thin line. She almost wished that she hadn't found out why the Doctor was acting the way he was. How was she supposed to react to this? He best friend in all of Time and Space didn't know his name.

"Are you alright?" She cautiously asked, though she didn't really believe that she would get an answer at all, much less an honest one.

"No." The Doctor said quietly, to Donna's complete surprise.

"I'm sorry?" She asked.

The tears that had been welling up in the Doctor's eyes finally broke over their barriers.

"I'm not alright." The Doctor sobbed, tears steaming down his face.

And for once, the Doctor doesn't care that he's crying, or that he's not fine, or even that he's being so, so weak in front of Donna, something that he always avoids.

"I can't remember my name and I don't know who the hell I am, Donna. All anybody ever asks me is 'Doctor who', and I can't answer that, because I don't know my bloody name! I hate it!" He said furiously.

"I'm so sorry..." Donna murmured, further embracing the Doctor. The lanky Time Lord tightly returned the hold, allowing for himself to bury his face into his friend's shoulder shamelessly. Donna let him stay there, ignoring the increasing moistness of her shoulder.

"I didn't let myself say it for so long." The Doctor gasped out. "And now I can' remember it at all."

Both of them were quiet for a moment, the only hint that time was passing being the Doctor's ragged breaths.

"I hate it sometimes." The Time Lord eventually said. "Doctor." He spat out the word. "It's just a title. It's not really me, but it's what everybody expects of me, thinks I am. They expect me to fix everything, all the time, and just be able to carry on my merry way, even though I'm breaking down and I'm not able to keep going. But hey," He continued, voice cracking. "I'm the Doctor. I haven't got a choice. I've got to be able to be alright. It's in my name after all. The only name for myself that I can remember."

"Not everybody sees you like that, Doctor." Said Donna. "Some of us see you for who you really are. Me and Martha. Rose. From what I've heard, it sounds like Tegan saw you for yourself. We see youy for wo you are as a person, not what you name says you should be."

"...It's not my name though." The Doctor said, voice small.

"And that isn't important." Donna assured. "Names don't make us who we are. YOu, me, we are so much more than out names and titles. They aren't important, they don't really matter. I'm the Temp, but that doesn't describe me or anything that I do. You're the Doctor, and your title doesn't define you. Have you got that?"

Donna took the Doctor by his shoulders and gently pushed him away, keeping her hands firmly planted. After a moment the Doctor gave a slight nod.

"Right." He whispered.

"Say it." Said Donna.

Pause.

"...My name doesn't define who I am."

"And don't you dare believe anything different." Donna finished.

The Doctor nodded again, more confident this time around.

He was more than his name said he had to be.

He was allowed to not be alright.

He was a person.

And he knew, that as long as Donna was around, he could believe it.

And done. Go ahead and leave a review if you so wish, it would be lovely. Even if you don't, thanks for readin, have a great day, and DFTBA!