The Doctor's companions all have separate views of the Doctor, but separate doesn't always mean completely different.
Set to Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", with a different companion for every verse.
I've heard there was a secret chord
Rory stares at the Doctor, wondering for the millionth time just who he is. Amy treats him as if she's known who he is, what his secrets are, ever since the beginning. And he can't help but feel left out.
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
And when will Amy start paying attention to him again? Sure, he's her husband. And he knows that she loves him dearly; she tells him that in no uncertain terms quite frequently. But it's always been the Doctor who had the ability to amaze and astound her. He can't help but feel a little jealous of the man who's still a mystery, even after all this time.
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Amy always loved adventure and the opportunity to go crazy. And if the Doctor isn't the pure embodiment of adventure and the opportunity to go crazy, what is? Rory's calm. Rory's boring. When will just Rory be enough?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift
But that's the way it will always go with the Doctor, and he never expects it to change. He just clings to Amy, and by extension, he clings to the Doctor too. He just has to make sure that he's part of Amy's 'always' too. He supposes that he's grateful, and he really truly is. He'd been to places he'd never dreamed of before, places that were just downright cool. But he only does it for Amy.
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
And the Doctor, that crazy, astounding man who's conquered worlds and the people who inhabit them... he's completely oblivious to all these emotions. He tries not to look.
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
Captain Jack did love to flirt. In fact, he's pretty sure that some time in the future, he'll open the dictionary and his picture will be under the word. And he knows the Doctor disapproves of it, but he never really cares about what the Doctor does and doesn't disapprove of. He's got himself to think about, after all.
You saw her bathing on the roof
But sometimes, it does get tiring being so gorgeous. And running with the Doctor is a good alternative to his regular life. The Doctor's always welcomed change, so Jack's allowed to be serious every once in awhile when the Doctor's around. The Doctor gets it, so Jack can be what Jack wants to be. Not for long though. Some pretty thing in a skirt always comes along and tempts him.
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
But for all his swagger and flirtiness, Jack knows that it's not just the hot bodies that attract him. He's far too lonely. And though the Doctor is a kindred spirit that understands this loneliness, he doesn't quite understand Jack's brand. In fact, Jack thinks it'll a cold day in hell before he sees the Doctor pine for someone to love. And that's exactly what Jack wants, though he's loathe to admit it.
She tied you to a kitchen chair
And Jack hopes that maybe, someday, traveling with the Doctor will lead him to where he's supposed to be. Hell, since the Doctor offers no competition with him, he could flirt with every being from here to Flaxis III and maybe he'll find someone who'll stay with him. And get rid of that everlasting loneliness.
She broke your throat, and she cut your hair
And then he remembers. He'll live forever. And ever. And suddenly, that desire to settle down evaporates, that desire to find the perfect partner disappears. They'll just die on him anyway, he doesn't need another broken heart. He got enough of that when he watched his team die. And so the loneliness continues. He supposes the flirty looks and the secret kisses will do for now. No one will ever quite comprehend his loneliness. In fact, the Doctor's probably the only soul that does and ever will. Jack needs a drink. Perhaps two. Or ten.
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
But if he wanted to talk about romance troubles, the Doctor's not the man to go to for that. That crazy man's too oblivious, too wrapped up in saving worlds to care about Jack's libido.
Baby, I have been here before
Amy watches the Doctor work, doing something magnificently clever to the TARDIS, as per usual. He's always doing something unpredictable, that man. It's a bit of a trial on the brain, and results in a lot more fiery arguments than she's used to, but which the Doctor just chalks up to her being a ginger. Ah, but she's used to that. The unpredictability, the obsession with gingers. It's been like that ever since she was a little girl. Been there, done that. It's her life now.
I know this room, I've walked this floor
And though she hadn't stepped in the TARDIS until she'd almost outgrown the idea of the Doctor and his Blue Box, she didn't feel at all out of place there. She was always going to end up here, so it felt right when she finally arrived. And the Doctor, that insane man, he'd known too. So the friendliness between them was always going to be.
I used to live alone before I knew you.
She had vague memories of her years alone in the house. They sometimes replaced growing up with Mels and her parents, and she'd be taken aback by her fear of solitude during her years of waiting. It was only hanging onto the idea of the Doctor that saved her, she supposed, though she'd never admit that to the Doctor himself. He'd grow far too sentimental. And that's what he was, really. A sentimental old man. Although incredibly smug at times.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Sometimes, though, she thinks he has a right to be. She's seen what he can do. She's seen hordes of aliens just turn away and run from this man, this incredible man. And sometimes he does it without even blinking eye, oozing pride in his own cleverness. The Doctor. It's a name known everywhere, and with good reason.
Love is not a victory march
But she thinks that she might not love him the way she does, as a brother and as a friend, if this were all she saw of the Doctor. It's not all parades of smug righteousness. That would be unbearable. No, sometimes, he falls so very far. Sometimes he loses. And this is when the humble, devastated, frighteningly human man displays himself. And that's what makes the Doctor so fascinating. So capable of such fierce emotion, but hardly ever showing it.
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
He's a remarkable man, she thinks. But this remarkable man puts up his shields so often. He's so oblivious to the emotions of the people around him, too busy making sure that lives are saved. He tries to be oblivious to himself, too. Amy thinks that maybe it's because if he really looks, he'll find that everyone's a little bit broken, in ways that are a little too intricate to fix.
There was a time when you let me know
River watches her Doctor silently as he rages at her. It's early days, and he's burning with curiosity and anger and suspicion. All directed at her. The wrath of a Time Lord is a frightening thing, but River can only smile at him sadly and think about the days when he loved her. The days when he trusted her.
What's really going on below
He's hard work young. He's angry and violent and cocky. Similar to the Doctor who loved her and who'd destroy worlds for her, but not quite. He's not done yet. And it breaks her heart when things like this happen. When he explodes at her because he knows too little. It upsets her as much as it does him, if not more so. This Doctor won't tell her what's wrong when his gaze grows cold, won't tell her how to help him when his options are running out.
But now you never show it to me, do you?
No, this Doctor doesn't know her. He wouldn't dare trust her, because he doesn't know her. And she supposes that's wise for the Doctor. He can't trust anyone, because far too many people have let him down in the past. Betrayed him, attacked him, just let him down. She wishes she could convince him that she would never do that, and never does, but she knows only experience will help with this. He has to get to know her better. While, in her time line, he will only get to know her less.
And remember when I moved in you
And though she knows that it gets better for him, that doesn't stop her heart from splitting in two every time she sees suspicion in his eyes when all she is used to is love. And trust. He's all anger and stone and loss, this Doctor. She knows the Doctor will change, that despite all the growing he's done over the centuries, he has to do more.
The holy dove was moving too
The TARDIS still recognizes her, which perhaps makes it slightly worse. Her ability to fly the TARDIS, and the time machine's willingness to cooperate, only makes the Doctor angrier. She understands that. His TARDIS has been his one constant companion and his one true love this whole time, and now someone else has the ability to gain her affection. And she sometimes wishes that her immersion into this world of unfamiliarity was complete, because now the TARDIS reminds her of those times when she loved and was loved by this impossible man.
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
And as the Doctor rages on, his fury fully engaged now, River holds back the tears that are fighting to fall from her face. For a moment, he's yelling. Then, her mind flashes a memory at her, and all she can see is him smiling at her, happily describing the place they're going to go next. Then, he's yelling again. And this oblivious man, this crazy oblivious man doesn't see his anger and heartbreak reflecting in River's eyes and heart. She wonders if he looks for it. Or if all he looks for is what he wants to see. That's something she's known the Doctor to do. But he just continues yelling, while she just wishes he would stop.
Maybe there's a God above
Martha Jones leads a busy life now. She's important, she's needed, and she's loved. And that's all she's ever wanted, she supposes. She wouldn't trade the life she's got for any other that might exist, has existed, or does exist. She's perfectly content.
But all I've ever learned from love
But every so often, she'll think back and remember him. The Doctor and the crazy adventures they had. Those memories will always be the most important to her. The ones that stick with her in perfect clarity until the day she dies. And what shines through the most is the happiness she felt when she was with him. Watching him talk his way out of a situation with nothing more than a screwdriver that lit up and made fancy noises. She was always in awe when he did his work, when he launched into tirades about things people shouldn't possibly be able to know.
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
She could never do that, she thinks, jealous for only a second. She uses guns and weapons and whatever else it takes to get things done, and it works for her. She feels right doing what she knows is right. But there's an admiration for the Doctor underneath all that sheer happiness and awe. He's powerful, and he rarely seems to notice it. He sees himself as a destroyer, someone who inevitably ruins what he gets into. And she wishes, more than anything, that she could have convinced him otherwise while she was with him.
It's not a cry you can hear at night
He really doesn't see the good he does. He hears the despair of the universe, every sadness falling on his shoulders. And he could only focus on what he didn't save. At any moment of the day, or the night, Martha could look at him and see a flash of despair, and she'd try and cheer him up. But that was hard to do.
It's not somebody who has seen the light
And through all her wonder, from seeing Shakespeare's plays in their original run, to fighting the Daleks in the final battle for the Earth and the Universe, she could always see that the Doctor was running. From what, she didn't know. But she was content to run with him. She had her own demons, so they ran together. For however short a period.
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
She was glad that the Doctor never asked about her demons. They were something private. And as she thinks back, from her place of comfort with the love of her life and the job of her dreams, she wonders if he ever even noticed that she had troubles. If he ever saw how broken she felt. Because he was most definitely an oblivious man. Always saving the world and fighting off his own demons. He saw the truth in people, he saw the good. But she was pretty sure he never looked for the bad. And maybe that's why she was so happy now, with her gorgeous, gorgeous man. Because he understood the good and the bad. He loved every bit of Martha, just like she loved every bit of him. And occasionally, she wonders if the Doctor's ever looked hard enough to love every bit of someone.
You say I took the name in vain
Donna Noble was a fiery woman. She always had been, always would be. Fearless, too, and not afraid to speak her mind. She'd speak someone else's mind, if the situation called for it. But lately, she'd been having dreams. Dreams that didn't make any sort of sense. And most of the time, she couldn't remember why they elicited so much emotion in her. Why she woke up crying. She never cried.
I don't even know the name
She doesn't know what's going on, but in her dreams, she sees space. And flying. With a strange capsule and a man who's always faceless. But it's not the faceless part that bothers her. She gets the feeling that faceless is exactly what this man is supposed to be. It feels right. No, what bothers her is that every where they fly, there's something gone wrong, and this faceless man somehow fixes it. Is anyone able to do that? This aspect is what makes her dream so unreal. Not that traveling around space in a blue capsule is real anyway.
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
And she shakes her head to rid her mind of the foolishness every so often. She doesn't care about Space Boys and strange dreams. She cares about reality, and what it entails. Never has she been so caught up in things that aren't real. She's never cared so much about dreams. And why should she? They're not real. But this faceless man keeps reaching out to her.
There's a blaze of light in every word
She feels friendliness from the Space Boy, which is why she supposes she doesn't shun him in her dreams. There's a sort of cheeriness that she identifies with. The faceless man always changes, but what doesn't change is the sheer excitement she feels coming from both him and her when they explore a new world. The faceless man views life the way she does, capable of both good and bad, and you're just shit out of luck if you happen to encounter the bad. It's sad, but the Space Boy is like her best friend. As if she didn't have a real one.
It doesn't matter which you heard
Which is why she's certain he's not real. That is, if the fact that it was a bloody dream wasn't enough to convince her. It won't matter what she does in her dreams; it has no bearing on real life. So occasionally, she tosses her good sense to the wind and tries to dive into her dreams. Tries to figure out what's behind this mysterious, ever-changing, faceless Space Boy.
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
It never really works though. She can't get close enough to him to figure out who he is, and something beyond her good sense is telling her she shouldn't try to. That it's far more complicated than that. And this annoying something, whatever it is, is also telling her that this is the way it's always been. Faceless Man has always been a mystery to her, though she knows him all too well. It's just right that she shouldn't know all of him. It's right that the two of them are broken and, for some reason, can't be fixed. And then she remembers that it's just a stupid dream, and that things like this were exactly why she didn't get caught up with them in the first place.
I did my best, it wasn't much
Rose Tyler will never think too often about her last days with the Doctor in the other universe. Those days aren't ones she cares to remember. John doesn't care to think too much about them either. Both of them remember it far too well. And it was a time of complete loss for both of them. It didn't matter if John hadn't been a separate entity at the time. The pain was real for her and for him.
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
Rose had always thought of herself as useful to the Doctor. And as a source of affection that he truly needed. Days like that one reminded her that, for all that she could do to bring up the Doctor's spirits and keep that adorable smile on his face, she could just as easily tear them down and bring out a darkness in him that she was afraid to admit existed. She clung so fiercely to the image of her Doctor. And John was slowly, ever so slowly, moving out of the darkness and becoming the Doctor she'd fallen in love with.
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And John sometimes yelled at her, demanding that she stop seeing him as just a replacement, and start seeing him as a real person. And she could only assure him, through a tear-filled conversation, that she'd get better. It just took some getting used to. Because she missed the Doctor of the other universe. He and John were just alike, only different. But nothing she could say would convince him of that. They both loved each other, and the times were good more often than they were bad, but sometimes her thoughts overwhelmed her.
And even though it all went wrong
So privately, she'd think about what made the two of them different, even though they were so identical. And after several restless nights, she'd finally arrived at an answer. Her John, he didn't have to view the world the same way the Doctor did. John would live out a human life with her, living peacefully and dying together. The Doctor would have just had to have watched her die. And the loneliness and despair of that idea was something that, however subtly, permeated every moment they spent together.
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
She and John were happy, with nothing to disturb them. So she went from missing the Doctor to worrying about him. He fell so far sometimes, and she thought that he just might lose himself if someone wasn't there to balance him. That's what he was most afraid of. Being corrupt and dooming species to extinction because of a misplaced decision. Being oblivious to their pain. But that was something he could never do whether he realized it or not.
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
So Rose thought back fondly on their times together as she grew closer to John. And she knew that, whatever happened with the Doctor, things would turn out alright for him. She'd seen some of his companions, seen some of the people he attracted. And those people were right for him. No matter what he thought about them, no matter how oblivious he was to how much they cared about him. They wouldn't lead him astray. That was one thing she was completely sure of. If ever he fell, there would be people who cared about him to pick him back up.
Rory watched and saw a man oblivious to awkward silences.
Jack watched and saw a man oblivious to the idea of love.
Amy watched and saw a man oblivious to the emotions of others.
River watched and saw a man oblivious to patience and the idea of blind trust.
Martha watched and saw a man oblivious of his own power.
Donna watched and saw a man oblivious to the changes around him.
Rose watched and saw a man oblivious to himself.
They all watched. And they all saw the Doctor.