DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who's not mine. I can only dream... -sigh-
AN: This could be seen as any Doctor, and any companion, although I wrote it with Eleven in mind. A goodbye that nobody really wants and some looove
The TARDIS stands on the corner of an empty road. It's dark, cold, and a wind that whips the outside of the old wooden box keeps rattling through the broken fence of a nearby house. Cats from the neighborhood wail to each other, a dog somewhere joining the conversation. The bass from the music at the party at the end of the road can still be heard all the way down the street. The creak of hinges that could do with an oiling adds to the symphony of noise, as the tall blue doors as pulled open, light flooding the corner as the console inside glows. There's the sound of feet slicking along glass, trainers squeaking, followed by the thud of more sensible boots on the cool floor. One of the pairs, the canvas trainers, step over the threshold, and their owner twirls, feet planted firmly on the ground as they face the glowing light.
Mouths open to let goodbyes out, but the words seem to die at once. It feels wrong to interrupt such a calm silence with harsh tones and cold words. Awkward eyes drop to the concrete and stay there. Hands drum the wood absently. Neither wants to make this final move. Neither wants this to end.
"I... This isn't because I don't want you here..." are the words that reluctantly break the silence. They could have been more meaningful, both suppose. Then again, he was never one for goodbyes. Eyebrows furrow in determination as he finds the next words. It should be easy for someone so good at puzzles. This is just like a code, a piece of computer data. All he has to do is find the words that fit the sequence, the ones that won't hurt, or convey the wrong message. But these humans were the hardest puzzle he had ever faced.
"...It's because... You have so much ahead of you. You can... could, would and will do so much better here. With me... you're still young. You risk your life... I'm not what you need... Save... save your life, treasure it... Don't be stupid. I make you run. If we kept running… One day you have to stop. One day, you'll trip… You don't need to keep running, you have people here. I... I'm not good for you..."
The frown that is thrown to him tells him quite plainly that those weren't the right words. But he can't find the words that fit. Then suddenly, hands grip his jacket, and he is pulled down, where lips crash and eyes close. It exchanges more than his words could, more than any words ever could. While hands hold pull each other closer, hearts fall open and spill over. Emotions pour alongside the tears that mingle on their cheeks, glistening in the half-light. The break comes sooner than either want, and the finality hits them again.
Lips press shut as shaking steps are taken, moving them to safe distances. Enough of a gap is put between them that they can look away. Doors fall shut. Hearts pound. Tears are swallowed as the wind picks up, hair swirling in the torrents of wind. The box vanishes.
A hand is clamped around the key that he left. It's held to a heart, and left there. It doesn't move.
Until, years in the future.
It begins to glow again.