"Really?" Any other time I would have said it more forcefully, more angrily. (The thought of him leaving me sends me into fits of despair and rage. The thought of him leaving others, taunting me, confirming my worst fears, well... yeah.) But, this time, the sadness in his eyes makes me more concerned than anything.
We've been sitting here on this curb for a while now. Just the 2 of us, bent over, looking at each other or at the ground, playing with little stones, or drawing with sticks in the dust. Our body language casual, a bit sad, hunched over, knees up, elbows propped up on them, head on our fists.
We're just sitting and talking. Talking about whatever. Our thoughts, our feelings, our lives. A heart to heart, one might call it.
Or, I suppose, a hearts to heart.
"Yeah. His name was Fitz." Looking at the dust, the Doctor drew curvy lines in it with a stick. A pattern emerged. The Seal of Rassilon.
"I met him in the late 1960's. He was tall, dark haired, a bit gruff sometimes, but that was really just a front. A bit daft, honestly, but he was loyal like none other."
I nodded, listened.
"He was so jaded when I met him." He looks up at me. "A bit like you, really. At least in that respect."
"He was a rocker. A chain-smoking, hard-drinking, leather jacket-wearing, rock and roller."
"Sounds like my kind of guy."
"Oh, you would have liked him, when you weren't threatening to kill him."
I laugh. "I can see that."
The Doctor chuckles. "So can I." His smile grew wistful, faded.
"Fitz... Fitz was wonderful, for all his flaws. He just needed a chance to grow. He needed space, and sunlight and air."
"It sounds to me like you're talking more about your plants than a man, Doctor."
He smiled wistfully. "Fitz... Fitz was my begonia. That's how I met him first. I bought a begonia from him. I... I used to save begonias. It was a calling of mine, you could say."
I nodded.
"Now... now I save Fitzes. Well, of course, they're not all named Fitz, you know. Sometimes they're called Catie."
I look up at him, smile. He beams. I pull him into a deep, deep hug.
We pull back, smile at each other. "Come, let's go get a soda." He stands, offers me a hand. I accept, let him help pull me up. We brush the dirt off our pants, letting it fall in light clouds back to the earth.
We walk along, hand in hand, in silence.
"Yes... Fitz was my begonia... and I loved him."
I squeeze the Doctor's hand in my own, in a simple gesture of empathy, as we continue on our way.