Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.
The One With Three Parts
Part One
"I've been told, what's done is done.
To let it go, and carry on.
Deep inside, I know that's true.
I'm stuck in time, stuck on you."
-Unbeautiful by Lesley Roy
The dirt is soft under her feet as she picks her way along the broken trails. Rocks and overgrown weeds clog her way and she scrambles to get past them. There's no one to catch her if she stumbles or slips. Driving herself faster and further, she tries to push thoughts like that from her head. The too-familiar hill looms up ahead of her, the tree adorning its top an arrow pointing up to the stars.
That's not the same sky she's travelled. She doesn't know what's different out there or if anything's the same. Even though she'd seen so little of her proper world, she's seen even less of this one. She's stuck and she's sure it will suffocate her. Wondering if this is how he would feel if he was ever forced to settle down, she begins the climb.
Her legs burn with the effort and for a shining second she smiles. She knows this feeling, and if she pumps her legs hard enough she can pretend he's next to her and they can do anything. This place reminds her of him, and she finds herself constantly returning to it. The grass is greener, almost green enough to remind her of the smell of apples. At that lovely time between sun and sunset the sky glows a blushing pink, and if she closes her eyes, the swishing of the wind is her whispering forever and meaning it and not thinking of what will inevitably tear them apart. When night blankets the hill the moon is bright, breaking through the trees and glinting like the largest diamond she's ever seen.
Sometimes Mickey comes with her, watching her constantly out of the corner of his eyes and desperately trying not to say anything that will remind her of what she has lost. She wants to tell him that it doesn't matter, that everything reminds her of him, and that the catch in his voice when he slips up hurts her worse than if he'd just come out and say it. She doesn't want to forget him, even if they all think she should. After all, they were all here, alive and safe because of him.
She likes it better when she's alone. The wind whips around her, and as long as she looks ahead of her she can't see a thing except for rolling slopes that leap up to try to snatch at the stars. It picks up pebbles, dirt, and scraps of leaves and whirls them about her, feigning her into thinking she hears the sound of the universe spinning around her and rumbling under her feet. If she forgets that sound, she's sure she'll die: completely sure that will hurt much worse than the fleeting stings and pricks that accompany the soothing noise. Even when it fades, the hum of it remains and it comforts her.
A part of her wonders why this place seems saturated in him. Why she can remember his face clearer here, almost as if the sun that shines on her is the same one that shines on him impossibly far away and the beams radiating down transport his features as well as the heat. Does he remember her? She knows he does, he remembers every speck and detail of the most insignificant things, and in her heart she knows that he thinks of her often enough for it to mean much more than something. But, her head wonders, does he want to forget her? Will a time come that she'll want to forget him?
She knows a time will come when she won't have a choice. Her memories will fade, lose their luster, and he will float away until he's just a vacant outline and all she remembers is glimpses of what they had. What he gave her. She's only human after all. If remembering her long after she's gone is his curse, forgetting him before she's ready will be hers.
But, for now, he invades every part of her. She'll climb this hill and sit, arms around legs and head on knees, until the wind kicks up around her and the sun fades away into the moon. The world will continue to turn beneath her and she'll desperately hope that he finds a way back to her before she forgets to hope for a way back to him.