Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.
Wordsearch
If there's anyone who knows how to use words, it's him. He uses big words, small words, real words, and fake words. Sometimes he makes them up on the spot and forgets them the moment they slip off of his tongue. He could challenge a dictionary to a crossword and win by a landslide. He's a wordsmith.
And if there was ever a time for a wordsmith to be good at his trade, it was now. Now when the sun illuminated them and couldn't find a crack in between them to seep through. The TARDIS groaned in front of him, and he swears to himself that the other him just groaned from behind him. Emotions had free reign through his body; anger had his knees close to buckling, acceptance fought viciously to gain back ground from defiance in his head, and jealousy had his feet itching to rip them apart.
He couldn't find the word to describe this, the war in his mind and in his hearts had turned his brain to mush. This wasn't a time for big, elaborate speeches that inspired and helped him move on. He couldn't pull words out of thin air and line them up to form magic. Not now, maybe not for a long time after this.
He's sticking to the basics as he turns towards the TARDIS and she clings still tighter. He's found his word, the simple, one-syllable word that slides into this space just right: numb.
Although, heartbroken might fit just as well.