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I do not own Doctor Who, even though I wish I did. Sadly, it belongs to the BBC. The song is Vanilla Twilight by Owl City.
The stars lean down to kiss you
And I lie awake and miss you
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere
'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly
But I'll miss your arms around me
I'd send a postcard to you, dear
'Cause I wish you were here
"Doctor," Rory said. "You need some sleep. You look really tired."
The Time Lord looked at the nurse. Sure he was true, but he didn't want to sleep.
He would rather faint than be haunted by dreams of her. Her tear stained face, hair whipping in the wind. He would much rather stay up and talk about her to the TARDIS, who never protested; to think about how her hand would fit in his new new new hand, or if she would like his new new new hair.
But the nurse could tell the Time Lord hadn't slept in a while. Four weeks, twenty hours, seven minutes, and forty-eight seconds, but the Time Lord wouldn't say that out loud.
He heard her say it in his mind. Say he should sleep. Ever since she'd fallen, her voice was the voice in the back of his head that told him what to do.
The Doctor stood from his place under the counsel.
"Right you are Pond," he said. "After a few hours, we'll be off again. I was thinking a flea market in, oh, maybe the twenty-third century."
Rory let the Doctor ramble as the man walked down the corridor. After the Doctor had disappeared from view, Rory went to go find his fiancé. He wanted to know if she knew anything about the other mans aversion to sleep
I'll watch the night turn light-blue
But it's not the same without you
Because it takes two to whisper quietly
The silence isn't so bad
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad
'Cause the space between my fingers
Are right where yours fit perfectly
And I'll find repose in new ways
Though I haven't slept in two days
'Cause cold nostalgia
Chills me to the bone
Silently, the Doctor stepped into the room. Clothing was neatly put away, and make-up was placed neatly on the dresser. The pink and blue bed was made, and knick-knacks from their adventures were scattered through his bits and bobs of mechanical parts.
He pulled off his coat and bowtie, placing them carefully on a chair.
He sat gingerly on the bed, thinking of the whispered conversations he would have with her, when she was asleep, saying things he never dared to when she was awake.
Telling her about all of his past companions.
You're different.
How she had changed him. She had made him a better person.
Special.
How he didn't know how she could burrow into his hearts so much, but he wouldn't have it anyway
My pink-and-yellow human.
How she was impossible, and brilliant.
My Rose. Bad Wolf.
And only at night, when he'd counted her breaths, did he say it.
I love you.
The Doctor pulled off his boots and laid them next to his old converse and her sneakers.
As he lay down, he missed the weight of her head on his chest as she slept. The way her hair would surround her head like a golden halo—which always reminded him of Bad Wolf—or how she would burrow into his side in the night and hold him tightly to keep him from leaving, even in her sleep. How she laced her hand with his, and kept him warm.
His body felt cold now. He felt like any moment he could lose all his senses and float away. She wasn't there to tether him down—not to take him back down when he got out of control—and keep him grounded.
But drenched in Vanilla Twilight
I'll sit on the front porch all night
Waist-deep in thought because
When I think of you I don't feel so alone
Closing his eyes, the Doctor could feel her breath on his neck, the way she radiated warmth, joy, love, and understanding—something so distinctly Rose—he wouldn't be able to find it anywhere else. How even thinking about her made his hearts beat a little bit faster – ok a lot, but he can lie to himself – and his hands get sweaty; Time Lord genetics didn't take falling in love to account.
Her smell still exists in this room, something vanilla, and Time, and distinctly her. It's engrained in her pillow even though he's been using it ever since she fell.
He can see her walking into the en suite to change and wash her face with the cleanser that sits by the sink unused. She would brush her teeth and peppermint would follow her as she would walk back into the room. She would get on the bed next to him and lean on him. He would carefully put his arm around her and read to her. Charles Dickens, Shakespeare, or Agatha Christi, it never mattered.
I don't feel so alone
I don't feel so alone
But know he's lying in the bed that's way too big for one man. In the room that has feminine touches he will never get rid of. Even with the pictures of Mickey or Jack on the walls, most are of them.
The Stuff of Legends.
The Oncoming Storm and the Bad Wolf.
As many times as I blink
I'll think of you tonight
I'll think of you tonight
He blinks away the sudden sting.
Closing his eyes again, the Doctor pictures her. Her face, her eyes.
He falls asleep slowly. He keeps waking up because he sees her and the meta crisis. Oh how he wishes that were him, her arms around him, her lips on his.
Eventually his eyes slide shut and stay. Deep down, he thinks the TARDIS is helping, feeding his unconscious mind happy times, like his tenth forms first Christmas dinner, lying on the apple grass in New New York, and meeting the Queen while fighting a werewolf, well, Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform.
When violet eyes get brighter
And heavy wings grow lighter
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again
The Doctor woke up and looked at the clock.
Six hours, he must really have needed to sleep.
Slowly he moves his body. Sitting up and putting his shoes back on before making the bed again.
He walks to the desk, most covered in his jiggery pokery, except for the small box. Taking a deep breath he opens it and looks solemnly at the content.
A picture of big ears and Rose dancing, a picture of him when he had spikey hair and Rose on Christmas, and, another smaller still box.
The Doctors hands tremble as he picks the box up. He doesn't open it, just tucks it into his breast pocket, right by his left heart.
He walks to the door and opens it, looking back once to make sure everything's in place, before walking out and closing the door behind him.
As manically as he can muster, he bounces into the counsel room to find both the Ponds sitting in the jump seat.
"So," he says. "Flea market!"
And I'll forget the world that I knew
But I swear I won't forget you
Oh, if my voice could reach back through the past
I'd whisper in you eat
Oh darling, I wish you were here