A/N: Not mine and all that lot. No profit, no foot stepping, none of that.
Also, no er, dancing or swearing, sorry.
And the pairing is er, not really solid, is it?
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
He watched himself run down below, his hand in hers, and clenched his own empty fist. He could feel it, the ghost of her fingers interlaced with his. It was such a casual contact, not the sort of thing at all he'd expected to miss, and yet, watching himself run with her, it was an ache bigger than the loss of an entire civilization, worse than the destruction of his home planet, more stabbing and constricting than the destruction of two entire universes.
The him that was running with the her that was still there grinned, wild, excited, ready for an adventure that was just beginning. His eyes down there were a piercing blue, bright and intelligent, wary around the edges, not at all the dull brown that they'd became. It took everything he had not to go down and stop them, to beg them to stop running, to change the future that was inevitable, to step in and fix things, to create a paradox so grand that the universe would never sort itself right.
It was that smile, and the way the air blowing past tugged at her blond hair that froze him. He couldn't step in and stop them any more than he could willingly take that smile off her face.
The duo down below disappeared into an antiquated blue Police Phone Call Box—the TARDIS—and then in a whirl and flash of lights they were gone.
He looked down at his empty hand and wondered. How many times could he find where he'd be able to do this, and what would he do when he ran out?