I don't do angst much. (read: at all) But I swear, some Adam Young songs are about Dr Who. Anywho, this sad little thing is based off Vanilla Twilight which I do not own. Nor do I own Dr. Who. Yet.
It was quiet. The Doctor kept moving, saving worlds, watching the
universe. Because he was the Doctor, and thats what he did.
But even the most beautiful lights show the sky had to offer wasn't the same
without his little pink and yellow human there to remind him the world
wasn't all death and destruction.
That even a sun dying, or a planet reduced to rubble was beautiful. And it was quiet. He was used to
quiet, his ninth self had rather liked it.
But this silence was to much. There was no voice yelling at him for getting them captured, no
laugh when he slyly insulted the leader, no hand to grab in his and no
reason to say "run".
It was quiet, and the Doctor didn't like it.
They were worried, Rose knew. She saw the creased faces, heard the
whispers behind hands, saying that she hadn't slept since That Day,
that she was going to drop soon, but they didn't-couldn't know that
every time she closed her eyes he was there, with big ears and a
leather jacket, or pinstripes and perfectly styled hair.
That it was deadly, the cold that filled her when she tried to sleep.
Instead, she sat outside, the wet grass staining her clothes, watched the stars,
and pretended, to keep herself alive, that he was out there.
It kept her sane.
They were worried. And for good reason.
.
He watched the stars. He was in the stars, part of them, and he
watched. Watched, and didn't sleep, because he was a Time Lord, and
Time Lords don't need to sleep. (That's what he told himself) but
really, he was afraid of forgetting her, even a little. He watched the
stars, and he missed her.
She finally decided to write to him-not those sappy love letters,
written by candlelight and sent away on the breeze, because she was
Rose Tyler, and she didn't do that.
A postcard, maybe.
Greetings from
Pete's World. Having a lovely time negotiating alien relations. Wish
you were here.
She laughed, but for the first time, she slept that night.
It got better. She adjusted to Pete's world, and Torchwood, and
slowly, she forgot the Powell Estates, and shops, and chips with
Shireen.
But she refused to forget him, refused to belive that he wasn't coming
back. It got better, but it was never right.
He whispered, through time, through space, everywhere he went, everything he did.
He whispered, and she listened, and one day, she heard. "Oh darling I
wish you were here"
