In the Cold November Rain
Disclaimer: Well several people here know I have a slight fantasy about marrying David Tennant….. but since that's just a fantasy, I don't own him, them, or anything Doctor Who related.
Summary: 'just because the barkeeper offered her the house special… a banana daiquiri…'
I'm typing this up listening to 'Song for Ten' which is utterly the wrong song to be playing right now, because I actually wrote it whilst babysitting, and watching a music channel – November Rain – Guns 'N Roses is what was playing, and while the song is utterly lovey dovey etc, and this fic is anything but (until maybe the end ;) ) it was quite inspirational.
Especially this part:
I know it's hard to keep an open heart
When even friends seem out to harm you
But if you could heal a broken heart
Wouldn't time be out to charm you
Anyway, on with the fic…
Time seemed to pass by in a blur. Funny really. All that time spent traveling through time and space, every single moment imprinted in her memory, like it were just yesterday – but as soon as she stood still, feet planted firmly on the ground, it all blurred, and she tumbled head first into a life that did nothing just confuse her.
How long had it been? How long since she clung, helplessly – desperately – to that cold wall at Torchwood? How long since she sobbed her way through a tearful, heartlessly short goodbye on that damp beach in Norway?
A year… two years? Maybe more….
It didn't matter in the end, because she was miserable.
Utterly miserable, and it didn't matter how many times she tried to s nap herself out of it, she always ended up back in a haze of memories, dreams, and hopeless fantasies.
She'd burst into tears driving to work, because the radio was playing a song that she'd heard last week while she was thinking about him… i So if you want to love me, then darlin' don't refrain… or I'll just end up walkin', in the cold November rain /i
She'd tackled a man in the street, screaming and sobbing hysterically into his pinstriped jacket, before she realised that it wasn't him.
Chips held no appeal – something that worried Jackie and Mickey to no end. Pete had taken to bribing her with promises of trips to Dårlig ulv stranden, and letting her into 'the' room at Torchwood, just to get her to eat something. Anything.
The one time she ventured out to a club with Mickey, she had to be carried home, back mascara tears rolling down her face, just because the bartender had offered her the house special… a banana daiquiri.
On more than one occasion, she had imagined – hallucinated? - that she heard the TARDIS, and run outside, only to find an empty street, looking mockingly back at her.
Everyone she met in this new world, assumed things about her. That she'd lost a husband, a boyfriend. That he'd run off on her, died on her, had an affair, gone off to live a solitary life at sea…
She humored them, smiled weakly, tears brimming, and retreated to her office to cry.
They all murmured things to her – that she'd move on, that it would get better, that time healed everything…
But she didn't… IT didn't.
She lived life day to day, went through the motions, ate when a meal was put in front of her, completed work as it was handed to her….
And all the while, amused herself with fantasies – that one day, there he'd be.
She imaged desperate hugs. Flinging herself at him with wreckless abandon, passionately kissing him until neither of them could breathe. She thought about what they'd say... what she'd say to him, what he'd say to her. How she'd love to slap him for leaving her there alone.
But mostly, she just imagined him, being there holding her.
She had every detail of one hundred and one different meetings planned out.
So, when she turned a corner on her way back from the butchers one day, and there in the middle of the street was a big blue box, with a man wearing a pinstripe suit and a daft grin standing outside of it, it shocked her that she didn't have a clue what to say or do.
raises eyebrow the end? Or more… only time (and reviews!) will tell :)
So, lemme know what you think. (reviews are love. And naked David Tennants are handed out in return for reviews, therefore promoting a different kind of love….)