Don't own Doctor Who.
Sweet Dreams
Once, he had called out to her whilst she slept.
Now, her name was banned from the TARDIS, locked away behind his lips yet always on the tip of his tongue, ready to yell for her to run.
And so, rather than speak of her, he saw her in his sleep.
It was the only reason he did sleep, the thought of seeing her there lulling him into unconsciousness, into dreams full of pink and yellow and gold.
Sometimes, he would pretend to himself that it was their souls meeting, that Rose was asleep in her world, her spirit floating away from her body for just a few precious hours to meet his own broken one, her heart combining with his, the two of them together at last.
The Doctor in the TARDIS with Rose Tyler, as it should be.
He knew it was ridiculous, the thing of fairy tales, but he didn't care anymore; it numbed the ache in his broken hearts, and that was all he needed for now.
When he was awake, it was memories, his mind replaying every word, every look, every hug, shattering him a little bit more every time until soon there would be nothing left.
They were painful, bittersweet, but utterly intoxicating…and he knew soon he would stop remembering, shove every memory of her to the back of his mind until it was time to look upon them again, when he was ready and stable, not prone to shouting and screaming and sobbing to the universe about how unfair it all was.
He knew it would be a long time, and he would miss them, and it would add to the already unbearable void that Rose had left. But he would do it. He had to.
In the meantime, he had his dreams, and his dreams were of Rose.
They never spoke, communicating their words through weighted glances and stolen touches, holding her hand becoming I miss you, tear-filled eyes and a trembling smile I love you.
And their kisses…
Their kisses meant forever.