Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Who-verse. That honour belongs to RTD and the mighty and glorious BBC.
A/N: This is a random drabble that came to me in the middle of the night and refused to let me sleep until I wrote it down. It's raw and unbeta'd so any mistakes are entirely my own.
Reviews are of course most welcome.
Thanks for reading...
A MARK OF HUMANITY
They say it is the little things you'll miss. The sudden smile lighting his face, sending a shiver of warm anticipation down your spine. The feeling of a calloused thumb circling your palm in lazy circles when he takes your hand in a moment of abstraction. The first flash of brilliant azure as he opens his eyes with the dawning sun. The sly chuckle, the lascivious wink, the heady scent that defines his presence in every room he enters.
I would miss all those things I know. I feel the ache creep into my chest at the very thought. Yet they are not the thing I fear losing the most; the fear that pushes itself to the fore in the darkest hours of the night when sleep escapes me. No, that is something so small; a tiny thing that anyone else would call insignificant, irrational, a mere trifle. And yet, despite knowing this, the thought of its loss haunts me.
It is the crease in the corner of his eye. Isn't that foolish? The single fold of skin which crinkles as his face delights in laughter or crumples in despair. A tiny crevasse, etched into his face as his eyes narrow and burn dark with passion at my touch. A single imperfection, the only testament to his age on the whole of his smooth, unblemished skin. A crease which despite death and renewal always remains, emphasising his emotions and feelings. An enduring mark of humanity.
And it is the thought that I may never get to see that single line of joy, sorrow or love again that drives me here. To cradle my lover in my arms after every bloody death. To wait, and hope, and pray, that the last line was not the final line.
-o0o-
Eyelids flutter. Gasping breath passes dry lips. Hands clutch for safe arms. Sapphire blue eyes shine, unfocused, bewildered, searching for familiarity. Slate blue eyes catch and hold until knowing returns to the pale blue orbs. And there is a smile, a crease. Blessed relief.