Floating
They say she never smiles. Perhaps they are correct, but, of course, they don't know why. They don't know that she goes to work every day not because she believes in the cause, but because she has hope. Hope has been known to kill, but, of course, she doesn't know that.
She's caught herself thinking Bad Wolf, Bad Wolf, Bad Wolf, over and over again. Somewhere in the back of her mind she is starting to understand that she must either let go or lose her sanity. She regrets her life every day. She contemplates strategies she could have used to stay with him while doing her weekly shopping, while looking into the small face of her mother's child, while humming to herself in the shower.
Yeah, she can hum to herself now. Yet another advantage of living alone. She refused to live with her parents, and Mickey… Well, that didn't last long anyway. They can barely look each other in the eye now. Fifteen years of friendship obliterated. But to her, it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore except her work. Because maybe, just maybe, one day, she will be able to think her way out of the reality she lives in. If it can be called living.
It's not just him, she tries to convince herself. People were never meant to leave their own realities, and she felt ridiculously out of place here. And, of course, she always would. It wasn't fair to say that she hadn't tried; after Mickey, she had gotten out a bit. The guy from R&D, a quick shag from the bloke from life sciences. There, that was the last time she had actually felt anything close to pleasure. But she was using him, she knew. When she told him, he seemed to shrug it off, and that was what had disturbed her the most. She broke it off the next day.
Sometimes she wondered if this was how he felt. Utterly alone. She refused to believe he was with anyone else, though her subconscious told her she was wrong. He was about to tell her he loved her, she did not doubt that, not even for a second. She imagined seeing him once again, and she re-played the scene over and over again in her mind.
Some days, she is convinced that all companions are just like her. To be touched by The Doctor is to be alone. But these days pass, pulled along by the sun rising in the morning.
I just wish I could see him, one last time, she thinks to herself in the dead of night. But it doesn't matter because she knows 'one last time' will never be enough. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted him. She had said they would be together forever. She knows she should be thankful for the time she had, but she can't. She is so alone here, so very alone. The worst part, the very worst part, is the fact that death won't even bring her relief. He wouldn't be there.
So she goes though life, barely being touched by time, holding her breath until, somehow, she can find his way back to him.
A/N Thanks for reading this. I want to apologize in advance for any typos; I didn't exactly spend as much time as I should've editing! Thanks once again. Bisous ~ the shattered star