He fiddles with the black tie as he looks in the mirror. Getting used to this face now. Why this face? The question rises again and he pushes it back down. Not for now. For now he's a man with a mission. He's got to be the… hero again. The word sticks in his psyche. Hero. He stares at himself. Time was he was the hero without a qualm. The only man who could save everyone, the cleverest man in the room, the big bold gesture that settles the argument.
But now? He presses his lips together and sighs. He's not broken, not quite. But he is damaged. And she is a soothing balm to what ails him. Well, maybe not a balm. Maybe a sticking plaster that covers up what's going on, and hurts just as much when it's ripped off. He had thought, in another life, that she would be something more, but time changes a man, and now he sees the folly of his own youthful exuberances.
She's still here, and she reminds him of when he was a hero, and he needs the reminder, now things seem so very much less black and white. He doesn't want to let her go, but he knows he must. She wants to leave, doesn't like the way he does things now, and he is no jailer.
But he worries away at her in his mind, like a dog with a toy, unwilling to take a step back, at least not yet. So unsure. So yes, one last trip before they part for good. But it will be a trip where he shows her himself a little more, tries to underline that though his heart is seared, he still cares what she thinks.
He stands taller, straighter, runs one slender hand through his short grey curls, and nods to himself.
oOo
She was still unconscious. He was grateful for that, and yet not so grateful, as he rehearsed the soon to come conversation again and again.
She said she didn't hate him, that was something. But that was before she was white hot angry with him once more for making her lie for him. He had been the hero. He had saved the people – not all of them, but enough. He had done what he always intended to do but couldn't share. And that was the biggest risk of all for him – not the 66 second scramble to solve the mystery, that was child's play.
No, like always, every time (would he ever learn?) the risk was ultimately having no one to share it with. He drew the stick through the sand.
She was waking up.
oOo
He listened to her sweet nothings to Danny on the phone as he pretended to adjust something on the console. He didn't look up.
"Was that Danny? What did he want?" He feigned.
"He's fine with it," she blurted out at the top of the stairs, and the Doctor was momentarily lost.
"Sorry, I er…" he said, hands on his temples, uncomprehending.
She burbled some more as she skipped down the stairs, but all the Doctor could hear was "Let's keep going!"
He was unbelieving for a second, "It's a big change of heart!" He said, unable to hold back a smile. Oh, he was still getting used to that, too. "Seriously?"
And she was. Was she sure? She responded in kind and he admitted that he never was. Damaged, yes, tentative, yes, hell, maybe even the hero. But never sure.