She looked over at him - uncharacteristically asleep, hair even more of a mess than usual. And naked. His outer protective shell of layers, shirt upon shirt, jacket, tie... all shed. He'd laid himself bare to her in more ways than one last night, something she had thought would never ever happen. But he had, turning up in her front room, the TARDIS knocking over her drying washing and causing her a heart attack at one in the morning, thinking someone had broken into the house.
He'd been in an odd mood, even for him. He'd greeted her, all warmth and hugs as he'd always done, but... He'd held her just that little bit too tightly and too long, pressed his face to her neck a little too closely and stroked her hair. They'd then sat on her sofa and drunk her tea and he'd chatted away to her, as always. The chatter though, the never ending chatter, it changed. It became a little more than chatter, a little more serious and before she knew it he was holding her hand, telling her it had all gone wrong, telling her about the people he'd lost, including himself. And as he told her, she saw a look on his face she'd only glimpsed once before: Fear. Of course as usual she'd felt the overwhelming need to fix him. Probably the most powerful being she would ever meet in her life, and she wanted to wrap him up and protect him as if he would break. How ridiculous, she'd thought. This man who had saved the universe, the whole of time and space, and she wanted to protect him like he was a child.
Then the shock - he'd cried. She'd pulled him to her, stroking his back and crying with him, because it scared her to see and hear him like that. It was then he'd kissed her, softly at first but becoming more and more desperate, clinging to her. She knew it was wrong and she knew she should stop but she could not say no to him, not for this. She understood him. She knew it wasn't about love for her or affection, even. It was sheer naked need. She knew that feeling, just wanting to know you were alive, that you weren't alone. She knew she was just a warm body to him, that he could have picked any warm body. She hoped he'd come to her because he knew he'd be safe. But also she knew as she'd led him to her bed, that she really could have been anyone, that as he'd undress her, just anyone, as he'd slid into her... Anyone.
She looked at him, sleeping now. She knew he'd be gone as soon as he was awake. She fiddled with the ring on her finger, twisting it round and round - She'd never got used to that stone being there. She glanced around the dark quiet room and then back to the face she always wondered if she'd ever see again whenever he left.
She finally realised how she felt. Lonely.