Chapter Eleven – A Loss of Hope

That was when his eyes snapped open.

"River..." he called out half asleep, his voice hoarse.

The Doctor was sat up straight, sweat across his face and chest, panting for air. He rubbed his trembling hand across his paper white face to find it laced in sweat. His mouth was dry and his throat sore. He reached for the glass of cold water on the cabinet beside him. Drinking it in several big gulps. He didn't care for the wastage as trickled over each side of the glass and down his jaw. He placed the now empty glass back, his mouth wasn't as dry but it didn't quench his thirst.

The bedding was in a tangled mess around his legs. He was in their bed, the fire roaring casting heat and light into the room. Despite it not being cold he could not stop his body from shaking. He pulled the sheets of crimson and gold free from his legs in one attempt and cast them aside. Sinking back into the loneliness of their empty bed, his pillow wet from his perspiration. This wasn't the first night he had awoken in this state and he knew it wouldn't be the last until she was home with him.

He rolled onto his side, facing what would be her side of the bed. He hesitated before reaching for her pillow. He pressed it against his chest and buried his face into her pillow. Closing his eyes as he inhaled as if it were his last breath. It still smelt of her. Peppermint and wild roses. It wasn't as strong as the first night on his own, but he could just make it out. He was afraid the more he did this the more his scent was taking over on the fabric. Soon, he knew there would come a day when it wouldn't smell of her. Unlike the many times before, he wasn't sure if this was the last time.

Being alone he didn't try to hide or suppress his tears. He let them fall freely, splashing and soaking into her pillow. Wrapping his arm underneath the fabric of red, he pulled it close completely submerging himself in her scent. The color reminded him of her favorite lipstick. The thought of not knowing what was or had happened to his wife and his unborn children was torture that he had never endured before. All of his years, all of the goodbyes and deaths he has seen and been through, were nothing compared to this. He would happily sacrifice himself for a millennia of torture or die a thousand deaths if it meant their safety.

He made his way to the console room, deciding to run another scan, but entering the central room he realized he wasn't the only one awake. The Tardis doors were open and Amy sat with a blanket wrapped around her starring out at the stars. The Doctor hesitated. Unsure whether to alert her to his presence. He heard a small cry coming from her and he knew that if he were to leave her he'd be filled with even more blame; something he wasn't sure even possible. It wasn't something he was prepared to risk. If anything but his own self-centeredness, he would crumble under any further guilt.

He wordlessly sat beside her and hung his legs out of the doors dangling over the edge into nothingness just as Amy did. She hastily brushed her face wiping away her tears and let out a cough to clear her throat.

"Couldn't sleep?" He questioned her, pulling down the sleeves of his shirt as cold breeze past through the doors.

"No," came a quiet reply, "especially not will Rory in there snoring his head off."

"Eeesh I've heard him and I do not envy you."

This wasn't a bad idea he thought to himself. Any small chit chat to keep his mind from wandering. As long as the topic wasn't brought up about him or River he would be fine, he told himself.

"What about you?" She eyed him suspiciously noticing the lack of color in his face and the bags under his eyes that were growing with each hour.

"Me? I've had enough sleep." He looked out at the stars surrounding them unable to look his best friend in the eye. He could feel Amy's eyes on him, trying to judge whether or not he was telling the truth. She had found it difficult to read him as of late. She had questions she wanted to ask him but knew exactly when she shouldn't push the Doctor.

The Doctor stood and circled the console table, running the scanner for what must of been the thousandth time. Amy came to stand beside him and watched the screen flicker. She was about to open her mouth when he said, "Off you pop Pond. I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded and left silently without uttering another word.

He paced idly as he waited and he couldn't suppress the bubble of hope growing within him. He didn't want Amy to witness him crying, not a second time. Soon enough the scanner stopped and he felt the bubble burst instantly as he stared as the screen. All hope disappearing and filling him with despair once more, his head fell into his hand.