Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.


Sitting there, across from my Doctor at my kitchen table, I could see how hard he was trying to not be broken. He was staring down at the cup of tea in his hands, his face straight and as solid as stone. He hasn't said much. Then again, neither had I.

I didn't know how I felt about him being here. On any other condition I would have been overjoyed to see him and talk to him. I would have been happy to bring him into my home and force him to do things I know he hated, but would still do if I asked him to. Not now, though. Now I didn't know if I wanted to hold him or make him leave. There were a lot of things that made this experience painful, but seeing him upset was the biggest.

I looked down at my cup, fingering the handle as my glasses slid down my nose. I hadn't drunk any, of course. I really only made it because I knew the Doctor preferred tea… at least the other one did. I didn't even know if his food preferences changed along with his face.

With a sigh, I glanced over at the couch, my eye catching on the afghan that was now draped messily over the back. Riley never did know how to put things back where they came from. She'd gone home after I'd brought the Doctor in and let him sit at the table, asking me who he was and why the hell I was letting him into my house at two in the morning. I'd simply pushed her out the door and locked it. Part of me wished that I hadn't made her leave, but I couldn't help but feel like this was something he'd get through easier without a whole bunch of people around. Not at this exact moment, at least.

I slid my foot around under to table and kicked his boot, trying to get his attention. To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing. At this point in time, anything seemed better than letting him sit and brood.

His eyes slowly came to find mine. They were dark and emotionless, but not frightening. I'd seen him when he was angry. I knew what it was like. But this – this was just nothing. This was him feeling empty and broken and alone. And he came here, to see me, someone who was just as alone and broken.

Shaking the thought from my head, I mustered up a smile. "We should do something."

He nodded and looked back down at his tea.

A frown settling into my skin, I tried to think back to the things we'd done that summer – the first summer. Yes, doing something we'd done then was cheesy, but I'm a nostalgic person. I remembered bowling when we'd gone to rent the alley for Riley and Dave's wedding, and shopping at the mall, and even eating out at the Hunters' Inn.

With a sigh, I stood and walked over to the sink, dumping my tea into the basin and watching it swirl down the drain. I glanced over at the Doctor. He hadn't moved.

I could feel the fog coming over my mind. I wasn't sure what to do. If there was a way to make everything better, I couldn't figure out what it was, no matter how much I wanted to. My gut churned at the uncertainty. I wanted an epiphany. I wanted it to just snap into my mind like half of my book had. I just wanted to know.

Glancing over at him one more time, I slowly made my way out of the kitchen and into my backyard. My feet carried me to the doors of the TARDIS, and I pulled my key out of my shirt, quickly pushing it into the lock. With a twist, the door opened. I stepped inside and looked around the semi-familiar room. Things were still dark and gloomy, and I couldn't help myself from reaching out and stroking any bit of the wonderful machine I could. There was a slight thrum of energy beneath my fingertips, but nothing like what had become normal.

I felt the urge to talk to the time ship – which was perfectly average for me – but pushed it down and sighed instead. I could feel my heart breaking in my chest. This place had become home to me, perhaps even more so than my own house, or my mother's home. Seeing it like this was like seeing the ashes of the places I'd grown up.

I trailed my hand over the edge of the Console as I slowly walked past it, staring up at the source of the blue light that was beginning to look more green. Then, I found myself wandering into the never-ending hallway of doors. My feet knew exactly where to go, carrying me like a weight. Of course, the tugging in the back of my mind was a present as always, leading me where I wanted to go. It didn't take long to find the door to the library.

I stepped inside the room and the sadness that had washed over me seemed to fade a little bit. Thankfully, this room seemed mostly the same as it always had been. Bits and pieces of things had changed. The furniture had been rearranged, and a few books sat out on the tables.

Curious as always, I wandered around and glanced at the books. Most of them were thick volumes covering the extensive histories of places I'd never been. One of them was open, and a small smile brushed my face as I flipped through the pages, the feeling of ancient paper soothing beneath the pads of my fingers. I found I'd always been this way – where books were my safety nets. Books protected me.

After glancing over a passage in a language I couldn't read, I moved to another table. It wasn't so much a table as it was a desk. The top sat at a gentle incline and a light leaned over, much like a drawing table. A thin ledge extruded from the base of the desk's top, and three books were balanced there.

Two of them were incredibly familiar. The first happened to be a Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I remembered when I'd first gone away with him, when we sat in this library on Christmas day reading from this beautiful book. I felt my stomach flutter as I thought about the way he'd leaned over beside me, the warmth that had radiated from his body, so thin and long at the time. Everything was so easy then.

The second book was the one I didn't recognize. The paperback cover was bent and folded, and had the image of a woman on it. The woman was hiding her face behind the brim of a large hat, and she appeared to be wearing some sort of trench coat. If I had to make a guess as to what the book was about, I'd probably conclude that it was a mystery of some sort. I wasn't personally a fan of mystery books, but my mom loved them, so I knew what the covers looked like.

The final book surprised me. It was my book, with the white cover and the police box and the soccer ball. The corners of the hardcover were worn down and the book sleeve was torn in several places. I reached out to flip open the white cover, stained yellow with age. As I flipped through the book, I noticed several dog-eared corners on the pages. Having written the book myself, I knew what was going on right when I saw the page number. All of the dog-eared pages were big moments, the ones that made my heart beat just a little bit faster.

I paused to read a few paragraphs, which always felt awkward with this particular book. Reading your own writing in book form is weird. I didn't really care at this point, though; I just wanted to remember when everything was easier for the both of us. I wanted to forget that I was dying and that the Doctor thought it was his fault and that he was going to be alone again one day and it would rip him apart.

My eyes unfocused and I just stared blankly at the words. Reality was seeping back into my brain. I didn't want reality anymore. I wanted the Doctor.

I felt a warm hand on my arm, and I turned to smile up at him falsely. I had no doubt he could see the sadness on my face, though. If anyone knew me well enough to see through my horrid mask, it was him.

He stepped closer and gently pulled the book from my hands, closing it and staring at the cover for a good long while. I stared, too.

"When he comes back, you have to tell him," he muttered, setting the book down and pulling me against him, his arms cocooning around me. "You have to, do you understand?"

I swallowed back the tears. "About you and the bookstore?"

He nodded and pressed his lips against my temple, his breath staggered against my skin.

I held onto him tightly, hoping I could hold him together as he fell apart. "Okay."


I didn't want to get out of bed. The week was over. It couldn't be over. He couldn't leave, because then he'd be alone again. I was fine now. It hadn't taken long for me to get over my bout of sadness, but he was still like a beautiful statue that had been cleaved in half, one side refusing to fall while the other crumbled to the floor. My Doctor would be back soon – he'd assured me of that – but he was going to be left to his own devices.

Perhaps the thing that disappointed me most about the week had been the fact that I hadn't been able to help him. I'd tried so hard, and I'd managed a smile or two here and there, but that was it. It was irrational of me to think that I could make the pain he was feeling disappear – I knew that – but I was still disappointed in myself. Who would help him now?

I pulled my blankets over my head and turned my face into my pillow. The sun was peeking through the window to be only barely contained by my curtains.

For a while, I just laid there, hoping that time would stop. When I heard the door open and shut quietly, I still didn't move. I knew who it was, so I wouldn't waste any energy getting onto my back to look at him. Instead, I waited for him to sit down beside me and gently shake my shoulder. I groaned and shook my head, otherwise remaining completely motionless.

"Come along, Catherine, wake up."

I groaned again and turned my head, staring blearily up at his face. A grin swept across my face. "I can sleep when I'm dead?" A stern look of disapproval flashed through his eyes, and I smiled guiltily. "Sorry."

Finally, I forced myself to roll over onto my back and sat up, sliding over beneath the covers to allow him to sit with me. He sighed and climbed in, crossing his arms and legs as he leaned back against the headboard. I watched him carefully. It took him a moment to get settled, and then he stared, his eyes refusing to move from the end of the bed. He took a deep, shaky breath, and I couldn't stop myself from leaning over to set my head on his shoulder.

"When do you have to go?" I asked slowly.

I closed my eyes as he pressed his lips against the top of my head.

"Sooner than I'd like," he muttered.

I knew that was code for within the hour.

"What are you going to do?" I questioned, ignoring the ache in my chest.

His answer was quiet, like he knew it wasn't what I wanted to hear. "I don't know…"

For a few moments, we simply sat there together, appreciating each others' company. Eventually, I felt the heat from his body seep through that silly tweed jacket of his and into the bare skin of my arm. There were no words exchanged. The only sound that disturbed the silence was the gentle tweet of birds outside my bedroom window. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. His scent wafted through my nose, familiar as ever. No matter what happened – where he'd been or who he'd been with – the Doctor always smelled the same. It was a comforting constant in a world of inconsistency.

I don't know how long we stayed there. It felt like more than an hour, but I knew it probably wasn't. Or maybe it was. I wouldn't know because I fell asleep again. It was a sow descent into unconsciousness, and I fought it as hard as I could, but when he started humming into my ear – a gentle tune that I recognized from somewhere – my resolve disappeared.

He was still humming when I let go.


A/N: Guys. I'm back. For now, at least. I don't know how long it will take me to get the next chapter up, but it will be up. That I swear to you.

Okay, so, this sort of kicked my ass (pardon my French). I mean, I can get the ideas into my head just fine, but when it comes to putting them into words... I don't know. It's been harder for me than it normally is. It really scares me sometimes because writing is literally one of the only things I'm good at and feeling like I'm slowly losing it is just unfathomable.

Anyways, I'd originally intended for there to be some more stuff between Eleven and Cat, but I couldn't go down that road without getting fluffy, which would put Eleven completely out of character. So I opted for this instead. I kind of feel like the speed of it somewhat dulled the effect of sadness I was going for, but that's okay. I'll take my time utterly destroying you guys later.

Um, let's see, what else.

Oh, a huge thank you to you guys for waiting. It's been like, what, two months? No, not quite that, I don't think, but that's what it feels like. Maybe it has been two months, actually. I know it's long because I don't remember anymore. I've been thinking about you guys a lot recently - how patient and brilliant you are. Thank you guys so, so much. You have no idea what you mean to me.

So, thank you, and until next time, my Angels.