Disclaimer: "Doctor Who" belongs to the BBC. I'm just having a bit of fun here.

03: [Think Of Me]

All he could have rewarded her with was his remembrance.

The thought of truly staying with her and taking her as his bride never even crossed his mind – he had a somewhat sensitive granddaughter to take care of, a couple of friends to bring home and an universe to see – he was simply not made to sit in a garden waiting for the night to claim him, not to mention that said night would have to wait for him quite a while – he might be hard to distinguish from an elderly human, but he was, in fact, a Time Lord and barely hitting middle age.

Fulfilling the promise he had nesciently given her had never been an option, not after he had only just liberated himself from the ground beneath his feet. In later stages of his life, he might have contemplated the possibility of staying, undoubtedly to reach the conclusion that he needed to leave anyway – he had always been and would always be prisoner to his insatiable curiosity, for better or for worse.

Even as he delighted in her eloquence as she found countless ways to forge her affection towards him into brand new words, each of them confirming that the mind that had given birth to them was still as fresh as the taste of virgin water that had just sprung from its source, he was asking her for the knowledge he would need to escape the confines of her world, to once again rip away the binds she could never escape from.

She asked him for a garden of her own, and he just agreed, filled with a heady feeling of freedom, akin to how he imagined the one commonly felt in the last, long since numbered days of an intrepid sinner choosing to bathe himself and his surroundings in fire, all his restraints torn away by the certitude that he wouldn't live to face the consequences of his actions.

If he had planned to keep this promise, he would have had to evaluate his ability to fulfil it, but the only limit that imposed itself on lies was the creativity of their creator, which ironically enabled him to give her the answer that would make her happy.

It was only when he found himself in this bizarre situation that he realized why couples all over the universe gifted each other with softly whispered utterances of the word 'forever' in spite of better knowledge: It was possible for feelings to be true even if the words that carried them were not.

When he had first approached her, it happened more out of interest than anything else; He couldn't have possibly known that he would find the answers to his questions with her.

Coincidentally, she had been the path to that knowledge, which in turn probably made it even harder to believe that his feelings had been sincere.

But they had been.

The universe was crazy like that.

Their first conversation had been enough to convince him that she was beautiful – Her slim face carried a certain air of wisdom, dignity and elegance befitting her position, but it was too long and angular to be considered physically attractive, much less his type – Her main assets were her heart and mind. The latter was a hundred times sharper than her features, yet untouched by the relentless tooth of time; she was a healer, an advisor, a keeper of knowledge – maybe not too far whom what he would have become if he had been born into a civilisation without spaceships, time machines or quick means of escape at its disposal.

"Better to go hungry than starve for beauty" she had said, without a doubt a person of the abstract much like himself, someone who values ideals, thoughts and beliefs over worldly desires. A truly fascinating person.

Here, she was considered to have done enough for her community and was allowed to spend the rest of her days peacefully dwelling in a flower garden along with her contemporaries – which was, in itself, quite a civilized practice one would not have expected to find within a culture that was commonly known for its barbaric rituals, especially given that they lived in a time where most professions entailed physical load which these elderly people would not be able to carry out.

Then again, in everything that concerned life and its stages, there were always huge individual differences – And she, she belonged to the group of people who never stopped to ask questions, observing the world and its secrets with the same open-mindedness and fascination they had exhibited on their very first day.

Of course, being her gentle self, she was content with her life, but he could see how much she would still be able to do if she was in another time or another place.

Since her intelligence was part of what had drawn them together, he shouldn't have been surprised when she saw through his pretences in the end – and yet, having a heart to match her mind, she kindly gave him the aid he requested, knowing very well that she would be speeding up their separation. He could tell that she was in pain, and yet, she helped him to return to the place where he belonged, back into that tomb, back to the tardis, back to the stars, forfeiting her own happiness so he could have his, just like he would have done in her place.

Seeing all that devotion just made his hearts feel heavier than they already did, but it couldn't be helped. He wanted to do something for her, but any attempts to reassure her would have been paper-thin hypocrisy that would only have disappointed her more.

He'd said it before: All he could have possibly rewarded that astonishing commitment with was remembrance, so this is what he promises her this time, offering her something real for the first time.

Her actual reward sounds so small, so half-hearted, that it being true doesn't help all too much.

In the end, her wishes were never meant to be fulfilled – He did not want to break her heart, but he was unstable to stop his own from intertwining them with that string of thorns whose name he never dared to speak, even if he had known the outcome of all this since the very beginning.

The three words stay unsaid, and he prepares his departure.

He affirms her that she will always be important to him, but he dares not to look at her face – If he did, he might begin to think of possibilities that didn't exist and wish for things he couldn't have.

She solemnly makes the correct premonition that everything she had ever known, everything she had ever worked for was doomed from the start and he wishes he could tell her that she's wrong.

Ironically, his own civilization is similarly doomed since the very day he first stepped onto the soil of Skaro, for it was him who trapped the Daleks monsters underneath the ground – it will be him. But he didn't know.

No one had the cruelty (or the decency?) to knock him out of his oblivious bliss.

He wonders if he had stayed here or on Gallifrey if he had known.

The last time he sees her, he tells her to leave for her own good, and she reveals that what brought her here and made her stay was her wish to see him once more, to stay at his side.

And she looks so pure, so resigned, that he can't find his words before she considers her request denied and turns away, leaving but one single request, which she then gravely repeats: "Think of me. Think of me."

When he leaves, he leaves her brooch where it belongs, and turns to his spaceship to leave this doomed civilization behind.

This one is a fixed point and it would really raise his spirits if he would come across one that isn't.

But he can't.

He can't just leave the token she gave him behind, as if none of this ever happened.

He's sorry for whatever grave robber, archaeologist or museum owner who was supposed to eventually get his or her hands on that brooch, but he can't help but take it.

Remembrance is all he can give her, so fulfilling her request to think of her is all he can do.

He takes the brooch and keeps it – It still lies in a room in the depths of the TARDIS where it has been joined by innumerable mementos, tokens and keepsakes in the meantime – Susan's old shoe, the ring that had been a gift from his mother and hadn't fit anymore after his first regeneration, Rose's forgotten jacket, and, to name a recent addition to the collection, Liz 10's mask.

From time to time, his eyes happen to meet that brooch, and he remembers.

He had to take it with him.

Because in the end, everything is doomed from the start: Civilizations, people, relationships.

But if they're there, if they're real and people choose to remember them and let themselves be shaped by them, it can't be as if nothing happened.

Next up: Jo Grant, in Chapter 3: [Champagne]