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04: [Champagne]
Sometimes, the true value of things remains hidden from view until they are gone for good.
He kept finding that truth over and over again, written all across every nook and cranny of creation, this time reflected in a glass of champagne.
The beverage was contained in translucent, thin glass that he would probably have been able to break apart without any real effort, making him think of the deceivingly fragile-looking frame he would be seeing no more, the small, transient human body that much like the fragile vessel in his hands, did not match the essence that was contained within.
The golden colour of the liquid made him think of the hair he had just seen for the last time, soft and shining, like a field of wheat swaying in the wind prior to the time of harvest, after the sun had burned away the green it once held, just to replace it with its own, pale taint.
Within the drink, innumerable bubbles of carbon dioxide entered into existence at the borders of the glass, using every little grain of dust, every ever so small irregularity in the smooth surface of the glass as a foothold to grow in both volume and diameter, until they were ready to fly away, just like the golden girl ready to depart on her journey to turn this word into a better place, ready to fly into the world that to any freshly-engaged girl, much more so to one an easily-impressed mind like hers, must appear as golden as the contents of this glass that was so much bigger than the little bubbles within, that kept arriving at the surface uncontrollably, painfully resembling the ideas and words arriving at her mouth.
And oh, this drink would probably throw his body into the degree of disarray that this girl had caused in his laboratory, but its charming fragrance tried its hardest to make him accept it, much like her – she had certainly failed to land a big impression on him when they first met; Top be honest, he saw her as a mild annoyance not even fit to serve him tea, thoroughly incompetent, throwing everything into chaos by acting without thinking, her good intent remaining mostly without consequence.
But she had proven him wrong, almost shocking him with her inner strength and those escapology skills of hers, making him doubt whether the Brigadier had truly failed to realize what kind of assistant he needed.
The science-y parts of the work had, after all, always been his domain, perhaps a helping hand with other qualities was… entirely adequate.
When the Master had called his threat to initiate a time ram and possibly blowing both of them into oblivion a bluff, for he would never harm his companions, Jo had finished the Job for him with little concern for her own life. She had even taught herself to withstand his best enemy's hypnosis, by annoying the hell out of him, no less.
He would've loved to see that.
Even some of her clumsier attempts to 'help' him were, as he had to admit now in their hour of parting, just further testaments to her drive to prove herself, to that inner strength that shined in her eyes, contrary to what the rest of her appearance and her bubbly behaviour suggested.
It was ironic, yet bittersweetly fitting that her going forward in his beliefs was what eventually led her away from him.
She would… make an excellent protester.
Without a doubt.
There she was, his innocent, yet determined Jo, getting her fairytale ending with her knight in shining armour… or a modern equivalent.
Here he was, having a 'toast to the happy couple' with everyone else in this room, which was filled with music, singing, dancing and talking and delicious happiness that made him feel incredibly lonely, knowing that he no longer belonged here, if he had ever belonged anywhere.
He emptied his glass of champagne with one single gulp, and what tasted like the exhilarant nectar seasoned with liquid joy by glittering angels, held the flavour of a celestial creature's divine tears and pain for him as he swallowed it along with a bright swirl of hypocritical, yet paradoxically honest heaven piercing joy and deep depression that made him feel as ancient as he was, his face but a numb mask, drained and old, every single, half faded bruise he had incurred while tinkering with his console strangely visible on his suddenly useless hands.
What's with that hurt reaction?
Why was he feeling like this now?
When had this happened?
He could not have named a moment where it started. One Day, she arrived at his doorstep and introduced herself, and what had followed seemed like but one single, long, bad action movie that was paced way too fast. Somewhere, somewhen in this long and crazy story of reptilian creatures, murderous plastic chairs, tides of peace and war, the occasional Dalek and old friends whose hands he almost shook, forgetting for a split second that they were enemies now, he had done a foolish, needless thing and now he was feeling the consequences of it.
He had begun to take far too much delight in that girl's backside.
And the rest of her, for that matter.
He'd only realized it now, just now, when he found himself drinking champagne meant for a wedding, and yet, the thought of telling her did not cross his mind once as he helplessly alternated between looking at the young activist and his soon-to-be-bride, watching him propose to her.
He gently said his goodbyes, handing her a present to see her eyes shine in excitement one last time, even agreeing to visit her and asking for a piece of wedding cake he'd never come to claim, wanting to get over with the painful goodbye as fast as possible, before the initial numbness caused by the sudden loss subsided and left him with his hearts ripped wide open.
He watched as her fiancé led her away, beaming with happiness, and decided that he had to go.
It would not be fair to let her see the single tear wandering down his face, so he turns and runs, like he does it far too often when confronted with a situation he cannot deal with.
The drive to leave feels almost like a primal urge.
Oh, he faced monstrosities, mad scientists and escalating conflicts that would drive others mad, but these things weren't that difficult for him.
No. What overburdened him so much that he could not help but run away were the confusing feelings caused by a simple girl, by the absurd power she had over him without ever knowing.
A picture of hers remains on his nightstand for a couple of years, where he shoots it a longing look once in a blue moon. After one less than successful regeneration, Peri Brown comes to check on him in his room, only for him to berate her with a somewhat melodramatic speech accompanied by extravagant hand gestures.
She asks who the girl on the picture is and the name ends up saving her life on Karfel.
Later, much later, he meets Sarah Jane again and she departs with one little allusion to flames long extinguished. He is honestly surprised and believes her to have hidden it quite well, until Martha departs with a similar allusion – then, he comes to the logical, very obvious conclusion that he is about as thick as the fog on a November morning.
He can't stop the question of 'who else?' from emerging in his mind – and recalls that Jo once referred to her later husband as 'a younger version of you'.
It just renews his pain, for resigning to an investable fate such as the inherent infeasibility of an impossible thing is not half as devastating as having missed a real, existing chance that was there. Having to cope with the loss of several other innocent, yet inwardly strong blonde women at the time, it only adds to the pile of things weighing on his desperate soul.
When he, albeit unintentionally, finally fulfils his promise of coming to see her sometime, he's older and wiser, the old wounds long since healed.
He had recently found himself again in the situation of wanting someone he couldn't have – it mostly tended to be the other way around, and yes, in the meantime, he had become aware of the unwanted attention he tended to attract, however, this time, the bride did not let him depart from the wedding after she had her fairytale ending, at least not without her and her husband, and he couldn't help but think of Jo as he provided the two of them with an intergalactic honeymoon.
However, he did not let his feelings interfere with their reunion.
After all, both Martha and Sarah Jane, both of whom he still loosely kept in touch with, which was quite a lot by his standarts, had settled into the role of the close, reliable, trusted friends he had always seen them as, setting the unrequited feelings he had failed to see aside.
He should be able to do the same for them to have some untroubled, easy-going chats about the past.
She tells him to watch out so he won't get in trouble with the Time Lords.
His smile breaks, but he does not let that detail spoil their reunion either and doesn't tell her what happened – Once again, he chooses not to bother her with his personal anxiety, and leaves to pick up the Ponds.
The three words stay unspoken.
He smiles sadly at the irony– back then, he would have never imagined that he would one Day find himself desperately missing the planet he once ran away from – in fact, he used to think of his fellow Time Lords as little more than a nuisance.
Yes, the true value of things definitely remains hidden from view until they are gone for good. He wonders why it even surprises him.
That glass of champagne should have taught him that lesson a long, long time ago.
So, there it is! Next up, Chapter 05:[Corruption], starring the wonderful Romanadvoratrelundar!