Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Thank you to Syblime, Anonymous and Pointless Things for reviewing the last chapter.

The first thing Sybil saw when she opened her eyes was a blinding light, one that she had still not become accustomed to, despite her being aware that she had seen it before. However, when she had blinked her eyes enough times that they become accustomed to the level of illumination, she noted that the glow had a tint of orange and red to it, a shade that she had only seen in one place before. She was on the TARDIS once again.

Her mind, all at once, began to race, her thoughts racing around like moths around an open flame. What had happened to the sinking ship, and where were the people that the Doctor had promised they would save? 'Most of all,' her mind exclaimed. 'Where are James and Patrick?'

Wincing at the pounding in her head, and still unable to recall where it had come from, the young woman persisted through her pain and manage to force herself into a sitting position. Her vision began to swim from the height, but Sybil persevered and blinked it back into clarity, or a level of clarity that allowed her to see the man walking slowly around the console that marked the centre of the room, his head hanging low on his chest to mask his feelings.

The Doctor did not seem to notice that the young woman lain across the crash seats had awoken until she spoke to him, her voice ragged and quietened by crying out above the sounds of a sinking ship, yet carrying clearly over the heavy silence that had filled the console room.

"Doctor?" The single word broke through the quiet that had settled over the TARDIS, and shattered the Time Lord's chances of being able to avoid her questions. For a minute or two, he stayed with his back to her, not wanting to risk looking the lady in the eye. But when she repeated her question, her voice impossibly softer than it had been, the man saw that he had no choice, and so he turned to face his friend.

Though her mind had certainly been on other things, Sybil found her thoughts ceasing with shock, as she took in the appearance of the madman that stood before her. His clothes were creased and still slightly damp, as were her own. It could not have been long since they had left the ship, then. His hair was even wilder than before, sticking up at all angles, as if he had been running his hands through it in stress. But the thing that shocked her the most were his eyes. Where before they had sparkled, now they were duller and heavy, filled with shame, regret and the glistening of unshed tears.

"What happened?" the young woman asked. She knew that it was a foolish question, and that it was one that the Doctor would not want to answer, but she desperately needed to know, to confirm the fates that had befallen the poor souls on the Titanic, and to confirm what she knew in her heart had happened to her cousins.

"My head took over my conscience." the man explained simply, his eyes once again now lowered to the floor, as if he could not bear to meet her gaze after what he had done. 'He probably can't bear it.' she thought. 'After all, they were my cousins, and it was me that wanted to save all those people, me that he stopped from doing just that.'

"So what did you do?" she pressed on, and she winced a little at the harsh note she had not wished to enter into her voice. She was trying her best to remain calm, not wanting to aggravate the situation any further by raising her voice, but evidently, her mind and tongue both disagreed with this idea. Softening her voice considerably, she continued. "What happened to the ship?"

"Exactly what history said happened to the Titanic." the Doctor replied simply, raising his eyes to meet Sybil's, though his voice was still laced with regret. "It sank at twenty minutes past two, on the morning of 15th April 1912, taking down with it everyone who could not get onto the lifeboats, most of them steerage."

"How many survivors?" Sybil asked the man, using this question only to build up to the horrific one which they both knew she would ask him next. At least this way, she could receive a piece of positive information, before the terrible statistic which would most likely shatter her heart.

"Seven hundred and five." the dark haired man responded quickly, having been expecting his friend to ask this question. After his response was given, the quiet overwhelmed the room once again, as no more did the young lady wish to ask her next question than the Time Lord wished to answer it. However, both of the pair knew that there was no way they could move on until she knew. With this in mind, Sybil finally bit the bullet and spoke.

"How many died?" Though both of them had been expecting the question, it still somehow seemed a shock to hear it spoken out loud, and so the silence remained the master of the console room for a further few moments, which seemed to be so much longer than they truly were, as if time were deliberately slowing down to try and mock the rift growing between them. Eventually, knowing that the silence had lasted for too long, Sybil repeated her question, her voice stronger now than it had been in the past, and laced with the tears that were now filling her eyes. "How many?!"

"Fifteen hundred." the Doctor responded, his own voice heavy with regret and despair. "Fifteen hundred, or maybe even more. Most of them died in the water. Some froze to death, some drowned, and some killed themselves before they even got off the boat, so that they didn't have to face the pain of dying slowly. But it doesn't matter how, because over fifteen hundred people died, and I didn't save even one of them. I could have done, but I didn't."

Sybil had lost count now of how many times silence had fallen between them during this conversation, but as it did so once again, she realised something, something so important and yet so heartbreaking at the same time. 'I suppose that I've known for a while.' she sighed in her mind, and wiped a stray tear from her right cheek. 'I just didn't want to know. But I have to accept it now. I have to let go.'

But seeing that her resolve was slipping away from her, she forced herself to think of all the pain and suffering that had happened the previous night, all those little children that had had their lives snatched away from them by the icy depths of the North Atlantic Ocean. Picturing the faces in her mind of the children she had seen playing hopscotch on the deck, Sybil approached the console where the Doctor stood, drawing herself up to her full height. Noticing this, the Time Lord met her eyes, and immediately, he understood.

"I'm sorry, Doctor." the young woman sighed, biting her lip to prevent the tears from flowing. She had cried enough that day, and she refused to shed another tear. "But I want to go home."

A/N: Please review!