Hope you all enjoy this! Again, I do not plan for a romantic pairing between Ornias and the Doctor. Ornias just doesn't know how to express herself other than physically and the doctor understands that.
None of them slept the rest of the evening after what happened and the Doctor held his face in his hands as they waited for Ornias to return. His mind was spinning with possibilities both in regard to the witches and to what had happened with Ornias. He wasn't thrilled about her newfound relationship with Shakespeare if he was being honest. Not just because it felt as though there was something else going on between them, but also because this was Ornias. She was a demon toying around with the feelings and emotions of a human. An important one at that! Sure, he knew she liked to have her bit of fun but he had hoped… Well, he had hoped that he could show her a different kind of fun than what she was used to. Less sex and chaos and more adventure.
She's a demon. I need to remember that. He closed his eyes and sighed lightly before the door opened and Ornias stepped back in wearing one of Shakespeare's white shirts. It made the Doctor's mouth taste sour as she sauntered over and settled next to the playwright, kissing him lightly on the cheek and flicking her hair—now tied back in a ponytail—over her shoulder.
"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey," Shakespeare sighed softly, growing somber at the thought of the deceased woman who was removed from the inn moments before. "She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place when we all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light," the Doctor hummed, shifting his hands to rest his chin on them as Shakespeare hummed.
"I might use that."
"You can't. It's someone else's." He wrinkled his nose in disappointment as Martha spoke up.
"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you."
He raised a brow. "You're accusing me?"
"No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches."
"I have? When was that?"
"Not… Not quite yet," the Doctor muttered but it jogged something in Shakespeare's mind.
"Peter Streete spoke of witches."
"Peter Streete?" Martha questioned as Ornias sighed.
"You really need to start finding people who know their history, Doctor. Peter Streete is the builder of the Globe."
Shakespeare nodded. "He sketched the plans, yes."
"The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect! The Globe! Come on!" The Doctor said, rushing out and getting the others to get up as well.
Ornias cringed at the door though, making Shakespeare pause and lightly loop an arm around her waist.
"Are you certain you're alright?"
"Oh, I'm not going to miss a chance to find the witch, Will. I've got a bone to pick with her."
"Very well, though if it gets to be too much, I suggest you tell the Doctor," he said, making her frown. "I may not approve of what he did to you. However, as you said, he is someone who understands what you are and therefore, how to help in matters that I cannot."
She eyed him for a moment, seeing an understanding in his gaze that made her huff. "You are too clever for your own good, Will."
"Come. Best not keep the Doctor waiting."
We weren't at the theatre long before the Doctor decided to take us somewhere actually exciting. I hummed as we strolled up to Bedlam, tasting the darkness housed within the walls and the minds of the men and women trapped within.
"Hm, love a good 16th century mad house. Are you sure I can't have a wander?"
"Absolutely not," the Doctor said shortly as we stepped in and he waved his psychic paper at the guard. "The last thing we need is you wandering around making things worse for these people."
"Rude," I muttered. "I find that a brief glimpse of divinity usually sobers them up."
He shot me a look that said this wasn't up for debate and I begrudgingly let it drop as the guard spoke to us.
"Does my Lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits? I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for you. Mad dog in Bedlam."
I cracked the slightest smirk before the Doctor snapped at him.
"No, I don't."
The guard seemed slightly surprised but nodded. "Well, wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies."
Martha also didn't look pleased. "So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?"
Will huffed, not thrilled at being accused. "Oh, it's all so different where you come from then, is it?"
"But you're clever," Martha pressed, confused how he could see any good coming from here. "Do you honestly think this place is any good?"
"It's not meant to be good," I pointed out, leaning against a wall and glancing down the row of cells. "The purpose of these places were never actually for good. They were deterrents. You behave, you keep quiet and in line, and you won't end up in the madhouse."
Will nodded in agreement. "I've been mad. I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose."
"Mad in what way?" Martha pried, drawing my gaze to Will as he glanced at me solemnly but it was the Doctor who answered.
"You lost your son."
"My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."
I remembered Jenette choking on her own blood while lying in bed while I hovered nearby unable to stop what was the fate of so many humans. Dying is their purpose. Their ultimate test before they're sorted. Do they fear it? Welcome it? Try to run from it? It all adds up in the end. So, what of my purpose?
"This way, my lord!" The guard called from down the hall, leading us away and into a cell where a decrepit man sat hunched on a bed. "They can be dangerous, my lord. Don't know their own strength," he warned.
"I think it helps if you don't whip them. Now get out," the Doctor said sharply, sending him off after he locked us in.
"I could—"
"No," the Doctor stopped me, making me raise a brow as he approached Peter Streete. "I'll handle it."
"Tetchy," I murmured under my breath, feeling Will give my arm a squeeze and relaxing my shoulders slightly as we watched the Doctor talk to Peter.
"Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past. One year ago. Let your mind go back," the Doctor murmured with his fingers on the man's temples. "Back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A Winter's Tale. Let go. That's it. That's it, just let go," he soothed, slowly lowering the man onto his cot. "Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches."
"Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. They whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design! The fourteen walls. Always fourteen. When the work was done… they snapped poor Peter's wits," Peter said with a small crazed cackle.
"Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city? Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?" The Doctor urged.
"All Hallows Street."
"Too many words."
The Doctor bolted to his feet at the witch who'd suddenly appeared, shifting away from her and over toward the rest of us.
"Just one touch of the heart," the witch cackled and the Doctor's shout echoed through the building.
"No!"
"Oh, not so fast, witch," I purred, holding her wrist in my hand and startling her as she looked up at me. "I've got a bone to pick with you."
"You dare—"
"You better bet I dare!" I snapped, eyes glowing gold. "Toying with humans is one thing but you tried to kill me and I really don't appreciate it when tiny little pests like you think you can try and one-up me."
"Ornias, wait!" The Doctor said, the witch crying out as I twisted her wrist painfully. "We need to know what they're doing! Who they are!"
"Then, you better get questioning because my patience is really quite thin."
"No mortal has power over me," the witch hissed before I twisted her wrist further.
"Oh, I'm no mere mortal."
"There a power in words though," the Doctor said, speaking quickly as I stared coldly at the witch in my grasp. "If I can find the right one. If I can just know you."
"None on Earth has knowledge of us! Ah!" She wailed as there was a sickening snap.
"Ornias!"
"My patience, Doctor," I reminded him, still holding the witch captive despite her broken wrist. "Or shall I remind you they tried to kill me and Peter here and have succeeded at least twice already?"
He groaned but continued to wrack his brain. "Think, think, think. Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy. Ah! Fourteen! That's it! Fourteen! The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!"
The witch screamed and vanished from my grasp, making me whip to the Doctor as Martha stared in shock.
"What did you do?"
"I named her. The power of a name. That's old magic," he hummed.
"But there's no such thing as magic."
"Well, it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."
"Who cares that they use words for magic? She was mine!" I argued. "You helped her get away!"
"They're trying to end the world and if we don't know what they're up to and how they're doing it, then we can't stop them," he countered. "You killing her would ruin that."
"She said us! There's more than one of them. Killing her would make it easier!"
"Why does everything have to be about killing with you!" He argued. "I didn't take you with me because I wanted an actual demon on board! You're better than this!"
"Well, maybe I don't want to be!" I snapped back, shoving past him and breaking the door open easily, storming out of the cell and out of Bedlam as quickly as my legs would carry me.
My head ached and my injury throbbed, making me bring a hand to my head and when I heard them coming after me, calling for me, I knew I couldn't stay. With a cringe, I let out my wings and took off into the sky, out of sight before they even crossed the threshold. Why? Why do I have to change for anyone in order to get what I want?
"The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe. Nobody was sure if they were real or legend," the Doctor mused, pacing back and forth in Shakespeare's room as the man washed his face.
"Well, I'm going for real," the playwright scoffed.
"But what do they want?" Martha asked, glancing at the Doctor who knew the most about the Carrionites.
"A new empire on Earth. A world of bones and blood and witchcraft," he muttered, leaning against Shakespeare's desk and trying to keep his thoughts pointedly away from the demon who was no longer with them.
"But how?"
"I'm looking at the man with the words," he said, eyeing Shakespeare who looked surprised at yet another accusation.
"Me? But I've done nothing."
"Hold on, though," Martha cut in. "What were you doing last night, when the Carrionite was in the room?"
Shakespeare glanced away awkwardly. "Finishing the play," he offered. "Among other things."
The Doctor rolled his eyes, annoyed by the reminder. "I'm sure you and Ornias had plenty of fun last night. What happens on the last page?"
Shakespeare frowned over at him for a moment but chose to bite his tongue for now. "The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought-provoking as usual. Except those last few lines. Funny thing is, I don't actually remember writing them."
"Sure you weren't distracted?" The Doctor mused and this time Shakespeare didn't hold back.
"I assure you, Doctor, there was far more that happened that evening than what you think and you should take care how you speak when you know nothing of it," he warned sharply. "Besides, I stopped before finishing the final scene when Ornias came in distraught. The last few lines came after, I know that. I don't…" He paused with a light frown. "I just don't remember finishing our discussion though. I don't remember the 'after.'"
"That's it. They used you. They gave you the final words like a spell, like a code. Love's Labour's Won. It's a weapon. The right combination of words, spoken at the right place, with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing!" He shouted in understanding, turning to go but pausing briefly. "And yes, you can have that. Maps! I need a map!"
"I've got one here," Shakespeare offered, grabbing one and placing it on the table for the Doctor to find what he needed.
"All Hallows Street. There it is. Martha, we'll track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play."
"I'll do it. All these years I've been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing," Shakespeare said, shaking the Doctor's hand eager and ready to go.
"Oh, don't complain," Martha teased, making him smile.
"I'm not. It's marvelous. Good luck, Doctor."
"Good luck, Shakespeare. Once more unto the breach then," the Doctor hummed, removing his glasses and starting to rush out the door with Martha ahead of him.
"I like that. Wait a minute, that's one of mine!"
"Oh, just shift!" The Doctor complained but Shakespeare stopped him before he could go.
"Wait, Doctor. It's about Ornias."
The Doctor grit his teeth, knowing they were short on time but also knowing that there were a lot of unresolved issues with Ornias right now, so he waited as Shakespeare approached.
"I understand that you and Ornias are holding a lot of tension between yourselves but I fear wrong has been committed on both ends, perhaps without intending to," the playwright said as the Doctor frowned lightly, considering what he was saying.
"What did she tell you?" He asked, cautious of what Ornias said and how she may have portrayed him.
"She told me of a trouble you both had involving a companion of yours," Shakespeare informed him. "That you suggested something rather uncouth and despite that, she attempted to make up for not helping you back then by putting herself in a great deal of agony."
"I… I did and I apologized and I know words won't make up for that but she acted like there was some understanding," the Doctor explained, not sure what else to say when it was apparent the playwright held some ire for him because of the demon. "Even if there wasn't, I did hope to continue to try and make up with her but then this happened. What am I supposed to think when she's hell-bent on starting up chaos and trying to kill someone?"
"I think, there is something more to it than that and as an educated man yourself, I'm sure I'm not the only one who sees it," Shakespeare pointed out, making him pause, knowing the man was right.
"She won't tell me what it is."
"No, she won't, but you already knew that," he added, before sighing. "That night when she came to me after fighting with you, it wasn't to simply lay with me, Doctor. She is conflicted by many things but none more than herself and her place with you. We spoke until she could not handle it anymore and wished to try and find connection the only way she knew how with someone who cared enough to see past her devilish persona."
"She doesn't trust me," the Doctor argued lightly as Martha called from downstairs, urging them along. "After what I did with Rose, my companion, Ornias doesn't—"
"She is frightened, Doctor. More than you know and that is the source of her distrust. I simply suggest you speak with her properly. Let her vent and express herself through whatever means works for her. Despite what you both may think, I feel she doesn't get to be herself often enough."
"...Okay," the Doctor muttered, running a hand through his hair with a slight nod. "Okay. I will try."
"That is all she wants. Trust me, Doctor. Her greatest wish right now is a friend who understands and who better than the man who heals? Hm?" Shakespeare pat him on the back as they headed downstairs only to pause once more. "One last thing. Do take care of her, Doctor. She may be hiding it from you, but I fear I cannot. She is in pain. Physical pain. I do not know how or when but I worry she may not be as unyielding as she wishes to be this evening. Do not let her smile fool you."
He nodded seriously, having suspected something was wrong but not knowing what. "I'll be sure to keep her safe as best I can."
"Yes, well, I have a play to stop. Again, I wish you luck."
"And you," the Doctor murmured stepping out and meeting with Martha who eyed him curiously.
"What took you?"
"Shakespeare has something he needed to tell me. It's nothing. Come on."
He took her hand and pulled her along, rushing through the streets until they stumbled across the right one.
"All Hallows Street, but which house?" He questioned, looking around as Martha did the same.
"Thing is, am I missing something here? The world didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me. I'm living proof."
"Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux? I know. Back to the Future. It's like Back to the Future."
"The film?"
"No, the novelization. Yes, the film. Marty McFly goes back and changes history…"
"And he starts fading away," she gasped in understanding. "Oh my God, am I going to fade?"
"Doubt God has anything to do with it," the Doctor muttered, wincing at the Ornias-like response. "You and the entire future of the human race. It ends right now in 1599 if we don't stop it. But which house?"
A door in front of them creaked open and the Doctor hummed.
"Ah, make that witch house."
They headed in and up the stairs, stepping under a cloth covering the door to find a robed woman waiting for them.
"I take it we're expected," the Doctor mused, tucking his hands in his pockets.
"Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time," the woman hummed as Martha smirked, pointing a finger at her.
"Right then, it's my turn. I know how to do this. I name thee Carrionite!" her smile fell when the woman just laughed. "What did I do wrong? Was it the finger?"
"The power of a name works only once. Observe. I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones."
The Doctor grabbed her as Martha collapsed, giving the woman a glare. "What have you done?"
"Only sleeping, alas. It's curious. The name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time," the witch replied, eyeing him. "And as for you, Sir Doctor. Fascinating. There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Not unlike your other companion who I have a bone to pick with for what she did to Doomfinger."
"Trust me, you don't want to mess with her. It won't end well for you," the Doctor warned.
"I'll just have to deal with her later. You're far more interesting. Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches."
"The naming won't work on me."
"But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows and carries down the distant Rose," she said with a smug smile, seeing the change in his face as he stood and stormed toward her.
"Oh, big mistake. Because that name keeps me fighting. The Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?" He demanded to know as she looked up at him, not threatened by his advances.
"The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness," she complained, turning away and moving closer to the window.
"And how did you escape?" The Doctor asked.
"New words. New and glittering from a mind like no other."
"Shakespeare."
"His son perished. The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance."
"She said us!"
The Doctor remembered Ornias's words and frowned at her. "How many of you?"
"Just the three. But the play tonight shall restore the rest. Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world, we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic."
"Hm, busy schedule," he replied, approaching her again. "But first you've got to get past me."
"Oh, that should be a pleasure, considering my enemy has such a handsome shape," she purred, running a hand over his face.
"Now, that's one form of magic that's definitely not going to work on me."
"Oh, we'll see," she challenged before taking a snippet of his hair, making him reach back in surprise.
"What did you do?" He asked as she bounded toward the window.
"Souvenir."
"Well, give it back," he said, starting to rush toward her but she lifted her arms and opened the window with a smirk; not seeing the dark-winged shape come in behind her until it was too late.
The nearby lanterns blew out as the witch's scream went silent. The Doctor thought he was imagining it but the room was dark, darker than dark. Not even the window was visible now and fearing the worst, the Doctor took a half step forward.
"Ornias, you don't have to do this," he said, voice quiet as unease stirred in his gut; eyes scanning the dark for any sign of the demon.
"Oh, but I think I do," she muttered, though her voice was warped almost; shifting into that old voice of her male self, then her current, then something far darker.
The Doctor took a step back only to stiffen as something shifted behind him. He didn't dare look though, everything in his body telling him that moving would get him killed. It was like back in Satan's Pit, that chill that ran up his spine that forced his very being to want to run in fear and never look back. Except… it was here in front of him, shifting in the dark like a giant serpent coiling around him.
"See," Ornias continued with a hum. "There was a bit of mistaken identity with the last one. I recognized this witch from the inn, the maid who stayed in the background. They always get ignored: the help. So, it put her exactly where she needed to be. To kill Lynley, kill Dolly, to try and kill me, and manipulate Will into doing what she wanted. She deserves to be punished, I think."
"O-Ornias, you don't have to do that though," the Doctor urged, fighting to control his voice and ignore his body trying to get him to run. "It's not your job to punish people."
Golden eyes appeared in the dark, peering right through him and sending ice through his veins.
"Not my job? I'm a demon, Doctor. My entire purpose is sowing contention, bringing forth chaos, killing, tempting, punishing those who sinned."
Something brushed up against his back and he closed his eyes with a shaky inhale, forcing himself not to move as Ornias's breath brushed over the back of his ear.
"You may not want to travel with a demon, but you're the one who brought me on board. This is who I am, Doctor. I'm not your pet, your plaything, your so-called companion. I'll leave that to the humans you bring with you."
The Doctor let the breath he'd been holding out, feeling his hearts racing and his respiratory bypass kick in with the adrenaline rush he was dealing with; a cold sweat sliding down the back of his neck as he faced those cold yellow eyes again.
"You're right," he breathed, "a-and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way. I know an apology won't fix anything and I understand if you're still angry about it and about what happened with… with Rose. I just… I just think you're better than this. That you don't have to be a demon. You can change."
"Why do I have to change!" She bellowed, making his hearts stop in terror as those eyes of molten gold flared mere inches from his face. "Why do I have to change for anyone," she snarled. "I am a demon. I've always been a demon. I am the fucking serpent that tempted Adam and Eve! Those humans write about me in that damn book no matter what universe! So, why do I have to stop being a demon to get anything from anyone!"
Suddenly, it dawned on him. Shakespeare had hinted at it, knowing better than he did because the Doctor has been blinded by one giant thing staring him in the face. Ornias was scared of changing, scared of herself, and so very lost. She tried going back to her roots when he kicked her out and when she left him. It was always the same. She went back to causing trouble, corrupting people, tempting people, and now that she was changing—that she knew she was changing—that wasn't working anymore. She couldn't go back to being who she was and she doesn't know who she is, and part of the source for this confusion was…
"Me," the Doctor murmured, swearing that for a moment he saw sharp teeth being bared at him in the dark just below those eyes. "This is my fault."
The eyes shifted back slightly, racking over him almost cautiously.
"This is all me," he continued, somehow taking a step forward toward her despite the fear in his body. "I… I never saw you as anything more than just a demon. You never argued because that's all you ever were. I was never wrong in your eyes. Ornias is a demon but… but that's wrong."
"I am a demon," she growled.
"No, but don't you see? Ornias, you're so much more than that! You always were! You're, you're a demon, yes but you're also an angel, aren't you? A-A fallen angel."
He reached out into the dark, searching for her and soon placing his hand on something feathered.
"I'm not—"
"But you are," he pressed. "We all got it wrong, Ornias. You are… you. Sure, you might be working out some kinks, figuring things out as you go but you weren't changing. You weren't turning into something new. You were just… discovering you. Ornias the demon, the fallen angel, the serpent, the tempter, and… my friend. My companion who is… funny and smart, while also somehow being a bit clueless to some things."
He could see her now; the feathers having shifted into being her long dark hair as his fingers brushed up against the cool skin of her cheeks.
"It was never about being good or bad, angel or devil. It was just how you felt about yourself. How you saw yourself. You wanted to be a bit chaotic and flirty, then you were. You wanted to save someone, then you did. I made a mistake by thinking that you were just Ornias the demon. Trying to stop you from doing things and trying to change you into someone good but… those good things you did were just what you wanted at the time. The reason I could talk you out of them is because you wanted to. You might not have been entirely happy about it, especially when I was… was preoccupied but you could've done so many other things.
"You could've left Rose up with the Daleks on that space station. Could have left me to fight them alone or let the Daleks kill all those people. You could've let people die on that asteroid heading toward a black hole or let Jackie get killed by a shop mannequin but you chose not to. You chose to follow me, to listen to me even when you didn't have to, to reach out and save Rose while she was being sucked toward the Void despite the pain it put you in. That was all you. Ornias. Just Ornias. Ornias the person. Not the demon or the angel or the one who's changing. Just… you being you."
"Just… me?" Ornias questioned softly, taking a small step toward the Doctor.
"And nothing else," he murmured, brushing a thumb across her cheek as a tear slipped through. "And I am so sorry that I never realized how much pain I—"
He was abruptly cut off as Ornias slammed her lips into his, making him falter back lightly to steady himself; bumping into a post. He started to push back slightly but there was something different about this kiss. There was no lust involved, no romantic feelings, just… desperation and… Sadness, he realized, feeling it roll through him as though it were his own and despite realizing that it was her projecting… he didn't stop her. He couldn't. In fact, he leaned into it, returned it with just as much fervor because he understood.
It was pain. The pain of having no one who understood them. No one in the whole universe who just got it. Who could look at them and see that they were just people like everyone else. Ornias wasn't a demon and the Doctor wasn't some almighty Time Lord. They just… were. And they were lonely. For a moment, the Doctor had a taste of companionship but try as he might, there had always been that lingering doubt in the back of his mind while he was with Rose reminding him that she would die, as all humans do. He tried to pretend it was never there but it stayed even when they were laughing or joking around or running from trouble. It was there reminding him how short the lives of humans were and that despite his love for her, it would never last.
Ornias wasn't much different. She'd had a companion once but Aziraphale was ripped from her, torn away, and thrown into another universe while she had to live out life on Earth again alone. She pretended that it was all fun and games, creating chaos, sleeping around, toying with the humans but… she'd grown lonely long before meeting the Doctor. Even upon meeting him, she'd expected another few short decades of fun before she'd be forced to move on to the next entertaining thing. Then, when she'd started to grow more attached she saw the relationship for what it was; a fleeting third-party tag-along on the Doctor's romantic dates with Rose. She didn't honestly mind at first but then she went from tag-along to throw-away and nothing could turn her gaze elsewhere. The Doctor had become the only joy she had left and she couldn't even have that because of Rose. Rose being gone would've been the solution, one would think but Ornias couldn't do that either. Rose wasn't terrible for a human and Ornias knew that she wouldn't be able to have the Doctor without his Rose.
Now, Rose was gone. Ornias had tried to stop it but the Tardis deal wouldn't allow it and she also had a small part of her that was happy she was gone. It was a very small part but it was enough to make her have that slow churning guilt well up in her; something unheard of if she was the demon like her and everyone else thought. But even that didn't seem to make sense anymore. So, she turned her attention to the Doctor again, hoping that things would continue on with or without Rose but the damage was done. She recovered a bit late but she could still feel the lingering sadness, the lack of joy the Doctor had with his newest companion. Rose was still sticking around even when she wasn't physically there and Ornias was practically waving her arms in the Doctor's face to try and remind him she was there, to no avail.
They were both alone again and too blinded by themselves to see properly. The Doctor's love for Rose. Ornias's changing and self-discovery. They were both self-destructing and it was only now that they both seemed to see it for what it was. They were lonely and the only people they had left were each other. Rose would have never understood the Doctor completely. Ornias would never be able to look at herself objectively. Yet, now, they could.
The Doctor pressed his forehead to hers as they kissed, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of her neck as the other grabbed tightly to her hip. She did much the same with a hand tangled in his hair and another dragging nails down his back. Both searching for what they wanted and needed from the other.
The Doctor found it first, mind-melding and letting out a small choked sob as Ornias's mind enveloped his. He'd never bothered to try and feel her mind before. He knew she could speak with him telepathically but he'd never considered they'd be able to see each other like this. He'd not felt another mind since he'd been with his own people. That space in his head had been so empty and he'd ignored the feeling until it sank deep into the background of his subconscious. Now, it was full to the brim with just Ornias. He understood why the Tardis and her needed to adjust. This wasn't like seeing the small human mind where he had to be delicate or sharing his mind with a Time Lord where they were equals.
No, Ornias's mind was vast and all-encompassing. She took up all the space his people had left and then some. He'd half expected it to hurt, for some odd reason, but Ornias was… kind. Her mind shifted and swirled like smoke, both filling his mind and leaving plenty of room. Once she'd noticed he was there and what he'd done, it changed again and the Doctor turned her back into the post to press more hungrily against her; tears slipping down his face. Her mind had coiled around his like a warm blanket and she showed him what she'd thought of him since they'd met.
Stars. That's all it was. The inky blackness of space, full of stars and multi-colored clouds of dust as comets flew overhead. It was the one thing she as a demon or angel had loved the most about God's creations. The one and only thing that she hadn't been able to share or enjoy since she fell from grace. It had never been quite the same when she wasn't up there with them but it felt like that and more when she was around the Doctor. It was like space had come to her.
That guilt welled up in him again. He didn't have anything of the sort to show her. He felt like he hadn't really looked at her until now and he pulled away finally in shame. Yet, she lightly reached up and caressed his face, drawing his gaze toward her as she left one last feather-soft kiss against his lips. She didn't mind. A soft smile appeared on her face and she reached around him to hold him tight as he did the same, dropping his head onto her shoulder with a shaky breath. She forgave him because he didn't know. Hell, she hadn't even known so how could she blame him for looking at her the same way she'd looked at herself? All that mattered now was that they understood each other. That they saw someone else was there for them. And with that truth finally revealed, Ornias sagged.
"Ornias?" The Doctor breathed, confused until he remembered Shakespeare's warning.
"She's in pain. Physical pain."
"Ornias!" He said louder, helping her to lean against the post on the ground and grimacing at the red stain on Sheakespear's white shirt that she was wearing.
He held his hands over the injury, not sure what to do. She wasn't human. Putting pressure on the wound might not help, might make it worse, and again that guilt cropped up. He didn't truly know anything about her, did he?
A wing brushed up against him, much like it had when he'd lost Rose except it was grey instead of pure, blinding white.
"Sorry," Ornias muttered, cracking a smile with a short, choked chuckle. "I-I thought it wasn't important."
"You… You are important," the Doctor breathed, feeling more truth in that sentence than he'd ever felt before. "The most important."
"T-Then, you know why you have to go," she pressed, shocking him and he went to argue only for thunder to rumble outside, drawing his gaze to the window as clouds gathered and someone screamed.
He turned back to her, conflicted, but she weakly flicked her wrist in a shooing motion.
"Go. I will be fine but your humans won't."
"Ornias, I—"
"Doctor," she said sternly, her eyes flaring gold and brushing a hand over his cheek. "You wouldn't be you without them."
His hearts swelled at that before she grimaced in disgust and pulled her hands away.
"Ugh, and I hope I never say anything so sappy again. Go. get out of here before I change my mind and take that one with you," she said, waving over at Martha as she groaned, holding a hand to her head and starting to get up. "I'll deal with the witch."
The Doctor glanced over his shoulder at the still-unconscious witch but that worry he might have felt before about leaving her with Ornias was gone. He wasn't concerned about what might happen. He… trusted her.
"Okay," he murmured, getting to his feet and eyeing her in concern. "I'll come right back."
"T-Take your time, really," Ornias huffed, shifting with a cringe of pain as she brought an arm around her stomach. "Let me at least try to compose myself."
He cracked a small smile and nodded, grabbing Martha by the hand and rushing her out the door as Ornias sagged against the post and coughed, blood spilling from her lips as she glared upward.
"And I'll bet… you think this is just… f-fucking hilarious, I'm sure. L-Laugh it up, Big Man… I'm not—" She cringed, gasping and leaning against the pillar as she forced herself to her feet; blood spilling from her wound. "—Hell. I-I'm not… down and out yet."
The witch on the ground shifted and Ornias's eyes snapped to her, shining gold once more as her wings bristled and a smirk came to her lips; a black crow landing on the window sill, tipping its head to watch.
"And I've got… just the punishment for you."