The aftermath of the Battle at Canary Wharf was painful. The kind of pain that sits on top of your heart, where you feel it in every breath and moment, even when you don't think about it.
The kind of pain she saw her Thief experience every day. There wasn't much she could do, but try to give him the best adventures possible.
This pain, that the Doctor was experiencing, was nothing short of new. It was, however, new to the Historian. And she didn't know how to help.
Over the course of their shared timeline, she'd quickly learned what helped and what didn't. And what helped her Thief was to run away.
The Historian, on the other hand, seemed to hate the idea. Despite the fact that she ran from the Untempered Schism.
It was so… human of her. To mourn the loss of her friend.
She couldn't remember the last time the Doctor allowed himself to properly mourn his friends and companions.
Maybe these two could help each other. That is, if they'd be in the same room as one another.
It'd been two weeks since Rose was lost to the parallel dimension, and neither was handling it well. The Doctor, much to the Historian's chagrin, was going on adventures whenever he possibly could. The Historian, much to the Doctor's disappointment, either locked herself in the library or in the kitchen, and hid when he came around.
She would fix it, she decided. She'd make her Thief happy again.