Lots of therapy in this one because I think Fallon needs it, lol. Enjoy though!

Trigger warnings for PTSD, nightmares, coping, panic attacks, light suicidal thoughts mentioned, and the like.

I'd woken up from a nightmare. One of many I'd had the last few days. Tossing and turning in bed until I jolted upright, sweaty, out of breath, panicked in a way that made every shadow in my room feel like a threat. I'd even tried not sleeping at all but the Doctor had been quick to put a stop to that when he'd noticed I was up wandering the Tardis at all hours. He knew what was going on but either had no way to help or was giving me the space I needed to figure it out, but it wasn't working.

It didn't help that he made it look so easy. I knew it wasn't. He'd just lost a companion, a friend, and now he was forced to watch as that friend's fiancée lost her memories of him; the man she was supposed to marry. The Doctor was coping any way he could and for him, it meant taking responsibility. He was taking Amy anywhere he could think of to cheer her up because we both knew that memories or not, she was devastated about Rory. For the Doctor, that was his repentance. The only way he could deal with it was to care for Amy any way he could and try his best to make her happy. If she was happy, then he could pretend he was too.

I didn't work the same way. Every trip felt like another dagger to the heart. Every smile or laugh Amy let out reminded me of her screams when the Doctor sent us away. I couldn't even look at her without hearing her words, said out of spite and anger and hatred.

"This is your fault! That should've been you!"

I couldn't be near her. That's what it came down to and after the first couple of trips, that's what I did. I hid away in the Tardis, tucked into books in the library that I couldn't focus on, tinkering away in my room on broken objects that I couldn't seem to fix no matter how hard I tried, working out the ever-growing feelings of frustration and self-hatred in a soundproof room that the Tardis had to have made just for me. The Doctor stopped looking for me the first day. Then, days like today reminded me of how hard my life was. How immortality was just a cheap trick made to torment me as people died and died and died again. I was spiraling and I needed an escape, which was why I begrudgingly found my way to the console room.

Amy was chatting away with the Doctor about their most recent trip out and he was smiling easily as he replied. Amy spotted me first and waved with a grin—

"Get off me! Let me out! Please let me out! I need to get to Rory!"

—then, the Doctor turned and his smile fell. We needed to talk and he knew I wouldn't be able to do it with Amy around. So, he herded Amy toward the hallway, rattling on about taking a break for a bit before the next trip as I slowly moved down the stairs. Once she was gone, he headed over with a hint of caution. We were both aware that this discussion wasn't going to go well for either one of us, but we couldn't run from it any longer. I can't.

We faced one another solemnly before his gaze dropped to my hands as he lightly took them in his. His thumbs ran back and forth over the backs of my hands in comfort though it wouldn't do anything to quell the building unease that had been rolling in my gut since what happened to Rory.

"I can't stay," I murmured, breath a soft whisper as he shook his head.

"No. No, I can fix this. We can work something out and—"

"Doctor," I sighed, feeling his hands tighten around mine. "I can't."

"I don't want you to go," he begged.

"And I can't stay," I pressed, trying to get him to understand. "I can't even be in the same room, Doctor."

"If you just came with us—"

"I can't!" I snapped finally, pulling my hands away and running one through my hair. "I can't. I can't go with you on these stupid trips while you try to pretend everything is okay. I can't act like you do. I can't smile and, and laugh with her because every time I see her or hear her voice all I can think about is what happened!"

"It wasn't your fault," he urged, making me groan in frustration as I turned away to pace.

"You think I don't know that? I know it wasn't my fault. How was I supposed to know he would do something so stupid? That still doesn't change the fact that he's dead and gone and Amy can't even fucking remember him. It doesn't change the fact that I can't sleep without hearing her screaming in my ears. Whoever's fault it is doesn't change that I cannot be here anymore while this is going on. I have to get out and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I-I can't keep hold of myself enough to stay with you."

He shook his head approaching again but thankfully not touching me this time. I was too wound up. If he tried to grab hold of me now, it might put me over the edge of my already fraying emotions.

"No, no. Don't apologize, Fallon," he soothed as I pulled on my hair, eyes clenched shut and jaw tight. "I-I understand. I do. We've both lived long lives and it's not always easy, so please… please don't cry."

I wasn't sure when I started to—when the tears began to roll down my cheeks—because I was frustrated, so very frustrated. I didn't want to leave, not really, but I had to. I couldn't keep on living like this until Amy or the Doctor figured things out. I needed the space and time to work on myself but God did I wish I could stay with him. I wanted his help. I wanted to wake up from a nightmare and not feel alone. I wanted us to work through things together like we'd planned but so long as Amy was here, I couldn't. I also couldn't ask him to leave her behind. He wouldn't. That's just how the Doctor was. I couldn't make him choose and because of that, I was making the decision to leave, even if it hurt.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, bringing a hand to my face to hide my tears. "I-I'm so sorry. I don't… I don't want to but I… I-I can't stay."

"Hey, hey, sh. It's okay," he soothed, finally coming over and wrapping his arms around me.

"It's not," I argued weakly. "I-It's not okay. I-I'm leaving you here. L-Leaving you t-to try and do this alone."

"No, it's alright. I'll be okay."

I shook my head into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around him as well and holding him tight because I knew he was lying. "You're not. I-I know you're not a-and I'm so sorry I can't stay."

His hand cupped the back of my head and his lips gently brushed a kiss to my temple. "I understand," he murmured in my ear. "I do and I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you feel this way and… and I wish there was more I could do to help."

I pulled away slightly as his hands dropped to my waist and I brought mine up to cup his face, leaning in and pressing a desperate kiss to his lips. He responded in kind and when I pulled away, I rested my forehead against his with a soft, solemn sigh.

"You have done far too much for me," I murmured.

"Not enough if you feel you have to go," he lightly argued as I opened my eyes to look into his.

"It's not on you to fix me, Doc."

"I can try," he replied, pulling me close and kissing me again.

" 'm sorry," I apologized again when he kissed my jaw and then dropped his head onto my shoulder with a sigh.

"I'll miss you," he murmured into the crook of my neck.

"I'll try to be quick," I offered softly as he pulled back with a small frown.

"You take as long as you need," he ordered, earning a small smile from me before he brought my hand up to his lips. "You want me to take you to your place?"

I nodded as he lowered my hand and lightly tugged me to the console so he could start putting information in. I was hesitant about what I wanted to ask next though.

"Do you…" I paused as he turned to glance at me, leaning back against the console and lightly swinging our hands. "Do you know anyone who might… might be able to… help? A… professional, I mean."

His eyes widened slightly at what I was asking him and he gave my hand a squeeze. "You're sure?"

I winced, glancing down at our interlocked fingers. "Not really but… I feel like… like I should try. I just thought that you might, you know, know someone who's a little more… knowledgeable about our sort of… messes."

He smiled a little. "I can make a few calls. As much as I don't care for UNIT they might be good for something like this. Otherwise, I can look into… otherworldly resources. Pick you up for sessions and drop you off as needed. You still have a phone?"

I nodded as the Tardis landed, rather smoothly for once given I hadn't even realized we were in flight.

"Then, I'll call you once I figure it out," he hummed, pulling me in for one more kiss and brushing my hair out of my face. "Take a break, enjoy it, do something new, and take your time getting the help you need. I can wait."

"No, you can't," I lightly argued, brushing my thumb over his cheek fondly. "Thank you, though. You are…" A heavy, shuddering sigh escaped me, threatening more tears if I wasn't careful. "You are far more than I could have ever asked for."

He smiled again making my chest fill with warmth. "And I don't know what I would do without you."

Dr. Daniel Anderson stepped into his office at UNIT and sat at his desk before reaching up under his glasses to rub at his eyes. A folder lay sprawled in front of him, filled to the brim with notes, sightings, photographs, and evidence logs of a young woman. A woman he would soon have in his office for a consultation; an event that filled him with joy and also dread.

Anyone who worked at UNIT had been told about the man called the Doctor. Very few hadn't heard about the time and space-traveling alien who kept Earth generally out of harm's way. What was far more secretive though, were his companions. Some were known, background checks done and eventually forgotten about. Others were kept track of should the Doctor ever decide to drop back in or simply for consultation in the event of an alien-related event. There was one who was far less known though.

Fallon, as the Doctor called her, and what UNIT soon began to address her as, as well. She'd held many names and identities before she'd been noticed by the Doctor, but it was only because of him that she became somewhat well-known to organizations like UNIT.

The Immortal. The Eternal Companion. The Ageless. The Timeless. She had many titles now and even more names but after going through what UNIT had on her, there wasn't actually much for Daniel to work with. He would have to do this the hard way, and something told him it would take ages for her to open up.

"Why in God's name did the Doctor ask us to do this?" He muttered under his breath, closing the file and leaning back in his chair with a groan. "How am I supposed to get thousands if not millions of years of trauma unpacked with a few weekly sessions?"

He dropped his hands to hang at his sides, staring up at the white ceiling of his office and letting out a heavy breath. His work was certainly cut out for him. He was used to dealing with soldiers, hardened military and government agents whose biggest issues were PTSD and grief counseling. Not that Fallon wasn't experiencing similar traumas but the scale was so vastly different.

"Like a child trying to explain how the world works to the world's most renowned genius," he grumbled before the phone on his desk went off and he reached over to answer it. "Yes, Joanne?"

"Your two o'clock is here, sir. It's, um… Miss Fallon."

"Don't call me Miss," he heard through the phone and he resisted the urge to check if he had any aspirin in his desk drawer.

He would definitely have a headache after this.

"Thank you. Please let her in."

The door was soon opened and Joanne gestured for Fallon to enter. Daniel was on his feet, hand out and a polite smile on his face to greet her as he also took her in. She was as he'd expected for the most part. She looked a bit gruff and stern, though her furrowed brows and displeased frown let him know she wasn't exactly pleased to be here. Did the Doctor make her come? He wondered curiously, though if that was the case, he had a feeling he wouldn't get much from her as far as progress went.

"It's nice to meet you," he greeted as he did all of his clients. "I'm Dr. Daniel Anderson, the leading psychiatrist here at UNIT. I've been recommended to handle your sessions for the time being unless we find that you require someone else. It all depends on what we're dealing with and how things go after the first few sessions."

She grunted in acknowledgment and moved to take a seat in the armchair across from his desk. His mind was reeling though, bouncing between excitement at meeting a companion of the Doctor's and scrambling to remember how he usually started his sessions with normal people and not ancient immortals. As it was, he could already see signs of her being defensive with her body posture; arms folded, fingers drumming on the crook of her elbow, leg bouncing, and gaze more focused on the rest of the room instead of him. It's going to be a long session.

And he wasn't wrong. The first half hour of their hour-long session was mostly him talking. She would give monosyllable responses to some questions and shrug to others. The only real sentence he got out of her was the occasional "I don't want to talk about it" when he tried to dig a little into things. All-in-all, it was not going well. He was struggling to find purchase and convince her to pay attention, much less answer and open up to him. He really didn't want to spend the entire time trying to pry her open but it was looking more and more as though it was going to be that way.

He'd dealt with stubborn people before. Military men and women weren't always eager to show off their weaknesses in front of people they just met or didn't trust. However, a few carefully worded questions or comments could usually get them to slip up something. Fallon simply wasn't giving up anything. Either she was just experienced enough to see past his tricks or—

"Have you had any sort of therapy before?"

There. It was subtle, very subtle, but her drumming fingers had stopped for a half second when he asked. It wasn't much but it gave away what he expected. She wasn't just experienced at seeing through his tricks. She had experience with mental health professionals and knew how they worked. He wasn't her first. But that begs the question, why come to me? If she has another therapist then—Oh. Oh, I'm an idiot. His gaze had caught onto her pinched expression; how her jaw was tight, shoulders stiff, her once stoic frown edging into something more shameful and fearful. She had experienced therapy before but not in a good way.

Daniel closed his notes and placed the book on the desk with his pen, getting up and drawing her gaze as he moved away from the desk and dropped into the other armchair across from her. She watched him cautiously as he removed his glasses and set them down on the small table between them; facing her with solemn sincerity.

"I am so sorry for what you may have gone through," he murmured, seeing her hesitation as he continued. "I joined this field of study because I saw men and women constantly walking around with their trauma tucked away from the world, left to fester in their own minds before it would burst out of them in the most… volatile and dangerous of ways. My mother took her life when I was seven and I watched as my father struggled every day to—not only care for my younger brother and I—but survive in a world where people would rather go after each other than look inward at themselves."

He had her attention and hoped that maybe what he was saying and offering might help her in some way. Even if he wasn't the one she wanted to talk to in the end, she needed help and he wanted to point her in the right direction.

"I wanted to be someone people felt safe with when they had nothing else left. Someone people could talk to and finally get that relief they so desperately needed," he explained before taking a shuddering breath as a wave of disgust rolled through him. "And for someone to ruin that, to taint it for you… I am so sorry that someone has screwed everything up to the point that you can't feel safe."

She shifted uneasily, glancing at the door as though looking for an escape before looking back to him. "I… It's not…" She bit her lip before seeming to give in to some invisible force that had been holding her back. "I-It's not just that."

She still hesitated but he waited patiently for her to explain. She wasn't hiding it as well now; fidgeting again and reaching up to tug at one of her ears. Her expression had shifted as well into something softer, more worried than closed off.

"I… I want to fix things," she muttered. "I want to… to be here but things just keep… When you live as long as I do, things just pile up and it gets harder to separate them." She glanced back at him and winced. "Sorry, that probably doesn't make much sense."

Daniel blinked but shook his head. "No, that's okay. You understand what is happening and are trying to fix it. That's what's important. I'm sure things are a bit… complex because of your immortality. Even with us regular people, problems can pile up and become such large obstacles that we need help navigating them. I couldn't imagine how difficult it must be for you to try and do the same with all the time you've had to experience things."

She eyed him and shifted in her seat. "How are you supposed to help me then? If my immortality makes things so much more complex—"

Daniel smiled, putting his glasses back on. "But you're still human, at the end of the day," he hummed, catching the slight bit of surprise that he mentally noted. "As such, you are probably just as confused and set off by things as we are, long life or not. I have found that despite people's ages and experiences, everyone has the same sort of problems. Someone who's twenty can still be just as afraid of the dark as someone who's eighty or two hundred. The only thing that's different between them, is how they learn to deal with it."

He got up again and moved back toward his desk to check the time. Their session was nearly up but somehow he had made progress. She had made progress by finally pushing past her unease and realizing that if she wanted help, she would need to change.

"Our session is nearly over," he informed her, seeing her wince in apparent shame. "As much as it might not seem like it, I feel we have taken that first big step into getting somewhere. I've had patients spend weeks saying nothing and having to eventually transfer them to someone more capable of helping them. However," he hummed, giving her a smile. "You said it yourself. You want to be helped and admitting that takes a lot but it opens the door which is all I need."

"Sorry," she mumbled as he chuckled and waved her off.

"No, no. It really is fine. Something was holding you back but you have recognized it and overcome it. Next session, we can look into things a little more. If you'd like, I'm sure you are far more aware of some of the problems you'd like to deal with. You can pick what you want to discuss next time and we can start there."

"I…" She hesitated and he stepped back out from behind his desk with a comforting smile.

"You don't have to tell me now if you don't want to."

Yet, she shook her head, standing and making him ignore the trickle of unease at the haunted look in her eyes; one so much deeper than any normal human could achieve.

"If I don't say it now, I worry I'll… not say it again."

"Whatever you need."

"I… I want to talk about why I'm here," she told him, making him tip his head in curiosity. "What… What caused me to come. I… We lost a… a companion."

"You and the Doctor?"

She pursed her lips but nodded. "He's gone and the Doctor is… He's kept hold of the man's fiancée because she's lost her memory of him. It's a bit complicated."

"That's alright. We have all of next session to discuss it and if need be, we can look at adjusting how often we meet. For now…" He handed her a business card with a phone number he'd scribbled on the back. "That's my office number and my personal cell phone. I don't normally hand it out to patients but I think… I think you might have times when you need someone. Someone to help you when it all piles up and spills over."

She took the card gently, still looking a bit hesitant.

"You're welcome to use it or never even touch it," he said lightly as they headed to the door. "Though I do wish that you would at least try to use it should an emergency come up. Just because you are immortal doesn't make what you may or may not do at your darkest moments any less important."

She nodded and again that hint of shame welled up in her and etched itself into her features as she walked out. Daniel knew what immortality might mean to some people but to him, it always sounded sad. He could only imagine the burden she had to deal with and how often it spilled over into actions she may regret. But maybe now, we can get somewhere.

Fallon woke up in the dark, breaths short and panicked, mind fogged. Her own screams echoed in her ears but she couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Her chest burned and throbbed all the way down her abdomen, and her stomach churned with nausea. She could feel them inside her; hands stuffed into her gut all the way up toward her racing heart. She turned and vomited off the side of the bed, fumbling in the dark and clawing at her stomach to try and get them out.

"Get out, get out, get out! Please! Please, just stop! You don't need to do this! I-I'm not immortal! I swear!"

"Commencing dissection."

Tears streamed down her face as she fell to the hardwood floor, attempting to push herself upright as best she could with the agony ripping through her body. She was slowly starting to come out of it now though, realizing that she was at home and not strapped down to a gurney. That the hands she'd thought were pawing at her insides were just her imagination playing cruel tricks on her sleep-addled mind. Still, it was a lot and as a pained whimper tore itself from her throat, her thoughts drifted toward something else.

She missed the Doctor. When the memories got this bad it was a comfort to know that he was right there in the Tardis with her. That if she wanted to, she could step into the console room and he'd take one look at her and know exactly what to say and do to help. She'd left over a week ago now. There was no Doctor in the cold halls of her home and the thought of calling him made her feel guilty. She'd made the decision to leave for her own sake; for both their sakes. If she called him now, she was not only setting herself up for failure but also pulling him down with her.

It had only been a week. She felt ashamed of herself, sagging against the nightstand and digging her nails into the skin of her throbbing abdomen. A week and she was already falling apart. She couldn't sleep, was forcing herself to eat, and often forgetting. She had begun to spend most of her days just lying somewhere in a half-dazed stupor. If it went on for much longer she wasn't sure what she'd do. Already some crazed part of her mind still trapped in that nightmare of a memory was begging for the bite of a knife to get those groping hands out of her body.

Her arm slipped in the mess on the floor and her shoulder rammed into the nightstand, knocking something into her arm and onto the floor in front of her. It was her phone and a small white business card. For a moment, her mind fought with itself over what to do. The shame of having to call someone she barely knew because she couldn't handle a vivid nightmare and the desperation of wanting someone there to help ground her to reality and tell her everything would be okay. That what she was dealing with was something she couldn't handle on her own and calling for help was the best decision she could have made. Shakily, she reached out and fumbled with the phone in the dark, hoping she'd pressed the right numbers as the phone began to ring.

It rang and rang, and for a second she felt so stupid to think that he would pick up. That some stranger she'd talked to once might respond to her just because she was in distress and happened to call. She'd been about to hang up when a tired voice came through the line.

"Mm, hello? Dr. Anderson speaking."

Her mind stalled at hearing his voice, choking the words in her throat and preventing her from speaking.

"Hello? Hey, do you know what time it is? If this is some sort of prank call, you should really pick a better time than three in the morning."

"I-I… 'm sorry," her brain oh-so-helpfully responded and the temptation to hang up reared its ugly head once more.

"Fallon? Is everything okay?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it and tried again. "I-I don't… I don't know. I just… I-I'm sorry. It's late a-and—"

"No, no. It's okay, really. What's wrong? You sound upset and… well, it's three in the morning."

Again she stopped, trying to get the words out and finding herself unable to just tell him she'd had a nightmare and what had occurred after.

"Nightmare?" He asked, having come to the conclusion himself. "It's okay to have nightmares, Fallon, especially when you have a lot you're trying to deal with. Your subconscious tends to hold onto those things until you're trying to sleep and then shifts them into nightmares. Having a bad reaction to one isn't shameful or anything. It's normal. Perfectly human."

"I'm not—" She cut herself short, remembering who she was speaking with.

"I think you are. You are a human being trapped in the unfortunate event of living a life far longer than anyone else. As such, having a nightmare and a bad reaction to it is understandable and perfectly okay."

She didn't say anything, just leaned against the bedside table and stared at the floor and the splattering of her vomit nearby.

"I am happy you called. I'm sure it must have been hard for you to ask for help but if my rattling-on can assist you in any way—help ground you or even just distract you for a moment—then I will gladly do that for you."

Tears were falling down her face unbidden as she took a shuddering breath and pawed at them to try and get them to stop.

"I-I'm sorry," she choked out.

"Hey, it's alright. It's okay. You are allowed to ask for help, Fallon. There is no need to try and be strong all the time. All it does is lead people to do terrible things, to hurt themselves. Do… Do you want to talk about it? Or are you okay enough to wait until tomorrow? I know your session is in a few days but I can slot you in given the circumstances."

She nodded before realizing he couldn't see her and spoke up. "O-Okay."

"Okay, good. I'll set that up in the morning for you. Are you alright? Is there anything more I can do? Walk you through making some tea maybe? Calm the nerves?"

She shook her head. "T-Thank you. I-I… I think I'm okay."

"Okay, if you're certain. I really do appreciate you calling, Fallon. Anytime you need to talk. Stay safe. I'll see you tomorrow."

She hung up the phone, dropping her hand to the ground and taking a shaky breath. She was far calmer now and slowly got to her feet. She half expected the twinge of pain in her abdomen to remind her of the nightmare but it never came. So, she went to get something to clean up her mess and stepped into the shower, somehow able to relax for the first time in a long while.

After that night, things became… easier. I still didn't quite understand it but Dr. Anderson was helping bit by bit and I finally felt like I could breathe after a month of sessions. Not every session went well, of course. Things were only starting and there were events I wouldn't feel comfortable talking about for some time. Silas was the biggest and I knew I would hold onto that for a while, despite the event with my Dream Self making me wish to let it go. Something like that wouldn't fade so easily.

So, we talked about other things. The nightmares had been first, given what had occurred, and I was given a few ways to handle them. I was started up on medication, for one. Something to help me sleep through the night to start with, then one more to help keep me steady and prevent panic attacks. Coupled with that though, came methods of coping and ways to help get me out of those instances when it became too much.

He had suggested a pet, at first. He knew some people who dealt with PTSD veterans to provide them with service animals for assistance but I refused. For one, I traveled with the Doctor into dangerous situations and it didn't feel right for me to put an animal through that. For another, they had far shorter lives than even humans. I was concerned about the toll that would take and he agreed with an apology.

That wasn't uncommon with him. There were simply times when he forgot I was immortal and treated me as any other patient. It was nice, really, to have someone other than the Doctor who treated me as though I were simply human. It was hard for me to think the same way and that soon became another topic of discussion. What it came down to was simply my experience, my age, and how—after far too long—what I defined as humanity had been twisted to be just the opposite of what I was. I did it to myself and never bothered to consider everyone else's thoughts on the topic.

Not that everything was fixed so easily. A change of viewpoint wouldn't alter my reasons for taking therapy in the first place. Upon explaining what had happened with Amy, Rory, and the Doctor, Dr. Anderson had been pleasantly surprised. According to him, it was interesting that I was so in tune with my feelings and how I mourned, that I knew when I needed to step away from a triggering situation and take time for myself. He was also impressed that the Doctor and I had handled it so well.

"For some newer to a relationship, something like 'asking for time' can be a dealbreaker. No matter the situation, it often becomes the reason that people start to see things differently away from their partner and question the relationship and feelings altogether," he explained, tapping his pen on the pages of his notebook. "And you've done this more than once?"

I nodded, thinking back to the times we'd taken a break from each other. "I… I was usually the one to suggest it. The first time was…"

Cars clogged in the motorway.

Breath catching in my chest making me wheeze as a breathing mask was placed over my mouth and nose.

"…after a few trips. I wanted to think harder about traveling with him. I'd died once while there and wanted to get settled in the idea as well as…" I hesitated, having not explained anything about this yet to him. "One of the trips brought me within reach of a… drug."

"You've done drugs then," he noted simply, no hint of judgment in his gaze at all as he scribbled down a note.

I nodded. "There were times when I just… needed a break from things for a while. It rarely went well with drugs but for a moment, I felt…"

"Human?" He asked, a small quirk to his lips given we'd discussed my issues about humanity for a few sessions now.

"Yes," I admitted with a sigh. "I wanted to take the time to make sure that if anything obviously triggering was brought up on a trip I would be prepared to deal with it. I read through my… darker memoirs, went to a shooting range to get used to the sounds—"

"Flooding techniques," he hummed. "Numbing yourself to the trigger to prevent an overt reaction. Not the best way to deal with it."

"I know but… I wanted to go back. It was… fun."

"Live a thousand lives and eventually you run out of things to do," he replied knowingly. "What about the times after that?"

"Was stuck in 1914," I answered evenly, getting a wince from him. "I… had an episode, I guess. I had died and came back rather quickly, which isn't common but it causes issues. I was hallucinating and unable to tell whether I was in a war or not. Couldn't think straight and had at least one panic attack that his companion at the time walked me through. Afterward, I needed time to settle again."

"Yes, having post-traumatic stress disorder is hard to deal with even during peace, but to have to go back and be there again would have undoubtedly set back any forward progress you had made to keep a handle on things."

"The best part was, after a few hours I died again," I huffed, annoyed at that part. "Apparently, someone the Doctor knew had shown up and taken over the world for a year. No one remembers it because of some paradox thing but I was here trying to survive. Kept me in that soldier mindset for a while but… there was another immortal there. Someone who knew the Doctor."

"Another?" He questioned, surprised.

"UNIT might know him. He's running Torchwood. Captain Jack Harkness. Stayed with him for a few days. Got drunk and talked for the first time with someone who got it, who really understood… Even if he had only been immortal for a few hundred years, it was just… something I needed at the time."

"You found that you weren't alone. Wanting comfort and understanding from someone just like you is what makes humans human," he hummed, again prodding at my skewed definition of being human.

"Things were a bit… off after that though. We had some bad trips where… I nearly killed someone if the Doctor hadn't stopped me," I murmured, seeing his interested gaze but he understood enough about me now that he saw I wouldn't talk yet and just noted it down. "Then, someone who knew us from the future sacrificed herself to save us and… well, I didn't stop her so the Doctor was a bit upset. We argued about it and then I kept to myself for a while to see if or when he would decide to kick me out but he didn't. Came to his senses after a bit. So, the next time I left was… was when a companion of ours had to have her memories erased."

"For you to mourn," he concluded.

"For us both to mourn," I corrected. "He was distraught and knew her better than I did. They were close and I could tell he was struggling so I offered to give him space."

"Is he not very open about his feelings at all? I've not met him and have only heard stories but we both know how those can get mixed up."

"He's… like me but… softer? It's like what I said before about the issue with Amy. He's quick to smile, loud and boisterous, but when something happens that's upsetting he… tucks it away and hides it."

"Until he's alone."

I nodded. "I assume so, yes."

"Has he ever shared things—his emotions—with you? Despite the bouncing around time and space, from what I gather you two have been together as partners for quite a while and as friends for even longer. Has he confided in you, at all?"

I hesitated, thinking and struggling to find times when the Doctor had opened up to me. "Once," I muttered, shifting a bit. "That I can remember. I had… something important to bring up and in exchange, he gave up something important as well to give me the courage to speak about it. Not that he hasn't dropped hints about things or not been emotional around me."

"But you're finding it difficult to determine if he's shared things with you."

"We agreed," I defended uneasily. "We both agreed not to pry."

"To prevent pushing each other away," he said, seeing right through our agreement rather quickly and making me shrink back slightly. "The two of you are both very experienced and very emotional people. Finding one another was an opportunity for you both to get to know someone who understood you in ways that you haven't had before. You're also both people who have lost a lot. You feared losing this so you kept from hurting each other by not sharing what hurts the most and instead, separating yourselves when the temptation was too much."

I suddenly didn't like how this session was going but he was right on every account. For me, anyway. I couldn't say how the Doctor might feel about his deductions but I certainly felt exposed.

"And the only way you did share was when there was an equal exchange," Dr. Anderson concluded. "While it's not a terrible system, it is something that can be a rather big problem if you wish to continue your relationship or bring it up to the next level. Now, I'm not trying to judge you or cause you to second guess your feelings for the Doctor or his for you. However, I want you to consider the potential risks of what you're both doing currently. The past catches up with us all and if it did for either of you, how long would it take before you need answers?"

"I wouldn't—"

"The Doctor leads a long, dangerous life, Fallon. You both do, and at some point, something will happen that you will want answers for and he might not be willing to give them. You can't always take the time for an equal exchange and sooner or later, there will be conflicts because neither of you are giving the other the chance to truly understand and get to know each other." He sighed lightly, taking off his glasses and putting down his pen as the end of our session was nearing. "All I'm saying is that you both need to adjust how things are handled between you and your pasts before something comes up and you both get hurt."

I shifted uneasily, starting to get up to leave and gathering my coat. "How?" I murmured, drawing his solemn gaze. "How would I even start?"

"I don't know," he replied, joining me by the door and giving my elbow a comforting squeeze. "But if you manage that, I'm positive things will be infinitely easier for the both of you. Okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you."

He cracked a small smile. "Of course."