Work Text:
It’s a wall.
It looks like any other
ordinary
wall. Under his hands
it’s smooth,
a little colder than he,
expects, completely
uninteresting.
It’s just a wall.
But in his mind it’s become
an insurmountable barrier,
klaxons and
flashing lights and
eye searing signs–
DANGER
and
DO NOT CROSS
and
KEEP OUT UNDER PENALTY
OF DEATH.
*
She wants to tear it down
with her bare hands.
She knows he’s not really
on the other side of it;
it’s just a wall, in a building,
and he’s beside a wall
in another building entirely.
In another universe.
Could she punch a hole
through time and space
and universes too? Things
would go wrong, she knows it,
but she doesn’t care, not
right now. And besides,
They always fix it when things
go wrong.
Right?
*
He should have told her.
There had been so many
chances, but every time he
almost
spoken the words
he’d chickened out–
cracked a joke
or yelled Run!
just to see her laugh
or asked where
she wanted to go next.
He’s loved her almost
since the beginning.
Running from shop dummies,
what a start they’d had.
He should have told her back then,
back when he wore leather
and jumpers and grinned
that silly grin.
He’s such a coward.
She could have heard him say it
again and again,
in two voices.
I love you, Rose Tyler.
I love you.
Fantastic.
*
She whispers through her tears
as she pounds on the wall.
I love you. I love you.
Shoulda said it before.
Sorry. I’m sorry.
I love you, Doctor.
I love you.
I–
*
They’ve been together so long, ever since she decided to steal herself a Time Lord and see the universe. They know each other without speaking, and when he comes back without his human, his pink and yellow girl, she knows from his first step that he is lost. Broken.
Empty.
It’s been weeks. She keeps them in the Vortex; he’s not in any shape for an adventure. She understands when he yells, when he throws things, when he storms and rages. She keeps him from damaging himself–or her–too badly. She leaves food out for him, sometimes, when he forgets to eat. It doesn’t always work, but she does her best.
And when he falls into silence, into long periods of sleep or staring at nothing at all, she understands that, too.
Soon she’ll nudge him towards the crack she found; he needs to find a way to talk to his Rose, at least. But not yet. For now she hums into his silences. She gives him time, and space, to heal.