Her chin settles against the groove of his shoulder as fingers curl into the thick outer fabric of the Time Lord’s coat. A deep breath being drawn in, inhaling his mixture of familiar scents she’s never been able to quite name — lids slipping shut as a relieved sigh reverberates against the Doctor’s form. He’s here —- back home in one physical piece and that’s all that matters —- for a few blissful seconds. It’s when those dreaded words are uttered that reality snaps back into focus, unease manifesting in the form of a knot between narrow shoulders.
“I — I..”
I know you didn’t —— couldn’t.
The statement sits on the tip of her tongue; Waiting to be said, but the vampire can’t bring herself to —- so the words dissolve into nothingness, leaving behind a foul taste in it’s wake. Defeat was obvious from the moment the door was swung open. However, Abriella thinks didn’t would imply that he didn’t even t r y but she knows, better than anyone at this point, that that simply isn’t true. He fought the hard fight, and would’ve come out battered and shell-shocked no matter what. Losing an entire planet just added fuel to the fire, or bleakness to the darkness in his case.
The arch used to achieve tiptoes removes itself from her step as they pull apart, the blonde longer teetering to and fro as the heels of bare feet make contact with concrete again, steadying oneself again. A petty lump that’s formed in her throat is swallowed as worry etches across features — aging the usually youthful female by at least four decades. Eventually a half-step is taken, one arm still stubbornly wrapped around the male’s center. Some kind of feeble attempt at trying to move as one cohesive unit rather than two separate entities, probably, as the digits upon her free hand reach for the door knob.
“Lets get you inside.
No use in attracting the neighbours’ attention.”
Not to say that the loud groaning of the TARDIS landing already hasn’t gotten peeked their interest. They happen to be quite the source of entertainment for the elderly tenants, apparently.
Nothing is mumbled in response to Abriella’s words; the phrases that spill so lovingly from her lips are met entirely with silence. There’s nothing left he wants to say — no, the Doctor, for the first time in a long time (has he set a new record?) merely just wants to lay down and drown it all out. This is a man, of course, who has done and seen and felt and heard some of the most terrible things and walked away, expressionless. He hates it — the effect that this has on him. Being strong and able and deft is all he had and now, he’s not even sure if he has that. The inability to press pause on the wars of other planets has sent him on a downwards spiral that’s only quickening by the second.
He stumbles through the door of the place he, on occasion, calls home and feels as though he’s misplaced his heart. With aching bones and a clouded mind, the Doctor feels heartless in every sense of the word. A coward is what he is; always has been. Running away from responsibilities and fleeing when something doesn’t go quite right. The daft old man that stole a box and ran away hasn’t ever stopped running and, most likely, never will.
He arrives in the blink of an eye and disappears in a flash; fast enough to convince someone that none of it ever truly happened — that, perhaps, it’s all been a dream. The Time Lord feels that way now, as he slumps down to the floor, knees connecting with it before his fumbling hands join them. Soon enough, he’s laying stomach down on the floor of the room, right cheek pressing against the ground. If it’s possible, he’d very much like to stay this way for as long as he can get away with it.
The words aren’t stated, but the option for her to join him is left hanging in the air.
When everything remains still for a moment, he flips over so his back is to the ground; the pace of his breath is evident with the rise and fall of his chest. His gaze remains at the ceiling, but his right hand twitches ever so slightly. All the renegade longs for now is a hand to hold. After all, her mere presence is enough to stop him from falling apart. But holding her hand in his like they’ve done so many times in the past may just stop him from spiralling further downwards.
❝ When you look at me —
what is it that you see? ❞
Okay, two hundred pages. She could do this, yeah, she could totally do this. Two hundred pages for that test tomorrow. She’d gotten the first hundred down. All about the genetic structure of DNA and the different components used in DNA replication. Not to hard but everything past that. Heredity and Genetic Diseases; much harder things. Well that is if she’d stayed awake for any of that stuff. Ahahaha. That was a right laugh. The interior of the library was so much warmer than the outer weather of the Oxford area. The southern belle wasn’t used to the weather and it had been three months.
Three months of this eternal winter and she was shivering in her oversized sweaters and snow boots. However, the warmth was too inviting look of her book and the swirling heat around her had lead her to the decision that a nap might not be so bad after all.
The moment her head hit the book (pillow) she was out. Heavy lids slipping closed, arms curled around in a sort of cocooning shape. Lips parted and a soft snore resounded as she breathed out. Within minutes she was out, dreaming of Adenine, Guanine, Cytosine, and Thymine.
What seemed like eons later she heard her name at the back of her mind.
❝ Lizzie. ❞
A groan. Probably a wordless go away for any student who had sought her out for help. They were always looking to her for help. She didn’t have all the answers, and she was far from the perfect student sos he wasn’t sure why… Next something akin to a whimper followed,
❝ Page 230 to 552. DNA and Heredity…. ❞
It was almost a mumble but they should have heard it. They were still there though. She could feel their presence, how awesome, it was probably time to wake up anyways… Opening one eye Lizzie raised her head just a little bit so that she could see who it was.
❝ DOCTOR! Where have you been?!❞
Who said that screaming in a near empty library wasn’t allowed? She stood up with a start knocking the chair backwards so that she could climb over the one beside her, and throwing her arms around his shoulders. It took a bit of a tip-toe throw, but she made it work.
Calculating eyes examined the incoherent girl merely just waking up from her “study session”, if it could even be called that. Something about DNA tumbled from her lips, but he barely caught it. He was preoccupied with the act of searching for the words to explain the entirety of the situation to her properly. Or, at least, he was wrapped up in his own reverie until she practically screamed his name to the mountain tops and clung to him for dear life. Her queries of where he’d been made him think for a second: perhaps he’d disappeared longer than he’d originally planned. Hurriedly, he scanned his mind for any response that wouldn’t sound particularly ridiculous and found one — not perfect, but it’d have to do — allowing it to depart from his lips in a not-so-graceful way.
❝ Space, planets — you know. The usual. ❞
The Doctor inwardly winced at how unlike him the statement that just slipped from his lips was; however, he soon recovered from it by returning the embrace. Warmth virtually radiated from the Time Lord as he grinned into the embrace. Oh, how he’d missed her: from her hair, to her voice, to her perfume. He remained like that for a moment or two before he pulled away from the hug, urging his arms to move downwards and away from the young woman before him. An adept hand dived into his coat pocket, fishing for the key he’d grown to be so familiar with over the years ; the key that had been handed out time and time again to those he deemed worthy.
And, oh, there’d been many.
It took him a moment to realise that maybe — just maybe — starting with such an abrupt subject wasn’t exactly ‘of the norm’. Promptly, the words flew out at him and he spoke once more, this time with more hospitality.
❝ How are you? How — how have you been? Have I been away for a long time again? ❞
His head marginally swayed to the left as he awaited her response, the most affable of smiles tugging at his lips. The renegade would be lying to himself if ever he said he didn’t miss this from time to time (or, you could say, all the time). Having someone as a part-time companion was different, to say the least. Sure, eventually the Ponds grew to be the same, but after years and years (and years) of time travel, you grow used to someone either constantly being by your side or — a form of such.
Today, he supposed, was the day that fact changed.
❝ Listen, Lizzie — there’s something that I want to offer you. You don’t have to take it, but. It would be — nice. If you did. ❞
Once more, his hand shuffled about in his coat pocket, before the key he was so well acquainted with made itself known between the two. His palm was held out, flat, the silver of the key reflecting off of the light in the library and, probably, into someone else’s eyes. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter now; in that moment, it was merely the two of them who existed. The smile on his face grew an inch as his gaze inched upwards to meet hers.
❝ Well? ❞
Send me one of the follow.[ Part one ]
"And their you go again. . "
"And you must be the new girl/boy here."
"Ain’t new here, are you?"
"Are you alright?"
"Ain’t bit ?"
"Are you fucking kiddin’ me?"
"Arms in the air!"
"Be right there."
"Beautiful . ."
"Back stabbing son of a btich!"
"Bring me ___."
"Bow down to me you fool."
"Believe you? yeah right."
"But . . "
"But i love you . . "
"Because of you i’m ___"
"Can’t do it. ."
"Can’t you see i tried?"
"Can’t believe you would do that . . "
"Could you tell me where i am?"
"Can’t save me, so don’t try."
"Can’t or won’t?"
"Don’t do that!"
"Don’t go . . "
"Don’t play games with me."
"Don’t do anything stupid while am gone."
"Do you want me to punch you?"
"Do you want to live or die?!"
"Don’t you say that, not you."
"Enough of your bullshit."
"Energetic are we?"
"Forget you then."
"Fight or we die."
"Forgive you? ha . . never."
Having the upper hand in these sorts of situations is a rarity for Abriella, she’s not one for regularly playing mind games, so tthe mere fact results in giddiness —- a grin saturated in smugness upon plush tiers. But the cards aren’t in her favour very long, sadly. With the Doctor’s bewilderment quickly ridden of, and replaced with something I can only describe as a look caught between mischievousness and empathic, the blonde’s self-satisfaction begins to wane. Slowly at first, but with each nearing footfall, it all but dismisses itself ; Leaving her — in laymen’s terms — at wits end when he’s within mere centimeters again.
The lack of space makes Abriella want to scuttle backwards, to create a silent boundary that shouldn’t be imposed, but no such actions are taken. Feet remain planted in place, stock still, she attempts (keyword here) to remain indifferent towards his advantages — save a mirroring stolen glance toward familiar lips. Of course the ache to just be done with their impromptu game is there. A—-nd the thought of how easily she could close the measly gap between them does occur — and linger — but he’s retched himself away before it could even possibly be acted upon.
Dulcet hues cast themselves downwards, not quite sure what to do in a situation that’s obviously controlled by opposing forces, silently thanking any number of religious beings that the situation is hopefully over and done with.
Oh, if only she hadn’t looked up.
Trepidation arises at the sight laid out before her, brows creasing together and anxiety bubbling upwards. The hurt filled words are just the icing on the cake that feels more like a physical blow to the stomach than anything else. A half-step is lurched forward, the natural need to comfort the man she’s fallen so head over heels in love with nearly overriding every other thought. A hand instinctively moves — beginning reaching out for him — before she freezes, and the limb drops silently.
It’s already killing Abri (again, hah) to even mull over such
a blasphemous notion, but this is all just a game — isn’t it?
“I … I did.”
❝ Well then.
I’m sorry I can’t
say the same for
It’s undoubtedly sickening the kick he gets out of this. The cruelty that sprouts from his words is terribly intentional and it takes all of his will not to break his guise. Masquerading around with the mannerisms of his previous buoyant self is undeniably heartless and he can see it stirring up a storm of uncertainty in her mind, just by the she freezes and allows her inclined arms to drop. There’s a tug at his heartstrings for a moment, and he sinks into the smallest of reveries for a second (or three). He finds himself, even now, even whilst claiming to be uncaring, craving even the most insignificant of her touches. He hates it — whatever he’s become; the vampire before him has unravelled the darkest creases of his heart and planted flowers there. The Time Lord is drowning in her and he wonders, for a split second, whether she’s even aware.
Regardless, he inwardly waves away the impromptu undesirable thoughts and focuses more on the situation at hand; the game they’re playing is far more important than any absurd feelings that this girl has triggered. He plans to ignore any more that arise; push them away to the back of his mind until she’s gone. Then, he can sulk all he likes, he supposes. For now, he meets her eyes with a sick kind of delicacy in his own, she’d be a fool to believe the expression for more than a few seconds, but isn’t that precisely what they are? — Were? Two fools seeking something more.
❝ As disorienting as it may have been
afterwards, I’d never want to
Aged eyes encapsulate theoretical distance as the Doctor glances away and downwards, further exploring his new guise. It’s interesting to pretend to be his former psyche — as if he’s looking at himself from someone else’s point of view, entirely. Which, in a sense, is true: there are little to no similarities between his previous self and the one now devoured by gloom, apart from the mere fact that they look similar. And, even then, there are slight shifts in appearance.
To switch from cruel to damaged puppy in a matter of seconds is easier than one may expect, and the renegade turns his back on Abri (again, hah). He moves further into the study; deeper, burying himself in the memory of their past antics (if you will). He wonders, for a moment, if there’s much more he can say to add to the torment, but instead, a mere few more words form before his eyes and, slowly but surely, they leave his lips.
❝ Please, I — I’d like to be left alone.
I suggest you leave if it’s the room that’s
causing you discomfort. ❞
[ And, no, she hasn’t missed the irony in that. Still, it’s poor form. ]
May god have mercy on my soul.
Why does it matter? We have plenty of time.
[ Which, technically speaking, they do. After all, this is a Time Lord speaking. ]