Might tell you tonight [open to brazen_hearts]
((Following this))
Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered -- well, that's all very well and good, but where's the instruction manual for pouring out one's heart? Were Sarah in the state of mind to remember she'd ever done so, she'd gladly agree to take on a labyrinth and the Goblin King himself all over again than be faced with this.
The Doctor.
How could her life have become so wrapped up in someone so...beige? So unassuming? Had he not swept her into the storm of his life she would have paid him no heed and been God knows where now; doubtless leading the same old dull existence. Instead he'd lifted the curtain to show her not the man behind, but the magic that made Oz and the whole universe a thing to be revered and explored. He'd swept her into a fairytale that encompassed all of time and space, and had died three times over and still missed her. One day he's going to dematerialize out of her life. She doesn't know when, but she has to tell him before. She's not sure he's ever realized just how much he's saved her.
But when she pushes through the outer doors into the console room, half breathless and full of apprehension and determination and feelings she doesn't have a name for, her courage vanishes like so much water through her fingers. The Doctor is bent innocently enough over the console, but he might as well be a Dalek battle fleet for the way her guts knot in fear.
Surely she was about to say something. Or...do anything other than stand stupidly with the door still open behind her.
Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered -- well, that's all very well and good, but where's the instruction manual for pouring out one's heart? Were Sarah in the state of mind to remember she'd ever done so, she'd gladly agree to take on a labyrinth and the Goblin King himself all over again than be faced with this.
The Doctor.
How could her life have become so wrapped up in someone so...beige? So unassuming? Had he not swept her into the storm of his life she would have paid him no heed and been God knows where now; doubtless leading the same old dull existence. Instead he'd lifted the curtain to show her not the man behind, but the magic that made Oz and the whole universe a thing to be revered and explored. He'd swept her into a fairytale that encompassed all of time and space, and had died three times over and still missed her. One day he's going to dematerialize out of her life. She doesn't know when, but she has to tell him before. She's not sure he's ever realized just how much he's saved her.
But when she pushes through the outer doors into the console room, half breathless and full of apprehension and determination and feelings she doesn't have a name for, her courage vanishes like so much water through her fingers. The Doctor is bent innocently enough over the console, but he might as well be a Dalek battle fleet for the way her guts knot in fear.
Surely she was about to say something. Or...do anything other than stand stupidly with the door still open behind her.