Title: Lost
Author: Mary (
stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Rebekah (
mirimeneume)
Rating: All ages
Genre: Angst, AU
Word Count: 452
Characters: Ten
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: The Doctor can't let go.
A/N: Based on the song "What If This Storm Ends?" by Snow Patrol.
The Doctor struggled out of the woods, the wind whipping the rain against him so hard it stung his skin.
The planet was dying, beyond the Doctor's help, and he had to leave before he went down with it.
Trouble was, it was so dark and the rain was so heavy that the Doctor had quickly become disoriented. He wasn't sure where the TARDIS was, or even where he was.
Thunder rumbled and the Doctor looked up, instantly regretting it. He ducked his head, leaning against a tree, and shut his eyes tight against the rain and wind. His chest heaved as he breathed, sucking in air through his clenched teeth.
She'd told him not to come, had said it was a mistake, but he'd been unable to resist and now here he was, very nearly stranded.
He moved away from the tree now and stepped fully out of the forest.
Lightning flashed suddenly and the Doctor looked up. There was another flash and he saw the outline of the TARDIS, sitting serenely on the top of a small rise.
The flashing was almost constant now and the Doctor could see her standing beside the TARDIS, illuminated by the lightning. She was waiting for him, her golden hair shining like a halo, her entire body lit up like a lone star for him to follow.
He started towards the TARDIS, his hearts lighter now, knowing he could make it, knowing she was there waiting for him.
He reached the doors finally, jamming his key in the lock and hurrying inside.
The TARDIS hummed peacefully and he could see her standing beside the console, smiling softly at him.
He approached her, holding his hand out to her but as he reached her she faded from sight, like she always did.
The Doctor closed his eyes, clenching his outstretched hand into a fist, feeling his hearts breaking all over again.
He always wondered when would be the last time he saw her, when she would finally stop appearing before him.
A small part of him wanted it to end, wanted the pain he felt every time he saw her to go away. The bigger part of him held on to her image, relished these moments that he saw her. He felt that if the visions stopped, if he finally let her go, it would be like losing her all over again and he didn't know if he could handle that.
So he held on to her memory, living in the distant echo of her voice, her laugh, even her silence, and she continued to appear to him, slowly driving him mad with the constant reminder of all he'd lost.
His Rose, his beautiful Rose.