TM Topic 178 - Mummy
Tegan looked distraught. This was not, in truth, an unusual occurrence, and he almost attributed it to the shabby hotels rooms the four of them were sharing and got on with telling her it was supper time. Or perhaps the fact that they were in Australia but he could hardly do anything about that.
Yet there was something wistful in her expression, something familiar, and goodness knew they could use a bit of that. Familiarity.
As he walked further in he saw that her eyes were on the calendar pinned to the opposite wall of the chair she was sitting in, that her fingers were clenched in the skirt of that ridiculous uniform she couldn't seem to part with.
"Are you all right?" She started, even at his soft voice, and shot him a glare that faded in moments.
"I'm fine," she said tightly. He nodded, and turned towards the door - they could postpone for a bit, wait until she was feeling better…
"It's Mother's Day." His eyes widened, just slightly, and he looked back to meet her own.
"It's Mothers Day and instead of giving my mum flowers I'm trapped in an inn a hundred years before she was born."
"It's hardly an - " Her look cut him off. It wasn't pointed or cross or anything he was used to; it was almost desperate. For him to listen, to understand.
He faced her completely, and he remained silent as she continued.
"She likes white spider orchids. They're endangered, you know, so I used to make paper ones when I was little. I always put one in her gift, now, tied in the ribbon…" She had stopped holding his gaze early on; now she was staring at her hands, balled up violet.
He hesitated before stepping closer. Hesitance. Another difference. He wondered if she'd known him well enough to realise.
"Tegan…" Her head snapped up, and she gave him that defiant look that he could admire if she didn't use it on him all of the time.
He took a breath, and reached out a hand to lightly, so very lightly, cover hers.
"They're not extinct yet."
She didn't take it with her. She was in too much of a hurry to leave all of the worst behind.
"No! No, don't leave, not like this."
So when he passed her room, the door still open, his eyes would linger on a vase resting on the nightstand, a precious flower protected from the ravages of Time.
She wouldn't let him help her. He knew he could determine what the cause of the tumour was, find a healer, keep her safe, but she wouldn't let him help her.
"But really. No more aliens."
She said he taught her to appreciate life. That she was content. They laughed and smiled and none of it changes the fact that she was dying because of him.
"I don't want to leave you."
"You're not, I'm leaving you! Again!"
When she hugged him he kissed her on the cheek, and slipped flower into her hand with a letter wrapped around the stem.
The next Mother's Day would, he knew, be her last.
Yet there was something wistful in her expression, something familiar, and goodness knew they could use a bit of that. Familiarity.
As he walked further in he saw that her eyes were on the calendar pinned to the opposite wall of the chair she was sitting in, that her fingers were clenched in the skirt of that ridiculous uniform she couldn't seem to part with.
"Are you all right?" She started, even at his soft voice, and shot him a glare that faded in moments.
"I'm fine," she said tightly. He nodded, and turned towards the door - they could postpone for a bit, wait until she was feeling better…
"It's Mother's Day." His eyes widened, just slightly, and he looked back to meet her own.
"It's Mothers Day and instead of giving my mum flowers I'm trapped in an inn a hundred years before she was born."
"It's hardly an - " Her look cut him off. It wasn't pointed or cross or anything he was used to; it was almost desperate. For him to listen, to understand.
He faced her completely, and he remained silent as she continued.
"She likes white spider orchids. They're endangered, you know, so I used to make paper ones when I was little. I always put one in her gift, now, tied in the ribbon…" She had stopped holding his gaze early on; now she was staring at her hands, balled up violet.
He hesitated before stepping closer. Hesitance. Another difference. He wondered if she'd known him well enough to realise.
"Tegan…" Her head snapped up, and she gave him that defiant look that he could admire if she didn't use it on him all of the time.
He took a breath, and reached out a hand to lightly, so very lightly, cover hers.
"They're not extinct yet."
She didn't take it with her. She was in too much of a hurry to leave all of the worst behind.
"No! No, don't leave, not like this."
So when he passed her room, the door still open, his eyes would linger on a vase resting on the nightstand, a precious flower protected from the ravages of Time.
She wouldn't let him help her. He knew he could determine what the cause of the tumour was, find a healer, keep her safe, but she wouldn't let him help her.
"But really. No more aliens."
She said he taught her to appreciate life. That she was content. They laughed and smiled and none of it changes the fact that she was dying because of him.
"I don't want to leave you."
"You're not, I'm leaving you! Again!"
When she hugged him he kissed her on the cheek, and slipped flower into her hand with a letter wrapped around the stem.
The next Mother's Day would, he knew, be her last.