Mar. 27th, 2009

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'Verse: This is, of course, my AU!Doctor, who still wears Nine's clothes, has the drums, etc. The nice thing about AU? I can take canon's characters and have 'em meet Ten under different circumstances.
Words: 630.
Notes: What the hell am I doing writing a Doctor bit? Avoiding writing my original stuff, that's what. I SEE WHUT I'M DOING THAR. And WARNING FOR CHARACTER DEATH. Of course.

He is at her side when she dies. She has been dying for days—both of them have known this, though they have not said the words. She is old, the doctors—the medical doctors, the doctors of one subject, the doctors whose expertise is important right now—have told him. Organs only last so long. The body only lasts so long.

She smiles at him, lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes, even now, when he feels the pulse in her hand—a hand scarred from a lifetime spent digging in the past—falter and waver, double-beat and return.

Her hair has gone gray and her body small, too small in the hospice bed, and the last time he saw her, three of his months ago, she was young and straightbacked and full.

She won't give him any details, tell him if it's been worth it, if he kept coming to her, if the last time he saw her they'd parted on good terms or bad. It doesn't matter, he tells himself, because he's here now, and whatever mistakes he makes or has made, they're in the past/the future and this moment is their moment, the only time he will ever watch her die. He takes some comfort in that. She dies of old age, and she dies now, and every time he runs with her, after this, she will live.

He's young, she says. Not so young, he tells her. )


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