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The Eighth Doctor ([personal profile] beforethewar) wrote2014-03-15 09:03 pm
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Time Alone (Night 416)

Normally, Eight actually liked Asgard, and didn't mind being stuck in one place. If he could handle being on Orbis for six hundred years, he could manage a handful of months or years in this place. Normally. At times like this, however, he wanted to fly. He wanted all of this long behind him as he shoots through the Vortex, looking for something -- anything -- to distract him from his thoughts. Stuck in one place and time had left his pain to gain startling clarity and become a thing of sharp, jagged edges that stuck in his throat and tore him apart from the inside.

If he couldn't fly away, he decided, the next best thing he could do was leave the city. He felt a pang of guilt at leaving in the dark the morning to avoid everyone, but he knew that he'd have to go without anyone knowing or else he'd get another round of hugs and sympathy. Which normally wasn't so bad, but after the third time, when he knew that it was most likely he'd never see her again, he just needed to be alone. Sad eyes and tea were not going to help him be able to move on. His dear friends meant well, but he knew he'd let them take care of him and would end up sinking into his pain until he couldn't find his way out again. He had to be alone. He needed to have the time to learn how to lock it away, or he'd drown.

The inn Eight had picked was out on the outskirts of town, away from the central market area and the press of the crowds. It was dark again by the time he made it into Utgard, and he happily tossed his bag aside and sank bonelessly onto the bed. He dipped his hand into the pocket of his blue leather jacket and his fingers curled around a small circle of metal. Fishing out Charley's engagement ring, he held it in front of him, fingertips brushing over the intricate design on the band and the small, clear stone. Images swam in front of his mind's eye; a beautifully snowy night, the trees in the park sparkling with fairy lights along the path, the explosion of fireworks sparkling in Charley's eyes, happy tears falling down her cheeks as he asked her to be his wife. Everything had been beautiful and perfect.



And then, it all dissipated like mist and his fist curled loosely around the little ring. All gone. All gone. He'd tried to make everything perfect for the both of them, but the universe had another plan. Heartache overwhelmed him and he buried his face into his free hand, letting everything out. Nobody could see his tears. Nobody had to fix them and make them stop. They simply flowed from him, painful sobs shaking him until he was absolutely exhausted and had no more tears to shed.

Eight tucked the ring back in his pocket and stood, shedding his clothing and leaving a disorderly trail of garments on the way to the bathroom. A long soak in the bath did plenty to ease the stiffness and travel dirt, but it did little to sooth his mind. Not that he expected it to. Not on the first night. He ran his hand through his damp curls and trudged over to the window in his towel, leaving wet footprints along the way. The weather outside was perfect for his mood; cold and grey with fat raindrops splashing onto the equally cold and grey cobblestones below. When he looked up again, the clouds parted just enough to show the stars and silver moonlight beyond.

"Goodbye, Charley," he murmured quietly, and turned away back to his bed.