008 - [Written] - One cold morning
[She knows something's wrong from the moment she wakes up. Because the luxurious satin and silk she wakes up in, pillows piled high all around her, is nothing like her bed on the TARDIS. That familiar hum she's gotten used to again and the faint, constant vibration of a living ship is gone, too.
It's silent, and she's too cold even under her blankets.
She thinks--hopes--it's a trick of the castle, though, so she goes down to the yard where the Doctor insisted on keeping the TARDIS. When she doesn't find it, she treks all the way up to the floor with the other TARDISes, in case he moved and dropped her off on the the way.
She doesn't need to, but she tracks down the room he once identified as 'his' in the castle anyway.
By the time she's sitting in her room again, staring down at the journal and the entries in it, it's afternoon. Gabi mewls at her from the foot of the bed, where Rose is currently sitting, knees to her chin, but whether it's a cry for attention or of empathy it...doesn't really matter, does it?
After awhile, she reaches out for the pen at the night-stand. She doesn't trust her voice or her resolve to speak, but the people who know him here and the friends he's made deserve to know, so she'll write it at least.]
The Doctor's gone.
[Her handwriting is concise and firm, perfect except for the smudge when her hand trembled at the end. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. The Doctor was still here--his future, what he'd return home to become--and yet...he's still the only Doctor she really remembers, so it feels like he isn't.
And now she has the memories of a man who will never remember giving her them in the first place. She didn't know what to do about that.]
It's silent, and she's too cold even under her blankets.
She thinks--hopes--it's a trick of the castle, though, so she goes down to the yard where the Doctor insisted on keeping the TARDIS. When she doesn't find it, she treks all the way up to the floor with the other TARDISes, in case he moved and dropped her off on the the way.
She doesn't need to, but she tracks down the room he once identified as 'his' in the castle anyway.
By the time she's sitting in her room again, staring down at the journal and the entries in it, it's afternoon. Gabi mewls at her from the foot of the bed, where Rose is currently sitting, knees to her chin, but whether it's a cry for attention or of empathy it...doesn't really matter, does it?
After awhile, she reaches out for the pen at the night-stand. She doesn't trust her voice or her resolve to speak, but the people who know him here and the friends he's made deserve to know, so she'll write it at least.]
The Doctor's gone.
[Her handwriting is concise and firm, perfect except for the smudge when her hand trembled at the end. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. The Doctor was still here--his future, what he'd return home to become--and yet...he's still the only Doctor she really remembers, so it feels like he isn't.
And now she has the memories of a man who will never remember giving her them in the first place. She didn't know what to do about that.]