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Better Than Everything In the Sky by rollingstone [Reviews - 3]  Author's Notes: A little piece for queenofhearts's birthday. | |
"There are too many...voids in the sky tonight. Yes, voids. That's the only word for it," he murmured, by way of introduction, slipping his defrosting, but perpetually chilled body under the blankets to rest against her skin.
"Voids?" Sarah mumbled, confused and groggy. She might have been annoyed, but given who the intruder was, she found all she could manage at present was a gentle realignment of her body so their limbs were interlocked. Their disparate temperatures were silently succumbing to myths of the marriage of fire and ice, the union that endures because it struggled to exist more than any other.
The Doctor nodded; having shed his Edwardian garb, and absently tossing his cravat on a distant chair, he finally tugged on Sarah gently until she was huddled on his chest. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing indicated to him that she was, for the time being, awake.
And one thing the Doctor knew with certainty was the symphony of Sarah's life. He felt sure the slight rise of her torso as air was continuously drawn within and renewed as essential breath could strengthen him enough to be a ghost among the vibrant births between galaxies and novas. There were so many proud parents out there, with offspring that people would come to know as moons; there were, alternately, so many lonely planets that had lost their suns.
The Doctor was ever aware of the overwhelming rapture and sorrow of the twinkling lights above.
He needed this -- but specifically, this human -- to endure such truths. To remember that he was not as alone as he often felt he was.
Just one heartbeat. Reasonable sustenance.
"The sky used to be so cluttered with stars. It seems...emptier now," he whispered into her hair, dropping a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.
He heard it wherever he roamed.
"But it won't stay that way forever," Sarah responded, drowsily.
It was his favorite sound.
"No. Few things do," his arms tightened around her. Despite his belief to the contrary, he added quietly, "Except this. Us."
Sarah turned her head slightly to glance up at him, her eyes slightly furrowed in suspicion. "Not brooding?"
The Doctor chuckled, shaking his velveted curls against her pillows and pulling her closer so he could rest his chin atop her head. "Why would I? I've got my Sarah Jane to keep me warm now."
"Good," was her succinct reply as she allowed her eyes to close again. The Doctor pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her forehead, and adjusted the blankets so that she was satisfactorily covered.
In the pause between her heartbeats, there would be the gentle thump of his own.
And such were his memories, days and months and centuries hence: time as the pulsing of blood.
fin.
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