I know by the time you get this, I will have already returned from my adventures. And I know that, for you, I will have only been gone half a day. But it's been half a week for me, and it's night, and the TARDIS is still and dark. And it's lacking, but for your presence.
It's too quiet in here without you. I forgot how very quiet, indeed, it was, before you came along into my life and into my arms. The halls echo of your voice, of your presence. I can hear the life that you bring into this well worn, well loved, dusty old time ship, ringing in my ears.
The ticking of the clocks on the piano, and an old phonograph, pouring out a mournful torchy tune of love and loss, are the only sounds on board. Quiet. Too too quiet.
I stir my tea and read my book, but this isn't what I really want. I'd rather you be here, lighting up the room with your animated presence. I'd rather be in conversation with you, sharing stories of our lives, or debating some finer point of existence. Instead, I try to kill the long hours of the night with Tolstoy or Shakespeare or Kul'duk. I've even tried some Whitman, one of your favorite poets. Nothing works to distract me from the lack of your presence.
We always function better when there's 3. The TARDIS, a Companion and Me.
She misses you too. Noticeably. A lesser being wouldn't perceive it, but I know her like I know the curves of a long time lover... intimately. She's the first being I bonded with like this, and our bond will always be there. The fact that you both know and respect this raises your esteem in my eyes... as if it could be raised any higher than it already is.
But she's sad too, and I notice. The tea isn't quite right. Her thrum is a bit off. And there's a general air of sadness about her. The candles don't burn quite as bright, the shadows in the hallways seem to try to engulf more of the ship in gloom. Perhaps she misses you specifically, perhaps she's just sad because there's a lack of a Companion for me. She does know how much I need others.
And so I sit here and so I write to you the old fashioned way, on paper. I could send you a text message... I did hook up Universal Roaming on that mobile I picked up... but somehow this seems more elegant, more appropriate. More right.
People have written letters to their beloved in times of separation since the beginning of time, since people could write and send letters from far off places. This place, however, is a bit too far off for me to pop the letter in the post to you from. Not to mention the wrong time.
And so it is late, and the candles are burning low, and I sit here, my tea now cold, and I write to you. I tell you of how I feel the loss of your presence, of how I... she... we... are not the same without you, of how as much as my travels are part of my nature, I wish you could be by my side. As taking a Companion is as much part of me as my being a Time Lord.
In short, I miss you.
All my love to you, and all my love to long ago,
Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC, and we obviously don't have any right to them. Any and all crossover characters belong to their respective creators. Alas no one makes any money from this site, and it's all done out of love for a cheap-looking sci-fi show. All fics are property of their individual authors. Archival at this site should not be taken to constitute automatic archive rights elsewhere, and authors should be contacted individually to arrange further archiving. Despite occasional claims otherwise, The Blessed St Lalla Ward is not officially recognised by the Catholic Church. Yet. |
Script for this archive provided by eFiction. Contact our archivists at email@example.com. Please read our Terms of Service and Submission Guidelines.