Sometimes she thinks she sees him.
Her neck twists wildly and her heart races; for a second her eyes have trouble focusing. It’s never him. It takes her a second until she remembers that it is never him, that it can never be him.
Sometimes they look nothing like him.
There are a lot of brown jackets and pinstripe suits in the world. Even parallel ones. But for a second she forgets and she fills with hope. Hope in everything that she has lost; hope that things will be better.
Sometimes she thinks she hears him.
Her mind drifts and wanders, and when she is close to sleep- whether it is at her desk, in her bed, or at the market, when she shops for the little she eats and is oh so tired- she things she can hear him. His laugh. The sound, yes sound, of his smile. And when she is close to sleep, in between the waking world and her dreams, she hears his voice whispering stories in her ear. They are stories of fantastical planets that she’s never seen, of beauty and truth and everything that should sooth her. In the morning she wakes up with pangs in an empty bed, a quiet house, with the world so in motion around her that it feels like she’s not moving at all. She cries and she doesn’t.
Sometimes she sees things.
Around corners, in a crowd. Sometimes she imagines that she’ll turn the corner and her real home will be there, waiting for her to just take out her key and come back. She silently says prayers that a hand will grab hers, to say run. To whisper her name.
A broken heart does not heal easily; a broken spirit sometimes doesn’t heal at all.
She is determined that this is not the way this will be. She will not be a shell. He once called her the defender of the Earth. He believed- believes-- in her. She wont let him down. When they meet again, he will be proud. So proud.
In between restless sleep one night, she found a thought lurking in her head. There is one name, one thing that keeps her fighting. And that is the Doctor.
She doesn’t know that he once said the same thing about her.