She’s sitting on the other side of the console, quietly applying a vivid pink to her toenails. He glances from under his lashes, pausing in his work, a slight smile curving the corner of his lips.
“Doctor?” she calls without looking at him.
“Yes, Rose?” He swallows, eyes never leaving her.
“You’re hallucinatin’ again.” Her eyes meeting his, soft and concerned.
“I know.” The words are quite, almost a sigh, hand rubbing his neck as he focuses back on the open panel.
“You shouldn’t do this to yourself.” He hears her move, bare feet rasping on the grating. “You need to get some sleep.” She’s right there, reaching for him, eyes pleading.
“I’m fine,” he mutters quickly, shifting to avoid her.
It’s a lie. It’s always a lie. They both know it. She doesn’t call him on it, though. Instead she cocks her head, eyebrows drawing together and hands going to her pockets, as she peers up at him.
“Do you think I’d want this?” Voice on the edge of tears.
“Don’t.” Shaking his head, back hitting a coral strut. “Don’t. That’s not fair,” he all but screams.
“I’m a figment of your imagination, Doctor.” Her eyes trained on the floor, “So really, you’re the one who isn’t bein’ fair.”
Eyes closing, a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him. Head shaking, as if to knock away her words.
“Please, Doctor, get some sleep. Take care of yourself. Do it for me.” Liquid brown, adamant and pleading.
He swallows. It’s too much. Too much without, and too much with. Always too much. He nods, sagging, heading to the hall. His bedroom door shifting to sit just outside the room.
Looking back at her. “Will you stay with me?”
“Where would I go?” Hands open before her, leaning towards him, “I’m part of you, Doctor. I can’t ever leave you.”
A nod, head dropping to his chest. She follows him into the room, settling next to him on the bed. So close, but not touching, as he finally lets his eyes droop.
He’s fairly certain this wasn’t what she had meant, when she’d promised him forever. A ghost though, he supposed, was better than nothing at all.