[Theta is no more looking at her than she is at him. His eyes are fixed on the far wall, seeing a place much more distant. He saw her again, standing in the sunlight and speaking to him. She had been beautiful outside but it had been more than that.]
[The blanket is tucked around her shoulders, a pull to bring his mind back and to keep the barrier between them. His touch telepathy is too easy to use, a cruel thing in this situation.]
No. She left me. Now close your eyes, Rose Tyler. Go to sleep. It will all be better when you wake up. Shhh.
[And if he had his way, this would all seem like a dream to her when she woke up. Half-remembered and hazy.]
[Fitful as it may become, she is drifting off. Much as she wishes to stay awake and take the opportunity of having him here to talk to him about things ... She can't. She's exhausted from not sleeping more than a few hours the past few days, and staying awake is ... not looking all that possible.
Still, she clutches his hand, thumb moving once, twice, thrice, to stroke against his knuckles. Twice more and she stops, murmuring something unintelligible against her 'pillow'. It would be hazy, it would be half remembered. But she would remember it. That was the point. Even if she couldn't comprehend how she, this unknown version of herself, would leave him. Why? How could she do something like that?
But those are thoughts that she'll have to deal with later. At least this time, she's so heavily fallen asleep, that she won't have any worry for dreaming unsettling dreams.]
[He stays there for a time, fingers straying down to her hair to draw it through then let it fall. It's as much as he allows himself. She trusts him and is clearly drunk. One last pass and he draws back that straying hand.]
[A small touch to her forehead, and he tries to do whatever his weak telepathy will allow to soften and blur the memories of tonight. Or help the process. He can't ruin the life she's found here.]
[In the quiet of her room, he speaks three small words, ones that have defined him since he was brought into being.]
I love you.
[Easing himself out from under her by degrees, he laid her on a soft pillow. Maybe she would think she imagined him being there, another ghost from the past. A last tuck of the blanket, and Theta is slipping out as quietly as he could. Tomorrow. Well, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, as Shakespeare said.]
[It's a cold and lonely walk home, remembering where the warmth of her laid against him.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-05-15 04:54 am (UTC)[The blanket is tucked around her shoulders, a pull to bring his mind back and to keep the barrier between them. His touch telepathy is too easy to use, a cruel thing in this situation.]
No. She left me. Now close your eyes, Rose Tyler. Go to sleep. It will all be better when you wake up. Shhh.
[And if he had his way, this would all seem like a dream to her when she woke up. Half-remembered and hazy.]
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Date: 2013-05-15 05:16 am (UTC)Still, she clutches his hand, thumb moving once, twice, thrice, to stroke against his knuckles. Twice more and she stops, murmuring something unintelligible against her 'pillow'. It would be hazy, it would be half remembered. But she would remember it. That was the point. Even if she couldn't comprehend how she, this unknown version of herself, would leave him. Why? How could she do something like that?
But those are thoughts that she'll have to deal with later. At least this time, she's so heavily fallen asleep, that she won't have any worry for dreaming unsettling dreams.]
action
Date: 2013-05-15 05:25 am (UTC)[A small touch to her forehead, and he tries to do whatever his weak telepathy will allow to soften and blur the memories of tonight. Or help the process. He can't ruin the life she's found here.]
[In the quiet of her room, he speaks three small words, ones that have defined him since he was brought into being.]
I love you.
[Easing himself out from under her by degrees, he laid her on a soft pillow. Maybe she would think she imagined him being there, another ghost from the past. A last tuck of the blanket, and Theta is slipping out as quietly as he could. Tomorrow. Well, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, as Shakespeare said.]
[It's a cold and lonely walk home, remembering where the warmth of her laid against him.]