Her hand was in his, her eyes bright with promise and something like saddness as she showed him the fireplace from her bedroom as a child. It was undamaged, she hoped, as it was all that was left for him, that it might still work.
"The link is basically physical, and it's still physically here."**
He'd rapped on the side of the fireplace, even given it a few tests with the sonic screwdriver, but no avail. Who was he kidding? He was grasping at straws, trapped in a time that didn't understand him, that he would never truly understand. Oh, well, he could always catch a ride with his fourth incarnation in the late 1850s, he had no doubt that he would help himself out when he needed it.
The suitcases, procured some time after he'd lost Reinette in the crowds of the ballroom, bit into the palms of his hands as he walked. They were stuffed with useful parts from the clockwork men, things he could use in the future, for...whatever it was he tried to do with himself in the future. He had no money, no job, no place to go. He supposed, really, that he could've asked Louis for a place to stay, saving the King's mistress must've been high on someone's list somewhere. No, no. He was a self-made man by trade, and the Doctor wasn't about to live off a soon-to-be-dispatched monarch's charity.
Pink dotted the dark sky, just above the edge of Versailles, which was slowly beginning to diminish into the distance. What time was it? 6 o'clock? Something along those lines? Balls started particularly late, so it shouldn't have been surprising that it was morning already. He wondered if people were still dancing in the hall. Dancing. He was getting a bit melencholy at this hour.
There was also the somewhat weighing sense of loss on his shoulders, dragging him a bit down. He'd saved Reinette, his sole intent, but lost a lot of himself in the process. The TARDIS, his freedom, Rose and Mickey. Everything gone, all to save the life of one woman, one woman he'd only known for a few hours.
He would do it again in a heartbeat.