• dragged through the mire
and into the light
you did something selfish
but you did what was right
we started a fire
with the faintest of sparks
sprung from the friction
of two empty hearts
we swept out the ashes
and went on our way
from the deepest of red
to the lightest of gray. •
She keeps the sari wrapped tightly around her. It's her new corset and skirts. Tight and layered, she smoothes the fabric down with tanned hands. She has adapted to life in India. It's a good life, he thinks, the life she built for herself. If anyone could build so much from nothing, it's Reinette.
He asks her if she's happy here. He means with him, but he doesn't ask that.
It's been years. Twenty for him. Five for her. They grew up on opposite ends of the universe.
He was selfish. He forgot the time they spent together. Forgot all of it. All of it, in one split decision. He didn't want to remember the pain, which meant he would forget the joy. A split decision, to forget everything from the moment they arrived in San Francisco.
She chose to remember. He likes to think he'd have chosen the same, if he knew. He knows he wouldn't have.
He think she hates him a little for that. He knows he hates himself more than a little for it.
She tells him of course. Of course she is happy. He doesn't think she means with him.
He wonders what he was like, then. In the year he forgot. The year he gave up. Who was he when he was him? The him that he was, the one she still grieves for.
He saw a movie once, with their daughter. Petite Reinette, all spitfire and ambition, sat more patiently through the movie than her father did. It was a good movie, though. Random Harvest. A man who can not remember who he is falls in love, then forgets everything, and then falls in love with the same woman. She grieves for the man who didn't know who he was.
It's like that now, with Reinette. She cares for him, but she loved the man he forgot.
He reaches out to take her hand. She quietly, deftly moves back, tracing her hand along the opposite side of the console and remarking the differences in the ship. He never remembered her seeing it, but he doesn't question her memory.
Maybe she just needed to step aside.
He knows she wanted to move away.
He likes to think that if he knew it would be like this, the strangeness, the silent ache, that he'd have chosen the same as her, that he'd never have forgotten.
He knows he wouldn't have.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 405
Based on RP in relativespace with ambitious_woman
MY LOVE FOR THIS VERSE WILL NEVER DIE.