The house was silent at night. It always seemed so silent at night. There was a dull white noise buzzing in his ear---but that could easily have been the wine he'd been consuming.
He lay on the floor of Catherine's living room for a long while, one hand holding a large, nearly-empty glass of red wine, the other swaying a hand in time to the music that he had drifting quietly from one of the CD players.
The classic waltz. Early European. The dance considered far too risqué and too "close" for the comforts of the upper-class citizens. He'd danced it with Reinette, of course. The Yew Ball. Oooooh, so very long ago.
Things changed. Shifted. Moved. Swirled around the universe like the wine in his stomach.
He needed to have a reason to drink. Not just 'everything'. It was a pathetic excuse, and held no water in comparison to everything that the others had to deal with. It felt like nothing in comparison. He was a very small pebble in a very big beach.
No raindrop blames itself for the flood. But, he figured, that was really dependant on the size of the flood.
His hand sliced small circles out of the air in time to the music. Did his other self have moments like this? Complete weakness? Just giving into indulgences like alcohol and sloth? Of just...forgetting by absorbing oneself with drunkenness and foolish thoughts?
Oh, of course he did. He'd saved him more than once from a situation like that.
Everything was...it was so foolish. And the alcohol was only making it worse. The depressant sliding through his veins was just deepening the feelings of complete and utter failure. The universe wasn't saved. They were all still pulled from their homes, from their worlds.
He heard a chuckle. A female voice.
He failed to see the humor in this situation.
"Well, it is a rather humorous situation."
Was that person reading his mind?
"No, you're talking out loud."
The Doctor blinked and looked up into the familiar face of the house's owner, one eyebrow raised and looking rather unimpressed.
"You're laying on my floor." Catherine's voice was stern and yet still rather confused sounding.
"Yep." He popped the 'p' loudly, grinning a bit up at her.
"You are aware you're only in your underpants, right?"
"Oh. Well. That's embarrassing."
"I imagine." He saw her smirk through the haze, appraising him quickly, "Right then. Carry on."
Muse: Doctor (Ten)(Alt 4)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 415