• This is the hardest story that I've ever told
No hope, or love, or glory
Happy endings gone forever more
I feel as if I'm wasted
And I'm wastin' every day
This is the way you left me,
I'm not pretending.
No hope, no love, no glory,
No Happy Ending.
This is the way that we love,
Like it's forever.
Then live the rest of our life,
But not together. •
"Who buries him?"
"That's a rather morbid question."
"Think about where we are, Doctor."
It's the Doctor that throws him. Not Stringbean or Sugarpuff or whatever ridiculous nickname she's conjured up. It's not a common thing for her, but today isn't a common day.
"A captain named Jean-Luc Picard. Fairly famous in his own right. It's all written down in the history books, I can find them for you if you want," he says.
"No thank you." She tugs her sweater around her shoulders and looks back to the TARDIS. "Can't we go back? See him again? Just once."
"You know we can't."
"Please, just to see---"
"Dorothy, I'm sorry." He puts a hand to her shoulder. He wants to be comforting but even now, even after he's been with her for over a century, he doesn't know how.
She turns and leans into his chest, but doesn't cry. He wraps his arms around her. Two immortals going through life is one thing, but when they make a mortal friend, it's another. He wanted to go back, of course, back to his own ship. And who wouldn't? The Doctor understood the appeal. And he was a good man.
Everything is in the past tense in his mind, now. It should be in the present. He should always think of people and things happening at once. He's stopped that, and he can only believe it's because of the people he travels with. They don't think on the same timeline.
They visited again. And again. Sometimes their meetings were very far apart, sometimes there were only days in between.
They don't feel the years. He does.
And now they're here.
James T. Kirk
2233 – 2293(2371)
It's a plain grave on a small, rocky planet.
"The end of one journey," he says. He breaks away from Dorothy's embrace to place some Xuxxuxian Firelilies next to the plaque. It will take sixty years for the cut flowers to wither. Not unlike Jim.
"I think I'm ready to go home," she says.
He looks up at her. "Home?" he asks.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 352
Based on RP with galeforcehero and willrevile