Past Lives || Dottore

21

The walk back was silent. The Tsaritsa had disappeared somehow, probably using her powers to disappear while they were hugging. Y/n looked at the back of Dottore's head, worried about what he was going to do. His hand tightened. She had an unnerving feeling something was wrong.

Their footsteps crunched in the snow, growing closer and closer to the town. Slowly, they approached the small town. It was lucky for them at it was getting dark, as it meant less people were out and about. Less people for the doctor to worry about in terms of them finding about his assistant.

Y/n walked faster, ever so slightly. It was just enough to put her at the same pace as Dottore, and it seemed to any other person that they were out on a late-night stroll. Her hand felt hot holding his, but she didn't want to let go. Her mind kept trailing off to the figures she'd seen, what the Tsaritsa showed her about Dottore's past.

Somewhere inside her, she wished that it was him who showed her, but she also knew that he didn't quite want to tell her. At least, not yet anyway.

She looked up at him, noticing his lips pressed together. Was he trying not to do something? Was he trying not to say something? He was so hard to read, even with the mask off. She looked away, back to the snow in front of her.

Just like that, the two of them were out of the town. They were on a path that led into the forest, although the path only seemed to be in Dottore's eyes.

 Y/n wondered how she even got to the bottom of the cliff in the first place, or how she even survived in the forest. She had no recollection of being in the forest; all she could remember was leaving the house.

The sun disappeared under the horizon, plunging the forest into darkness. She didn't quite like the dark. By instinct, she moved closer to Dottore, her eyes scanning the dark forest around them. He wanted to be angry at her for doing this, but he couldn't help but be relieved.

A singular light appeared, just past the tree line. Y/n had a feeling it was from the house, but she had never been outside the house at night, so she was unsure. Again, she looked up at the doctor, looking for something even she was confused on.

Judging by the look on his face, they reached their destination.

Dottore wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close to his body as he fiddled with the door and all its locks. It felt wrong for Y/n to look while he was doing this. She looked away, looking at the ground. One final click seemed to echo in the clearing, then the door squeaked open.

They got inside, and he kicked the door closed, relocking everything while she focused on getting her jacket off. She was struggling with one part, muttering and complaining to herself as she fiddled with the jacket.

Hands appeared, easily making it become undone. Y/n stood still, letting him take off her jacket with care she didn't know he could possess. He hanged it up on the coat rack. Somehow, while she was in her daze, he had taken on his mask.

She looked at his face.

On it, was the most painfilled look she had ever seen. It looked like he was trying to hold back tears. His beautiful red eyes glistened with tears. He was biting his lip to try and stop them from forming.

Guilt stabbed her in the chest, and she could think of nothing. Nothing to try and comfort him. There was one thing, though. Y/n hugged him tightly, burying her face in his chest. She knew this probably wasn't the best thing she could do, but it was the right thing. At least, it was in her mind.

Dottore wrapped his arms around her. It was like he didn't quite believe he got her back unscathed. He hugged her back, his legs collapsing under him. They landed on the floor, their legs entangled, yet, still in their embrace.

"Do you know what was going on in my head, Y/n?"

His voice, his normally beautiful voice, was on the verge of breaking. She stayed silent, not knowing what to say. She felt like she had no right to say anything, to make a single noise.

"I thought I lost you again." His voice cracked. Guilt stabbed her again, this time straight into the heart. "I can't-" Dottore's arms tightened around her. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the crook of her neck.

"I can't recover from that." He whispered. He couldn't bring his voice any higher. Y/n felt his tears start to soak her shirt, feeling as his body began to shake. She knew he was trying to stay silent; his pride wouldn't let him sob in the doorway. "Not again."

"I'm sorry, Dottore, I'm so sorry." She rubbed his back, feeling hopeless. She closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't speak; his semi-quiet sobs racked his body. He didn't quite believe her, but something deep inside him, the part of his body that loved her, wanted to believe. He knew it was actions, not words, that proved this. That proved if she was really sorry.

She released him, carefully moving out of his grasp. He didn't want her to move, he didn't want her to leave him again. Y/n stayed, however. She took his hand into hers and pulled him up. This time, she led him, leading him to his bedroom.

She opened the door, holding it open. He walked into his room, watching as she closed the door. He stood still, his tears somewhat dry on his face. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. She reached up, taking a hold of his face. Slowly, she wiped the tears away from his cheeks, a solemn look in her eyes.

Then, she made her way to the bed. Dottore was confused, but he followed. He laid down on the bed. It was much more comfortable than the floor. Y/n laid down beside him, taking his head in her arms. This was for his comfort, not hers.

He needed this.

~

This is kind of of the position I imagined when writing the last portion

It's not bad for a 10-minute sketch, right?

Please ignore the fact that it's not physically accurate, I tried my best w/out a reference