Day 14, 4:23 PM, In Town Who: The Doctor and his imagination What: Coming down off the high Where: In town on a bench near the theater When: Early Afternoon Rating: PG
Status: Active
Reminder: At this time any reaction to chemical exposure should be tapering off.
For a man whose title was Time Lord the Doctor had a knack today for forgetting the very nature of minutes and seconds and hours. While the gas may not have been able to force laughter upon him, the Doctor had still managed to succumb to the other varied effects of the compounds released into the air the captives breathed. His mind may have held on to the notion that he might control his reaction; but, really, each action he took felt more out of control than the last. The only thing he could do, did do, was stay on the bench, chatting with a blonde woman that only he could see.
"I never did get you to Barcelona," he let go a bit of a smile there. "Sorry for that. I think you would have liked it. The people there? No shoes. Ever. They could be walking on glass and it would never occur to them to put on shoes." The Doctor waggled his foot to prove his point.
"Really? Wonder they even walk anywhere then," Rose replied, taking a chip from her basket and waving it. "It'd be like not suffocating when you were fully capable of breathing," she said, kicking her head back and slouching down into her half of the bench. The Doctor knew his moments with the blonde were fading then. Rose Tyler, his Rose Tyler, wouldn't say that. She'd probably just shake her head and ask what in the world anybody could ever have against shoes. Or, she might even offer to give one of them a pair of her shoes; just to introduce the concept. For as real as the Doctor wanted it to feel, his little charade with Rose Tyler was only that.
"I hope you're still happy on that parallel world," he said off handedly, watching as Rose pushed herself to stand, stretching long limbs as she did. It was time for her to walk away, it seemed. "I hope you have a long and happy life..." Sure, he knew he was talking to himself; but, this once, he could say the things he wanted to say. There wasn't anyone around to hear. No one around to judge. It was just him and the memory of Rose.
"You think you'll ever come get me?" She asked over her shoulder as she slid her key into the TARDIS door.
"No." He said terminally.
"I'll still be waiting," she said, pushing open the door and taking a step in, turning around to look him over one last time.
"I know." The Doctor looked at his shoes. He'd be waiting, too. It was possible, after all, that the universes could collide again. That he could, after all, regain his Rose one day. "Don't wait too long."
Rose nodded, taking the last step over the TARDIS' threshold and shutting the door. With the grinding of the time rotor and the squeal pop of time and space seperating around her, the TARDIS was off again. Or, at least, back into his head.
For what it was worth spending the afternoon with a friend who wasn't really there was pleasurable. Even up to the minute she'd stepped into the imaginary TARDIS and taken off. He liked to think she'd finally gone to Barcelona. Though, it could be that she just went back home to Jackie. "And I'm still here, aren't I?" the Time Lord asked himself, pinching his cheek. The rumbling of his stomach was long since past. Rose had come and gone. Any desire to dance had receeded back into the murky depths of his brain where it was entombed behind bravado and annoyance. That left the Time Lord alone with his quiet thoughts. Thoughts that wondered what tomorrow might bring. Another chance at escape, of course. He could manage that. Maybe he'd try building the modulator again. It would at least give him hope.
The Doctor liked Hope.
Ankle to kneecap, hands folded behind his head, the Doctor stared up at the sky and thought, 'Perhaps today wasn't quite so bad after all.'