Perhaps it was the nature of her own thought. Perhaps it was the Clockwork Men, pressing themselves into her memories since she was a child. Or perhaps it was a single evening, spent within the Doctor's mind. But Reinette did understand.
Acceptance was another matter all together.
"The Doctor does a great many things with a great many people. To a great many people." She did not need his memories to know as much. Her own were sharp enough, and stung.
"Sometime I would welcome the silence. I would look at the clock and think -- what if I shatter it myself. What if I allow its cogs and gears to slow and fall quiet? Will he come then? Will he end his five year silence?"
But she did not.
"We are not unique Jack Harkness, by far. But somehow I suspect you know as much. Does it really matter then? Knowing me?"
no subject
Date: 2009-12-15 05:25 am (UTC)Perhaps it was the nature of her own thought. Perhaps it was the Clockwork Men, pressing themselves into her memories since she was a child. Or perhaps it was a single evening, spent within the Doctor's mind. But Reinette did understand.
Acceptance was another matter all together.
"The Doctor does a great many things with a great many people. To a great many people." She did not need his memories to know as much. Her own were sharp enough, and stung.
"Sometime I would welcome the silence. I would look at the clock and think -- what if I shatter it myself. What if I allow its cogs and gears to slow and fall quiet? Will he come then? Will he end his five year silence?"
But she did not.
"We are not unique Jack Harkness, by far. But somehow I suspect you know as much. Does it really matter then? Knowing me?"