Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry, by Playwrite27
CHAPTER 9: Grief in the Night
The hoary moonlight slipped in and out of the roiling clouds, making the walking slow for the Doctor and Marie. The path they were following was worn smooth by many feet, but it was also very narrow. Dried burdocks and stickers clung to their clothes where the Doctor and Marie had brushed against them in the confined space. In places, the woods were so close that they seemed like an underground tunnel, the drooping branches, seeming to beckon the pair on towards Hell. A sudden, heavy flapping noise caused both the Doctor and Marie to jump with alarm. A cry rent the air, “Ohhhh----Whooo-ahh”
“It’s alright,” Marie said, squeezing the Doctor’s hand, “it’s just an old barn owl. It scared me too.” The Doctor grinned sheepishly. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He turned around looked at Marie, squinting in the uncertain light. “Marie, where’s your cat, Chauncey?” Marie looked worried. “I don’t know. He ran away with me, but then, after I left he cabin, I couldn’t find him. I wish he’d come back. I--I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s--he’s all I have.”
The Doctor could see Marie was fighting not to show how truly distressed she really was by her cat’s absence. He put a reassuring arm around her. “Awww--that’s not true. You have me now, haven’t you?” She was about to turn and say something in reply, when the Doctor spotted something lying in the path ahead, that caused him to pull Marie to his chest.
His face had a sober, dark cast to it. “Marie,” he spoke softly but sternly into her hair, “close your eyes. Just keep walking but don’t look down at the path. Just let me guide you.” The pair of them hadn’t walked but a few steps when he felt Marie stiffen. She halted abruptly. “Chauncey?” She whispered in a confused voice. Then She tried to run, but the Doctor held her fast. “Chauncey! No! No, Chauncey, no!”
The Doctor gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair, her racking sobs were muffled, as she buried her head in his thin shoulders. He did what he could to comfort her. “I’m sorry, Marie. He’s gone. I’m so, so sorry.” “I know,” she sniffed, “I can feel it. He’s not there anymore. He’s gone. Just like mom. Why does everything I care about have to go away, why do I always have to be alone, why?” For once, the Doctor was at a loss for what to say--but somewhere inside him, he knew he'd also felt that way, and quite recently, too. There were names floating in the back of in mind, names--they were important to him somehow...a person, a place. He could almost picture them, but it was like looking at a faded photograph through a smoky mirror. And then, the sensation was gone.
The Doctor glanced at the lifeless furry body. Marie was frozen to the spot, made temporarily immobile by her overwhelming grief. Which wasn’t good, the Doctor thought. They had to get out of these woods, get to a place where he could set up some sort of a defense.
He held her away from him, looking seriously into her eyes. “I'll tell you what, Marie. I know it’s not much comfort, but when this is all over, we’ll give him a right proper burial. I give you my promise.” As they skirted the body, the Doctor noticed something shiny lying there. He picked it up and examined it with his torch. It was a silver money clip. Marie saw it and looked away, sadly. “That was Uncle Tobias’.” Marie said. The Doctor’s face grew angry and grim. “Oh yeah, is it now? Well, I think I’m going to have to make a point of meeting good ol’ Uncle Tobias, sometime very soon. He and I have a few things to discuss. Come on, now. We have to keep moving.”
The moon scampered into and out of the rolling dark clouds, as the Doctor and Marie went back to the deserted farm house. Deep in the woods, the owl hooted again, "Who--ah!"
But I don't get on very well with neo-conservatives, truth to tell.
