The Doctor enfolds her easily, shifting carefully just a bit so it's more comfortable for both of them. He reflects, not for the first time, that he's hardly sat still quite like this in a very long time. Is this what he does now? The weight of Vanessa against his chest feels strangely...not unpleasant. Though, her question immediately sobers him.
His instinct is to be flippant or ignore the query outright. Deeper questions like that, digging down to the root of him, well, he doesn't like those at all. To answer it truthfully would be like exposing an open wound to the elements, to invite pain and suffering. In the hands of nearly anyone else, such secrets could be wielded against him. To know what frightens the Doctor? How could any revelations in that regard be held in kindness? Yet, this isn't just anyone, this is Vanessa Ives, who has seen so much of his soul already.
He'd been terribly afraid at the summit, his greatest fear being that of himself, of hurting her and everyone else around him. But she knows that already and that isn't why she asked the question.
"Keep that up, I like that," he notes distractedly, as she fiddles with his tie. Not answering her question, not yet. He's working himself up to it.
"What a question! Not, what's your favorite color, Doctor or tell me about that time you sat and watched a supernova while eating a bowl full of Jelly Babies. No, no, we're skipping right to the harder stuff. Well, frightening moments - a few of those knocking about over the years. Had to eat a salami sandwich without bread once - now, you may think, well, how could it have been a sandwich at all then? That answers the question. Frightening, to say the least."
He pauses, fidgeting a little, suddenly busying himself with stroking his fingers through her hair. "Where was I...right, yes, most afraid." He's rambling because he doesn't do this. "I don't talk about these things, you know. Only with myself and that's terrifying enough."
But this is Vanessa, and so much of what happened in that labyrinth changed things irreparably for him. He's connected to her in ways he both can't explain and yet can't deny.
"Most afraid. Well. That moment when you're completely yourself and then you're not. When something you don't completely know or understand comes into your mind and takes hold of you. But the thing is, it wasn't there only a second ago. I was me, perfectly me, and then I wasn't. I wasn't alone. There was something just...there, with me, with my voice but not my voice, my words but not my words. The shape of me, and I was trapped in my mind. A long time ago now."
He hasn't finished answering her question, but he stops there for now because again, he doesn't do this sort of thing. It took him long enough to even work up to saying the words. Now they're out there and he remembers that moment, sitting inside of it again, he feels so far removed from how he survived it at all.
no subject
His instinct is to be flippant or ignore the query outright. Deeper questions like that, digging down to the root of him, well, he doesn't like those at all. To answer it truthfully would be like exposing an open wound to the elements, to invite pain and suffering. In the hands of nearly anyone else, such secrets could be wielded against him. To know what frightens the Doctor? How could any revelations in that regard be held in kindness? Yet, this isn't just anyone, this is Vanessa Ives, who has seen so much of his soul already.
He'd been terribly afraid at the summit, his greatest fear being that of himself, of hurting her and everyone else around him. But she knows that already and that isn't why she asked the question.
"Keep that up, I like that," he notes distractedly, as she fiddles with his tie. Not answering her question, not yet. He's working himself up to it.
"What a question! Not, what's your favorite color, Doctor or tell me about that time you sat and watched a supernova while eating a bowl full of Jelly Babies. No, no, we're skipping right to the harder stuff. Well, frightening moments - a few of those knocking about over the years. Had to eat a salami sandwich without bread once - now, you may think, well, how could it have been a sandwich at all then? That answers the question. Frightening, to say the least."
He pauses, fidgeting a little, suddenly busying himself with stroking his fingers through her hair. "Where was I...right, yes, most afraid." He's rambling because he doesn't do this. "I don't talk about these things, you know. Only with myself and that's terrifying enough."
But this is Vanessa, and so much of what happened in that labyrinth changed things irreparably for him. He's connected to her in ways he both can't explain and yet can't deny.
"Most afraid. Well. That moment when you're completely yourself and then you're not. When something you don't completely know or understand comes into your mind and takes hold of you. But the thing is, it wasn't there only a second ago. I was me, perfectly me, and then I wasn't. I wasn't alone. There was something just...there, with me, with my voice but not my voice, my words but not my words. The shape of me, and I was trapped in my mind. A long time ago now."
He hasn't finished answering her question, but he stops there for now because again, he doesn't do this sort of thing. It took him long enough to even work up to saying the words. Now they're out there and he remembers that moment, sitting inside of it again, he feels so far removed from how he survived it at all.