He has the sense, as he walks the rugged and uncertain path of his own words, that if he would have stopped himself because he couldn't manage to speak of his greatest terror at any length, Vanessa would have allowed him. The certainty of that, more than anything, makes him feel like he's safe with her. The Doctor doesn't talk about how he feels, generally, not without some prompting, a level of trust, and trying to deflect before he can land on the truth. Even then, it's not always a given. When he can speak of deeper and more emotionally challenging topics as it pertains to himself, he finds it easier talking around it, when he can convey the facts as they are in a situation, while not necessarily enumerating every emotion he felt in particular.
She could have stopped him at some point, tried to interject, to prod him along faster. He rambles so quickly, there was scarcely a moment to pause, yet she could have insisted he get to the point. Instead, he's met with unspoken and tender understanding as she presses closer. It's a new sensation for him, as so much has been recently. It's not unwanted, only...unfamiliar, something to try and understand better, though he reasons that if he enjoys it when she nuzzles closer to his neck, she must surely enjoy it reciprocated? An experiment, then, a chance to know her better. What does she like? In the midst of dredging up terrible memories, he finds himself distracted with the promise of her smiling again at him.
He turns a little, allowing his cheek to rest against the top of her head. At least a full minute must pass like this, nothing else said, only the Doctor taking note of every detail. How many seconds between each of her breaths and her heartbeats? The way her fingers curl against his tie. He thinks of the scratch marks on her skin again; punishing herself, trying to forget, trying to make it all go away, substituting one kind of pain for another? Maybe in holding each other like this, they can't beat back the dark, but they can be their own sort of light.
"A very brave woman saved me from it," he confesses at last. "I didn't even know her, but she sacrificed herself to help me. A hand reaching out in the dark."
He'd like to believe he could have saved himself. Perhaps he could have, if it was only him and the entity. Unfortunately, there were others trapped with him and they'd been certain he should be the one tossed out.
"I don't know what that thing was. Perhaps as old as time," he notes, his voice briefly a million miles away.
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She could have stopped him at some point, tried to interject, to prod him along faster. He rambles so quickly, there was scarcely a moment to pause, yet she could have insisted he get to the point. Instead, he's met with unspoken and tender understanding as she presses closer. It's a new sensation for him, as so much has been recently. It's not unwanted, only...unfamiliar, something to try and understand better, though he reasons that if he enjoys it when she nuzzles closer to his neck, she must surely enjoy it reciprocated? An experiment, then, a chance to know her better. What does she like? In the midst of dredging up terrible memories, he finds himself distracted with the promise of her smiling again at him.
He turns a little, allowing his cheek to rest against the top of her head. At least a full minute must pass like this, nothing else said, only the Doctor taking note of every detail. How many seconds between each of her breaths and her heartbeats? The way her fingers curl against his tie. He thinks of the scratch marks on her skin again; punishing herself, trying to forget, trying to make it all go away, substituting one kind of pain for another? Maybe in holding each other like this, they can't beat back the dark, but they can be their own sort of light.
"A very brave woman saved me from it," he confesses at last. "I didn't even know her, but she sacrificed herself to help me. A hand reaching out in the dark."
He'd like to believe he could have saved himself. Perhaps he could have, if it was only him and the entity. Unfortunately, there were others trapped with him and they'd been certain he should be the one tossed out.
"I don't know what that thing was. Perhaps as old as time," he notes, his voice briefly a million miles away.