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She’d disappeared. Just completely vanished. He’d burned through the universe, threatening and torturing anyone and everyone he could think to threaten and torture, but they all gave the same response in the end.
“Oh, no, I haven’t heard anything about her in centuries.”
But he couldn’t let it go. How could she just disappear ? She’d what, settled down somewhere, changed her name and kept quiet? No, not her. She couldn’t just keep quiet for centuries. Maybe some of her other faces could have lasted, maybe a year, maybe a decade even. He doubted if his version of her could stand still for even one day.
It’s not that he couldn’t recognize that it was his fault. Obviously it was his fault, everything was always his fault with her, just like everything was always her fault with him. The point of it wasn’t whose fault it was, the point of it was that he was worried. He’d done his research, checked and re-checked, and her timeline still seemed intact, so she couldn’t have been gone for good. Sure, he could always pop ahead a bit, check in with somebody she wasn’t yet, make a little mischief along the way, but somehow that didn’t sit right. It wasn’t fair to either of them, and the universe was already so unfair to them. No, he needed it to be her, he needed her to face him.
It wasn’t enough, just knowing that she had to be out there somewhere. Anything could have happened to her. She had a knack for getting herself into trouble, after all this time. Granted, more often than not he was the one making the trouble...
He shook his head, started pacing the room. This wouldn’t do, sitting here thinking about her. He had to do something. He couldn’t have exhausted his options yet, could he? There must’ve been some favour he could call in somewhere, or someone’s livelihood he could sacrifice. She had to be somewhere which meant someone had to know something! He punched the wall, not having anyone but himself and his ship to take his frustrations out on. It didn’t make him feel any better, and only earned him a somehow indignant-sounding beeping for his troubles.
He shook out his injured hand and kicked some wayward piece of junk that found itself in his path, just for good measure, before heading off towards the console room. He didn’t know where he was planning on going just yet, hoping he’d come up with something before he made it there.
He was just beginning to wonder if this hallway wasn’t just the slightest bit longer than it usually was when the dizziness hit him with force. He staggered back against the wall, trying to blink it away. “No!” he shouted at nobody in particular, or maybe just at himself. He hadn’t slept in weeks, he realized. He pushed forward anyway, weaving down the corridor, looking for all the world the lunatic he was.
He watched as the door to the console room slowly closed on its own, even heard it lock. “Oh, come on! Really?” This time the shouting was directed towards his disobedient vessel. Across the hall, much closer to where he was now leaning on the wall for support, another door opened. A bedroom. He briefly considered. If his options were to pass out on the floor, or in slightly more dignified locale, he supposed the decision was practically already made. “Fine, alright! I get it already...”
“And what the fuck are you doing here?” he spat when he found himself face to face with himself, only without the mirror and without.... certain features.
“Even you can figure out that she doesn’t want to be found, can’t you? Hasn’t she earned a bit of peace? We both know you’re not going to give her that.”
“She could be in trouble! And you haven’t answered my question, by the way. This is my head now, you’re not invited.” He stepped towards her, giving her a shove backwards. He wondered briefly if there wasn’t something to be said for self-loathing so strong that your first impulse upon coming face-to-face with yourself was to commit an act of violence.
“Oh, don’t be so hostile. I live here too. You could stand to learn some manners, I think. Now, be a dear and shut up, it’s no wonder she ran from you.” The woman in front of him crossed her arms and shook her head pityingly.
“We don’t know that she did,” he argued pathetically, but he knew he didn’t really believe that. If he did, he wouldn’t be here, unconscious and arguing with himself, now would he? “What business is it of yours, Missy? You had your time.”
“My dear Master, I’m the only version of you stupid enough to go and have a moral crisis. Lucky for you, you’ll only have to deal with the consequences of that for the rest of your lives. Everything is my business now.”
He turned his back on her, not looking for the reminder. “It was stupid of you, wasn’t it? All it got you was killed.” He walked off, not caring to see whether she’d have a comeback or some more sage advice for him. What good would it do? Unless she was going to tell him how to get her back, he wasn’t interested.
His eyes shot open and the bedroom slowly came back into focus. “Well, that was disorienting and not in the least bit enlightening,” he muttered to himself. He started to get to his feet, then thought better of it. Not knowing was torturing him. But maybe he owed her that much. He’d pushed to far, too fast, broken things irreparably. He definitely owed her a little self-imposed torture.
The least he could do was give her another day. He buried his face back in the pillows.
Besides, by tomorrow he was bound to come up with somebody he could kill to get back to her.