Chapter Text
You were a stubborn woman, that much he knew about you.
For the longest time, you followed him around like a duckling. Not quite lost, but also not quite purposeful. Out of all things you could’ve done, and should’ve done, you chose to assist him instead. Greeting him, bringing him food, and asking him to rest. Despite his intelligence, Dottore didn’t really understand your intentions. He was an obsessive man; not to his peers, but his experiments. That, along with his infamy and attitude, should’ve been enough to deter you from caring about him, let alone approaching him.
But you didn’t.
Then again, unpredictability was one of the traits you shared with him.
Sometimes, intrusive thoughts would swirl in his mind like a whirlpool of darkness. He could kill you, or experiment with you. And nobody would notice, or even care. The students knew you as this lovesick woman who always followed him around, and if you were to perish in his hands later – either out of sick curiosity or annoyance – they wouldn’t be surprised.
Why would they? You basically asked for it, anyway.
And, indeed, you perished in his hands. Not because he killed you or experimented with you as his intrusive thoughts told him to, or as the students expected him to, but because you finally succumbed to your longtime illness.
Dottore was an obsessive man; not to his peers, but his experiments. And that meant he didn’t notice the people – the signs – around him until it was too late.
“I’m sure you already know this, and I’m sure you hate to hear this, but I love you. Always have, and always will.”
You were right; he already knew that, and he hated to hear it. Because it wasn’t what he wanted to hear from you, wasn’t what he wanted you to say during your deathbed. But, rather, why? Why did you love him? What part of him that you loved? Which clones of his that you loved?
And, most of all, why did you never tell him about your illness?
One day, you dropped the tray containing his meal and coughed harshly onto your hands. Dottore would’ve berated you for making a mess in his lab had he didn’t spot the unmistakable red liquid on your palms. The liquid that he refused to identify despite being all too familiar with it. You looked up at him with tired yet dilated eyes, and you ran.
Away from him, not to him.
Dottore didn’t want to say that he was concerned about you, choosing to redirect his emotions to the shattered plates and glass on the floor. It was easier to handle irritation than sadness, after all, and even easier to dismiss it. And when you didn’t come to him for the next few days, Dottore had pretended his churning stomach to be out of relief and not worry.
Finally, you stopped bothering him. Now he could work in peace.
But those few days passed by too slowly even with his constant experimentation, and the said experimentation proved to be too unsatisfactory for his liking, either. The most logical solution to this problem would be to detect the source and solve it.
So he did just that.
Dottore barged into your room and spotted bloody napkins and tissues everywhere; on the bed, the floor, and the nightstands. You didn’t look too surprised by his arrival, if at all, and merely smiled.
“Hi, Dottore. Have you eaten yet?”
Like a string that had been pulled taut for a long time, something inside him snapped. Dottore repeated your question mockingly and proceeded to scold you for neglecting your own health. All this you listened with a smile, and only once he finished his rant, did he realize that it was more resigned than tender.
“I never realized that you’ve been harboring such a great concern for me, Dottore.” you grinned, eyes closed. “I’m pleased to know that.”
He scoffed. “Quit flattering yourself. The only reason why I do this is because it would be a hassle for me to get rid of your body later on.”
You hummed thoughtfully, much too familiar with his insults to take any offense.
“It would, wouldn’t it? Should I die somewhere else, then? I’d hate to disturb your activities.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you think I’m incapable of healing such a measly illness?” Dottore took a bowl of porridge from his clone and shoved it into your lap. “Now, stop talking nonsense and eat. I don’t have much time left to spare for you.”
“Of course, dear.”
Dottore didn’t know how you could still joke around despite your gaunt appearance. At least, he’d like to think of your musing earlier as a joke. His humor had always been on the darker side, highlighting his eccentric personality, but you were different. You were supposed to be the angel to his demon, the light to his darkness, the kindness to his cruelness.
So, why…?
“Do you hear that, Dottore?”
“What is it? Don’t tell me you’ve developed a delusion too.”
“No, it’s the sound of clock ticking. Once it ends, would you stay beside me?”
Why did you insist on joking?
“The clock has always been ticking, and will always tick. Some sleep might do your brain good.”
“You haven’t slept much, either.”
“Sleep is unnecessary for me.”
Why did you insist on telling the truth ?
“You haven’t answered my question at that time, Dottore.”
“About what?”
“About me asking you to stay beside me once the clock stops ticking.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? The clock has always been and will always be ticking.”
“I’m not talking about the clock in this room, Dottore. I’m talking about my clock. I’m running out of time and I’m certain you know about it too.”
“As long as you drink your medicine, all will be well.”
“But all I need is your company, since I know I can never gain your love.”
And that was where you were wrong. You had gained his love, but he refused to admit it. Not even when your hand finally grew limp in his, Dottore still refused to reciprocate your confession.
He was a stubborn man, that much you knew about him.
But, once again, unpredictability was one of the traits you shared with him.
“I must say you look better this way, [Name].” Dottore laughed at his own joke, humorlessly and bitterly. “In this icy land, your beauty is forever frozen with time. Perhaps there’s another merit in living here as well.”
He stroked the glass coffin that encased your lifeless figure and your peaceful smile.
Forever frozen with time.
“A shame that you chose to hide those brilliant eyes of yours. I’m certain they’d be able to rival the glittering ice around us.” Then, he closed his eyes and scoffed. “No matter. I shall make sure you’ll see me again, as you always are. As you should be.”
He’d never really tried to revive the dead as anything other than a monster he wanted them to be, but as a scientist, Dottore had never shied away from challenges and new discoveries.
He was an obsessive man; not only to his experiments, but you as well.