Work Text:
“When you were a prisoner of war...”
“Yes, Tegan?”
“… you didn’t let yourself cry.”
“That’s right.”
“Doctor, I’ve never seen you cry.” He turned away. “Not even when Adric died. Not even when Nyssa left us. Doctor, forgive me for asking but, do you cry? Can you?”
“That’s private,” he said, huskily.
“Are you crying now?”
“No, of course not!” His brilliant smile, when he turned to face her, belied the memories floating in his eyes like phantom icebergs, through which he had to navigate without his usual impulsiveness, slowly, mindfully, or like land mines, one false step and boom.