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Since Rebecca first noticed them, the bags under Doctor’s eyes haven’t gotten any harder to spot. She’d seen the curved shadows grow steadily darker since the accident, yet never commented on it—of course, it's not her place to make comments on anyone's appearance, even out of concern. Being such a diligent worker would make anyone tired, and the doctor has always had a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, anyway. Still, it’s new; the distant stares, the slow blinking, the sudden snaps back to the present that always leave them looking dazed, wide-eyed like a startled animal. Even their resting mouth had a gloomy downwards curl as of late. Wisps of unkempt hair make them look like a tapestry with fraying threads; a carefully constructed delicate thing, slowly becoming undone.
It only took two near-death experiences with a BUG manifestation and a crash-landed alien for the extent of their silent suffering to become obvious—at least, to Rebecca. So many new things back-to-back without a single reprieve would exhaust anyone. Frankly, she’s been tired too, but the doctor hasn’t said a word about how they feel. And what became of their supposed break? They never specified, and Rebecca never pressed them to, but she knows they didn’t get an ounce of rest that day. It gnaws at her until she can't stand it anymore. Sure, she might be projecting, but she knows that Doctor is also the type to swallow their feelings for the sake of politeness, of not being a burden—at least, that’s something she’s familiar with. She can’t be sure until she hears from Doctor themself.
Rebecca’s work for the day is odd, but it passes by without much thought. Monitoring a strange noodle-esque alien specimen, keeping it docile and tranquilized and readying its documents of transferral aren’t typically things the HOTFIX captain gets up to, but it’s simple enough to adapt to. She makes a mental note to check up on the rookie the next day as well, as he’s been similarly downtrodden lately, after he clocks out for the night. When he leaves, she looks out the window; the sun is gone. Typically, she could’ve been on the way home by late afternoon, just as the sun began to set. It’s far past that now, she can leave whenever she wants. Instead, she busies herself with conversation with the other members as one by one they depart from work, until it’s just her that’s left. Her and one other person.
The facility is quiet at night. Cold and dark and unnervingly quiet. The overhead lights had automatically shut off not long ago, but Rebecca hardly needs them to know where she’s going. Rounding the corner to a familiar hallway, there’s a faint warm glow from a light that’s not yet been turned off, peering under the crack of a door. Approaching the door, she raises a hand and knocks on it twice.
“Doctor?” She calls. “Are you busy?”
There’s no response. It’s not unusual for the doctor to not acknowledge her until she enters, as they’re almost always preoccupied, but she always likes to check just in case. She presses her thumb to the lock on the handle and gently pulls the door open. Sure enough, there they are—poised at their desk with a slight hunch, staring transfixed at their computer’s screen. One hand rests on their keyboard and the other on their mouse. They barely turn their head to look at her, blinking slowly.
“Hey there,” Rebecca greets them kindly. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m seeing you now. I decided to stick around after work ended so I could check up on you.”
She approaches Doctor as she talks and they break eye contact to look at their computer again.
“It might not be my business, but… Well, to be perfectly honest, you look exhausted. Are you okay?” She asks bluntly, against her better judgement.
Doctor flinches, as though they just now realized they were being spoken to. They take a moment to rub their eyes before responding.
“I’m fine,” they say, sounding less than confident. It’s the most obvious lie-told-out-of-courtesy Rebecca’s ever heard, save for any of her own, but she leaves it at that. She leans over slightly to sneak a glance at what it is they’re working so intently on. It’s nothing—an empty text document stares back at them, cursor blinking in anticipation, yet not a single word has been typed. Still, Doctor’s eyes stay transfixed to the blank screen, drinking in the light from the CRT monitor like they need it to stay alive.
“I’m sure FORMAT must’ve told you already,” Rebecca continues, “But you don’t have to worry about that alien running loose in the facility anymore. It’s getting transferred to a research center first thing tomorrow.”
It takes them a moment to reply.
“…Ah. Yes, that’s good,” they nod with an absent look in their eyes. Rebecca’s concern only grows. It’s rare that she ever feels uneasy in a comfortable place like Doctor’s office—the first and only other time was after their supposed break. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense, the weight of a secret that Doctor refused to share felt like it was crushing the both of them. She knows they’re trying to hide from her again. Her heart hurts at the thought that they wouldn’t trust her enough to confide in her ever again. Instead of looking for answers, she starts to excuse herself.
“It’s… very late now, isn’t it,” Rebecca notes aloud, looking off at the night sky out the window. Doctor fidgets with their hands as subtly as they can, eyes now locked on their keyboard.
“So it is,” they reply.
“Will you… be going to bed soon?”
Doctor winces and looks away, rubbing the back of one hand with the other. Whatever it is that’s on their mind, she knows they won’t say a word about it. She figures she’ll do the talking instead.
“…Getting the subject ready to be picked up shouldn’t take that long,” she explains. “I’ll come right back here in the morning once I’m done, like I always have. Will you be okay until then?”
Doctor pauses for a moment before nodding. Rebecca doesn’t quite believe them, but they do know themself the best, even better than she does. What Rebecca does know that is that it’s heartbreaking to have your judgement undermined by the people you trust, be it from friends or family, trying to force what they say is best for you. So, she’ll trust them, and when they need someone to lean on, she’ll be right there.
“Okay… if you say so. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Doctor.”
She turns to leave and walks towards the door.
…
“…Wait!”
Doctor bolts out of their chair and rushes over to her. They reach out and catch her arm. They aren’t at all strong enough to hold her in place, but her astonishment makes her freeze. In all their years together, Rebecca has never seen them look quite so scared.
“Don’t leave me!! I—I need you!! Please stay…!” They beg, squeezing her arm under her gauntlet.
“Ah… Doctor?” She stammers. “You mean, you want me to stay overnight?”
“If… if you can, yes.” They look down, but do not release her arm.
“Of course I can,” Rebecca readily agrees. “But…are you sure? I just don’t know if FORMAT would allow that…” she reasons. Doctor’s head jolts up, eyes wide.
“If she detects another person in your room at irregular hours, she might mistake me for an intruder, and—“
“Just tell her it’s precautionary, or something!” They cry, voice breaking with all the unfettered impudence of a desperate child. “Say you’re here just in case something happens because of that rocket that crashed by my window, or whatever! If she’s confused, I’ll talk to her, I just— Please…!” Their panicked pleading dies down as they slide their hand over their face.
“I… I can hardly fall asleep anymore,” they whimper, fingers pressing into their forehead. “When I close my eyes, I’m afraid I’ll see something I shouldn’t be remembering… It keeps happening. I don’t know why. I’m so tired…”
“Doctor… I… I understand. Trust me, I really do,” she assures. As she speaks, she reaches a hand up to rest over her heart. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. For as long as I can, I’ll stay right here.”
Doctor’s eyes soften in relief and they look down. Their hand unclenches her arm and slips back to their sides.
“Does this mean you’d like me to lay down beside you?” She asks.
They nod. “Only if you’re okay with it…”
“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll just need to change out of all this first… I have something in my locker, but I’ll need to go get it. Would you be alright if I—“
Doctor lurches forward and tightly grasps the hem of Rebecca’s hood, clinging onto it for dear life. They tuck their head firmly under her chin and squeeze their eyes shut. To preserve what’s left of their ego, she makes no comment on how hard they’re shivering. Her hands hover over their back, unsure of what to do.
“Do you… want to come with me?” She asks. Doctor nods quickly and pulls back slowly. Thankfully, them stepping out of their office this late does not trigger an emergency alarm (Rebecca wonders then if FORMAT’s silence was adding to Doctor’s anxiety at all). Rather than her hood, Doctor instead opts to hold onto her arm (as best they can, anyway). It’s not comfortable—they lean against her shoulder armour at an awkward angle as the two of them walk, only letting go when Rebecca reaches her locker. It’s completely unfamiliar territory within the facility, yet Doctor makes no comment on it. As she retrieves her semi-soft article of clothing, she notes how Doctor’s eyes have stayed fixed on the ground all the while. She knows more than anyone how they’re not above acting shy, but she’s never seen them quite so somber. She leaves her shoulder armour in a separate compartment and extends her free arm for them to take as they leave. When their palm slips into hers, She gently squeezes their hand back.
When they return, Doctor lets go of Rebecca and she watches them numbly walk over to their bed. It’s a large mattress with a short and simple bed frame, tucked neatly into the corner of their room, perpendicular to their desk. A pillowy comforter drapes over it, decorated with little flower patterns, noticeably crumpled and un-made. It makes sense for the doctor to not have time to make their bed in the morning, Rebecca figures, but she has a feeling that’s not the only reason for it being unkempt. She’s spent enough nights tossing her blankets off of herself at ungodly hours to know what the aftermath of a painful nightmare looks like. Doctor unbuttons their suit and shrugs it off their shoulders, hanging it on a rounded hook next to the headboard, leaving them in a plain dress shirt and their regular pants.
“Shall I turn the lights off?” She asks. Doctor hesitates, then nods. She walks back to the office door to do just that. With a click, the warm light vanishes, the glow from her right eye helping her vision adapt to the dark. When she rounds the corner to return to their bed, Doctor looks up at her with a start, then softens in relief.
“Hope you don’t mind if I get changed in here,” says Rebecca.
Doctor nods in acknowledgement, turning their head to grant her the privacy to do so. They close their eyes and do their best to not think about anything, not their hand being snared by those ghostly-pale tendrils, how they curled around their fingers like slippery roots. How hard they shivered from the indescribable chill that seeped into their bones, the sickening sliminess that made their skin prickle and every muscle quiver. How they already knew that taste of terror, from shattered glass and particles that nearly pierced their eyes. Strips of gauze reaching out to them like spindly fingers, wrapping taut around their face, swathing their eyes and mouth, smothering them, choking them. The sound of FORMAT’s voice twisting into them like a knife, how increasingly impatient she sounded, how annoyed, how disappointed—
“Doctor?”
They gasp and open their eyes to see Rebecca crouched in front of them, clad in a dull-orange tracksuit with a hood that shrouds her face, eye aglow like a full moon.
“Did you remember something again? You were hyperventilating just now…”
They gape at her for a moment before their head droops, fidgeting with their hands. Before they hide their face, Rebecca catches a glint of what looks like unshed tears.
“I can’t stop,” they whimper, scrubbing at their eyes. “Even when I sleep, I just can’t...”
Rebecca hums thoughtfully. “I think I know what you mean,” she says, moving over to sit next to them in the middle. “Sometimes, repressed memories make themselves known through dreams. No matter how hard we try to bury them in our subconscious, they spring right back up like dandelions growing through concrete. I’m sure you know much more about that than I do, but even still, it can happen to anybody. …Even you, Doctor.”
They scoff, more at themself than her. They’re a genius, not a coward—why would they ever fall victim to their own subconscious? That’s not what good Mindhackers do. Their whole existence depends on controlling that sort of thing. They’re not a reformation target. An icy spear of dread pierces through their middle when they realize how dismissive they sounded just now, how Rebecca might take offence. She might be so offended that she ups and leave, just like that, and—
“Don’t mind me,” Doctor blurts hurriedly. “That wasn’t—I mean, I know it’s stupid. I just…” Their head drops into their hand and they pinch their brow, hating themself more by the minute.
“If you think being afraid of something like that makes you stupid, then I must be an idiot,” Rebecca quips, eliciting zero laughs from her audience. She can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light when their hand drops and she sees the corners of their mouth quirk up for a moment. Doctor simply looks at her with the most exhausted expression she’s ever seen on their face. “…Sorry. You’re right, it’s not a good time for jokes. I’m just saying that I understand.”
Doctor doesn’t respond, only acknowledging her with a nod. They pause for a long moment before crawling over to the far side of the bed and peeling the comforter back. They hesitate again before slipping under the cover, bringing it up to their chin. They tuck their arms in front of themself, almost hiding their face with their hands.
“Is there anything I should do for you before you try to sleep again?” Rebecca asks, turning slightly to look at them.
“Just, talk about something,” they say, a bit hurriedly. “Like, nature. Talk about the scenery like you always do.
“Ah… Um, I mean, I did go on a trail last week, but nothing really interesting happened…"
“It doesnt matter if it’s interesting, just talk to me, please!” They urge, sounding close to wailing.
“Okay, okay,” Rebecca concedes. “Well… I saw some stones that made a path across a little stream. I thought about crossing them for a moment, but decided I didn’t want to risk putting them out of place. I wouldn’t know how to put them back without my hands getting wet. What else…” She trails off, wracking her brain to come up with words. Then, she lights up when she remembers—
“Oh, actually, you know something I did see?” She asks, rhetorically. “A deer. I had no idea it was even there until I just happened to look left, and it was there. Staring at me, black eyes wide as saucers, completely frozen in place. My heart leapt, and I flinched. I had no idea they could be so quiet. As it stared at me, I wondered; was it afraid of me specifically? Or just humans as a whole?”
As she speaks, she places a hand on Doctor’s side, slowly sliding it up and down in a gentle rhythm. She can barely feel them through the plush blanket, but the sensation of their weight under her palm is comforting. Doctor’s eyes slowly close as they listen on.
“I’ve been told I look pretty intimidating before,” Rebecca adds, looking up at the ceiling. “On multiple occasions, in fact. Sometimes, I startle the closest people in my life, even if they know full well what I look like already. I’m usually quiet, so I have a habit of sneaking up on people, and they’re frightened by my image in the dark.” She reminisces on the startled look on the rookie’s face after she’d approached him once from a dark corridor.
“Even the most familiar things can look completely different in new lighting. It’s instinctual for humans to be scared of things they can’t easily identify. At night, it’s easy to confuse a mound of clothes in your room for a home invader in the corner of your eye, poised and ready to attack you at your most vulnerable. Even if it’s really just harmless clothes, the thought that it could have been something dangerous is terrifying all on its own.”
Her hand stops moving, and she looks down. She thinks about fear, what she’s done to cause it, why it makes her sick to do so. She remembers the tired look on Doctor’s face the morning after the accident, how they followed her to the Debug Room a little slower than usual. She hates herself for not moving quicker, not shielding them better. She wonders why they didn’t run away, why they had to watch as she…
“…Shortly after I saw it, the deer bounded off,” Rebecca continues. “I’ll never know if it knew that I didn’t want to hurt it. I know they can’t help it, but… I don’t ever want to make others feel afraid of me. Even if I have to…”
Doctor says nothing, as they often do. They’re eerily still, and for a heartbeat Rebecca thinks to check if they’re still breathing—they are, she confirms, feeling a subtle rise-and-fall against her hand. Just very quietly. So quietly, it’s as if they’re afraid of being heard. Rebecca lingers on what to say next. Taking her hand off of the doctor, she pulls the comforter back and shuffles down to join them under it. She rests her head on the far side of their pillow, leaving a margin of space between them both. She turns onto her side—Doctor is facing away from her, shoulders stiff as a board. She wonders if they’ve fallen asleep already, if they’ll even hear what she wants to say next.
“Doctor…” She speaks in a low voice, barely above a whisper.
“…I know it’s invasive to ask such a thing, but… I hope one day that you’ll tell me about the things you’re afraid of. I always wonder about you, what you’re thinking. You’re very good at concealing your feelings. Of course, you’d have to be. I know it’s a hard habit to break, but… Trust me when I say; keeping all of those feelings inside of yourself, never talking to anyone about them… It’s suffocating. Every second you’re alone, it can feel like you’re drowning. No matter how strong you are, those memories… They won’t leave you alone.”
It’s then that Rebecca catches the quiet hitches of Doctor’s breaths, the soft whimpers and gasps that escape them. With their trembling back turned to her, it’s impossible to tell if they’re truly crying or not, but her heart lurches all the same.
“Oh, Doctor…” she croons, reaching over them and placing her hand on their forearm. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Deep breaths. I’m here.” She soothes in a whisper, gently rubbing up and down their arm. Doctor gives a pained, shaky moan in turn, and it’s the worst thing Rebecca’s ever heard. Racked with exhaustion, their resolve crumbles. Words spill mindlessly out of their mouth;
“…’m sorry, FORMAT…I’m sorry…” They mewl, fingers clawing against their pillow. “…Won’t disappoint you, I promise… I promise…”
She takes a moment to turn their words over in her head. The thought that they could ever be as afraid of FORMAT as she was, all those years ago… She’s shocked by how openly ashamed they sound. At the same time, it’s hardly surprising—even the strongest people have to break eventually, she supposes. We’re all human beings, after all. Even you…
“I’m here, Doctor,” she whispers again. “You’re okay.”
They’re panting like they’ve just run a mile. Rebecca moves closer and draws them into an awkward backward half-hug, bringing them to her chest. It’s far from graceful and for a moment she wonders if they’re struggling to breathe under the weight of her strong arm. She takes in a deep breath, holds it, then slowly lets it go, exaggerating for example. She does it again, in hopes that they’ll copy her, feeling her chest rise and fall against their back. It’s hard to tell if they are, but the more she does, the less they shiver. As Doctor’s breathing slows to a steadier rhythm, she feels the tension in their shoulders melt away. She strokes their arm with her thumb as she listens to each breath become quieter and quieter until she can hardly hear them at all.
Rebecca is unsure of how long it’s been since the doctor fell silent when she briefly props herself up to steal a glance at them. She still can’t see their face, but finds she doesn’t need to. The image of Doctor, vulnerable and afraid and curled against her for comfort, is a special one. She’s sure no one else in this world has ever figured that the renowned genius Mindhacker could ever feel so small, let alone need anyone else to lean on. It’s a scene Rebecca knows that only she is privy to. She decides that she’ll savour it, being their anchor, as her head drops against the pillow again. She hopes that her breath against their neck or her legs grazing against theirs won’t disturb them (Although, given how dead-tired they were before, she’s not sure anything would be able to wake them up now). She mulls over what to say to them in the morning, if it’s even wise to bring this up later at all, as her thumb gently rubs against their arm. Back and forth. She listens to them breathe. In and out. Back and forth. In and out. Over and over…
~▼~
The first hours of morning are grey and cold, pouring into the office over the flowers on the windowsill. When Rebecca comes-to, she slowly realizes that there’s a crick in her neck and a warm body in her arms. She’s almost sure that Doctor hadn’t moved an inch at all last night, if it weren’t for their back now pressing flush against her chest and her mouth against their nape. As she feels their ribs gently rise and fall against her arm, all she can think of is how difficult it will be to remove herself without stirring them.
As much as she’d like to stay in this moment, stay close to the doctor for longer, just a little longer, she knows she can’t. There’s work to do. There’s always work to do. She struggles through the pins-and-needles in her arm to carefully wriggle it from underneath the doctor, only now realizing that it even ended up there while she was asleep. Soon enough, she’s free, bringing both of her arms close to herself again. Rebecca rises to a sit, rolling her neck and shrugging her shoulders, groaning quietly as she hears the air pop in her bones. In the middle of a cross-body arm stretch, she hears Doctor make a sleepy noise as they briefly shuffle in place. She turns to look at them again—they’re still curled in on themself, nearly in a fetal position. She thinks about the fear in their voice from the night before.
It’s no secret that Doctor and FORMAT are close; two inseparable halves of the well-oiled machine that is the Mindhack facility. For as long as Rebecca has known them, Doctor has been at the AI’s every beck and call, always compliant and eager to please. Sure, sometimes they were hesitant to work some days, but they’d always do as FORMAT says in the end. And FORMAT made her appreciations of this known far and wide, always appraising her genius Mindhacker at every opportunity. It’s also no secret that FORMAT hates to make compromises. The supercomputer is brilliant, no doubt, but she’s never been especially sensitive when it comes to stress. God knows Rebecca was never given a reprieve when she needed it ten years ago, when she needed it the most. And as efficient as they are, in the end, Doctor isn’t a machine. It never crossed Rebecca’s mind that there was ever the possibility that FORMAT would subject her precious Doctor to something similar—the disregard of their feelings, the terror of letting her down. She supposes she’s a bit foolish for that.
She wants to ask them all about it. She knows she can’t. For now, at least. All Rebecca can do now is be grateful that her armour is already nearby in their office so she can be earlier to work today. In fact, it’s so early, she figures she might be the only HOTFIX member in the facility at this hour. She thinks of what to do with that extra time, getting out of bed and slipping out of her tracksuit, back into the stiff leathers of her uniform (she’s careful to leave Doctor’s comforter around them, pulling the blanket back up after she gets up, as though she wasn’t there at all). Fastening the straps of her second gauntlet, she looks at Doctor’s window, at the arrays of colourful petals in cups of water, perched in a line like birds on a telephone wire. They’re dull and dark in what's barely the first slivers of sunlight, but they’re beautiful nonetheless. Perhaps they could do with some more company. Rebecca gets an idea.
~▼~
There’s murmurs of commotion outside their window. The engine of a transport truck grumbles in a sputtering rhythm that makes Doctor want to burrow in their blanket to drown it out. It’s then that they realize they’re even awake. Oh, right—they’re awake. They anticipate a familiar tone sounding from the ceiling, followed by FORMAT’s sing-song voice reciting the usual Good morning, my dear Doctor. It’s time to get up! It’s another beautiful day for hacking, and so on. They wait for another moment. And another. It doesn’t come.
Puzzled, Doctor finds the strength to push themself up to a sit, wondering why they feel so strange. They recall the comforting pressure of something warm against them, someone strong and soft, holding them carefully. Ah. Right. Remembering the feeling of Rebecca’s body against theirs makes their skin prickle with something indescribable—it felt like too much, too much contact all at once. It felt as natural as breathing, like that was something they’d always done together. The chill of the morning air seeps into their bones and for a heartbeat they long for it, long for her to come back and hold them and keep them safe for a little while longer.
Their hips hurt. They’d fallen asleep wearing the same pair of dress pants they’d worn to work that day, and it hurts to breathe against them now. Doctor automatically unbuttons them and slips into an identical pair from their bedside drawer, just as they did every morning. The second thing they notice is they don’t feel as near-death from exhaustion from the night before. As they repeat the process with their dress shirt, they think about FORMAT—where she is, what she’ll have them do today, what she expects of them now. Is she quiet because she’s upset? Doctor tenses. Did they do something wrong yesterday? Did they forget? Should they ask? Or, perhaps they’ve finally achieved the un-achievable; waking up earlier than her announcement is scheduled. …No, certainly not.
Doctor shudders with dread at the thought that somehow, asking the HOTFIX captain to sleep with them overnight, was something disappointing in FORMAT’s eyes, like she wouldn't believe her genius Mindhacker could ever be that much of a coward. Surely, they deserve to be shunned for that. Or… perhaps, it truly can be their secret, just between them and Rebecca—the truth that the doctor is not invaluable, that they do feel afraid. That perhaps they aren’t really a machine, after all.
Doctor nervously taps their gloved fingertips together, looking around their room for a moment in hopes that their friend might still be around. She isn’t. Voices drone on outside, some of them are laughing, some yelling orders. They hope FORMAT summons them soon, so they’ll have an excuse to leave. They might as well check for anything on their computer while they’re here; being a genius comes with a lot of early-morning document-reading, after all. As they make their way to their desk, they see a piece of paper folded over it self, with the words “For Doctor" neatly written in the middle. Unfolding it, they read;
Good morning,
If you’re wondering where I am when you wake up, don’t worry, I’m still here. I’ll be busy for a bit longer than usual today, but I’ll come see you as soon as I’m free. I picked this for you, from the garden walkway outside. It’s not much, but I’ve heard that lavender oils are good for helping you sleep. You might not be able to get something like that out of a flower this small, though, but it’s here if you want to keep it. I hope you’ll rest well, for as long as you can.
—Becca
They crack a smile at her signature. Ah, they’re glad the nickname stuck. Although it should have been obvious, that of course Rebecca wouldn’t leave them alone, they can’t deny the relief they feel at seeing her words of promise. Doctor carefully sets the flower to the side and neatly folds the paper up, thinking to put it in the drawer they reserve for their friend’s keepsakes (while their flowers are their pride and joy, they’re pretty proud of the other collection they’ve amassed as well). Placing the note on top of a treasured bookmark she gifted them long ago, they tuck the drawer back in its place and turn their attention to the flower.
Truthfully, it’s nothing impressive. Wildflowers never were, frankly; they’re always brittle and tiny and too common to be anything worth marveling at. The purple stalk is small and dainty and looks almost out-of-season, like it had been picked far too early. Like it could crumble away in a strong gust of wind. Like it would take only a slip of Doctor’s fingers to shave its petals away, crush its stem into dust, ruin it completely. Doctor pauses, muscles tense. It would be so easy, they think, as they place the little lavender into their palm, to curl their fingers and break this precious thing. They stare at it. It doesn’t stare back. It doesn’t say anything, but Rebecca’s words ring in their mind. Words of trust, of worry, of care. Words of devotion and promise, of acceptance. Acceptance of Doctor’s fear, of their worst and weakest self. A promise that, no matter who they choose to be, at their best and worst, Rebecca will be there. They slowly reach and touch their pointer finger against its petals.
They think of a little white flower. They think about Rebecca. They think about destroying it.
...
Doctor carefully runs their fingertip down the flower, pointlessly tracing its shape. They can’t feel the softness of its petals through the fabric of their gloves, but for a moment, they try anyway. They look outside of their window. Pale grey light shines through glass cups of water, through their self-made garden. The chatter is quieter now. A bird is singing. They are tired. They want to rest for so, so much longer. They want Rebecca there when the memories resurface again. Work will start soon. Doctor hopes that maybe, just for a day, that it won’t. They hold the tiny flower carefully in their hands and think about who they are. Whoever it is, they decide, be it a coward or a savior, a genius or a liar, they hope Rebecca will be there with them.