Blame
You are forced to rebuild yourself in the wake of his sudden disappearance, grappling with the abandonment that shattered your sense of worth and left you questioning everything you once gave so freely. Years later, when he returns unannounced and full of regret, you refuse to fall back into old patterns. As he struggles to apologise and you hold firm to your boundaries, the question lingers; can something real be rebuilt from what he broke,, or will the weight of his choices keep you forever out of reach?
Angst, Loads of it.
Word count: 4.8k
Five years.
It had been five long years since you’d seen your beloved spaceman.
Five years since he left you standing in your flat. Five years since the day you stood there waiting, hoping, missing him.
Five years since you last saw the back of his head as he turned and disappeared into his beloved TARDIS.
Every time you thought about it, every time you woke up in the middle of the night thinking you were back on that blasted machine your heart would squeeze in your chest as you flushed out of shame and anger, recalling the time a former close friend of yours referred to you as the doctor’s lap dog. Not because you were insulted, but because his abandonment forced you to realise the truth behind their stinging words.
You were his lapdog; you were his pet.
You were at his every beck and call, dropping everything within a moment’s notice to join him at his side. You gave up your employment, a new relationship, everything for that skinny bastard with beautiful brown eyes, and every moment you remembered how he had abandoned you, left you here like your years of companionship had meant nothing to him, your heart crumbled. Every moment you remembered how long you waited for him to come back and sweep you off your feet like the dog you were… you hurt.
You couldn’t bear the shame you felt when your poor father had to care for you as you fell into a depressive state. How his eyes would gaze over your form as he watched you for hours, silently keeping you company as he read in the chair adjacent to your bed. How he had to force feed you porridge in the first week, and how he had to call your sister in to bathe you in the second. Your father knew you never took being left behind well under any circumstances. How poorly you managed abandonment. How you wailed when he was called to the police station to retrieve you, after your mother left you behind in the middle of Rye Lane. How you had cried in primary school after he was only fifteen minutes late to picking you up, the way your small body swivelled around, showing your dishevelled appearance, after you had desperately fiddled with and tugged at your uniform as you panicked and wondered if he had abandoned you too.
He had been beside himself with anger when you showed up on his doorsteps, not wanting to remain in your flat, around everything that reminded you of that blasted man. He cursed him with all his might while he comforted and cared for you, swearing to rip him apart and dash him aside just as he had done to you. Since then, when you found yourself once more, you stripped your home bare and started over, tucking every single memory of him into the shed at your father’s home, far away from you. Just so you could forget it all.
Three years ago, you re-entered the working world. Nursing had always been your passion due to your nature as a nurturer. You had failed to care for yourself for a while, but that would never hinder your ability to care for others. You decided to pour every single waking moment into looking after and aiding patients as you did your rounds at the Kings College Hospital. Unfortunately, you had worn yourself a bit too thinly after this rather eventful forty-eight-hour shift and went home a bit later than usual. Between stabbing incidents, unfortunate mishaps and a few cases of far too devoted fans who had been hurt after drinking themselves into a stupor with the mandem after that absolute mess of a match between Liverpool and Palace, you were truly ready to go home. Maybe sleep for a few hours and do some self-care before going back at it once more.
Changing out of your NHS assigned uniform, you began the journey home. Exiting the station and making your way back to your quaint neighbourhood, your skin was instantly littered with goosebumps. Someone had been trailing you. You felt eyes on you the moment you left the hospital, you felt eyes on you the moment you boarded the train at Peckham Rye, and now that same feeling of being observed remained as you walked home. Putting your air pods into your pockets, you picked up the pace. You had fuckall to defend yourself with as you had left your pepper spray home when you left for work two days ago, and you had no idea how to fight so you hoped that whomever had been following you for so long had no ill-intent. As you neared your flat, you shifted your bag from your shoulder and into your hands, maybe you could beat whoever this was just long enough to give you time to scream and alert your neighbours. White-knuckling your bag with both hands, you used your foot to gently push the gate open right before pivoting on your left foot and turning to whack the man behind you with your bag repeatedly.
“I knew you were following me you pussyhole!”
A series of whacks and thuds landed on the poor bloke’s head for a moment before he wailed out and grabbed your hand, immediately overpowering you and putting a halt to your assault. Using your free hand, you sent a mighty wallop right into the right side of his face, distracting him just long enough for you to free your other hand from his grip and shout.
“Rapist!! Murderer! Thief!!”
Blow after blow landed, followed by insult after insult until you grew tired and your hands grew sore, you stopped after realising that the person following you had seemingly been allowing you to hit them. Reaching up to wipe sweat from your brow, you stepped back and reached into your pocket for your cell, and just as you were about to phone the police, your stalker peered up at you and spoke, also out of breath from the beating he just collected.
“Stop!!Stop! It’s me! It’s me!!”
Slowly lowering the phone, your ears grew hot and your heart began to pound once more. You could recognise that voice anywhere. How did you not notice. How did you not realise this entre time when the voice belonged to a man you could have picked out from a crowd even with all your senses dulled.
Your face immediately shifted into a deep scowl, your brows furrowing together tightly and your free hand balled up into a fist. If you were to be cut at this very moment, not a single drop of blood would have trickled from your wound.
“YOU!”
You seethed, with nothing but anger and hatred dripping from your voice.
“Look I-I’m sorry I just-“
You didn’t even let him finish his sentence before you summoned every bit of ill-will within you and spat where he stood. Grabbing your keys, you entered your home and shut the door behind you.
Slamming your bag onto the poor table that deserved none of this abuse, you immediately ran yourself a bath and put the kettle on for a brew of tea to calm your nerves with. You wouldn’t be getting a wink of sleep tonight but you refused to feel miserable while you remained awake.
Stepping into your warm bath after having a cup of chamomile tea, you sank into the tub until only your nose, ears and eyes remained above water. You stared at your fixtures, head pounding only slightly despite the events that had unfolded an hour prior.
How dare he. How dare he follow you home. How dare he think he could just thrust himself back into your life after so fucking long? Who gave him such confidence to believe that he could just do as he pleased, that he could just do what he did to you and expect you to even give him the time of day to listen to whatever shit explanation he pulled out of his arse to give to you.
It’s not like you even gave him the chance to get more than a few words out anyway. You wouldn’t have. It’s not that you couldn’t afford to give him a chance, you would have let him speak for days on end before this. But letting him do so now would have been an insult to all the hard work you had put into not only forgetting him, but also regaining your independence from him. All the work you had put into disallowing yourself from ever letting any being, human or not, believe they could have such power over your heart ever again.
The water grew cold as you seethed and cursed at him in your mind. Even as you dressed yourself for bed you couldn’t shake your anger, and so you spent the rest of the night planning how you’d hurt him with your words next just as much as you did, er- think you did with your fists.
The next morning, you dressed for the road as you needed to head out to get some groceries. Pulling your door open, your hackles rose as you recognised the figure sitting on your steps. He had stayed there all night it seems. The Doctor rose, turning to face you, his face melancholy. Just as he opened his mouth to begin to speak, you rose a finger and narrowed your eyes tightly.
“No! not a word from you! I haven’t got the patience for it today I’ll tell you that much”
Stepping past him, you began making your way to the market, with The Doctor, resembling something like a sad puppy in tow behind you.
He continued to follow you closely, and you ignored every fibre in your being telling you to curse and hiss at him. You had dwelled on the thought for hours last night, but eventually you realised that it truly wasn’t worth your time. Having spent so much of it doing so years prior, and while you weren’t necessarily as calm as a cucumber now, you weren’t going to scream and holler this time. But as soon as you ran your errands, you would.
Both bags were now filled to the brim with fresh produce and other necessities, he had attempted to take your heavy loads from you twice but when you sent him a spine crushing glare and bared your teeth at him during his third attempt, he shrunk away and stopped.
Walking up the stairs to your home, you placed your groceries on the floor to retrieve your keys and open the door. Turning to face him at your gate, you motioned him inside.
“Go on then, get in, I can’t have you loitering about like a stray dog.”
Perking up in surprise, The Doctor entered your home for the first time in half a decade. You followed him in, closing the door behind you.
Unpacking your groceries, and placing them in their respective spots, setting a few aside while ignoring his attempts at meeting your gaze. Turning your back to him, you began to make dinner.
Thirty minutes passed before you broke the silence with a question.
“Why?”
Your words cut clean through the heavy air in the kitchen.
“Why?” he echoed, like he hadn’t heard you properly.
You scoffed. “Have you gone daft or somethin’? Why are you here?”
Taking the goat from the pressure cooker and placing it into a smaller cast iron pan, you began to stir it into a curry stew as it simmered. Turning to face him after cleaning your hands, you folded your arms, refusing to allow yourself to become comfortable in his presence.
“I just- “
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing about before stopping.
“Ineeded to see you. I had to”
You held his gaze, unflinching in a way you never used to be.
A beat passed, as you urged him to continue.
“I needed to see you,” he repeated, much quieter this time. “And I needed to say I’m sorry. Though I don’t suppose that means much to you at all. Not after so much time.”
“It doesn’t” you interjected flatly, turning to stir your pot.
You wouldn’t allow your curry to burn.
He winced but nodded. He completely understood, his hearts pounding in his chest.
“I don’t have the right words,” he went on, his voice much softer and more uncertain. “I’ve- tried, believe me, I’ve tried but every version of my apology makes my actions sound smaller. Much smaller than what I did to you, and what I did was-“
He stopped himself, exhaling sharply.
“It was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong”
You didn’t turn around.
“Yeah, that’s one way to put it innit.”
“I left you here. No explanation, no warning, I was just-gone.” He said, more firmly this time.
“And look, I told myself that it was for the best, that it was safer for us both. That you’d be safer, that you would have been better off.”
“It’s been five years, Doctor.” You spoke.
“You don’t just get to walk back into my life after five years like you’ve forgotten your coat.”
“I know” he began, almost tripping over his words.
“I know I don’t, that I shouldn’t, I know exactly what this looks like.”
Stepping closer, The Doctor moved to stand beside you, hesitantly, as if he were afraid that you would lash out at him if he got too close to you.
“I could blame it on my ego. It really wouldn’t be the first time, always thinking that I knew what was best, always making decisions for everyone else as if the fate of the universe and the world was mine to dictate.”
He gave a hollow laugh, continuing.
“I could blame it on my pride, that stubborn, idiotic price that hurt you”
Looking to the ceiling, he willed himself to continue, feeling as if every word he spoke dug himself into a deep hole.
“I could blame it on time…”
Turning his head to face you, he carried on.
“Five years, and I still didn’t come back sooner. Too busy convincing myself that I was right. Too selfish to come back to you and say that I was sorry when it would have mattered.”
Your pot bubbled louder in the silence that followed as you stirred your curry slowly, deliberately.
“But don’t-“ he faltered.
“Don’t pretend that there’s nothing left to say please, because there is, there’s always something left with us.”
That made your hand pause. There it was. That cockiness he had from the false comfort you had provided. That confidence he had in believing that he could just talk the hurt and the anger away. He took another careful step closer.
“Tell me what’s on your mind.” He pleaded. “Everything, I’ll stand here and I’ll take it, all of it, every sharp word and insult”
You exhaled through your nose, grip tightening slightly on the wooden spoon in your palm.
“I just can’t stop thinking about it, about you. About what could’ve been if not for this awful thing I’ve done and this rift I created between us.” He admitted.
“I can’t stop thinking about what we still might be, if there's even a fraction of a chance you'd let me try.”
He said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
His words hung there, heavy and waiting.
You turned the stove down, slow and deliberate before finally facing him. Face unreadable. He was so used to you being a person who wore their heart on their sleeve. He knew he deserved every bit of your coldness towards him. He knew he was lucky to even be allowed to have this conversation at all.
“You want me to tell you what's on my mind? You want me to tell you what I had plenty of time to think about?” you asked, voice quiet yet sharp.
“Fine.”
You stepped closer, not close enough to touch but close enough so you’d prevent him from looking anywhere else.
“You don’t get to stalk me at my place of employment, walk into my home and dump your bloody guilt all over my floor and then ask me of all fucking people to clean it up for you!”
The Doctor flinched at that. Actually, genuinely flinched.
“I’m not-“ he started, but you cut him off.
“No, you are. That is exactly what you are doing.”
“You always do this. You make it sound as if you’re taking responsibility for what you’ve done but really, you’re just saying it out loud so that you don’t have to sit with your feelings alone.”
That hit. He staggered back a half-step as if your words had shoved him away from you.
“I did sit with it,” he said, far too quickly.
“I have- every day and every second it was there. You were there. You think I forgot? Do you think that I just what- skipped off and just never thought about you again??”
He said brows furrowed and eyes pleading for you to tell him no. Yet you didn’t answer, and something in his expression broke and he withered slightly before continuing.
“I didn’t come back because I thought or expected you to forgive me,” he rushed on, words stumbling and tumbling over each other.
“I came back because I just couldn’t- wouldn’t carry on without you knowing -“
“What? You what? What's the point of this conversation if all you can prattle on about is how sorry you are? I’m not some bloody priest you know! If you wanted to confess all your worldly sins to ease your soul, why didn’t you go to a fucking church you selfish prick!” You snapped, fed up with his excuses.
Dragging a hand down his face, he continued exasperatedly, voice beginning to fray at the edges.
“Yes, I am selfish. Completely, utterly selfish. I’ve always known that.”
Brown eyes teetering on the edge of despair met yours as he carried on.
“I just, I didn’t want to carry on with you thinking I had abandoned you for good. A while after I left, I came back to apologise, but I was so filled with shame that I just opted to keep my distance from you because I thought that eventually you would understand, and that it would hurt less once you did. I just didn’t account for this” he said, gesturing helplessly between you.
You crossed your arms tighter.
“You didn’t account for me, the person who confided in you about her abandonment issues to think you abandoned her??”
“You didn’t account for me, and my feelings before making the choice for me instead of asking me how I felt about your rather shit plan?”
“You didn’t account for how I’d feel after the first year of you just randomly fucking off let alone five???” You fired, arms falling so you could tug at your trousers.
“You always make decisions for other people, Doctor. This time you just made the wrong one. Anybody could have told you that.”
He looked at you, trying to muster up the courage to come closer. But the pain in your face, a pain you had worked so hard to lock away for good made his hearts sink into his stomach. He truly had committed an unforgiveable sin.
“I know.” he said, releasing a shaky breath.
“I just, I don’t want to leave you again. I can't, not this time.”
For a moment, you said nothing, then you let out a quiet humourless breath.
“God, five years and you really haven’t changed.”
He stilled.
“You still make everything sound so tragic for you,” you went on, turning to check on your curry.
“Like you’re the one suffering the most in a mess that you created.”
“I didn’t say that-“
“You didn’t have to,”
You turned towards him once more, expression composed and almost detached. He almost wished that you'd scream at him instead.
“You can't leave?” you repeated, almost mockingly.
“That’s funny though innit, you managed it just fine though last time.”
A pause.
“You want me to be honest with you Doctor?”
You took a small intentional step closer to him.
“I waited for you.”
That flicker in his eyes- hope or pain, whatever it was, you ignored it.
“For a while,” you clarified.
“Long enough for all the hurt to settle in, long enough for me to be beside myself with grief until I saw you on the tellie a year after you abandoned me. Long enough for me to feel so fucking stupid about it. More than long enough for me to realise that you would never, ever come back to me despite having every chance in the world to.”
Your voice stayed even, cutting him deeper.
“And now you’re here,” you said, gesturing lightly to him, like he was an inconvenience you were assessing.
“Not because you had a conscience, but because you couldn’t carry the weight of your guilt anymore? Truly, what did you hope to achieve?”
“That’s not fair,” he said, but it sounded weak, even to him.
“No, it isn’t,” you agreed calmly.
“But neither was what you did.”
Silence stretched, and you studied him for a moment, really looked at him, and then shook your head slightly.
He hadn’t changed at all. He still looked the same, those freckles you had spent hours tracing while he rambled on about some faraway star system while he lay in your lap. That unruly, tousled hair of his.
“You left me Doctor.”
You added, voice dropping just a fraction.
“You left me and I had to learn how to live with that, so you don’t get to come back into my life just because you’ve decided you miss me now. So if you're waiting for me to make this easier for you-“
Picking the spoon back up, you turned to the stove and continued,
“I’m not going to.”
The curry bubbled steadily as you stirred.
“You can stay,” you said, almost offhandedly.
“Or you can go.”
A slight glance to your side where he stood.
“But whatever you choose to do this time, be it stay or go, you have to live with whatever comes with that.”
Your words settled into the room, heavy and final. This time, he didn’t argue, he had no clever comeback, no rambling justification, no desperate attempt to soften the blow.
Just..silence.
You stirred your pot once more, maybe more than you needed to. But you needed to focus on anything but how he stood there, seemingly wounded by your refusal to let him into your heart like you used to, once upon a time. It wasn’t the restless kind of stillness he would experience from time to time, this was difference, like something within him had stopped.
“I will.”
You tightened your grip on the spoons handle.
“And you're right,” he said.
“About all of it. I really didn’t think about what it would have done to you. Not properly at all. I lied to myself, and I broke my promises to you. I lied to myself, telling myself I had done something noble this time, putting others close to me before my own selfish wants and needs, telling myself I wasn’t-“
He stopped, like the words were caught in his throat.
“I wasn’t running.”
Silence pressed in again.
“I don’t get to fix this, I don’t deserve to,” he added after a moment.
“I know that I don’t deserve to walk into your life, and stay.”
A beat.
“And if you let me, then I swear to you, I won't assume, I won’t decide for you again. I won’t ever leave your side.”
His plea hung there, fragile and absolute. For once, no rush of words followed from either of you. No spiral to fill the space. Just the both of you, standing there, letting the silence exist even if it swallowed you whole.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
Not dressed up, not explained. Just, sorry. The words lingered beside you, simple and bare, maybe too late? You let the silence stretch, let him feel what you had felt for what would have only been a blip in time for him. The quiet bubbling of the curry filling the space where something else might have lived between you once.
“I loved you Doctor.”
You let it slip out without warning, no buildup, nothing at all. Just the fact in all its bareness. Beside you, The doctor shifted sharply- as if the ground had gone out from underneath him. But you didn’t turn to face him.
“ I loved you,” you repeated, calmer now.
“Properly, completely, wholly, in that stupid all-encompassing and consuming way that makes everything around you in the world cease to matter.”
A small breath in.
“And you knew that, didn’t you? When you left me you knew I had loved you.”
He didn’t speak. He didn’t dare.
“I would have followed you to the end of space and time,” you went on, still steady, still controlled.
“I would have followed you to the very end and you would have never had to ask me to. That was the worst part.”
A faint humourless huff.
“And even though you knew, you never even gave me the choice.”
The spoon traced slow circles through the pot. The curry was about ready now.
“I trusted you not to disappear,” you said.
“That was it, I wouldn’t have expected you to return my feelings, but to leave me? That was the one thing I never would have expected you to do.”
Silence, heavy and pressing followed.
“And you did it anyway.”
Behind you, his breathing had gone uneven and quiet, so you turned to meet his eyes fully this time.
“You don’t get that back,” you said.
“Not the way it was, not for now.”
Your words didn’t rise, they didn’t fall, they only settled.
“I don’t think I love you like that anymore,” you added truthfully, “I had to make sure of it, I couldn’t let myself get hurt like that again.”
That hit harder than anything you had said to him before. You held his gaze for a second longer, then you turned back to the stove, turning the heat off completely.
“But don’t mistake that for meaning it didn’t matter,” you said more quietly.
“Because it did. I just don’t know if I can will myself to believe it ever mattered to you.”
The words settled between you, fragile, and for a long moment, neither of you moved. Then quietly
“I still love you” he said, slight hope returning to his voice.
That almost pulled something out of you- but not quite. Another beat passed before you began.
“You can stay.”
He blinked in relief, surprise even.
“Stay?” he echoed carefully.
You shrugged slightly, ignoring his hopeful tone.
“Dinner’s finished, it would be a waste to have made so much food for only one person.”
It wasn’t the familiar warmth he used to receive from you, but it also wasn’t rejection either, and he was willing to take whatever you gave to him if it meant he could spend another second with you.
“I’m not promising you anything, by the way,” you continued. “Not necessarily forgiveness. Not...whatever it is you're hoping for.”
“I’m not hoping for anything,” he said, then gave a small, self-aware huff. “That was a lie. I am. I’ll just keep it to myself though.”
That almost earned him a glare.
“But I can sit,” he added. ”I can do that. No expectations, no words. Just..sit here and eat with you right?”
You nodded once, like you were giving him your permission again.
“Set the table, then, and take that coat off in my house” you persuaded. He froze for half a second, like the simplicity of the request, his harder than anything else. Then gently- carefully, like he had been given something fragile-
“Right. Yeah. I can do that.”
Shrugging his trench coat off, he moved around the kitchen with familiarity. He still remembered where you kept all the China. No grand gestures, just small, quiet effort. You watched him for a moment out of the corner of your eye before turning back to the pots on your stove.
“Don’t break anything,” you muttered.
A faint smile touched his face, barely there.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Another silence settled, but this one felt different. It was softer this time.
You both acknowledge that the relationship hadn’t been fixed, and the time it would take for it to be what it once was, was unknown, even to the timelord that stood in the kitchen with you.
But even then… you could never imagine hating him enough to say goodbye forever, and he was willing to stay with you for however long it would take you to love him again, like you did once upon a time.
