A/N: A sad one-shot for you all. DISCLAIMER: I do not own the poem used.
WARNING: CONTAINS TRIGGERS.
Hospital appoinments, Valerian's worst nightmare. She hated having to sit through the whole thirty minutes as the doctors told her how her final days would be. Everytime she sat in that brilliant white office that smelt of domestic bleach that made her feel dizzy, she always tried to picture herself somewhere else, still being told the same information, just anywhere but that hellish office.
This time, Valerian imagined Matt Smith as the Eleventh Doctor, talking to her about her final minutes on Earth.
She was sat on the steps leading to the TARDIS's main console, her knees brought up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Valerian rested her chin on her knees, trying to hide her fear. "Is it going to hurt?" her voice sounded small, barely audiable but he could hear her, he always could and always did.
The Doctor sat closely beside her, his shoulder resting against Valerian's. He was so close, that she see the slight rise and fall of his chest underneath his thick tweed jacket. "No," he plainly stated. "any pain you feel will be managed by large doses of drugs and anything else we can provide you with."
Valerian closed her eyes, knowing that her next question would be more painful to explain than the last. "Can you tell...what's going to happen, you know, when..."
She opened her eyes slightly, glancing in his direction. The Doctor was now looking at her, his eyes full of sorrow and dispair. "It'll...it'll become harder for you to breathe." he whispered, his eye contact never leaving hers. "Only, you won't notice. The-The rest of your organs will fail. By then, you'll just slip away."
"'Slip away'?"
He paused, fighting tears. "You'll just become unconscious and drift to sleep. Then...that'll be it."
"I'll be dead." tears threatened to leak from her eyes but Valerian forced herself to stay strong.
The Doctor nodded. "You'll be dead."
Valerian turned away from him, nodding. She accepted her fate, knowing that she couldn't escape it. "Dead." she whispered, burying her face in her hands.
"'Some days I feel everything at once. Other day I feel nothing at all. I don't know what's worse drowning beneath the waves or dying from the thirst.'" the Doctor quoted as he pulled her shaking form into his arms, kissing the top of her head.
"Who is that by?"
The Doctor shrugged. "O.M. apparently."
She chuckled softly. "It's a bit morbid, don't you think?"
He squeezed his arms around her in comfort. "A bit."
"Doctor?"
"Mmm?"
"Is...is he going to be okay without me?"
The Doctor didn't need to answer that question because Valerian already knew what he would say.
"Do you understand everything I've said, Miss Cassanova?"
Valerian found herself back in the office, no longer in the safety of the TARDIS. The Doctor had been replaced by her middle-aged, balding doctor called Doctor Hemm.
She nodded.
Sebastian's right hand was entwined with her left. The thirty year old male looked at her, his eyes red with tears and glistening paths of salted water, trailing down his cheeks. "We're going to get through this." He brought her hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss upon it. "We'll work things out."
Answer? He was not going to be all right. Her death would most likely tear his heart into pieces. Her death would leave no prisoners.
What was she going to do?
A/N: QUESTION OF THE DAY: IF YOU COULD PICK ANY FANDOM TO LIVE IN, WHICH ONE WOULD IT BE?
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