SPACEMAN AND THE MOON ― doctor who

fifteen ; fear her part one

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chapter fifteen ; fear her

THE DOCTOR LEANED AGAINST THE DOORFRAME OF LUNA'S BEDROOM, watching her chest rise and fall slowly. He took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair messily. Rose had already bid him goodnight, after a quick hug and a few jokes, and he rushed to Luna's room before she could keep him any longer.

It had been three days since the encounter with the impossible planet, ominous pits, and the black hole. Three days since he'd heard her voice and seen her smile. Three days since she'd been sucked into space to die and he'd rewritten time -- against his own rules, entering his own time stream -- to save her.

He didn't know what came over him, but when Zach informed him of Luna's death -- he couldn't face it. He couldn't face the guilt of knowing she died on his watch. He couldn't stand to live in a world where she didn't.

The Doctor closed his eyes, striding towards the bed and looking down at her face. She wasn't sleeping peacefully, no one ever did when unconscious, but at least she could get a bit of rest. She'd been so exhausted, so drained, since the Cyberman that he wasn't sure how she even functioned.

He brushed back a piece of her hair, running his knuckles along her cheek lightly. "My moon girl," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

He closed his eyes, leaning down and pressing a light kiss to her forehead, before standing back and looking around her room.

The room practically screamed Luna, with a collection of historical novels, an extensive, and impressive, Lord of the Rings collection stuffed into her bookshelves. There were at least three shelves, standing next to each other, the dark wood covered in askew hats and scarves.

An old-fashioned desk sat on the wall furthest from the door, littered in sketches and thick, leather-bound journals. He leaned closer, peeking over the top with raised eyebrows. A few books from the TARDIS library scattered the top half of the desk and he spotted sketches of different species they'd encountered. A fond smile fell to his lips. He didn't know she could sketch so well.

He found a picture of her and Leia on her nightstand-- but a different version, a happier version than that Mickey's universe -- arms wrapped around each other as they posed in front of the Eiffel Tower. He sighed, glancing back at Luna with a morose expression. She was tucked under the blankets, a big fluffy comforter covered in animated cats. A small smile tugged at his lips and he closed his eyes.

"I don't know why I'm so scared to lose you," he confessed quietly, kneeling down next to her bedside, running his hand along her hair and forehead gently. "I don't know why I risked everything to save you, it was stupid and irresponsible and..." he trailed off as her eyebrows tugged together. "I don't regret it," he whispered. "I should regret it, but Luna Peterson, no part of me wants to exist without you."

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Luna stirred slowly, a resounding headache bouncing across her head. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, letting out a number of profanities. "What happened?" She asked aloud, slowly sitting up and turning.

She jumped a second later, finding the Doctor watching her from across the room. "Shit, Doc, warning next time. What if I took my shirt off?"

He shrugged, a playful smirk toying on his face. "Not going to answer that question," a light blush warmed her cheeks and he smiled. "Welcome to the land of the living, Luna."

She waved half-heartedly. "What happened?"

He looked away from her, guilt filling his features as a dark look crossed his face. She blinked, trying to recall anything -- but she couldn't remember.