John stood above the grave of his closest friend. The slight breeze had picked up, cascading amongst the graves dragging the odd leaf along with it. It lifted the hair that rested on John's forehead and battered his clothes into his body.
The Earth seemed post apocalyptic as the silence engulfed the deafening space that surrounded the last remaining man, locked in the bubble of the cemetery. The heavy clouds had once again formed an alliance above the pathetic green of grass, threatening to unleash a thunder battle set to upturn the lightness of the morning. The all too familiar British weather.
Far off into the distance, in another world, a solitary cry of a raven spoke louder than the wind could ever possibly hope to muster so it settled with carrying the call high over the trees and the lone figure over the solid black mass.
It was at the sound of this that John finally decided to begin something he had avoided for a long time; to have a conversation with a man who died three years prior.
He slightly unhinged his jaw expecting a avalanche of words to tumble from deep within his mind, to be lost upon the deaf ears of the wind. But no audible sound came. He tried once more only to be struck by the same inhibition. He sighed into his hand as it passed to reach it's place on his forehead, slightly massaging his temple. The soldier let his shoulders sag allowing the hand upon his head reach for the other by his side, to help and try to sooth the tremors racking through his wrist all the way to his fingers. John held there; head low, shoulders pulling him to the ground and hands clasped in front of his waist.
It was then and only then was it that John allowed to ease up on the last structured defense of his facade. The tears that followed held no hesitation in dampening the cheeks of the weeping man. And that's where he stayed for the minutes proceeding; crying and alone in a garden of bodies.
After a few moments John let the one hand release the other so he could attempt to clear up the mess of tears on his face all to without avail, with every tear brushed aside a new one would regenerate in the small corner of his eye, tasked to fall into the same position.
The tears wouldn't...couldn't stop. He was angry, frustrated and upset. The guilt within him boiled his blood. Why couldn't he say anything? This was the man who had saved his life on more than one occasion. Hell, John had even saved His life on the first day of meeting the man. All of which, John realised, was to be in vain. He couldn't stay, he needed out.
"I'm sorry." A slight pause as John made his mind for the second time that day.
"I'm so...so sorry, Sher....," John stammered as his voice threatened to break. He turned to take long, hobbled yet hurried strides away from the grave to get back to the rest of civilisation.
He only managed to get about ten long strides down the path before he halted as everything came rushing back like a punch to the head. The reason why John had came here. The reason why he had been alone for the past three years. The still longing to know why He had completed the action that had all but destroyed the Doctor. All this propelled him back to the black mass sitting under a tree.
As rapidly as he'd shed his armor he pulled it back around him. The soldier took stance and the tears stopped their descent. Spinning on his heel and breathing heavily, John marched back up the slight incline towards his still awaiting friend.
Upon reaching the site where he had stood mere moments before, he took one deep breath before releasing his onslaught but this time his mind and mouth connected and John had finally gained the ability to form words.
"I...I. No....you. I....." Ok, maybe this wasn't the best start to what John had imagined his big speech to sound like. He briefly turned his head to the left to avoid eye contact the silently judging slab, as he did so he inhaled a stuttering, steady breath.
