Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

51(G)

two by two in the ark and the ache of it.

April 22

She is approaching one year. Well, not linearly, but one year of her sentence down and only a lifetime to go. She lies in her cot, ignoring her oh so blue book as she stares at the ceiling and pretends she can see shapes in the shadows that dance across it in between lightning flashes.

Measuring time in Earth years seems a bit ridiculous really. Stormcage is an asteroid, and its orbit is irregular and immeasurable. But she doesn’t want to mention to any of the guards that though irregular, it’s orbited this system three times already and technically that means she’s served three years.

In a prison run by clerics, you just don’t mention going against the calendar.

She starts the day off imagining his face in those shadows. Then she sees lightning and pyramids, bowties and wedding rings and all sorts of fanciful images. Breakfast comes and goes.

She imagines holidays with family – sees the shape of a tree, or a forest. Lightning flashes again and it morphs into twin moons and she remembers the first planet he’d ever spirited her off to. Lunch comes and goes.

She is restless now, and she sees vaguely threatening shapes in those shadows suddenly. A Dalek’s eyestalk, a tall spindly figure, hand outstretched that makes her shiver. Judoon and Sontaran squashed into one messy shadow shape.  She closes her eyes for a while. Dinner comes and goes.

She doesn’t look for shapes in the shadows anymore, because disappointment doesn’t have any discernable shape. But this is what it feels like: a sharp object lodged in her throat and chest, a bitter coating of regret along her tongue and her mind berating her for expecting anything at all.

The one thing he never, ever is, is on time.

She swallows and it hurts, and she feels tears sting her eyes as midnight comes and goes. She feels every second of the day pressing against her skin, heavy with unfulfilled promise.

(The next time she sees him is three weeks later and she is alternately viciously mean and totally silent – he is young – so young, and confused. She refuses to explain other than to tell him that he left her alone on her first April 22nd. He doesn’t understand what it means until years later, for him.)

April 22

She doesn’t even hold out hope this year. Does not even expect him.

So of course he shows up at 4:30 in the morning, the harsh scraping sound of his engines causing her to look up from her book to see his TARDIS materialize right outside of her cell. He pops out, bouncing eagerly, a smile on his face and with a clap of his hands.

“Right then, which shall we do this year? Now I know you’ve said no a thousand times, but I just really, really think you’d love-”

“What are you doing here?” She hates to ask and he glances up as her cell door slides aside, his expression one of surprise.

“Which anniversary is this, for you I mean?” She draws in a breath at his words and she stares up at him with wonder.

“Second.” She finally responds and he looks at her with raised brows and a maniacal gleam in his eyes.

“Ah, second. Excellent. Well  in that case, it’s a surprise.” He grins and holds out a hand that she takes willingly enough. “Oh I bet you just knew this all along and that’s why you said no.”

“No to what?”

“Spoilers.”

(They land in Las Vegas in 1989. He buys a fedora and they gamble and she wins big, despite his declaration that counting cards is cheating. They stroll hand in hand until he spots a tiny chapel and drags her toward it, his face animated in the neon pink glow. They get married all over again, and he begs rather prettily to let them have Elvis officiate. She rolls her eyes, but secretly adores his absolute delight when they are declared ‘husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride. Uh-huh!’)

April 22