Rewatched Doomsday (again) and this little thought wouldn't leave me alone. Read, Review and Enjoy!

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Once every year. Just once. One day out of every three hundred and sixty five. An anniversary of sorts. The day she died. The day part of him died with her.

He went to the wall, placed a hand on it, then a cheek. At first he felt nothing, then a warm presence pulsed through the wall and he smiled.

She smiled too. He felt it, a cheery sense pervading the wall beneath his skin.

And so they sat, backs to the wall. Chatting in the only way they could. Knowing each other in a way no one else could. Hours at a time, just sitting and delighting in each other's presence, however limited.

As the light of day slowly faded out, each felt the sadness that came with parting. The pain of leaving, of being alone once more.

The years passed. He aging but never showing it and still alone. Her growing older, with family and friends, still without him.

Her stories included work and friends, holidays and picnics. His, war-torn worlds, horrific aliens and amazing people of all shapes and sizes.

She had a family, children, then grandchildren. Her well worn love surrounded him whenever they spoke. Pushed through the wall and other barriers not so well defined.

He, always traveling, always saving lives, but never the ones that truly mattered to him. Still alone. Always alone. She could always feel his sorrow, his hopelessness. But his will to survive stayed strong. If only to speak to her again. She would comfort him as best she could. He would cry. She would too.

Often they would sit in silence, just taking peace in the fact that the other was alive and well. That was enough.

When parting came, they would smile, put on a brave face and say farewells, wish each other luck. Always until the next time. Never goodbye. Never goodbye.

And time went on.

Then, one day, she didn't come.