Reinette glanced once more at the fireplace. Her fireplace. Nothing moved, no voice called for her across the fire.
Her baby blue gaze went back to the book she was holding, and a sigh escaped her full, rosy lips.
She had been waiting for three months now... not the longest time she had waited for him, that was true, but her heart ached with melancholy and fear.
Would her Doctor ever come back to her? Would her angel, the reason why she fought off every single nightmare, hold her close to him again and take her to see the stars?
Reason dictated he wouldn't. He was her impossible imaginary friend, the hero of her dreams, the lonely little boy who just needed company, any company.
She wished with all her heart, that if he never came back to her,
if she was to spent the rest of her life glancing longfully at the fireplace which embellished the bedchamber, at least he wasn't traveling alone.
She had company to keep her busy: Her friends, her allies, her king... even her queen looked upon Reinette with approval. She even had her enemies, if the evening grew boring enough.
But the Doctor... oh, the Doctor was so lonely, and she longed to be his companion, her confidant and so much more, if he'd have her.
That night, another lovely ball would distract her. Dancing, gossips, intrigues, and laughter.
She could always count on those ingredients during a good soiree, and it helped Reinette keep her wits in constant training.
All of her years, waiting... and waiting and.... waiting.
Meanwhile, her dearest Doctor could look through a window and enjoy any moment of her life if he so desired, browsing
through the chapters of her story, dropping in at any time, anywhere, without any concern.
He never aged a single day, while she, the weary traveler, was forced to take the slow path.
It was rather impolite for an imaginary friend not to age a single day while she was already 23 years old, having met her darling Doctor when she was but 7.