Chapter Text
Where Even She Hesitates
A horizon of unfinished colors stretched into something that might one day become a sky. The ground shifted subtly beneath her feet, like thought trying to become matter. The world hadn’t decided what it was yet.
Harriet stood at the edge of it. Hands loosely at her sides. Watching nothing. Feeling....too much.
“You are avoiding them.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
Harriet didn’t turn. “Yes.”
“They noticed.” the voice replied.
Harriet let out a quiet breath. Not annoyed. Just… tired. “I know.”
Silence folded in around her.
“You understand why,” the voice said after a while.
It wasn’t a question.
Harriet closed her eyes.
For a second she looked younger. Not in face. In weight. “Of course” she said.
Memories:
A cupboard under the stairs and her inside it.
Cold. Hungry. Small.
—
A boy with red hair laughing too loudly.
A girl with clever eyes and ink-stained fingers.
A godfather with reckless love in his grin.
—
Green light.
Screams.
War.
Graves.
—
Hands she couldn’t hold onto.
Voices that faded anyway.
Faces she outlived.
Again.
And again.
And again.
—
Her eyes opened.
The unfinished world wavered slightly.
“They love you.”
Harriet’s lips curved faintly. “I know that.” There is no doubt regarding the truth of this statement. Accepting the truth had never been the problem in her life.
The Problem
“They will leave,” she said.
It wasn’t bitter.
It wasn’t angry.
It was simply… true.
The voice did not argue. “All living beings leave.”
A brief pause, and Harriet felt something like a caress on her head. “Some sooner, others later—and some more willingly than others....”
Harriet let out a quiet, humorless breath. “You don't care about that. You just take everyone along for the ride. The Next Adventure..." she mocked.
Because death didn’t ask.
Because time didn’t care.
Because endings came whether they were deserved or not.
“You love them, too.” the voice said.
Harriet didn’t answer immediately.
Her gaze drifted upward—to a sky that wasn’t there yet. “Yes....How could I not?” Her voice was soft. Certain. And heartbroken.
She had known for a long time.
Long before the 'marriage'
Long before the kiss.
Long before the almosts.
Long before she let herself notice.
The Offer
“You could keep them.” Death whispered. “You have that ability. The right to stop me from taking the two of them along.”
Harriet’s fingers twitched once. Barely.
“They would not age.” Her 'companion' continued in a gentle tone. “They would not fade....they would remain....”
A beat. Their voice grew deeper. “...with you!”
The words settled into the space between them like something sacred and dangerous.
But Harriet’s expression didn’t change. Not at first—then...
The feelings in her Heart shifted. Her gaze sharpened.
“They would depend on me,” she said.
“Yes.”
“They wouldn’t be free.”
“They would be safe.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Silence.
“What if they grow tired?” Harriet continued. “What if they want to stop? To end?”
“They would not have to.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
A long pause.
The voice did not answer.
Because it didn’t need to.
Harriet already knew. She turned, slowly.
“I won’t cage them,” she said quietly.
Even though she felt so deeply for the two of them. Although her heart yearned so painfully...
Even like this.
She would not become that!
Not for love.
Not for eternity.
Not for anything.
The Cost
“Then you will lose them.”
The words landed gently. Cruel in their clarity and truth.
Harriet’s throat tightened—just slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice. “I know.”
Her voice didn’t break.It didn’t need to. It carried centuries of practice.
“They will try to find you.”
“They already are.”
“You could return.”
Harriet shook her head. Not yet. Not like this.
Because if she saw them—
if River smiled at her like that—
if the Doctor looked at her like he always did,—
She might stay.
And staying meant choosing.
And choosing meant risking....that kind of loss again.
The kind that didn’t just hurt.
The kind that hollowed.
The kind that left something in her that even time couldn’t fill.
Or even worse: she could grow weak, give in to the yearnings of her heart.
The painfully sweet truth
“They would choose you,” Death said.
Harriet smiled faintly. “That’s the problem.” Because they would.
And she—
She didn’t trust herself not to take that choice and hold it too tightly.
Elsewhere, Unaware
The Doctor paces. Frustrated. Restless. Trying not to think about the way she looked at him after the kiss.
River was just as restless. Searching—and cursing every dead end. The memory of amused green eyes—a constant driving force.
Back at the Edge
Death left. Harriet stands alone again. As she has so many times before.
But this time it feels different. Worse.
Because now she knows exactly what she’s choosing to walk away from.
Her fingers lift. Brush lightly against her lips.
Just once.
Her other hand reaches for the warmth of another—one that had dragged hers along with it.
“…not yet,” she murmurs.
To them.
To herself.
To something that waits patiently in the dark.
And the unfinished world around her continues
without her.
For now.