how long are you going to stay with me?

 She lost track of how much time passed, and not just because she was in a time machine. Some days, it felt like years, like she'd been passed it all and moved on but still carried the grief like a widow. Some days, it felt fresh and sharp, like it was only yesterday, last week, some time recent. She couldn't tell. She didn't ask, she didn't want to know. 

She told the Doctor, mostly. Told her story just as he told his, and he seemed to understand. Seemed to know, with a wisdom she always underestimated in him. A thousand years of life, a hundred companions and friends, people who loved him and loved others. He seemed to respect her even more for it, if that was possible, didn't judge her, silently encouraged her. Took it in the same stride he took everything else about her, as though she could do no wrong. 

She appreciated him more than she'd ever tell him.

They traveled. He took her gentle places at first, and when he realized it was the running that freed her, if only temporarily, he took her to planets that needed saving. What frightened her, though, was the fact that she wasn't doing it to save them. Not now. 

They didn't stop to examine their relationship, just as they never had. She didn't ask, he didn't offer. They picked back up as though she'd never even been gone, with grins and tea and understanding, and they just... worked. Together, as mates, and nothing more. He would probably be accepting, if she made any move to advance things, but she never did, and he didn't mind. Asexual, and an alien. 

Now, though, was one of those down-times in between planetary distraction. He was working beneath the console, and she was sitting, quietly. Watching. Not thinking, just... sitting, listening to the TARDIS sing in her mind, and just... breathing. 

In her quest to expose Castiel to every possible happy human experience, she's spent ages figuring out the best place to attend New Year's Eve. After a week of waffling between her mum and dad's shwanky political bash and the rowdy pub down the block from her flat, she finally decided on the pub. Coming from an estate, she spent much of her time in tiny little everyone-knows-everyone pubs, had a lot of brilliant times with Mickey and the boys, catching matches. It was a lot more... familiar than the ritzy things her parents put on, and she decided she'd really like to experience it with him. Not to mention he hadn't yet met Mickey or Jake, and considering she worked with them, she thought it might be nice.

Things were going well. Really, really well. It was half passed eleven, and though she wasn't tipsy, she'd had a few, and so had everyone else. Half-priced drinks on holidays. They were brilliant. The music was good, everyone was happy, and the place was covered in streamers. 

She pushed her silly giant, numbered 'sunglasses' back on her head to keep her hair out of her face, beaming at the sight of Mickey trying to do the robot across the way on the dance floor. Just... really, really brilliant all around, with a drink in one hand and Castiel's in the other.