It had been six months since that fateful day at Bad Wolf Bay. The day your Doctor left you with the meta-crisis version of himself. When he had kissed you, it was everything you could have imagined and more. But there was the knowledge of this not really being him eating at you, and it still did. Even when he changed his name to John Smith and you both moved into the same flat, it wasn't him. But, hey, you weren't about to be ungrateful for what you got. The Doctor gave you the second best thing he could have given you: him, but human. Though every night, you couldn't help but loose sleep over the fact that the Doctor, the real Doctor never even said goodbye. He just... left.

Like you said though, no complaining. He looked, sounded, and acted (mostly, he had this strange new attitude to him) just like your Doctor. You were happy with him. He was the sweetest, but you could tell he missed it. He missed it all. Travelling, seeing the universe as it was. There were nights when you would catch him out of bed and on the balcony, staring up at the stars.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You turned over in bed to grab onto the Doctor, only to be met with an empty bed. His side was cold, he's been up a while. He must be in the bathroom or something. You sat up, quietly groaning and rubbing your eyes as you eyed the digital clock. 3:24 AM flashed in red. Christ, you had work in four hours. You pulled yourself from bed, making your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. You passed the bathroom, noting that the light was off. Where was he...?

Then, you saw it. His silhouette in the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. That outline was unmistakable to you. You slid the door open, the Doctor peeking over his shoulder to see who it was. You slid up next to him, leaning on the railing with him and looking over London from your flat.

"Sorry. Did I wake you?" He apologized, leaning a bit closer to you. Clearly, he wasn't just worried about waking you. There was something else bugging him.