[For Gwen]

He'd told the Doctor he would be down at the beach to swim and he meant to keep the promise. He just didn't think he could move just yet. He was sitting on the roof of the Compound, legs dangling over the edge as he smoked a self-made cigarette, weed inside, lit with the stove downstairs and using a defunct chart as the joint.

He was just staring out at the path, watching the sun and thinking about why it felt so empty inside. Why he couldn't even feel hurt, so much as nothing?

He took a deep inhalation, exhaling it thoughtfully, elbows resting on his legs. If he just let it come through, he knew it would hurt, but he wasn't strong enough for that. Not yet. So he remained numb.