#i was thinking about the tardis and dw references throughout the show and then ideas and lore started spiraling

[aidanchaser]

i know im still finishing up boulangerella (im really at the climax i promise) but i got hit with another long fic idea and its still haunting me after like a week

She found him in Paris, in the twenty-first century. She wasn’t even looking for him, and yet she found him.

She’d only stopped in this time and place for a quick trip to her favorite bakery. There was something about the chouquettes that fluffed up so perfectly here and nowhere else. She’d visited this bakery a century earlier, and while it had been good, there was something about this particular century that was better. Maybe it was just the kindness of the baker and his wife, or a different twist on a family recipe, or something about the air quality. 

She tried to blend in—she always tried—but she was never the best at keeping up with the everyday fashion trends of the universe. There were a lot of different cultures throughout all of history and space to bother with, so she stuck to her red and black-spotted suit more often than not. If the bakery owners found this odd, they didn’t comment. She suspected that they were too polite to comment, even if she were to walk in with an inflatable rubber duck around her waist.

She’d found a perch on their rooftop, and had promised herself that she would only stay long enough to properly enjoy her sweet treat, when she saw him. Or rather, she saw his face on a large board advertisement high above the city.

She knew his face—how could she forget his face?—even after all this time.

But his picture didn’t necessarily mean that he was here. It only meant that he had been here at one point, and a remnant of him was left behind. She had no reason to get excited.

And yet she abandoned her chouquettes on the rooftop and leapt across the buildings to his portrait. His smile was wide and free. She brushed her hand along his face, more than triple the size it ought to be. Though his eyes were closed, she remembered how brilliantly green they were the last time she had seen him and she smiled, though it was bittersweet.

She hadn’t seen him smile this exuberantly in centuries. They’d been running and hiding for so long, and she’d nearly forgotten how happy he used to be. She hoped this picture meant that he’d found his freedom once again.

She slipped down to the streets and back into the bakery.

“More already?” the kind woman behind the counter smiled.

Her burly husband laughed. “You’ve got a healthy appetite, young lady.”

She bit down on her lip as she smiled. Their casual affection was always so warm and comforting. If she was allowed to stay anywhere, she would gladly stay with them.

“No, thank you,” she said. “The chouquettes were perfect, as always. Er—I was actually wondering if you could tell me about the advertisement.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the billboard.

“The Gabriel ad?” the woman asked. “It’s for… perfume, I think?”

“What about the boy in the ad?” she asked.

“Adrien Agreste?” the man said. “Gabriel Agreste’s son. He does all the primary modeling for the brand. He’s a sweet boy. Been in here a few times.”

She chewed on her lip as she tried to place the name Agreste. Had she been wrong? Was this boy not her lifelong partner and closest friend?

“Has he been here long?” she asked, though it was a silly question. Time meant little to people like her and him.

“Since his mother died, poor dear,” the woman said.

And she began to doubt. The boy she knew had lost his mother long ago, in the same war that had separated the two of them. Maybe she was wrong. This boy was not hers.

But something nagged in her chest that she was not wrong, that her partner was here. She could run from that impulse, leave this time and place to him. If he was happy here, she ought not risk it.

But she had to at least see him before she went. It was only right.