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Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I can dream that I do, though.
confirmation (n.):
"something that confirms, as a corroborative statement or piece of evidence"
There was something tangible about the pain.
He knew that humans had an actual term for this phenomenon. They called it "takotsubu cardiomyopathy". The precise definition was a bit muddled, but he understood that it was physical pain caused by an intense emotional experience; an emotion so strong and so encompassing that one's body had to physically manifest it as pain in order to deal with it properly.
Sometimes, he could feel the holes in his hearts.
They bled into his chest cavity, filling the cracks between his thoughts with unimaginable sorrow. He couldn't remember the last time he had hurt this much. Losing Rose hadn't hurt this much. Martha wasn't gone, not really. Just moved on.
But it was his fault, just like everything else. She was gone now, the brilliant light that had brought so much of his own life back to him.
Sometimes, he thought of Donna Noble as a color.
It was an odd thought, but it made sense to him, in a way. Donna was the color red. Not a burgundy or a deep pink, but a vibrant red. A bright, lively red that was both light and dark at the same time. She was red not just because of her ginger hair. She was red because red was intense emotion; sympathy, compassion, understanding. Donna was red because red was the color of blood. Blood was life flowing through the body, giving strength and the energy to live just one more day.
He knew that he was the color blue. Blue like the TARDIS and the very suit he often wore. He was a vibrant blue, a bit brighter than the TARDIS, but bright only because the sadness had to be hidden somehow. Blue was a perfect meld of beauty and sorrow. The vividness hid the despair he always felt.
When they had been together, purple was the result. A stunning, beautiful purple. The sadness of the blue was gone, as was the sometimes harsh glare of the red. They made a purple that could mend planets, destroy monsters, and save civilizations.
It was a perfect mix of blue and red, so perfect that the Universe could not bear its existence.
His chest ached and felt heavy. His twin hearts beat out of time, as if the memories were constricting the muscles he required to live.
The pain was his confirmation, his proof that Donna Noble had been the perfect red to his blue.