And Reinette had been far too idle, far too long. She was one of the first, after all. The group, forced to watch as the Universe dissipated and disappeared around them. Simply gone. Lost. Leaving them forced to wonder what might have been done differently.
For a fortnight she traveled by the only means allowed to them still. With each and every TARDIS silent, answers took even longer now. Oxford. Cambridge. Local new organizations and any and every expert that deemed to see her in the fields of geology, astronomy. Even archeology. File after file, frustration after frustration.
It was true then.
Loss remains with us. We feel it. The Earth feels it.
Weather patterns shifting, the sky weeping like rain. Orbits accounting for what was gone. And while it was still subtle enough that it was not being covered naturally. Those that truly watched, knew.
This was not something that would get better.
Fifteen days after her departure Reinette returned home. Mentally she was still startled how she considered it such. Though it was a clear indicator of why the events frustrated her as they did. She was invested now. Perhaps to an unhealthy degree. The TARDIS seemed empty as she slipped inside, shrugging out of her jacket so that only that wheat colored pants and narrow-cut vest remained. The ivory silk of the shirt beneath proof that while she did not always understand current fashions, she could wield them to her benefit. The gathered files were left in the library, a glass of wine sipped in hopes of calming her nerves.
It did not work.
Without really recognizing the events that took her there, a moment later Reinette was staring at the broken shards of her glass in the fireplace. Another witness to her frustration. Her husband would not speak of it. Or he might. She would deal with it later.
Needed air, Reinette stepped outside, the watercolor milkiness of dusk enveloping her.