Jerome
"What's that?" Amber asked, peering over Jerome's shoulder. Jerome crumpled the picture in his hands and shoved into his notebook.
"Nothing," he hastily supplied, his father still on his mind. He had always kept the fact that he never knew his father a secret. Poppy was always trying to figure it out, but he knew she wouldn't find anything. All he had was a letter so over-read, it was falling apart. Attached to the letter was a picture of Jerome on his father's shoulders, laughing at a baby Poppy's face covered in ice cream at the Christmas parade. Jerome was a spitting image of his father. They share the same coiffed hairstyle and striking eyes, they both possessed an attractive smirk that highlighted their high cheekbones, and shared several of the same expressions and the same dry sense of humor.
His father had always known when Jerome was up to no good; he never got away with anything! He always had a way of making his mother smile and laugh. She was so alive when his dad was around. She hasn't been the same since Dad left. Jerome was only two at the time, yet he remembered him like he left yesterday. He was a light in all of their lives, but now that he's gone, they were left in the darkness.
That night, after furiously checking that Alfie was definitely asleep ('Alfie, Amber's knocking! She wants to meet you in the attic!'), Jerome knelt by his bedside. Now, he wasn't the most religious, but he'd take help where ever he could get it. He cleared his throat awkwardly and folded his hands; at least that's what he thought he had to do.
"Erm-God? I, uh, know I haven't quite, well, spoken to you in a while but, I need your help. I gotta find my dad. I don't know what happened to him. He ran into the backyard one day, there was a really loud whirring noise, and he was gone. Like no trace of him left behind. I just- I have to find him. Please. Amen?" Jerome sniffed. He looked up at the brightest star in the sky, glowing blue, and knew his dad was looking at the same star. Then, he remembered one thing: blue was his favorite color.
The Doctor
He was buried in the photo taken almost fourteen years ago. It was taken not too long before he left. He barely knew his baby girl, Poppy, since she was born less than a year before it was taken and Jerome, little Jerome. He was an exact replica of his father. The Doctor wiped away a tear. He had grown up so fast. On Jerome's tenth birthday, the Doctor had written him a letter. A letter explaining how much he meant to him, everything he wanted to say, along with a copy of the picture. They had all looked so happy. It was the happiest the Doctor had ever felt.
"Where are we off to now, sweetie?" River asked, stepping into the console room. The Doctor quickly, but carefully, folded the photograph and placed it in his jacket pocket.
"Where ever the psychic paper tells us to go, love," he smiled. Said paper burned in his pocket. He pulled it out, but when he went to read it, River snatched it from his hand,
"'Help. I gotta find my dad. I don't know what happened to him. He ran into the backyard one day, there was a loud whirring noise, and he was gone.' Sounds like a little kid who may need our help," she read. The Doctor's heartbeats quickened. Could it be?
"Is there a location?" he begged. River looked confused. "On the paper! Is there a location at the bottom of the paper?" He was getting impatient.
"The House of Anubis, somewhere in the English countryside," she said slowly. In a blink, the Doctor threw the TARDIS in gear and headed for present day England. He, again, pulled out the picture when River wasn't looking. He looked over his son's babyish grin and ran his fingers over Jerome's dark blue t-shirt. Suddenly, it came to him. It was nothing important, but it was a minor detail every parent should know. Blue was his favorite color.
(A/N) Hey guys! I banged this out in like, ten minutes! I'm proud of it. I'm considering writing more instead of making it just a one-shot. What do you think? Review and let me know. Sibuna! I don't own Doctor Who or House of Anubis.