It's been awhile, but I'm finally posting a new fanfic. And it's a long one! Admittedly, I'm rather nervous about it. It is complete though and will be updated regularly.

Many thanks to ascballerina for the beta.


The Doctor stood up in the seat of the wooden cart and surveyed the large crowd packed tightly in the village streets, groaning in exasperation before hopping down from his spot. The horse-like pack animal hitched to the cart snorted and stamped anxiously, trying to back away from the mass of people enclosing on them.

"You and me both," the Doctor told the creature. He turned then to the driver. "Sure you couldn't have taken us through the field?"

The driver pretended he couldn't hear the Doctor and went around the back of the wagon to retrieve the Doctor's heavy duffle. As soon as the heavy pack was slung over his shoulder, the Doctor started wading through the oppressive throng, doing his best to block out all the shouts and cheers. It was nicer to be esteemed by a village rather than residents wishing to lynch him, but he still highly preferred being left alone. They weren't trying to seize him exactly, but many kept tugging on his leather jacket, trying to get his attention. Try as he might to ignore them, some of the louder cries and those almost directly in his ear, got through to his attention. Each one was worth an eye roll, a huff, a scowl, or a growl of frustration.

The Doctor liked to help where he could, but was not one for fanfare and was irked by ovation. He was often able to escape with little or no notice, but a large crowd had congregated and followed after him even before he arrived at the final site with his equipment. Then he had to wait for his little human helpers to bring the other spikes that he'd set up around the area. By the time they started back toward the village, though he'd have rather his driver take him through the nearby fields, more than a thousand people were following after. The small village couldn't possibly have a thousand people, so residents of neighboring villages must have come for the spectacle. And now that they were safe, he was the sole spectacle.

A feast, a festival, a tribute they were all offering him. Many were offering to let him rest at their house as the celebration was prepared. Others were asking him if he ate and what kinds of things he ate, all wishing to cater to him however they could. This level of laudation didn't happen often, but the Doctor had still experienced it a number of times. Even so, these people seemed different. They were a completely human population in the year 7832, decedents of an independent group that set up a private colony on this planet, Ahnier. Humans of this time had quite advanced technology, but this colony on Ahnier denounced technology, returning to the lifestyle of the most ancient of primitive humans on Earth. This village was made up of buildings made of mud bricks in the style of ancient Greek homes. They used wooden carts drawn by animals and those same beasts of burden helped tend the fields. A couple thousand years after the colony was settled, they still had no desire to break from their primitive lifestyle.

If they were happy living this way, the Doctor wasn't going to judge. The thing he found curious was that they had lost all knowledge of the universe beyond their planet, yet were not at all surprised when meteors began raining down on them. And though there was fear, there was no panic. And then he, a man from beyond their planet, showed up and they didn't question him either. No, they did question him, asking if he ate and what he ate, knowing he was different. They just didn't seem surprised or bothered. His coming was foretold, they'd told him. A man from the stars would come and save them when the stars started to rain down. The Doctor found that bit interesting, very intriguing, but not enough for him to press for more. He just wanted them to get the hell out of his way so he could get back to the TARDIS. He still had about a mile to walk once he got out of the village.

"Enough!" the Doctor roared, stopping to look at the people around him. The volume of the crowd dropped to a near silent hush as they all listened for their hero to speak. "I appreciate the gratitude and all, but I've already said that I'm not stayin'. Have your little festival, but leave me alone! I don't want your food and music and dancin'. I want to leave! So just stop pullin' on me and get out of the way!"

The volume raised again as the villagers began speaking amongst themselves, discussing the Doctor's commands. The Doctor nodded in satisfaction and began walking again. He didn't make it more than a few steps before one woman's voice called above the others.

"But you can't go yet. You must be rewarded."

The Doctor didn't look back when he replied. "Don't want no reward, thanks."

"But you must accept! You must! The prophecy… We are to give you a gift. It is our duty, our honor! Please, we beg you to accept our gift!"

When the woman finished her plea, the entire crowd around him began begging in earnest. The Doctor continued to push on, nudging people out of his way, but even more uncomfortable than the cheers were the imploring looks and hands poised for prayer as they beseeched that he accept their gift.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and huffed in frustration. "Fine! A gift. Fine. Just give it to me already and let me get out of here, alright?"

Great relief swept among the people and they parted easily to make a path for a man and woman to approach him.

"Right, they'll part for them," the Doctor grumbled to himself.

"Great Hero," the man said decorously. "It is our greatest honor to present you with the gift of our daughter."

As the man said this, he held out a swaddled infant for the Doctor to accept. The Doctor's eyes widened and he blinked at it in disbelief. Recovering from shock, his expression immediately morphed to disapproval.

"That is your gift?" he asked in disgust. "A baby? You're trying to give me a baby?"

"A bride," the man corrected. "I confess, we did believe she'd be older before you arrived, but she is unquestionably destined for you."

The Doctor scoffed incredulously. "A bride. A baby bride. Are you bloody mad?! You expect me to raise a baby and then marry it? Or am I supposed to marry it as is? Not bloody likely."

The Doctor turned and began forcefully shoving through the horde of stunned and fearful people.

"But you must!" the baby's mother cried desperately. "It is destined. You must-"

"I must do nothin'!" the Doctor roared, rounding on her. "I saved your lives and you act like you're obligated to indulge me, but really you're makin' out that I'm the obligated one! I don't want anything from you. I'm not takin' anything from you. Least of all, a baby! All I want is to get the hell out of this place! If you've got even the least bit of respect, you'll get the hell out of my way and let me alone!"

The people were stunned and silent, moving out of the way as the Doctor passed. After a few moments, the quiet murmurs picked up again, but nobody made to speak to the Doctor again, parting to make a clear path for him. The crowd ended just a little further than the edge of the village and then he was blessedly alone. Free of the masses, the Doctor took a deep breath of relief. He'd met some mad people on his travels, but anyone that thought he'd be fit to care for a baby were imbeciles.

The walk from the village to the TARDIS was just over a mile, which was no bother to the Doctor now that he was alone, but unfortunately, his leisurely pace up the path provided enough time for a beast-drawn cart to catch up to him. The Doctor groaned. So close… He was determined not to stop, already digging out his key so he would be prepared when he got to the door. Even wanting to escape this person, he would not resort to running. His pride wouldn't allow it.

At the sound of the cart's approach, the Doctor spared a glance at it. It was only meant to be a glance, but when he realized the reckless speed of it, he couldn't stop watching. The wagon wobbled and bounced dangerously up the dirt path, the driver nearly unseated. It began to slow as it neared him and the Doctor turned back toward the TARDIS, only a few yards away.

"Please!" the man bellowed, chasing after the Doctor on foot. "Please! I beg you to at least listen. Please!"

The key was in the lock, but the Doctor paused. His shoulders drooped and he sighed in defeat. They were the cries of a desperate man. Were he pleading for his life he could not sound more desperate.

The Doctor turned to face him, arms crossed over his chest in a stance that clearly warned he wouldn't tolerate any more nonsense. "What is it then?"

The Doctor got a good look at the man then and he fought for more patience. This was the baby's father. "You."

"Yes. My name is Cassaun. I am the father of the destined child."

"I don't want it," the Doctor adamantly declared.

"I know, but I beg you to accept another gift from me." The Doctor looked ready to decline, so Cassaun rushed to continue before he could. "My family might die!"

The Doctor regarded him skeptically, but allowed him to explain.

"There is a prophecy. The Bad Wolf's Prophecy. It has been in place for centuries, telling of a great event in which the stars would burn and fall upon us. But we were told not to worry because a man from the stars would come and protect us, save us and our lands from destruction. We were told to reward the hero. Consecrated in infancy, a woman would be destined for him. It was placed on me. The duty and honor to reward the man from the stars was mine. My responsibility."

"I don't-"

"If I cannot reward you, I will have failed. I will have failed to fulfill the prophecy, failed you, and my people. It will mean more than dishonor. They will kill my family, starting with my daughter. And the prophecy is spread throughout all of Ahnier. It is extremely likely that other villages will attack this one. You do not want my daughter, but please accept the gift of my family's treasure."

The Doctor felt defeated again. Stupid people and their stupid prophecies. "Let's see it then. What is this family treasure?"

Cassaun led the Doctor to the back of his cart where an ornate wooden chest was tethered down. When Cassaun said treasure, the Doctor hadn't expected a proper treasure chest. It was covered in intricately carved designs. Most were balanced patterns similar to celtic styling and a lattice band was carved around its center. It measured a little over two feet long, about a foot wide, and one and a half feet tall. Small enough for one man to carry, but depending on what was inside, likely difficult for one man to manage.

The Doctor waited rather impatiently for Cassaun to unstrap it from the cart and open it. Treasure… The Doctor rolled his eyes. It was filled with coins, gems, oils, spices, fine cloth, and who knew what other nonsense buried beneath that.

"This? If I take this, your people will decide not to kill your family?" the Doctor asked skeptically.

"That is my sincere hope."

"Fine," the Doctor agreed. "Do I need to write you a note so your neighbors know I've accepted?"

The Doctor's sarcasm didn't bother Cassaun whatsoever. "They know what I have brought you. Your acceptance will not be doubted."

"Fine." The Doctor hefted the trunk off the cart and pushed into the unlocked TARDIS, kicking the door shut behind him without even a goodbye to Cassaun. He dropped the chest next to the console and quickly sent the TARDIS into the time vortex. He couldn't wait to put that planet behind him. In the same mind, he immediately dropped the chest in the box room. Centuries ago, the room had been filled with organized storage boxes dedicated to handy gadgets and other items he might later find use for. At this point, it was a junk room with piles of miscellaneous things. He didn't care a whit about Cassaun's 'treasure' and could hardly call it useful, but at least it was out of the way. Ahnier was now nothing but a memory.


Something was wrong with the TARDIS. It was driving the Doctor mad that he couldn't figure out what. It seemed that the more he tried, the more he ended up hurting things. His first check showed that everything looked to be in working order, but the TARDIS felt off, so he checked again. He found one part that he thought might possibly need replacing, but when he tried landing somewhere to buy a new one, the TARDIS fought him. After that, there were things to be fixed, the reluctant landing having caused damages. When he went out to buy the part he wanted, the TARDIS hadn't wanted to let him leave, locking the door so he couldn't exit. He couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. After a bit of shouting, she did let him out, but things felt even more off when he returned a few hours later. He couldn't help it if there was trouble in town and it took him a few hours more than he'd anticipated. He'd never imagined that a few hours apart from the TARDIS would be enough time for her to become more… whatever she was. He was determined not to leave after that though. He had repairs to do.

She was still unhappy and still getting worse. The more the Doctor worked on the TARDIS, the more damage was done. He'd try to fix something and she'd shock him so badly that it would damage the perpetrating circuit. Besides burning his fingers, she was giving the Doctor mental nudges. She was trying to express urgency, but it only ratcheted up his frustration, causing him fume at his infuriating time machine. Expressing urgency didn't help if he didn't know the problem. He was becoming exhausted, physically and mentally, but he didn't dare leave the TARDIS console unattended until he fixed whatever was wrong. Exhaustion started playing tricks on his mind. He would swear that he heard something, but nothing was there.

It wasn't until he took a break to use the loo and get a drink that he discovered what the TARDIS was so insistent about. Walking down the corridor, the TARDIS's telepathic nudges kept getting stronger. It was like a game of hot and cold that led him to the door of the box room. He thought it odd, but followed his ship's urging.

A feeling of horror shot through him the second he opened the door. A weak but persistent baby cry crossed the room and the Doctor rushed for the carved, wooden chest. He immediately threw it open and began feeling down the sides through the fabrics and other junk until he came into contact with the false bottom. He hadn't checked the depth, had never imagined something like this when Cassaun showed it to him. He pulled up the false bottom, which was like a tray, and put it, with all the junk on top, beside him. His heart broke and stomach churned as he looked down at the tortured infant at the bottom.

30 hours. It had been 30 hours and 7 minutes since the Doctor had discarded the chest in the box room. This baby had been neglected all that time. Only a thin blanket acted as padding between her and the wooden bottom. The dimensions of the box hardly allowed her length and the false bottom that had been above her must have almost touched her nose. She hadn't just been forgotten, she been buried alive in her own little casket. The only reason she had stayed alive this long were the holes in the carved lattice band around the trunk that provided her with air. It was small relief for she suffered in every other way. She was weak, her cry and her movements. There was no question that she must have been starving and dehydrated. He could see that she had spit up on herself and tell by the smell that she'd soiled herself.

He hadn't known. He kept repeating those words in his head. A statement in self-defense. He might have left her here, neglected, but he hadn't known.

"I didn't know," he told her as he tore off his jacket and pulled his jumper over his head. Very gently, he scooped the tiny girl out of her blanket and wrapped her in the soft wool of his jumper. "I'm sorry… I didn't know."

The Doctor got to his feet and started rushing to the infirmary, silently cursing the TARDIS for not being clearer. She should have told him. Somehow, some way, she should have shown him where to go. His accusations changed quickly to pleas for help. He needed baby things: nappies, cloths, dummies, bottles, everything. This baby needed it all.

The Doctor knew the little girl would not be happy with a bath after all the trauma, but that was their first stop. Once in the infirmary, he filled the sink and dipped her into it. His merciful, accommodating time ship had provided soft soaps and flannels. And the TARDIS didn't stop there. She had everything. Once the little one was clean and wrapped in a nappy, with ointment for severe nappy rash, the Doctor put her in the infant medical bed and began giving her IV fluids. For as calm as he could be in critical situations, the poor health of this infant had him in a frenzy. He'd had to force himself to be steady as he inserted the IV and found himself pausing and running a hand over his short cropped hair as he tried to decide the next course of action. What was priority? Clean… Working on rehydrating… Checked heart, lungs, and temperature… Bottle. Bottle was next.

Wrapped in a blanket in the Doctor's arms with a bottle of formula in her mouth, the baby girl calmed for the first time. A set of honey brown eyes stared up at him, captivated, and the Doctor was just as transfixed, pouring all of his sympathy and remorse through this connection. She was so small and delicate, no more than four months old. Fair skin with even lighter, wispy hair, and light brown eyes… That was probably the reason she was 'chosen.' The one 'destined' must stand out among the rest of the population. While Ahnier's population varied in skin tone, dark hair and eyes were the norm. They regarded her as a precious gift, but as the Doctor saw it, her unique features were what had cursed her. She nearly died being smuggled onto his ship, but had she not been here, she would have been killed by her people. Destined, they said. Destined for this? "I'm sorry, little one. But I've got you now."

He knew she'd like to eat much more than he gave her, and her cry of disapproval confirmed that, but after going so long without nourishment, she needed to take it slow. The Doctor gave her a dummy to suck on as consolation and began to very gently bounce her in his arms, soothing her to sleep. She was a stubborn one though. She refused to be set down, beginning to cry each time he tried. Giving in, the Doctor continued to hold her. Reclining in an armchair, they fell asleep together.


The baby, who the Doctor addressed only as 'Little One' or more frequently, 'oi, you', remained stubborn. She didn't like being set down, especially when it came to sleep, and would wail if the Doctor wasn't in the same room. He'd tried numerous times to put her down to sleep in a room near the console room, a room created by the TARDIS just for her, with a comfy little cot and a baby monitor for the Doctor. He tried to let her cry it out for a bit, but it was too heartbreaking when he imagined how much she must have cried when locked away in her small coffin.

And so 'Little One' was granted a place in the console room while the Doctor went about performing the numerous repairs that had become necessary. Her thickly padded, wicker moses basket was rarely out of his reach. The Doctor had worried that she wouldn't be able to sleep with the sounds of his repair work, but he managed to keep rather quiet. Until she fell asleep though, she needed assurance that he was there.

The Doctor hated feeling foolish, and he always felt foolish when he sang, but he was a fool for this tiny girl. Of all songs, all the lullabies in the universe, he wasn't sure what possessed him to choose a Gallifreyan one, but he did. It worked wonders with his tiny companion, but provoked a deep ache within him. It had been months, nearly a year, since the end of the Time War, but the pain was still fresh. There was nothing left of Gallifrey but him and the TARDIS... and memories. There were still memories, but they were all painful reminders of loss. Perhaps the Little One's appreciation of the lullaby changed that a bit. Painful though it was for him, it was comfort for her. He worked to keep Gallifrey in his past, but that one small thing, that lullaby, he could allow that.

When the Little One was awake, she was loud. The Doctor could bang around under the console all he wanted and she'd still drown him out. Cooing, shrieking with joy or displeasure, babbling repetitive noises, crying for attention... The child seemed to have only two volumes - ear-splitting or asleep. That was, until the Doctor started talking to her. She still babbled, but not quite so loud and it was a bit more intermittent. He wasn't really sure what to say to an infant, so he just spoke to her like she wasn't one. He kept her up to date on his repairs, told stories both real and fictional, spouted off fascinating facts on a number of subjects, and though she didn't understand a word, it was comfortable for them both. Through it all, feedings, nappy changes, and playtimes, the Doctor kept telling her things that started off with, "when I find you a new family, you'll..."

She may not understand him, but he still felt he should be up front with her, telling the Little One that the TARDIS was no place for a baby. Really, it was no place for anyone but him. Her stay on the TARDIS was temporary. He lived alone and that was how he wanted it so she better not get attached. He promised to find her a good family, one that wouldn't drug her, shove her in a trunk, and thrust her on a stranger. He realized his tone had become bitter when the baby started fussing and he quickly transitioned back to his optimistic assurances. This Little One deserved a good life and loving family, safety and security and he'd be sure to find the right place for her.

After six days of recovery, the Little One was looking much healthier. Her rashes and bruises had healed up, she was greedily sucking down bottles, she was stronger, more vibrant, and her shrieks and cries were louder than ever. The TARDIS, too, was in much better shape. With the both of them patched up, the Doctor set about fulfilling his promise. In the year 7128, in a quiet community on a planet inhabited primarily by humans, he found a lovely couple that were pleased to take her in.

The Doctor told himself that it was a relief, and it was, but he had to keep reminding himself of that when the TARDIS suddenly started feeling too lonely and quiet without the Little One's wails and coos. The TARDIS was meant to be quiet. Just him. Lonely was better. Just him.