Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of the Abyss or any of its properties.

Notes: This was written forever ago as a response to a prompt on tumblr. I've finally decided to update this account with something, though, and thought it this was still good enough to make it here.

For those of you familiar with Doctor Who, this features the Tenth Doctor (though if you're familiar with Doctor Who, I would hope that I wrote him properly enough for that to be obvious).

Companion

One: A Box in the Courtyard

With his journal closed, his lamp switched off, and his coat thrown over the back of his chair, Luke turned and flopped face first onto his bed.

He didn't bother climbing under the covers due to the sticky summer heat, stifling even when he had his window open, and couldn't be fussed to strip his clothes off, either. He knew that he should, given that his father would scold him if he saw him wearing wrinkled, day-old clothes at lunch the next day, but even with his father's imminent disapproval, he couldn't muster the energy to change. After all, odds were that his father was going to be angry with him no matter what he did, so what difference did his clothes really make in the end, anyway?

"He's not even really my father," Luke mumbled, his voice muffled by his pillow. On the other side of his bed, Mieu sat up, ears twitching, and Luke turned onto his side so he wouldn't have to look the little cheagle in the eyes.

It had been almost a month since the battle at the Absorption Gate, and since then, he'd done nothing but return to the same, boring life he'd led before he and Tear had gone to Tataroo Valley together, albeit with a few minor tweaks: Guy was no longer at the manor, Luke knew that he shouldn't have been (and that Asch should have been there, instead), all of the maids acted like he had a giant spider glued to his face, and, of all things, he had a cheagle companion to take pity on him. Pity. From Mieu. If there was one final straw that needed to be broken to make Luke absolutely hate being at the manor, it was being on the receiving end of Mieu's pity.

He flopped onto his back.

Really, Mieu's pity wasn't the absolute worst. It wasn't worse than the maids stammering excuses before they scampered off upon seeing him, or the way his father criticized everything, from the time he spent sleeping to the way he dressed to practically the way he breathed. And it certainly wasn't worse than the fact that he hadn't heard from anyone—not Anise, not Tear, and not even Guy—since returning to the manor. Part of him knew that this was his own fault, because it wasn't like he'd written them any letters, either; but the other part of him admitted that he didn't want to bother them, because they were probably busy, and anyway, if they really wanted to hear from him, they would have sent him something to let him know.

But they hadn't, so they probably didn't want to. Not even Guy.

Luke turned over onto his other side, wanting to bury his face in his pillow again, and instead found himself staring straight into Mieu's large eyes.

"Is everything all right, Master?" Mieu asked, and Luke cringed in the dark at how shrill Mieu's voice was. "Are you having trouble sleeping again?"

"I'm fine, Thing," Luke grumbled, and he flopped over onto his other side again. "Leave me alone."

"Okay, Master," Mieu said. "But if you're having trouble sleeping, maybe I can help. I can jump over the bed lots of times and you can count how many times I do it. Or maybe we can turn on some lights! You like sleeping during the daytime, so if we make it really bright in here, then maybe—"

"I said shut up!" Luke turned over on his back again, thumping his left fist against the mattress as he did so. Mieu shut up immediately, and when Luke glanced over and saw the little creature's too-large ears pressed flat against his head, guilt squirmed through his chest. "I'm sorry, Mieu," he said quietly. "I just—I just want to sleep in peace, okay?"

"Okay, Master," Mieu said, much more quietly this time. "I won't talk anymore."

Luke sighed. "Good. Thanks."

Mieu gave no reply.

With the absence of a clock in his room, Luke didn't know how many minutes or hours he spent in silence, tossing and turning as he tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. It was no use; no matter how much he tossed and turned, no matter how much he silently begged for sleep, it wouldn't come. It never did—at least, not until the sun started to rise on the horizon, the inky black sky tinged with the blue and light purple streaks of the oncoming dawn. By that point, he was always so exhausted that he slept without the nightmares of Van tumbling back into the Absorption Gate, or soldiers breathing their last on the end of his blade. It was the one small mercy granted to him by his sleepless nights—the only thing that made his father's scolding about it worth it.

But now, lying in bed with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes and exhaustion gnawing on his brain, Luke wished that he could forgo the insomnia just this once, so that he could fall asleep early and still sleep well into the afternoon.

And that was when he heard it.

The noise was loud enough that Luke was sure he would have heard it even if he didn't have his window open, but with both tall panes of glass thrown backwards, the sound—which resembled an old, wheezing engine, Luke thought, like some sort of Dawn Age fon machine brought to life—tore through his room and startled Mieu so badly the cheagle jumped and tumbled to the floor. Luke rolled off his bed and stumbled to his window, squinting as he stared out into the courtyard. As the sound of the wheezing, revving engine died down, a tall, blue box finished materializing in the center of the courtyard, standing proud as though it had been there all along.

"Wow . . . Master, what is it?" Mieu hopped up to sit on the window ledge, his ears twitching excitedly as he eyed the box. "Do you think it's some kind of fon machine? Do you think—oomph!"

"Shhh." Luke placed his hand over Mieu's face, and tossed him back onto the bed, where he landed with a light thump. "Wait here and be quiet. We don't need you waking anyone up."

"But Mas—"

"I said be quiet!"

Mieu lowered his ears again, and though he felt another thread of guilt, Luke didn't let himself linger on it. The box was still standing there, smack dab in the middle of the courtyard, silent and untouched. But as he stared at it—as he took in the image of it sitting there, the memory of the aged engine, the suggestion that Mieu had given about it being a fon machine—Luke couldn't leave it untouched for much longer. Despite Mieu's squeaked protests, Luke climbed up and over his windowsill, leaving his boots and sword behind as he jumped into the courtyard and jogged toward the blue box.

Because after all, if it was a fon machine, that meant that only one person could be inside. Only one person cared enough about fon machines to mess with a dusty old blue box, and—on top of that—to come and visit him. Luke spared only a second to look at the glowing words above the doors (Police Box, or something like that) before he raised one fist and knocked it against the faded wood.

"Guy?" he called, and he stood up on his toes to try and get a look through the windows. Warm light was filtering through the glass, though he couldn't see inside. "Are you in there? It's me, Luke. Hey, open u—"

The doors opened suddenly, and Luke blinked, finding himself standing face to face with . . . someone that was definitely not Guy. He was about as tall as Guy was, and his hair was similarly spiky, but it was brown instead of blond, his eyes dark instead of blue.

"Oh, hello." The man grinned and stepped out of the box, Luke stepping a few hasty paces back as he did so. "Didn't expect to have a visitor so soon. Well, didn't expect to have a visitor at all, really. Not very often someone decides to come knocking on my box." The man shut the door behind before Luke could get a good look inside, and raised an eyebrow over his grin. "So! What can I do for you?"

"Uh." Luke blinked a few more times, trying to make sense of the man before him. Everything from the man's clothes to the accent lilting his words was strange. Never mind the fact that he appeared out of nowhere in a wooden blue box . . . "Who are you?" Luke asked finally. "And where's Guy?"

"Guy? Afraid I don't know anyone by that name, sorry. I'm the Doctor." The man—the Doctor—stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, and then raised his chin a little as he peered over at Luke. "And you are?"

"Luke." Luke frowned. No matter how casual the Doctor's stance, if he was a doctor, Luke was pretty sure he wanted nothing to do with him. "So you're Doctor . . . what? What's your name? Are you from Belkend?"

"Can't say I've ever been to Belkend, no. And I'm the Doctor—that's my name. The Doctor." The Doctor drew out the last word, stretching his lips around the syllables. "Just like that."

"Just like that . . . right." Luke crossed his arms across his stomach, and rocked back on his heels. "So . . . why are you—"

"I'm Mieu!" Out of nowhere, it seemed, Mieu slammed into the back of Luke's head, clinging to Luke's hair for dear life as he chirped at the Doctor. The Doctor seemed delighted to see him, if the way he beamed and reached into his coat pocket for a pair of rectangular glasses was anything to go by, but Luke felt less than thrilled. "It's really nice to meet you, Doctor!"

"Blimey, a talking . . . I'm sorry, what are you, exactly?" The Doctor leaned forward, peering at Mieu through his glasses.

"I'm a cheagle! I can talk thanks to the Sorcerer's Ring!" Mieu scrambled to sit properly on Luke's head, but before he could make it very far, Luke reached up and yanked him off, holding him by the top of his head.

"What did I say the last time you did that, Thing?" he snapped. Mieu opened his mouth to respond, but Luke spoke over him. "I said don't, didn't I?"

"Mieeeu. I'm sorry, Master," Mieu said. "I only wanted to—"

"It's fine," Luke interrupted, the fight leaving him in the face of Mieu's pitiful look. "Just . . . don't do it again. Aim for my shoulder, next time."

"I will! I promise!"

"Good. Now go back inside." With that, Luke dropped Mieu, but before the cheagle could hit the ground, the Doctor caught him in one large hand, allowing Mieu to sit in his palm.

"Just a second, sorry, but I was wondering if I could take a look . . ." Half speaking to them and half muttering to himself, the Doctor reached into his suit pocket with his free hand and brought out a small, thin, silver instrument, which erupted with blue light and an odd buzzing sound the second he pressed a button on the side of it. His tongue between his teeth, the Doctor moved the instrument along the edge of the Sorcerer's Ring, peering closely at it through his glasses. "I see . . . it has a translation matrix inscribed in the ore comprising the ring, although that type of ore isn't typically found in this part of the universe, though it wouldn't be the first time . . ."

"Excuse me," Luke said, and the Doctor spared him a glance before his eyes were pulled back to the Sorcerer's Ring, "but what the hell are you talking about? And what are you doing to Mieu? That's not going to hurt him, is it?"

"Oh, right! Sorry. Here you are, then." The Doctor handed Mieu back to Luke, and—after seeing that Mieu looked fine—Luke set him back on the ground. "I just wanted to take a look at the—Sorcerer's Ring, you called it? Right, the Sorcerer's Ring. It's not too often that I come across a device as capable of translation as that one—instantaneous translation, at that, and not a word off!—so I had to take a look. It's not an exact replica—" Luke flinched, though the Doctor seemed not notice, "—of my TARDIS' translation matrix, but seeing as how replicating the TARDIS' translation matrix would be impossible, that's good enough to do in a pinch."

"And you don't have to worry about me, Master!" Mieu squeaked from the ground. "I'm not hurt at all. That light actually tickled a little!"

"Of course you're not hurt!" the Doctor said, sounding a bit indignant. He flipped the silver instrument in his hand up in the air before he caught it again, and held it up in front of Luke's face. "This here is my sonic screwdriver. Couldn't hurt a fly. Well, maybe certain flies, if they're sensitive to ultra sonic waves, but beyond that . . ."

"It doesn't look like any screwdriver I've ever seen," Luke said, and the Doctor grinned as he slipped it back into the inner pocket of his suit.

"Then the screwdrivers you've seen haven't been very sonic, now have they?" the Doctor asked, before he stepped around Luke to get a better view of the courtyard, turning to take in every angle. "Now, mind telling me where I am?"

"You don't know?" Luke asked. The Doctor looked back at him with a flat look.

"Well, if I did, then I wouldn't be asking, now would I?" Luke's cheeks heated up, and he looked away.

"Right. Sorry." The Doctor gave no reply. "You're at the Fabre manor in Baticul." When the Doctor didn't answer, Luke looked back, and found that the Doctor was staring at him, as if waiting for more explanation. "You know, Baticul? Capital of the Kingdom of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear? . . . On the planet Auldrant?"

"Oh, Auldrant! Brilliant!" A wide smile split the Doctor's face, and he craned his head back, looking at the outline of the fon belt in the night sky. "You know, I've always wanted to come to this planet. There isn't another one like it. And I'm not just talking about how you lot call the particles that compose matter here fonons—every planet has a different word for it, sometimes different cultures that speak different languages on different planets—but I'm talking about everything else. The fon belt, the Score you all live by . . . although, speaking truthfully, I'd see about getting rid of that if I had a bit more time." The Doctor stroked his chin, frowning up at the fon belt. "Nothing good can come out of knowing everything about the future before it happens. You can trust me on that."

"You couldn't," Luke said, and when the Doctor looked back at him, clarified, "get rid of the Score, I mean."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, and gave Luke a look that reminded him of the expression Jade wore when Luke said something especially stupid. "I believe you'll find that I could."

"No, you really can't," Luke said, and as the Doctor opened his mouth to argue, added, "Because we already did."

"I'm sorry?"

"The Order of Lorelei isn't giving Score readings anymore. My . . ." Companions? Friends? Family? What should he call them when they didn't speak to each other anymore? ". . . these people I traveled with and I ended it. It's a really long story, but no one knows the Score anymore." Luke mussed his hair. "From what I hear, it's making the people really antsy."

"But that's . . . that's brilliant!" Pure elation crossed the Doctor's face, and in his bemusement, Luke couldn't help but smile a little himself. "Oh, that's absolutely brilliant! The Score was the single worst thing to happen to this planet. Well, I say single worst thing, but then there was the miasma . . . but no, no, the Score was worse, and do you know why?" Luke opened his mouth, but the Doctor spoke over him. "Because it's just as I said: no good can come from knowing the future. Trust me, I know. Humans aren't meant to know what comes next. Humans, wonderful humans, you're meant to figure it out as you go! Experience it as it comes! Blunder into it without a single clue of what you're doing or where you're going, but with all the excitement of doing it anyway, because that's what makes you so wonderfully human! Hah!" The Doctor spun around on the spot, his hands in his suit pockets, and beamed at Luke. "And you ended the Score readings? You really did?"

"Well . . . yeah." Luke scuffed his foot against the ground, feeling a bit embarrassed now. "We had to. Once the Outer Lands started falling, the world had deviated from the Score. It was useless. And it also said that there was going to be a war, but we couldn't have that . . ."

"Of course you couldn't," the Doctor said, and the smile hadn't left his face. "Ah, that's just fantastic, that is. Did you bring me here just to tell me that?" The Doctor turned and patted one hand against the faded blue wood of his box, and Luke raised his eyebrows.

"Are you . . . talking to that box?" The Doctor looked back at him.

"'Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Something in Luke's expression must have tipped the Doctor off that Luke was wondering about the state of his marbles, for he added, "This is the TARDIS—that is, Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. She's my ship, and she's alive." He stroked the wood of the box, smiling fondly at it. After a moment, he paused, and looked back at Luke with a curious expression. "Do you want to have a look inside?"

With the way the Doctor talked about the TARDIS, Luke was starting to think he had more in common with Guy than his height. "Uh, sure. I have nothing else better to do."

"I'll come, too!" Mieu chirped. Luke rolled his eyes, but the Doctor grinned.

"All right then, Luke. Come and take a look at the good ship TARDIS." With that, the Doctor flung open the doors and stepped inside, Luke cautiously following after.

He froze three steps into the doorway, metal grating cool beneath his bare feet.

The box was a tall rectangle. Of that, Luke was positive. But the interior had rounded walls which stretched out far beyond the manor's impressive courtyard, at least to the manor's exterior walls. The walls themselves were brown, the same color as the interior of different landships in Sheridan that were still being constructed, and had circular lights protruding from almost every inch of them. Pieces of coral stretched down from the ceiling or jutted up from the grated floor, twisting every which way that Luke could see. And positioned dead center was a circular construct, with different levers and buttons and flashing lights on it, a tall, cylindrical object stretching from the top of the console to the roof of the ship, glowing with light and pulsing with some sort of energy.

The Doctor, positioned by the console, crossed his arms. "Well? What do you think?"

"It's . . . It's . . ." Luke tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but found it impossible. He took a few more steps inside, turning to see behind him—through the doors and out into the courtyard, up at the ceiling that seemed to stretch into the sky. "It's . . . I'm . . ."

"Speechless, apparently. Don't worry, you're not the first that's happened to." The Doctor sounded halfway between amused and exasperated. "I'm sure you can find something to comment on, though. How about the size? That's a popular one."

"It's . . . huge," Luke said, and he lifted a hand to rub at one of his eyes. The impossible size did not vanish. "It's . . . how the hell did you fit this thing in the courtyard? No way it can fit. This thing is bigger than the manor, and that's saying something."

"First, the TARDIS is not a thing. She is a she, and you'll do well to remember it. She might chuck you out if you don't," the Doctor said, and Luke finally looked back at him, wondering if he was serious. Then again, with a ship like this one . . . "And second, it's Time Lord technology. Even if I did have time to explain it, you wouldn't understand."

"Gee, thanks," Luke said, though he couldn't say he wasn't used to that sentiment being used around him. He paused. "Wait. Time Lord? What's that?"

"That's me," the Doctor said, and he looked away, back at the console. He twisted a knob, flipped a switch. "I'm a Time Lord. Last of the Time Lords, actually. But you don't need to worry about that. Doesn't concern you."

". . . Right." Luke wanted to ask more—wanted to ask for more clarification on what a Time Lord was, or why the Doctor was the last one, or if that meant the Doctor was human or not—but decided against it. If it wasn't his business, it wasn't his business, and besides, the Doctor seemed upset about it. "So, uh . . . if this is a ship, where does it go? And why did you come here?"

"Oh, she goes anywhere," the Doctor said, perking up almost immediately. "Anywhere, anywhen, in time and space." Luke raised his eyebrows.

"For real?"

"Yes, for real. What would I make something like that up for? And how would I get here in the first place, if it wasn't true?"

"Beats me. Lots of weird things have happened over the past four or five months. I'd believe just about anything at this point." Luke rubbed at the back of his neck, and the Doctor tilted his head, a speculative look on his face.

"I can understand that. As for why I'm here . . . that's a rather good question. I don't suppose there are any alien invasions going on right now? Any immediate threat to the safety of this world or the people in it?"

"No," Luke said. "At least, not that I've heard." Then again, would anyone tell him if there was? Would they think there was any reason he should know—anything he could do to help? The only answer that came to mind for those questions was no,and that did nothing but make him feel worse.

"Hm." The Doctor leaned back against the console, arms crossed, eyeing Luke. "And I suppose you're pretty busy here at the manor, then? Your family keeping you company?"

Luke couldn't help but huff a little, humorless laugh. "No. Mostly I just sleep. Sometimes I write or draw a little." He looked away, not wanting to look the Doctor in the eye. Not when the Doctor did all of those amazing things, while Luke did relatively nothing. "Mother's sick a lot, and Father's . . . well, he doesn't really want to spend time with me. Not that I really blame him for it." Not the complete truth, but Luke knew enough to know that any blame he shunted his father's way for it was unwarranted. After all, it wasn't as if he was Duke Fabre's real son. Why would he want to spend time with a fake?

"Why's that?"

"It doesn't matter." Luke rocked back on his heels, and finally forced himself to look back at the Doctor. "So, are you going to leave soon, then? Since there aren't any aliens or whatever for you to see here." Luke paused, and then asked, "Wait. Are you an alien?"

"Yep," the Doctor answered, without missing a beat. Luke's eyes widened.

"What? No way! You look human!"

"I think you look Time Lord," the Doctor fired back, and Luke found he had no response. "But I suppose I should at least leave your manor. Maybe explore a different part of your planet. Maybe not. It all depends on where my girl decides to take me." He patted the console fondly, but then looked back to Luke, a shrewd expression on his face. "Although, if you say you're not doing much here . . ."

"Yeah?"

"You could always come with me."

For a few minutes, neither of them said anything. Finally, Luke said, "Go with you? Where?"

"Anywhere you want. Or anywhen. Your call. Of course, I can think of a few destinations if you're really stumped. There's a galaxy nebula not too far from here I think you might enjoy, or perhaps you'd like to go back to see the birth of the planet . . ." The Doctor let the question hang, and then shrugged. "Your choice, of course."

"I . . ."

"Master, wait!" Luke had forgotten about Mieu, but looked down to see the cheagle bouncing frantically by his feet. "You can't go! Won't your Mother be worried if you leave? And what about when Princess Natalia comes home? She'll be really mad if you're gone when she gets back!"

". . . Yeah. You're right." Luke's shoulder sagged, the excited tension that had built up in him at the offer fading away. "I can't. I have to stay."

The Doctor nodded, turning back to the console. "Right. Should have figured. It's probably best that I travel alone, anyway. It's better that way. I don't need anyone. Sorry for dropping in on you like this, Luke. Hope I didn't disturb you too much."

"No, you're . . . it's . . . it's fine." Luke reached down and picked up Mieu before he backed toward the door. "I, uh . . . thanks, Doctor. For the offer."

"Yeah." The Doctor didn't look back, and Luke, seeing that he wasn't going to get a better goodbye than that, stepped back out into the courtyard.

As he walked back toward his bedroom window, he felt an uncomfortable, almost painful weight settling in his chest, his heart beating erratically in anticipation for the revving, wheezing engine. When the sound didn't reach his ears even after he reached his windowsill, he turned, his eyes falling on the blue box with its doors slightly ajar, the orange glow seeping out from between the parted wood. It was almost as if the Doctor was waiting, but . . . that couldn't be true, could it? The Doctor wouldn't wait for him. Not after he'd said no. And not when he was . . . well . . . him. A replica. Worthless trash. He wasn't worth waiting for. Never would be.

But he doesn't know I'm a replica, Luke thought, gnawing on the corner of his lip, his heart beating ever faster. He's probably the only person in the world that doesn't know. And he's an alien, anyway, so . . . would it really matter? Neither one of us is a normal human, so neither one of us really belongs here, right?

"Master?" Mieu asked. Luke turned and set Mieu on the windowsill, and then gave him two pats on his head.

"Be good, okay Mieu?" he said. "Don't cause any trouble for Mother, and if anyone asks, just tell them I've gone on a trip."

"What?" Mieu asked, aghast. "Wait, Master, you can't—!"

His squeaks fell on dead air. Before he'd even said the third word, Luke was running hell for leather across the courtyard, throwing himself through the still open doors of the TARDIS, where he met the Doctor's shocked expression with a broad grin.

"Hey, Doctor. That offer still open?" The Doctor continued to stare at him for a minute before he grinned himself, showing his teeth.

"Only if you shut the doors first. Can't have either one of us falling out into the Time Vortex, can we?" Luke turned and obediently yanked the doors shut before he ran back up to stand on the other side of the console, drinking in every button and twisty knob that he could see. "Now, where or when would you like to go, Luke? Well, I say where or when, but really I mean where andwhen? Anywhere, anywhen. Your pick." The Doctor yanked a lever and the ship gave a strong lurch, forcing Luke to hastily grab onto the side of the console before he was thrown to the floor. "So!" the Doctor called over the TARDIS' wheezing engine. "Where to?"

"Anywhere," Luke said, his voice breathless with exhilaration. "Just as far away from here as you can. Please."

"Well then," the Doctor said, and he yanked another lever and twisted a knob, Luke's stomach flipping sideways as the TARDIS rocked violently toward the other side. "I know just the place. Allons-y!"