2011

The sky was beginning to brighten with streaks of pink and orange light. Harry would be awake soon. Donna's house would come to life, to the sound of running water and boiling kettles, bare feet and slippers alike scuffling across carpet. But hopefully no crying.

The Doctor had been awake all night, tending to Ganbri and trying to bring down the fever that had suddenly come from nowhere. He still burned hot to the touch, but at least it had gone down enough to let the baby sleep. He was only four months old, the Doctor thought sourly, he was supposed to be focusing on learning one face from another or how to make his own hands obey him properly. He wasn't supposed to be awake all night, red faced and screaming.

It frightened him when the dreadful sound hadn't even woken Harry. The two of them were so in tune with each other that Harry seemed to always know the second that Ganbri woke up, crying or not. Last night, he simply laid there, not even stirring. The Doctor knew exactly what he would see if he leaned over to look at his husband's face, but he made himself do it anyway.

Eyes open, wide and staring. Harry didn't respond to sound or sight or touch. The Doctor could poke at him, roll him over, shout at him. Nothing happened. Harry would lay there silently and stare blindly into space—the only sign of life was the quiet, shallow breathing.

His eyes always opened when Ganbri cried but, since their return to Earth two months ago, sometimes that was all that happened. Harry claimed that he didn't remember anything, thinking he had been asleep the whole time. The Doctor had performed many tests and it seemed that it was just like Harry's other attacks—his mind and body were simply acting out in their struggle to handle stress.

Once, when Harry's brown eyes stared at him without seeing, the Doctor tried looking into his mind. It was like drowning beneath a hundred miles of black sea. It was heavy, the pressure unbearable and paralyzing, and each of his senses had been dulled until it seemed that there was nothing but water and space and static.

Maybe that was why Ganbri cried so hard. Maybe he reached out for his Tokrah in his distress and found nothing but emptiness.

He kissed the baby's soft head, wrapping his arms a little tighter around the little form protectively. I'm here, he tried to communicate to Ganbri with his thoughts and emotions, the same way that Harry did so perfectly. I will always be here.

He hadn't been able to communicate too well with Ganbri, still recovering from the grievous strain he had put on his mind when he faced Kahlia. Sometimes he still heard the Beast snarling in his head. Sometimes he worried that his fractured mind might never heal, worried that he might never bond with his son properly. He tried his best to slip in little thoughts or emotions when he could, even though it usually left his head aching for an hour or two later.

He could see the TARDIS through the window, parked carefully between the garden shed and a rose bush in the backyard. He yearned for her. The TARDIS had always kept him safe and comforted him when he needed it. Suddenly he found himself needing to do that job for others and it made him appreciate her hard work all the more. Like a frightened child running into the arms of his mother, the Doctor could only think that everything would somehow be better if he could only run away in his TARDIS again.

But his family was in no state to travel. Leaving them behind was not even an option. He wished he could at least sleep in his own room, in the bed that had cradled him for seven hundred years through all the best and worst times of his life. Harry had wisely insisted that they stay in the homes of their friends until they were both better, in case something happened and, in their vulnerable states, they were unable to take care of Ganbri. It was the safest thing to do really but, oh, how strange it was to try to sleep to the sound of lonely wind when he was used to the rhythmic humming of his ship.

His head was starting to ache already. Harry kept telling him that his mind would mend better if he slept more. The Doctor knew he was right. But sleeping was a lot harder these days. Some nights he dreamed of Sevil's gentle hands bathing his wounds or of Mouse's eyes gazing lifelessly up at him from the floor. Some nights he dreamed of Kahlia holding her vicious silver knife with bodies of children heaped at her feet. Harry's children, but his own too—lost centuries ago. Sahrrea always appeared so burnt and blackened in his dreams that he only recognized her by the green flecks in her eyes. Sometimes he even heard her mother wailing somewhere that he couldn't see.

He told himself that the dreams plagued him to remind him of what he must do. And what he mustn't.

He would not fail another child. He would not fail another spouse. If it meant that he had to sleep in a strange bed, away from the loving comfort of his faithful TARDIS, then that was simply the price of it. He would not be selfish this time. He would not be reckless.

Staying in Donna's house was temporary, of course, but he knew what it was the start of. They could not travel while Ganbri was growing and eventually Harry would want to get a house of their own. It was against his nature to settle and stay in one place but it seemed that following his nature had never done him any favours when it came to having a family. And he wanted them more than he wanted to travel. He needed them more.

So it was okay that the ship that felt like a mother sat empty in the garden. It was okay that his neck was sore from unfamiliar pillows and the sun peeked through the window to wake him whether he was ready for it or not. It was okay if Harry still suffered through attacks, and if they changed or became more challenging. It was okay that he got headaches when he used his mind to sooth his infant son.

It was all okay because it meant that he was there with them. For them. He would teach Ganbri everything he needed to know to safely drive a car or pilot a ship and the Doctor would explore the Bluesmoke Marshes another day when his son was old enough to go with him. He would discover worlds with Harry when he was well and spend the day in bed with him when he wasn't, and his husband would die someday, holding his hand when they were both old and happy.

So as his head ached and he blinked with exhaustion into the light of dawn, the feeling of Ganbri's heat against his chest and the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway brought a smile to his lips.

Earth's star shone warm and bright as it emerged from the horizon and it was absolutely beautiful.

Even if it did rise every day.

Hi, everyone! Some of you may have already read this as I have posted a few chapters of the Domestic Life series on my tumblr already. There is more to come! I hope to do one chapter for each year leading up the events of the sequel (27, for anyone keeping track). I also hope to put a new one up at least once a week, bot no promises. I am working on the plot for the sequel but I'm not quite ready to begin writing it yet. Hopefully, I'll have it ready by the time I'm finished this series.

I am taking requests and/or suggestions for the Domestic Life series, as I am really writing it for you guys. Nothing guaranteed but everything mentioned will be considered. Please note that I'm not fond of simply being begged for porn :P I will include some romance and more intimate chapters (thus the rating) so don't fret. Feel free to ask questions or make requests through reviews or private messages.

Please remember to review :)