Uncle Daddy Dreams, a doctor who fanfic

A/N: This is a continuation of my fic In The Still of the Night. I suppose that you can read this alone, as it stands up pretty well without prior explanation, but I do highly recommend that you check out the prequel first.

Thanks go to The White Leopard, as always, for an excellent beta job and for making my vague ideas into things worth reading.

If you recognize it, I don't own it. I do claim Claire, though I would happily hand her over to the BBC if they would like to use her for the series. (I can dream...)

Uncle Daddy Dreams

Claire Abigail Smith had dreamt every night for as long as she could remember. Her dreams were always vivid: she dreamed wonderful things, and she dreamed terrible things. She dreamed of a miraculous man with two hearts, both of them big enough to love whole worlds. Sometimes, he had company; other times, he was alone. Sometimes, he had wonderful adventures full of interesting people and great fun. Often, though, he fought terrible monsters, or people who were worse than monsters; he faced tyrannies and tragedies and did everything he could to save his friends. Usually, people died.

Sometimes, this man in her dreams looked like her father, but not all of the time. When she was young, she had a special name for that man, the one who both was and wasn't her father. She'd called him Uncle Daddy. Of course, that had been before she was old enough to understand about Time Lords and regeneration; about other universes, and travel through space and time; and about an instantaneous reciprocal human/Time Lord biological metacrisis which, in short, meant that she had inherited a stranger's memory. She learned that her mother and grandmother had been born in another universe entirely, and her father had originated there as well. The man in Claire's dreams was still in that universe. He was known as the Doctor – just the Doctor – and all of the things she had ever dreamed were real.

Even though her parents had explained all of this to her when she was nine years old, Claire hadn't really believed them until she was a teenager. Oh, she believed them in her head – her parents would never lie to her about something so monumental and, anyway, their story filled in too many gaps for it to be untrue – but in her heart, dreams were dreams and nothing more. The only time they had ever really seemed real were those times when she would wake up sobbing, the times her dad would slip quietly into her bedroom to comfort her. When he held her, tears on his cheeks and solemn grief in every line of his face, Claire believed absolutely that her dreams were real. It was terrible to know that her father had survived every horror she had ever watched.

When she was fourteen, that had changed. That was when the baby TARDIS was finished growing. Dad, who hadn't mentioned the project in years for fear of raising false hopes, had been absolutely jubilant. He had bundled Mum and Claire into the ship post-haste for her maiden voyage. They'd spent a week on Arkanis Minor, home of the best theme park this side of Poosh, and come home in time for school the next morning.

After that, they took family vacations as much as possible. It was lovely to have seven summer fortnights in the middle of winter term. Claire had once tried to take her school work with her – she had a report due when they got back and she needed it to be as good as possible if she was going to get a good mark. Mum had scolded her teasingly.

"You're just going to have to do your work in the same time as all the other kids get," she'd said. "You're already far and away more intelligent than they are. It's not fair if we let you use a time machine, too."

"Anyway," Dad added, winking at her. "Seems a bit dull to keep in here searching a report for grammar mistakes instead of swimming in the dehydrated ocean of Settari Gamma Two. Best swimming this side of Poosh, you know."

"What's so great about Poosh?" she had asked. "You use it as a marker for everything."

"Nothing," Dad had laughed, "I just like saying Poosh."

It was clear that her parents were, both of them, eager to get back to travelling as they used to, exploring space and time and never calling anywhere "home" except the TARDIS. They were eager to get going again and show their daughter all of the wonders the universe had to offer. It was equally clear that they were determined to stay until she was good and ready to go.

On the day Claire left home for university, she told them not to wait. She was a grown woman now, practically. She could stay with Gram and Gramps and Uncle Tony on the holidays and see her parents on Christmas and her birthday and the like.

"When I'm done with school," she told them firmly. "Then I'll be ready."

She'd graduated two years ago, summa cum laude, and still didn't feel ready to take up that kind of life. She'd seen the fighting. She'd seen death and chaos and evil and it scared her. No matter what she told her parents, Claire wasn't sure she would ever be ready to face that outside of her dreams.

And now there was this. That thing across the street, a shape every bit as familiar to her as her own face was. It was different from Mum and Dad's TARDIS. It didn't blend in at all, that big blue box, but somehow no one seemed to notice it there, sitting on a street corner as if it had every right to do so. No one noticed it except for Claire.

She crossed the street just as fast as she could.

Claire reached out and pressed both her palms and her cheek to the smooth blue wood. "Hello. Aren't you beautiful? You're so much more beautiful in person than I ever could have dreamed." Memories, even the Doctor's memories, did not do justice to the reality of her. If the TARDIS responded to this, Claire couldn't hear it; she wasn't anywhere near as telepathic as a real Time Lord would be. "Can I come in? I won't stay long and I won't mess things up, I promise. I just want to see."

If Claire had ever needed proof that the TARDIS was alive and very, very clever, this was it: the door swung open in response to her question and let Claire step inside.

"Oh, it's wonderful!" she breathed, taking in the warm, bright colours and glass floors. "He changed the desktop! It's gorgeous." The soft blue-green coral inside Mum and Dad's TARDIS felt small and cosy, homey, but this was grandly welcoming in its own way. It was vibrant in orange and gold and the tiers of glass and metal stacked up to the console. There was still a hint of coral about the walls, but overall it looked… very modern. Claire loved it.

"What kind of man is he now, I wonder?" she mused, running a hand along the bottom-most railing.

"The kind of man who doesn't generally like trespassers, but is willing to let it go if she has an entertaining explanation."

She spun around to find the voice and saw a man leaning against the railing on an upper tier, looking down at her, frowning in a way that was more curious than angry. He had probably just come in from one of the corridors, Claire thought. He had brown hair with a long fringe and curls behind his ears; he had a tweed jacket and a pink bow tie, a square jaw, and absolutely ancient eyes. Claire had never seen him before, but it didn't take a genius to know who he was.

"Uncle D-" Claire clapped a hand over her mouth, mortified at what she'd almost let slip. There were some things that just shouldn't be said aloud, especially now that she was twenty four years old. After a few seconds, she dropped her hand. "Are you… the Doctor?"

"Yeah, might just be." He didn't sound overly pleased to be recognized, but not exactly displeased either. Claire supposed that he didn't care one way or the other; right now he was much too busy trying to figure her out. "How do you know me?"

"I…" Claire bit her lip, realizing suddenly that she should go. She shouldn't have come inside in the first place. He wasn't her uncle, not really; he'd never met her before and might not care to have a niece who knew everything about him. It was probably rude of her, too, to invite herself in just like that. "I just wanted to step in and see the TARDIS for real. I didn't mean to bother you. Sorry, I'll go."

"Oh, you're not a bother. Who are you?"

"You…" She floundered for a concise and accurate explanation. "My name's Claire. Um… My dad's name is John?" She searched his face for any sign of recognition. "My mum's name is Rose."

The Doctor's mild curiosity about her changed, with slightly alarming suddenness, to an intense interest. He studied her with sharp eyes as he made his way down the stairs.

"Crikey."

"Yeah. Sort of what I'm thinking, too."

"You look like your mum." His eyes bored into hers as he stared, examining every detail with such undivided attention that Claire was having trouble not being frightened by it. "You've got my eyes, though."

"And your cowlicks."

"Sorry about that." He stopped on the tier above her. One hand went to straighten his bow tie and Claire realized that he wasn't sure what to do next.

"When did you regenerate?" she asked. "You look about twelve years old."

He shrugged. "Lost track of time for a while. Things happened, stress, you know. Think it was about a year after your dad happened. What were you about to call me?"

Claire blushed. "It's nothing. Just a stupid nickname from when I was a kid. I was just surprised, is all."

"Go on, then. I won't laugh."

"Uncle Dad," she admitted reluctantly. "It's what I called you before I knew about regeneration."

"Uncle Dad," he repeated softly as if trying it out. He came down the last flight of stairs to stand in front of her and looked her over for so long that Claire began to fidget. Honestly, it was worse than Auntie Bev pinching her cheeks and telling her how much she'd grown. After an eternity, he grinned. It was the same kind of smile her dad used – big and bright and a little bit mad. "I like that. Uncle Dad. Interesting name, makes me wonder how we're related. How do you s'pose we're related?"

"I hadn't thought about it."

"I guess it depends how you look at it," said the Time Lord, still staring at her. "Genetically, you're my daughter. I suppose it'd be a bit less strange to consider you my niece. You might even be my granddaughter, if you stretch the definitions and, oh, I don't even want to think about how River's mind would race if she heard me saying that."

"River? Professor River Song, you mean?"

"You've heard stories about her, then."

"I inherited Dad's memory. I watched her die. So you're married?" Claire tilted her head, thinking about the conundrum he'd presented. In what way was she his granddaughter? That didn't make sense.

The Doctor didn't say a word, but his shy grin was answer enough.

"Good for you," Claire said warmly. "Mum and Dad always worried about you. They'll be glad to know – oh. I get it. I could be your granddaughter if you think about it like Dad is your son, because your genetic code combined with Donna's to make him. Stretching it to the very limit, that is." She looked him up and down. "You're too young to be my granddad."

"Yeah, s'pose I look it. You know, Claire, I think we better stick with uncle and niece. I like having a niece. I like being an uncle, come to that. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four. How old are you?"

"Doctor? Have you pushed the wrong button and messed up the universe again?"

"Amelia Pond, this is in no way a decent hour for you to be out of bed," the Doctor chided, spinning on his toes to confront the redhead at the top of the stairs. She looked, Claire thought, exactly like the kind of girl the Doctor loved to travel with: young, energetic, curious, gorgeous, and really quite ginger to boot.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have landed the TARDIS with a bloody great crash, then. Rory's head is stuck in the ladder. Who's that?"

"My niece," the Doctor proclaimed with a proud grin, but his face quickly dropped to a glower. "Mess up the universe? Since when do I push the wrong button and mess up the universe?"

"Since last Tuesday."

"Oh, once. Once in a thousand years and suddenly you expect me to do it every day!"

Claire coughed. She could think of at least four separate occasions when he'd pushed the wrong button, resulting in potential crisis. The Doctor glared at her, but there was no venom behind it.

"Since when do you have a niece?" asked Amelia Pond.

"Since twenty-four years ago, apparently, and I think I quite like being Uncle Dad. It's got a nice ring to it. Go get your husband, Pond, I want an ice cream. We're going to get ice cream." The Doctor spun around again to face Claire. "Sorry, did you say John? Not Smith, surely? Please tell me he didn't keep that tired old name!"

"Yeah, he did. Mum said she had to spend weeks talking him out of Tim E. Lord."

The Doctor stared at her for a moment and then threw his head back and laughed. "He would! Oh, and let me guess – they've called their TARDIS Sweetheart or – or Cassie or something."

"Not quite," Claire grinned, "Charlie, after Charles Dickens. That was Mum's idea, too. Dad had his heart set on naming her Firebolt. Normally they just call her 'little girl,' though."

The Doctor grinned. "Good ol' Charlie boy. I remember him."

"I know," Claire said.

"Yeah, you said that before. Inherited your dad's memory? Tell me about that."

Claire shrugged, leaning against the wall. "I dream things. I've been dreaming things you remember since I was a little girl."

"Things?"

"Everything," she confirmed. "The Time War, Gallifrey, the beginning of the Daleks, everything." She averted her eyes, thinking of the countless times she and her dad had cried together in the middle of the night.

"And River's death," the Doctor finished quietly.

"And River's death."

"Is that why you're still here? I assume your mum and dad have gone already. Their TARDIS should have been old enough years ago. But not you." The Doctor took her hand and pulled her under one of the glass tiers. He had a hammock hanging there and plopped himself down in it. Then he pulled her in, too. It was a tight fit. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and suddenly Claire did feel like his niece, telling her favourite uncle something she didn't want her parents to know. "You're scared. All the things I've seen, I don't blame you. I'd be shocked if you weren't."

"Mum and Dad left nearly seven years ago, when I left for university. I keep saying that I'll go with them one day soon. We used to go on vacations – Arkanis Minor, Cinethon, Apalapucia for my sixteenth birthday, the diamond reefs of Kataa Floko, dehydrated oceans on Settari Gamma Two, Chimeria's botanical gardens, the singing towers of Darillium, Disneyworld Clom…"

"For someone who doesn't want to get out there, you've certainly been very far from home."

"Yeah, but that's different. That's vacation. What you do, what they're doing, I can't do that. I just know I couldn't take it. I'd fold at the first sign of trouble and more people would die because of it."

"You, fold? Have you met your mother? Or your father? Or Jackie Tyler? Nah, you won't fold. You'll be magnificent, that's what you'll be." The Doctor grinned at her, his green eyes sparkling. Claire managed a weak smile in return. "There! That's better. Bit of a smile, ey? You've got your mum's smile. Best be glad you didn't get your grandmum's."

"She'd smack you if she heard you say that," Claire said, her smile growing wider.

"Wouldn't she just? Smack my silly head clean off, I bet!" The Doctor pressed his finger to his lips. "So don't tell her, alright?"

Claire mimicked him, pressing her finger to her lips as well and grinning. "Your secret is safe with me, Doctor."

"Since when do you call me Doctor?" The Time Lord pouted at her.

"Since I was nine. Why?"

"I like being your Uncle Dad."

Claire felt her cheeks heat up. She didn't know what she had expected the Doctor to be like, especially since he'd regenerated, but she certainly hadn't expected him to be flattered by the silly nickname! How embarrassing! "It was cute when I was four. It's not cute two decades later!"

"Boring," he complained.

"Childish," she shot back.

"Yeah, but what's the point of growing up if you can't act childish? I'm nearly twelve hundred years old, you know. I'd say I deserve some immaturity. Say, Claire, have you ever had ice cream on the Golden Moon of Antaur? They have the best double fudge sundae – "

"This side of Poosh, yes, I know. Dad says that all the time."

"Does he? No wonder. Poosh is fun to say. It has those little marshmallows sprinkled on it."

"What, Poosh does?"

"No, Claire! The double fudge sundaes on the Golden Moon of Antaur! Keep up." The Doctor ruffled her hair. "Tell you what; we have to pop back over to the other universe rather quickly – splintering universes and all that, haven't the foggiest how we got here in the first place, really – you should give your mum and dad a ring, let them know where we are, and we can all have ice cream before they take you home! Or, alternately, into time and space."

"I told you – I don't want to go travelling. I've seen that life, and I can't do it."

"Ah – but you haven't seen it, not really. Oh, yeah, you dreamed it, but you were seeing it through my eyes. My old, tired, very cynical eyes. You haven't seen anything through your own eyes. When you see things for real, you'll see them without the associations that my memories bring. You won't see a Nestene and start thinking about the Time War. You won't be thinking about how you saw this and that with such and such a person. For you, everything will be fresh."

"That doesn't stop me being scared."

"Nothing will ever stop you being scared," the Doctor said. "Nothing except doing it and realising it's not as bad as you thought it'd be. Haven't you ever been on a rollercoaster?"

Claire nodded reluctantly. It made sense, and since it was coming from the Doctor, it was just about as categorical a statement as it could be. No one knew better than him what it was like to travel through time and space, after all. It didn't make her eager to accept what he was saying, though.

"Start small," he advised, smiling at her with all the compassion in his hearts. "One trip. Go on one trip, and then decide if you want a second, and then after that you can decide if you want a third. But promise me that you'll go. Do that for me? For your Uncle Dad?"

Claire's head turned into his shoulder. She closed her eyes as the Doctor stroked her hair softly. "Why?"

"Because you ran straight to the TARDIS when you saw her." His posture changed suddenly, upsetting her balance enough that she nearly fell out of the hammock. "Ah, the Ponds! Hello Ponds! Rory, how's your head?"

"Sore. Thanks all the same."

"Magnificent." He hopped up and Claire tumbled backwards as the hammock rocked. "Golden Moon of Antaur, then? Double fudge sundaes, here we come!" He was up by the console in less than a second, dancing around it as he entered the coordinates. Then he was back, leaning down over the railing so that he was practically upside down. "Are you going to call me Uncle Dad?"

"Wasn't planning on it, no," Claire answered, untangling herself and getting up. "Why should I?" She climbed the stairs and took station next to Amy and Rory. They were, as far as she knew, the first married couple the Doctor had ever travelled with. They must have been really special.

"Because it's a brilliant name! Come on, please?"

"No! I told you, it was cute when I was four, but I'm not a little girl anymore."

"I'm twelve hundred years old, oh niece of mine. You'll always be a little girl to me."

"He's right," Rory said. "He treats everyone like kids – except for kids. And River. He treats them like adults. Are you really the Doctor's niece?"

"No, but it's complicated. My dad is… a human with the Doctor's genetics and memories." She looked over to see how the two received this. Amy looked like she wanted to ask a question, and then thought better of it. Apparently, she'd been travelling with the Doctor long enough to know when it just wasn't worth it. Amused, Claire added, "I'll explain it to you if we have time."

"Loads of time! All of time!" The Time Lord finished take-off with a flourish. "And when you're done with that, Amy and Rory will tell you all the funny stories they have from travelling! Oh, oh – start with the one about how you defeated a vampire with a broom, a hand mirror, and a well-timed comment about his mum! Classic! But first –" He rounded on her, brandishing a finger. "Are you going to call your mum, or am I? Keep in mind that if I do it, I'll make sure they know to bring all your embarrassing baby pictures along!"

Amy snickered and Rory rolled his eyes. He would do it, too, if she let him make the call – she could just imagine it. Hello, me! Hello, Rose! I met up with your daughter and we're going for ice cream! Bring all of Claire's most embarrassing photos, would you? Great! See you soon!

She pulled out her phone and went to the bottom layer, the ground floor, by the door. It didn't actually give her any privacy, but it felt more private. Claire punched in the familiar digits and put the phone to her ear. It was even odds whether anyone would answer; they might be out on an adventure right now.

But they weren't, and on the third ring someone picked up. "Hello?"

"Mum?" She couldn't help smiling, even as she nervously pulled her jacket more tightly around her. It had been months since she'd heard her mum's voice.

"Claire!" Mum was grinning, too, she could hear it. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I just… ran into an old friend, and we're going for ice cream. Do you want to come along?"

There was a brief pause as her mum tried to work out whether this was code for something. Claire heard some background noise. Mum said, "John, it's Claire. Dad says hi, sweetheart."

"Hi, Dad."

"There must be something really special about this friend of yours if you're inviting your parents along. It's not – not your boyfriend, is it?"

"Mum! No, it's not! Honestly – it's a surprise, and you will be surprised. Golden Moon of Antaur, okay? Ask Dad if he's heard of it."

Mum repeated the words. Claire heard her dad's voice say something indistinct. Mum laughed. "Best ice cream this side of Poosh, apparently. He loves their double fudge sundaes. Since when do you have space travelling friends, Claire?"

"Since… Stop fishing! I'm not going to spoil it. Will you come or not?" Claire turned to find the Doctor muffling his laughter with his sleeve. She glared at him.

"We'll come. Where and when?"

"What are the coordinates?" she asked the Doctor. He read them off for her, and she dutifully repeated. On the other end of the line, her mum told them to her dad.

"Alright. We'll be there. See you in a bit!"

"Wait – Mum?" Claire rushed to get the words out before her mum could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"Is…" She glanced at the Doctor again. "Does Charlie still have my room ready?"

And then she woke up and she stepped out of the TARDIS with her mum and her dad, and she went to those places too. They were wonderful places, with friendly people and clear skies; or they were terrible places of great injustice, with monsters, or people who were sometimes worse. She faced tyrannies and tragedies and did everything she could to save her friends. Sometimes, people died.

Side by side with her mother and father, Claire Smith saved worlds.

The Doctor had been right. She loved this life: travelling through time and space, never needing to stop so that she could return to a boring, stagnant life on Earth. Everything she saw was fresh, and not as terrifying as she thought it would be. Even encountering the mighty Jagrafess for real hadn't been as horrible as she had dreamed it might be.

By day, Claire lived a life that most of her friends would never have believed… and at night, she flew through universes and dreamt her Uncle Daddy dreams.