A/n: This fic is a sequel of sorts. It's following my completed fic Of Adoration and Chaos and it won't make much sense if you haven't read that one! Just a warning :)
For those who have read OAAC- I never planned on this fic, and I was reluctant to write it, but it's all I've had inspiration for for a few weeks now. So I decided to go with it for the sake of my own sanity ;) Each chapter will be from a different character's point of view and the focus will be on each character's perceptions of Clara and the Doctor. Just as in OAAC, there's no linear structure here. Each chapter is a special memory each person had of Clara and the Doctor and it's made to stand alone inside of the story. I've posted around eleven chapters that I originally cut from OAAC on my blog (there's a link on my profile), and for the majority of this story, you don't need to have read those to understand. But at least one of these chapters will heavily reference one of the cut chapters, so I'll make sure to list the name of that cut chapter and where to find it in the A/N of that chapter. This chapter takes place right after chapter 18 of OAAC, just in case you're reading and can't remember what's being referenced. As always, I'm so grateful to all who read and share their thoughts, and I hope you enjoy! Happy Father's Day :)
"When I die, your memories of me will be my greatest accomplishment. Your memories will be my most lasting impressions."
― David Levithan, The Lover's Dictionary
PART 1/8 | BRISTOL | Rated K+
Brave
At the time, he'd thought watching a rated 15 horror film with his friend was a great idea.
His parents wouldn't let him watch anything above PG, so he'd never really understood why he wasn't supposed to watch higher rated films. He just assumed they were being overprotective, and when he found out that Anthony's mum let him watch anything he wanted, he knew his assumption had to be true. So he stretched out on the carpet and waited with excitement as Anthony's older brother put a film in for them, not really knowing what to expect, but when the film actually began, he realized it was extremely far from anything he could have come up with.
He didn't want to be a baby. After all, his friend was eight years old, too. If he could watch without even batting an eyelash, why couldn't Bristol manage to do the same? But no matter how sternly he tried to talk sense into himself, the fact remained that he was not enjoying it.
When the demonic ghosts dragged another person up into the loft, Bristol decided he'd had enough. His body was shaking and his palms hurt from where he'd dug his nails into his skin, to try and keep from jumping. He was embarrassed to be so scared, but he couldn't help it.
"Anthony," he hissed. He reached over and tapped his friend's shoulder. He spared him a brief look, utterly entranced by the film.
"Yeah?" He asked. "Isn't this wicked cool?"
Bristol shrank back as the demon creature screamed into the camera. He crossed his legs tightly and felt his face grow impossibly hot as he realized how close he'd been to weeing his pants. I'm almost ten, I'm almost ten, I'm almost ten, he thought, but that didn't change a thing. When the demonic creature sat on the father's chest and stabbed his long, dirty nails into his eyeballs, he'd had it.
"I'm—I feel sick." He croaked. He jumped up to his feet, quivering on legs that felt like chewed gum, his stomach queasy. "I need to go home."
Anthony looked over his shoulder and frowned.
"I thought you were staying the night?"
Bristol grasped his stomach. "I was. Only now I'm about to bring your mum's soup up."
And I want my mum, he added silently, but he couldn't say it aloud. He reached into his overnight bag and grasped the mobile phone his mum gave him for the night.
"I'm going to the toilet," he said.
"All right." Anthony said. He'd already looked back to the film with rapt attention.
Bristol shut the bathroom door quietly behind him. He pulled the phone from his pocket and unlocked it as he sat down slowly on the edge of the bathtub. He scrolled through until he located the S's, and then he found SMITH-OSWALD, CLARA. He felt his gut unraveling some just from the sound of the ringing phone, because he knew he was minutes away from being where he wanted to be most.
He could hear the loud dinner conversation when his mum picked up. He thought to the weird dinner he'd had with Anthony and his brother and wished he'd never, ever asked his parents to go over to Anthony's. He wanted to be at home, at his dinner table.
"Hi, love! Is everything all right?" Clara asked.
Is that Bristol?, his dad asked in the background. Is he okay?
Bristol reached up to tug at his hair, but he remembered as his fingers touched air that he'd gotten a massive, terrible haircut (courtesy of his father; he'd never let him take him to the hairdressers ever again). He rubbed his exposed ears nervously instead.
"I want to come home." He admitted softly.
He heard the chair scrape the floor as his mother rose to her feet. The sound of his siblings' laughter grew dimmer and dimmer in the background.
"Oh? Why is that?"
The gentle tone of his mum's voice made him tear up like a big baby. He tugged on his earlobe and bit his bottom lip.
"I just want to." He said. "I want someone to come get me. A lot."
"Okay, yes, of course," she said quickly. "I'll send your dad right now."
Bristol shut his eyes in relief.
"Thanks, Mummy." He whispered.
He waited on the front steps with his bag. Anthony and his brother were inside finishing the film, and Bristol was starting to doubt that Anthony's mum was even home at all. He saw her one time that afternoon, but then she'd disappeared upstairs for the rest of the time. She didn't even come down for dinner. Bristol wondered if she was upset, because she was shaky and her nose was red the one time he saw her.
He jumped to his feet and ran towards the curb the moment the car came into view. He opened the passenger door before his father could even put it in park and tossed his bag in. He crawled up into the seat and yanked the door shut behind him.
"Yikes," his dad frowned. "Rough night?"
Bristol slid to the right and leaned over. He rested his cheek on his dad's forearm, glad that he was there (and that he hadn't had his eyes stabbed into a bloody pulp by a demonic ghost). His dad settled his other hand on his hair (or what was left of it) and smoothed it back for a few moments.
"What is it?" He asked worriedly. "Was Anthony mean?"
Bristol shrugged. He didn't want to tell him he'd watched something he wasn't supposed to. After waiting a minute for an answer that wasn't going to come, his dad sighed and leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Bristol's head.
"All right, buddy. Let's go home." He sighed.
Bristol leaned his head against the cool window as they drove. He tried not to let them, but his thoughts kept flying to the images he'd seen on Anthony's television screen. He glanced at his dad from the corner of his eye. He thought about the nightmares he'd finally stopped having about the man who stabbed his dad in the supermarket, and he wondered if now he'd be having nightmares of that man stabbing his eyes, instead. He hoped not.
"Are you okay?"
Bristol looked down at his lap and shrugged again.
"You're starting to worry me." The Doctor admitted.
He decided to tell a half-truth. It was better than an outright lie, anyway.
"I was thinking about the man that hurt you." He muttered.
His dad was quiet for a few moments. He glanced over and met Bristol's eyes.
"Oh." he said. He smiled reassuringly. "Well, it's been a month and I'm all better, so you don't need to worry about me."
"I guess," Bristol muttered.
A heavy silence fell over them. His dad thumped the steering wheel.
"Hey, think about our camping trip. That's only two days away!" He said excitedly.
That pulled a reluctant smile from Bristol. He glanced back towards his dad.
"Yeah, I can't wait!" He agreed. He realized suddenly that his haircut was an awful lot like the cut his dad had, and that made him feel insanely cool. He decided he wasn't dreading going to school after all. "Just us! Me and you! And the outdoors!"
"And Miles." The Doctor reminded him sternly.
Bristol crossed his arms. "I keep hoping you'll forget that part."
"Not a chance."
Bristol sighed and leaned his head against the window. He never got to do anything alone with his parents. But then he thought about the scene in the horror film where the girl's siblings got killed, and he decided there were worse things out there.
He still felt ill when he got home. He hugged his mum and waited as she kissed his cheek, and he let her take his bag, but then he hurried towards the stairs.
"I'm tired," he told them. He faked a yawn, but he knew he didn't do that great of a job. "'Night."
He paused at the foot of the stairs. He turned back around and looked up at Clara.
"But…you'll still come kiss me goodnight before you go to sleep, won't you?" He asked nervously.
She smiled.
"I'll do one better. I'll come up with you right now." She said.
Bristol took her hand as soon as she stepped up onto the stairs. He was smiling as they walked up to his room.
He wanted to lie and say he'd brushed his teeth at Anthony's, but he was already feeling guilty enough for lying about the film, even if it was a lie of omission. He brushed his teeth and then crawled underneath his duvet. Clara sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the blankets over him.
"What happened at Anthony's?" She asked him.
He looked down guiltily.
"Nothing," he lied, but his voice broke. He blinked rapidly against the burning in his eyes. He mostly didn't want his mum to leave him alone in his dark bedroom. He looked up at her. "Can I sleep with the light on?"
She shifted closer to him and frowned.
"Why? Did something scare you at Anthony's house? His dad wasn't there, was he?"
Bristol looked at her curiously. "No…why would it be bad if he was?"
Her shoulders went down in relief. She smiled at him.
"No reason. And you didn't answer my question," she reminded him. She tapped the tip of his nose and Bristol smiled despite the anxiety curling around his stomach. He stared at her warm eyes for a moment and tried to find the strength to lie again, but he couldn't. He just wanted to tell her everything, so she could make it better.
"Something did scare me." He admitted. He felt his lips turn down and his heart clench at the memory.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He sniffed. "I don't wanna get in trouble."
His mum lifted her hand and rested it on the crown of his head. She stroked his forehead with her thumb, her eyes intent on his with worry.
"Love, if you're this scared, you've already learnt your lesson." She pointed out gently.
He wasn't sure about that, but he looked down anyway. He murmured the admission.
"I watched a rated 15 film with Anthony and his brother."
"I see," his mother said. When he risked a glance up at her, he was relieved to see her expression hadn't changed one bit. She didn't look angry at all. "Do you understand why your dad and I don't want you to watch them now?"
He nodded fervently.
"Yes. It was awful." He shifted closer to her without even realizing it. He felt his heart rate pick up as images of the film assaulted him. "Mummy…I keep seeing it when I close my eyes. The evil ghosts lived in the loft. And they stabbed their nails into the dad's eyeballs."
She grimaced.
"That sounds like a terrible film." She decided.
"It was." He agreed. "I wish I'd never, ever watched it."
He thought she was about to leave as she stood up from the bed, and his entire stomach fell to his toes. He was about to beg her not to leave him alone, but then she pulled his covers back and slid underneath them. Bristol turned and sank into her opened arms. He pressed his face into her chest and gripped her tightly in a hug that he never wanted to end.
"It's not even just a film," he muttered into her shirt.
She leaned back and looked down at him.
"Hmm?" She asked.
He reached forward and played absentmindedly with her hair.
"It's not just a film. People do that in real life. They stab dads." He realized. "Like they stabbed mine. And they don't even have to live in your loft. Or be evil ghosts. They can be anywhere."
Clara was quiet for a lot longer than she usually was. When he peeked up at her, he saw she looked sad. He worried that he'd made her that way somehow.
"That's true," she finally said. She spoke slowly, like she was making sure she didn't mess it up. "There are bad people in films and in real life. But you don't have to worry, because your dad and I will never let anything happen to you."
He looked down. He stared at the blurry outline of his dark eyelashes and breathed deeply, to try and ward off the panicky feelings that were already starting.
"What about you and him?"
She kissed the top of his head.
"Nothing to worry about, because I keep your dad safe, and he keeps me safe." She said firmly. "No one will ever harm him again."
His mum always told the truth, and she never let her children down, so Bristol was completely at ease with that promise. He turned over onto his back and let his tired eyes shut, taking comfort in the fact that his mum was right beside him. But then he thought about Anthony, and how he didn't seem to like his mum being anywhere near him, and then he remembered a name Anthony had called him.
He turned his head and looked at Clara.
"Anthony called me a mummy's boy." He told her. He knew enough to know it meant he was a baby. He felt his ears grow hot with embarrassment, even then.
She frowned. "You're eight; what else are you supposed to be?"
Bristol picked at the blanket. "Maybe big, like a ten-year-old. Anthony doesn't like his mum."
"Do you wish you didn't like me?"
Bristol looked towards her quickly.
"No," he said immediately. He thought about it. "I wish Anthony liked his."
She smiled softly. "Me too, love."
He watched her warily as she stood from his bed. She pulled his blanket up to his shoulders and kissed his forehead. He caught a whiff of home as she did.
"I love you so much. And I'm proud of you for telling me about the film." She said.
He felt all the leftover anxiety inside of himself sink away. He smiled hugely up at her in relief.
"I love you too, Mum."
He wasn't even that scared when she turned the lights off and left, because he knew he was safe.
He woke up to his parents whispering.
For a moment he thought they were in his room, but when he sleepily propped himself up on his elbows and peered around his dark, empty room, he realized they must have been in the hall. He listened to the floor outside his door creak, and then he quickly collapsed back down onto his bed and shut his eyes. He heard the door click open a moment later.
"—fine. I promise. It's fine. Look, see for yourself. He's sound asleep," Clara hissed.
The floor creaked as his father stepped in.
"Yes, well, you didn't see him when I picked him up. Are you sure Anthony's father wasn't there?"
The volume faded as they stepped back out and shut the door. Judging by the still distinguishable level of their voices when they spoke next, they didn't leave the hall. Bristol guessed they were waiting to hear if Ellie and Lottie were chatting or going to sleep. They'd been bad about talking until midnight every night.
"I'm positive he wasn't. Bristol was so confused when I mentioned him."
"I don't like it, Clara. I don't want him over there anymore."
"We can't just prohibit him from being friends with anyone who has a bad home life."
"Um, yes. Yes we can. That's what being a parent is all about. Prohibiting your kids from getting hurt."
All at once, Bristol understood. Anthony's dad was a bad man, like in the film they watched. His stomach hurt again.
"The man's not even in the country anymore. You heard what his mum said."
"Yes, and I'm fairly certain she's a drug addict."
His mum paused. "Really? Do you think? Well, Bristol did say Anthony wasn't very fond of her."
"Yes. And that's why I don't want him over at Anthony's anymore."
"Okay. But Anthony can still come over here."
Their voices pandered off for a moment.
"Doctor. Don't give me that look. I can't believe you of all people want to ban our son from a kid with a checkered past!"
"It's different now, isn't it? I'm his dad. He's my son. I'm not willing to risk his safety."
"My dad didn't want me to associate with you when you first moved in with Tara. If he'd chosen not to 'risk my safety', Bristol wouldn't even exist."
"Faulty argument. It's not like Bristol and Anthony can run off and have five babies."
"Why the hell not?"
"…I meant that from a narrow, biological standpoint, but I get what you're saying. Nevermind. I just…worry. Seeing him so upset tonight really put it all into perspective. Made me rethink it all."
Bristol scrunched up his nose in disgust when he heard the sound of kissing.
"I understand. And—wait! Shh! Do you hear that?"
Their voices rose.
"Charlotte Elsie. Ellabell Nora. We hear you and we're very frustrated!" His father called.
"BUT I FORGOT TO TELL HER SOMETHING! AND I'M NOT TIRED!"
"Shh! Your brother is sleeping!" Clara scolded.
Or maybe not, Bristol thought. He grinned and decided he liked being awake secretly. It made him feel like a spy.
"Can we please not do this tonight? Your mum and I would love to be in bed by eleven for once." The Doctor practically begged. "I have to leave for the camping trip soon and I'd like a few solid nights of sleep before then."
"WHY CAN'T YOU SLEEP BEFORE US? WHY DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO BE ASLEEP BEFORE YOU?"
"SHHH!"
Lottie lowered her voice after an angered groan.
"It's not logical! You're sleepier than Ellie and me, so you should sleep first!"
"What do you do while we're asleep?!" Ellabell hissed.
"Taxes. Go to sleep." Clara said flatly. "And I mean it, you two. It's not good for you to stay up so late."
"Fine," Lottie grumbled. "But I have one more thing I want to talk about."
"Oh dear God," Clara moaned quietly. Bristol was sure the girls couldn't hear it, but he had. He felt sad and wanted to run out into the hallway and scream LET THEM GO TO BED, but then he'd be found out.
"It really hurt my feelings that I wasn't invited on the camping trip." Lottie called.
Bristol heard the floor shift as both parents moved closer to Lottie and Ellie's door. He listened to the creaking hinges as the door was pushed open, and then he knew what he had to do. He held his breath as he tossed his blankets back and landed gently on the floor. He tiptoed across the room and crouched in front of his door so he could hear them. He could only just make out their words, but he understood, and that was the important thing.
"Oh. I didn't even…it's a father-son trip, you know?" The Doctor said. He sounded like he felt bad about it.
That's right, Bristol thought smugly. Father-son. Or, well, father-sons. His smile slid off his face.
"Why is it only sons? I like camping." Lottie reminded him. "I like camping a lot. Way more than Miles. He hates it, but he gets to go. And Bristol is a scaredy-cat."
"We didn't think you'd want to go," Clara admitted. "Because…"
"Because no girls are going?" Lottie demanded angrily. "That's rubbish, Mum!"
"I'm sorry, love. I guess we should have asked. We just thought a father-son camping trip was a fun idea, so the boys could bond." She said gently.
Bristol heard his sister's words get thick, the way they only did when she was nearing tears.
"I want to bond, too," she whispered, injured. "Why can't they bond while I'm there? And I really love camping."
The Doctor's voice was firm and decided.
"Then you're coming along. If you want to come, there's no reason you shouldn't be able to. It can be a father-sons-and-daughter trip."
Bristol's stomach sank straight to his toes. His hands were shaking with fury as he yanked the door open. He fell right out into the hall, face first. He was lifting himself up right as his parents turned around in surprise.
"NO!" He cried passionately. "First Miles, now Lottie?! No! What's next, are we going to bring Poppy along?! Ellie?!"
"Hey!" Ellabell protested.
His dad turned around and sighed. He reached up and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.
"Bristol, how would you feel if your mum took the girls somewhere on a weekend and wouldn't let you come? Just because you're a boy?" He asked tiredly.
Bristol dug his heels into the ground and stood straight.
"I would not care, because I don't like to do the same things they do!" He insisted angrily.
Clara raised an eyebrow. "You go shopping with us all the time. You love shopping. You're my coupon holder. My bargain spotter. I always take you along because you like it, no matter if that's a "mother-daughter" thing usually."
He floundered for an argument to that.
"Well…! I…am really good at it!" He stamped his foot.
"And I'm really good at camping!" Lottie shot right back.
Bristol groaned loudly. He wanted terribly to jump up and down and scream. His heart hurt and his nose felt hot and it wasn't fair. He never got to do anything with his mum or dad alone.
"It's not fair! It was supposed to just be me and you!" He yelled at his dad. "And then you invited Miles, and now Lottie, and I wanted to do something with you, Dad!"
He spun and stormed back into his room, slamming the heavy door behind him. His small fingers fumbled with the lock for a few moments, and once it clicked, he threw himself onto his bed. He cried bitterly into his messy duvet, his heart pounding with anger and frustration. He heard his parents knocking on the door, but for once, he didn't care. He pulled his pillow over his head and ignored them.
It took them a while to find the key. By the time they were in, Bristol was almost asleep again. He felt his mum's warm hand settle on his back as they both sat on the edge of his bed.
"Why does it matter so much if your brother and sister come?" The Doctor asked softly. "You're still camping with me, regardless of who else is there."
Bristol turned his face to the side. His bed sheet was damp from his tears. He held the pillow firmly in place over his head, because he wasn't ready to look at them yet. He felt frustrated because he couldn't put words to the way he felt. He just knew that ever since his dad was hurt, he'd been missing him, even though he was okay. He'd tried to talk to his mum about it, but he just ended up stumbling over his words. He'd wanted to talk to his dad about it that weekend, but now Miles and Lottie would be there, and they would make fun of him.
"Because I wanted to talk to you about stuff. Just you. Not Miles or Lottie." He sniffed.
His dad sounded hurt when he spoke next.
"You can talk to me alone whenever you need to, Bristol. You don't have to wait until we're camping. All you ever have to do is ask to talk, and that's what we'll do."
"But you're always busy. You're at work and then patients even come here sometimes. And when I want to talk to you, Lottie or Poppy interrupt me." He whispered.
"There's a lot going on here, I know. But any time you need to talk to me alone, you just have to tell me that, okay? I promise I'll drop whatever it is I'm doing immediately. Of course I would." His dad reassured him. He patted his back.
Bristol thought about it for a moment. He slowly moved the pillow and sat up. His mother frowned at his tear-streaked face; she reached forward to wipe the tears off his cheeks first thing. Bristol felt his heart cave in, and then he moved forward into her arms. She hugged him tightly.
"I'll tell you what," the Doctor began. "Why don't we have a Bristol-Dad day tomorrow. Just you and me. I have to work, but you can come with me. In fact, we could make it a tradition."
Bristol pulled back and looked up at his dad.
"Just us?" He asked cautiously.
"Just us." His dad promised. "Cross my heart. And your mum's, too." He traced an X over his heart and then reached over to do the same to Clara's. She rolled her eyes at him.
"I think that sounds fun." He decided.
His dad beamed. "Brilliant! I think it sounds fun, too."
"Are you still sad?" Clara asked.
Bristol smiled at her and she grinned back.
"No."
She tightened her arms around him once again. "Good."
They both kissed him goodnight, and after they shut his door, he slipped easily into sleep.
He woke up to his little sister clinging to his back.
"Brittle, Brittle, it's breakfast time!" She sang.
He turned over onto his left, effectively slinging her off his back, and then sat up. He rubbed his blurry eyes hard in annoyance as Poppy crawled right back into his lap, her small arms winding tight around his waist. She held him and didn't say a word, and even though he wanted very much to push her off, he couldn't find it in himself to do it. He slid them to the edge of the bed and climbed off. He shifted her weight in his arms and carried her slowly from the room, stumbling every few steps in his exhaustion.
"What's for breakfast?" He asked her sleepily.
"Mummy says we can pick!" She exclaimed.
Bristol felt his heart jump with excitement.
"But it's not Sunday!" He said. Poppy didn't say anything else; she just tightened her hold on his neck.
He thought about what he might pick as they descended the stairs. When he walked in, his mum was at the table with everyone but his dad, and sure enough, everyone had something different. He set Poppy down on the floor and took a moment to survey their choices, so he could make the best selection. His mum had boring toast and coffee, Ellie was eating what looked like hummus and bread—but she'd given up on the bread and was spooning the hummus into her mouth, Lottie had a peanut butter sandwich, and Miles was sticking with plain coco pops, which he could have any day. Bristol wasn't very impressed.
"I want turkey meatballs!" Bristol declared.
His mum gestured to the stove with her mug of coffee.
"If you want to drive to the supermarket to get the stuff and then make it, sure." She said. She lifted the mug to him a moment later and smiled. "Morning, Bristol. Did you sleep well?"
He hurried over to the fridge so fast that he slipped in his socked feet. He quickly grabbed onto the fridge handle to right himself. He replied to his mum with his head inside the fridge.
"I guess!" He called. He scanned his eyes over the items carefully. All at once, he knew what he wanted, but they didn't have it. He decided to try his luck anyway. "Can we go get chicken kebabs?!"
His mum rose and carried her plate to the sink. She picked Poppy up and set her on the counter, leaning forward to kiss her before she walked over to where Bristol was. She set her hand on top of his head and answered him as she moved him to the side, so she could reach into the fridge and pull out the yogurt and fruit for Poppy's breakfast.
"Perhaps your dad will get you that for lunch," she suggested. She gathered what she was looking for and paused. "Although, he hasn't eaten one since the rat meat thing, so don't count on it."
Bristol groaned. He slouched against the counter and frowned.
"Then what am I supposed to eat?" He complained.
His mum looked towards the fruit and yogurt she was mixing for his sister.
"I'll make you one of these, if you like. Or an egg sandwich."
He scoffed. When his dad walked in, he perked up.
"Dad! Daddy! Will you get me a kebab for breakfast?!" He asked hopefully.
His dad hung his medical coat on the hook near the door. He rolled up his sleeves carefully as he walked over to the counter.
"No way. You lot aren't eating those anymore. Rat meat." He responded.
"Told you," Clara said.
Bristol pouted and slid down so he was sitting on the kitchen floor. He waited impatiently as the Doctor gathered Clara into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth.
"Ew, I'm eating here!" Lottie complained. Clara rolled her eyes. The Doctor held her face in his hands and looked down at her curiously.
"Why are we having lazy breakfast on a Thursday?" He asked.
Clara set her hands on his forearms. "Because I woke up with a terrible headache."
The Doctor frowned. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead for what seemed like a long time to Bristol. He drummed his fingers against the tile floor impatiently.
"Why didn't you tell me? I could have made breakfast." He reminded her. She shrugged and leaned up to kiss him one more time.
"Lazy breakfast works just as well."
Bristol huffed. He felt the conversation had turned away from kebabs too quickly for his liking.
"But Dad," Bristol called from the floor.
His dad picked up Poppy and swung her around. He replied to his son over Poppy's overjoyed giggles.
"Don't 'but Dad' me. I don't want you eating that. I'll make some chicken kebabs for dinner, how about that?" He suggested.
Bristol sighed. "Yours taste too…healthy. Ick."
The Doctor set Poppy down in her seat after kissing her cheeks. He dropped kisses on top of Lottie, Ellie, and Miles' heads as he passed, and by the time he made it to Bristol, Bristol wasn't sure whether he even wanted a good morning kiss.
"I'm going to make cheesy falafels," his dad sang knowingly. "I can make enough for both of us." Bristol jumped straight up and flung his arms around his dad's middle.
"BLESS YOU!" He cried. He smiled as his dad kissed the top of his head.
Bristol sat down in the seat across from his mum as the Doctor started cooking. Lottie asked him about last night, so he immediately dove into a long-winded explanation of the horror film ordeal, but halfway through he was interrupted by his brother's small feet smacking his shins. He glared at him.
"Stop kicking me."
Miles blinked his green eyes. He turned and looked at their mum uncertainly. She shrugged.
"I'm not kicking," he said.
Bristol looked at him suspiciously, but turned back to Lottie anyway. After a few more moments, his mum's phone rang, and he felt another kick to his legs. He huffed.
"STOP IT!" He said loudly.
Miles scooted closer to Ellie's side, his eyes wide.
"I'm not doing anything!" he defended. Ellabell wrapped her arm around her brother's shoulders.
"Lay off, Bristol. He's too short to reach you all the way over there." She snapped.
"Hello?" Clara greeted. She let out a frustrated sigh a moment later, one that had all her children looking at her immediately, because they recognized to that sigh. Someone was about to get in trouble. She set her mug down angrily onto the tabletop. "I beg your pardon? You lost what? An airplane?"
The Doctor whistled lowly from in front of the mixer.
"Mummy's about to go off on someone," he sang. His children laughed.
Clara pushed her chair back and rose from the table. She grabbed her coffee mug from the top and paced away from the table, listening intently to whatever the person on the other end was saying. She looked up at the ceiling in exasperation.
"Dear God. I really—Christ, sorry, I'm just having a hard time understanding how you screwed up this badly." She admitted. "It's an airplane. A giant flying fuc—how on earth did you forget to reprogram the navigation circuits?!"
Bristol slapped the top of the table when he felt another tap against his legs. He stood up from his chair.
"STOP KICKING ME, MILES!" He yelled. "MUM, HE WON'T STOP KICKING ME!"
"I'M NOT! I'M NOT KICKING!"
"YES YOU ARE! MUM!"
Clara covered the bottom of the phone. "Doctor, can you please—" she stopped abruptly. She lifted her hand off and resumed speaking to whoever was on the other end. "Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do! And I don't think that's asking too much!"
Her words faded as she walked quickly from the kitchen. They all looked up as their dad approached, his hands on his hips.
"Lottie." He said firmly.
Everyone turned and looked at her. She stared at her dad in confusion, and all at once, it hit her.
"Oooh! I thought that was the table," she realized.
"Likely story." Their dad said. He pointed the whisk at her sternly. "Save the kicking for the fields."
"When will my falafel be ready?" Bristol asked.
"Soon." The Doctor reassured him. He looked down as Poppy dropped from her seat and stepped up onto his foot. She clung to his leg. "Do you want to help, Pop?"
"Yes." She said. He laughed bemusedly and began taking slow, heavy steps back to where he was. He looked back over his shoulder a moment later. "Does anyone else want to help?"
The table shook as they all simultaneously pushed their chairs out and jumped to their feet.
"Good morning," the Doctor greeted cheerfully. The people in the waiting room looked up and grinned elatedly at the sight of him.
"Good morning," Bristol echoed, trying his hardest to match his father's long-legged pace. His dad grinned down at him as a few of the patients echoed the greeting. He set his hands on his son's shoulders and pulled him in front of him.
"This is my son, Bristol," the Doctor introduced. Bristol beamed at how proudly his dad said those words. "He's going to be assisting me today from the sidelines."
The women in the room aww'ed and ooh'ed. Bristol even caught one lady looking weirdly at his dad, kind of the way his mum looked at him sometimes. It made him feel sort of angry, although he wasn't sure why. He just knew he didn't like the woman using his mum's look, because it was hers.
"Does he want to be a doctor as well?" That woman asked. She fluttered her eyelashes a lot. Bristol wondered if she had an eyelash stuck in her eyeball, because he sometimes had to blink a whole bunch to get those out.
The Doctor looked towards his son, prompting him to answer the woman's question. He took a deep breath.
"No, I hate blood. My dad says that's my Achilles' heel. I want to be a solicitor astronaut. Or maybe sell cotton candy in Blackpool." He told the woman. He shrugged. "My mum says I have time to make up my mind."
Another woman laughed loudly, although Bristol wasn't sure what was so funny.
"A solicitor astronaut? What's that?" She asked.
He looked at her strangely.
"The solicitor that goes up into space with the astronauts and helps them win court battles, of course." He told her. "They are loaded."
The eyelash lady laughed and laughed and laughed. Bristol looked at her like she was mad, because she probably was.
"Oh, what a funny little boy. Your wife must be a strange character to impart such weird ideas!"
Bristol looked up at his dad uncertainly. He was smiling politely at the woman, but his eyes looked tired, and the smile seemed forced.
"Well, it was our eldest daughter who convinced Bristol that that's an actual job. But perhaps one day it will be a job, and my son would be perfect for it."
Bristol waited for his dad to say more. He didn't know what a 'strange character' really meant, but he didn't like the way it sounded. He crossed his small arms.
"And my mum is not a strange character. She's the best mum ever and she makes the best crunchy cheese soufflés for breakfast in the entire history of Earth." He snapped.
The lady let out a short laugh that didn't sound very humored.
"Oh my. I didn't know soufflés were supposed to be crunchy." She commented lightly. "I ought to send her my breakfast quiche recipe. You'd love it, little man."
All at once, Bristol knew exactly who the lady was. She was Ms. Munchausen Homewrecker (he'd heard his parents talking about her from time-to-time). They did not like her, that much he knew for sure. Bristol remembered overhearing that she'd tried to pay her daughter's medical bills with something that was not money, but he didn't really know what they meant. He just knew his dad had told her no way and his mum had gotten into a fight with her. He supposed they weren't friends, and if his mum wasn't friends with her, that meant Bristol wasn't, either.
He narrowed his eyes.
"I do not like quiche, Ms. Munc—"
His father's hand covered his mouth quickly. The woman arched a thin eyebrow.
"Well, we've got things to do, people to see to. Come along, Bristol!" He said. "We'll see to you all as soon as possible." He stopped and turned, realizing something. He grinned. "Amanda! You've got your braces off!"
A girl around Bristol's age grinned, and when she smiled, Bristol stopped in place. Because her smile was lovely and white, and it made him smile, too.
"Just last week!" Her mother affirmed. "Although now she's got some respiratory problems. Just can't catch a break, this one."
The Doctor smiled kindly. "Well, we'll get it sorted, won't we?"
"Yeah," Bristol piped up. "We will. I like your teeth."
Her cheeks pinked. She looked down at her dirty trainers. "Thanks."
The Doctor clapped Bristol on the shoulder. "Let's go make sure everything's ready in the examining room." He said. Once his back was to the patients, he shot his son a knowing smirk. Bristol's ears burned as he quickly looked towards his own feet.
He sat in the spinning chair in the examining room as his dad counted boxes of rubber gloves and syringes.
"Bristol, will you open that bag of Jelly Babies and pour them into the jar?" He called over his shoulder. Bristol reached out and grabbed onto the counter, halting the spinning abruptly. He groaned and grasped his stomach.
"As soon as the world stops spinning," he moaned.
He moved to the cool examination table and sat on the crinkly paper. He put one Jelly Baby into the jar and one into his mouth, and he continued that pattern until his dad checked his watch and then looked back to see how far he'd come. He sighed.
"Bristol." He scolded. Bristol quickly pulled his hand from the bag and poured the entire contents into the jar.
"How come ill kids get sweets and I don't?" He complained.
"Because they're ill." His dad replied.
Bristol sighed and pushed the lid onto the jar. He didn't understand why other kids got to go see his dad when they were sick, but he had to go see Dr. Reynolds, who didn't give sweets and always smelled like cigarettes. His dad said it was because they sometimes needed "objective opinions", but he wasn't sure what that was about.
"I'm going to run out and ask Kathy something. Can you pick some good magazines from the pile? Ones you'll think kids will like the best?" His dad asked. Bristol nodded and hopped off the examining table. His dad placed the jar carefully on the counter and then pointed to the magazine tray. "Place them here when you pick them."
His dad left the door opened, and because of that, Bristol found he could hear every word of his conversation with Kathy. He rifled halfheartedly through the magazines, but then he got bored. He picked three at random and put them where his father instructed. He stuffed the others underneath the cabinet and hurried to the doorway so he could hear better.
"What did Ms. Lem write on the admittance form?"
"She said Annalise has head trauma."
His dad was quiet for a long time. Bristol peeked out of the doorway. His dad had his head bowed.
"It's gone too far." He said.
"I know."
"Get me the social worker's number, please. It's on my desk— it's the yellow note stuck to the keyboard. I'll see to Annalise before I ring her, but I'm not seeing a different end to this."
"What did she say about the case after she received the referral form?"
"She said there wasn't enough evidence yet. But she told me she'd keep their file opened and told me to ring her if I saw anything else that worried me. She said she'd come here personally with Child Services if I found any evidence of physical abuse."
"And this is definitely worrying. Do you want me to come in during the exam for some rubbish form thing? To get her out of the room, so you can talk to Annalise alone before you make the call?"
"That'd be brilliant. Thank you, Kathy."
Bristol hurried over to the spinning chair when he heard his dad walking back. He sat down on it so quickly that the wheeled chair slid fast across the room. It slammed hard into the window on the far wall, causing Bristol to hit his shoulder.
"Ow," he hissed. He rubbed his shoulder crossly.
The Doctor looked preoccupied and guilty when he walked back in. He picked up the magazine on top and barely looked at the one underneath it. He smiled tightly at his son.
"Thank you, Bristol."
He crossed the room and leaned against the desk, so he was standing right across from his son. Bristol stared at him and waited.
"Buddy, I'm going to have to ask Uncle Ten to come get you." He told him gently.
Bristol's heart sank. He sat up and felt his expression crumble.
"No!" He cried. "It's our Bristol-Dad day!"
"I know. I know, I'm so, so sorry." His dad whispered. "But there are things that are going on today that I don't want you to see."
Bristol looked down at his lap. His heart felt so heavy that he couldn't even lift his head.
"But I want to be here with you." He said softly. "Why can't I stay? I'm not a baby. I'm not."
"Of course you aren't." His dad reassured him. "It has nothing to do with that."
Bristol felt his eyes burn. "Yes it does. It always does. You think I'm a dumb scaredy-cat."
His dad reached forward and took his hands. "No. I absolutely do not think that. I think you're extremely brave."
Bristol looked up. "Is this about the lady Mummy hates?"
The Doctor hesitated. He dropped his son's hands and watched him carefully, like he was considering his words carefully before he said them.
"Yes," he finally admitted. "I have to do something very difficult today. And I don't want you to be part of it."
Bristol furrowed his brow. "What do you have to do?"
His dad pursed his lips tightly.
"I have to split up a family." He said. "I have to phone someone who will take a girl from her home."
Bristol blinked and tried to understand.
"Away from her home?" He asked. He paused. "Away from her mum and dad?"
He nodded.
"Yes. Her mother is not treating her kindly. She's hurting her daughter just so people will feel sorry for her. At first she was just lying, but now it's gotten worse. And it breaks my heart to cause someone's child to be taken away, but that lady doesn't deserve a child, because she hurts her."
Bristol's lungs felt weird—all burning and tight—and then he realized he'd stopped breathing for a moment. He inhaled slowly and looked down at the floor. He wrinkled his brow.
"But…mums love their kids." He looked up. "Don't they?"
"Yours does. Most do. But some mums and some dads…sometimes bad people become parents. And then they're bad to their children. And it's up to the other adults in those kids' lives to make sure they're safe."
"Why would a mum hurt her kid, though?" Bristol pressed. "Was the little girl really, really, really, really bad?"
But he couldn't think of one thing bad enough to ever make his mum hurt him. He tried and tried, but he couldn't picture a situation where she'd ever be mean enough to do that.
"No." His dad said firmly. "No. It is never okay for a grown up to hurt a child, even if they misbehave. An adult should never put their hands on you to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable, or say mean things to hurt your feelings, or not help you when you need it."
Bristol shook his head.
"I would never, ever eat that mean lady's quiche." He said angrily.
His dad laughed, but it was short and sad sounding.
"The woman will get very angry when they come to take her child. I can't let the girl go home with her mother for even one more night. I'm afraid of what she'll do when she gets angry, and I don't want you in the cross-fire." He admitted.
Bristol straightened. "I can handle it, Dad. I don't want to leave you by yourself. Please, can I stay?"
His dad appraised him for a few moments. After a long pause, he nodded.
"Okay. But only if you'll agree to sit with Kathy in the lounge when the officials show up."
Bristol didn't particularly want to be around an angry mad woman, so he nodded easily.
"Okay. I promise."
The Doctor made a quick call to Bristol's mum before he started seeing patients. Bristol filled a medical glove with water as his dad told her all about the mean lady.
"I know. Yes. I am sad. I know, I promise. She—what? No. No. I promise. She will not lay a finger on our son. He'll be in a different room." His dad glanced over at him. "He's turning a rubber glove into a water balloon right now. Bristol, do you want to talk to your mum?"
Bristol dropped the full glove right into the bottom of the sink.
"Do I?!" He asked excitedly. He stood on the chair he'd been kneeling on and reached for the phone eagerly.
The Doctor chuckled. "No, Clara, he doesn't want to talk to you one bit." He joked. "Here you go."
Bristol yanked the phone from his dad and plopped down onto the seat.
"Hi, Mum!" He greeted.
"Hello! Are you having fun with your dad?" She asked. He could hear a lot of madness going on in the background. He wanted to stick is head through the phone and tell everyone to shut it.
"Sort of. It's been kind of slow so far," he sighed. His mum laughed loudly on the other end.
"Really now? Well, I'm sure it'll pick up. Listen, Bristol. I want you to promise you'll stay with Kathy like your dad asked you to. If you can't promise me you will, I'm going to have to send Tara to come pick you up."
"I can promise." Bristol reassured her. "I do promise."
He could hear the smile in her voice. "That's my boy. I love you. I'll see you after work."
"I love you, too!"
He got the urge to say thank you, but he wasn't sure if she'd know why, so he just ended the call.
When his dad started calling patients back, he had to go sit in the lounge, but he didn't mind. He watched cartoons nonstop, ate an entire bag of cheese and onion crisps, and drank three juice cartons. By the time his dad came back in, he was lying face down on the sofa, groaning.
"My tummy," he complained.
He heard the sound of the crisps bag crinkling as his dad picked it up.
"Wow. I wonder why." He said sarcastically. "I told you to take it easy with the snacks, Bristol."
"I did take it easy. It was very easy to eat all that," he groaned. "Until now."
The Doctor sighed. "Come on. I'll get you something for your tummy. But let this be a lesson not to overindulge."
"Ughhhhh…I think I'd still do it again," he admitted.
He followed his dad to the food cupboard. He pulled a teabag from one of the many boxes and then pulled a peppermint free from one of the sweets jars.
"Ginger tea with peppermint. Just what the doctor ordered!" He said. He laughed at his own joke a moment later, peeking to see if his son was laughing. Bristol turned down the left side of his mouth and shook his head.
He sat on the sofa and sipped the warm tea slowly, once the peppermint dissolved inside. It was sweet and spicy and kind of gross, but he liked it anyway. His dad kissed the top of his head.
"I've got to go see another patient now. I'll be back. No more snacks."
"Can I help with anything?" He asked. He looked around the room casually. "Have you seen Amanda yet?"
His dad chuckled. "She's next. And I think I'm fine for right now, but maybe after lunch."
Bristol peered into the amber liquid. It was definitely the steam wafting up into his face that was making his cheeks grow pink. "Tell her I said I'm glad she got her braces off. And I hope she feels better."
"Look who's a little gentleman." His dad teased.
"Am not," Bristol said defensively. He took a long, awkward sip.
"Mmhmm," his dad said. He winked. "I'll let you know what she says back."
Bristol absolutely did not glance at the clock anxiously every five minutes. That would have been silly.
He was hanging backwards off the sofa when his dad walked in. He was attempting to see if a rerun episode would feel any different if viewed upside down, but as far as he could tell, there wasn't much difference.
"Hey!" He called.
"Hey!" His dad echoed. He circled around to the front of the sofa and looked at his son curiously. "What are you doing?"
Bristol struggled in his attempt to pull himself back up onto the sofa. His stomach ached as he tried to lift his upper body.
"I was watching this program upside down. But now I'm stuck." He admitted.
His dad chuckled. He walked over and grabbed his son's shoulder, easily flipping him back up onto the sofa. Bristol sighed in relief.
"Thanks!" He said. He noticed his dad's sly grin a moment later. "What?"
"Amanda said thank you. And that she likes your hair." He sang.
Bristol grinned until his face ached. "Really? Cool!"
His dad flopped down onto the sofa.
"Does your tummy feel better? Are you up to eating lunch?"
Bristol frowned. "It's better, but still very full."
The Doctor patted his back. "All right. I'll just eat something here, and whenever you're hungry, I'll make you something."
They both stretched out on the sofa and watched the first half of a film during the lunch break. The Doctor ate leftovers from spaghetti night, and after only twenty minutes, Bristol decided he had enough room for spaghetti, too. He always had enough room for spaghetti.
Once they were done eating, the Doctor sighed.
"Okay. I'm sending Kathy in here, and you need to stay put. Just for my peace of mind. It might be a while. I'll come check in."
Bristol sighed. "Can I play on your tablet at least?"
"Sure. It's in my briefcase on the table." He said. Bristol jumped up to go retrieve it, and by the time he sat back down, his dad was gone. He sighed and stretched out onto the couch. Luckily he had over fifty games on his dad's tablet to pass the time on. When Kathy came in a few minutes later, he was already absorbed in a dot-matching game, which was fine by her. She drank at least three mugs of tea and read a heavy book.
It was at least twenty minutes before the Doctor came in. Kathy had left momentarily to distract Ms. Munchausen Homewrecker, but she'd come back quickly enough. The Doctor wasn't near as content as she'd seemed.
"She tried to say Annalise hit her head on a cabinet door," he told Kathy. His voice was shaking with anger. "She has a concussion. The contusion was close to needing stitches, and it was on the back of her skull. Her mother hadn't cleaned it at all—there was dirt and hair in the wound. How on earth would a little girl slam the back of her head that hard into a swinging cabinet door?"
He shook his head and buried his face in his hands.
"Did you ring the social worker?" Kathy asked gently.
"Yes. Immediately. But I haven't told her. I told her we're waiting for the MRI machine to free up. She doesn't know I used to be a neurosurgeon. I know a forceful head trauma when I see one." He said.
Bristol paused his game and turned to look up at his dad.
"Will the little girl be okay?" He asked.
His dad nodded. "She'll be just fine, once we get her some place safe."
"Did she tell you anything when you were alone?" Kathy inquired.
"Yes. She said her mum told her she hit her head on a cabinet door. When I asked her how she really did it, she just kept saying Mummy named the kettle George and George was mad at me." He said. "When I asked her why George hit her head, she said that Mummy made him. That was enough for me."
Kathy cursed underneath her breath. Bristol looked at her with wide eyes, but didn't say anything.
"What was the mother like?"
"Trying to hang all over me, per usual. She's completely oblivious to the pain she's caused. She doesn't think it matters. I don't think anything matters to her." He said. He shook his head. "God. I feel shit. That little girl has no idea her mother's awful. She loves her wholeheartedly anyway." He rubbed the side of his head and then looked towards Kathy. "Would you mind staying in here for a few more minutes? Not long, I promise. I just…want to talk to Clara."
Bristol perked up, immediately wanting to ask to talk to her too, but then he saw how sad his dad looked. And when Bristol was sad, he wanted to talk to Clara alone, too. He looked back at his game.
"No problem. We're just relaxing, aren't we, Bristol?" Kathy asked.
Bristol smiled. "Yeah. We're having a good time."
The Doctor smiled, but it was strained around his eyes.
"I'm glad to hear that. I'll be right back, Bristol. Thanks, Kathy."
Bristol beat three more levels on his game, and then his dad was back. He looked better than before, and stronger, too. Like he could handle anything.
"Child Services is here." He informed them. "I gave them my information. They're taking the mother in and they're bringing Annalise to her father's home."
The Doctor sat down on the sofa and winced as the sounds of the girl's crying and the mother's screaming filled the hall. Bristol leaned his head against his dad's shoulder. He knew what his dad did was right, but he didn't understand why it was so hard, too. It was the first time he'd ever realized that the right thing wasn't always the easiest.
"You're the bravest." He told his dad.
His dad smiled even though his eyes were red and watery. He kissed Bristol's forehead and lingered for a moment, and even though he hadn't said a word, Bristol heard I love you before he pulled back. He moved his head back to his father's shoulder and passed him the tablet.
"I can't beat this level," he lied. "Can you help?"
His dad's fingers were shaky at first as he touched the screen, but when he won the level, he seemed much better. Bristol thanked him profusely. His dad and mum always seemed happiest when they were helping their kids, and that stayed the same even then.
The Doctor surprised Bristol on the way home by stopping in front of a kebab hut. Bristol looked at him in surprise.
"But I thought you didn't want me eating kebabs?!"
The Doctor shrugged. "I'm remembering that there are far worst things out there."
Bristol slammed his stomach against the gear shift as he hurried to hug his father.
"Thank you!" He cried.
They parked the car and walked around as they ate. Bristol was halfway done with his when he put words to the way he'd been feeling all afternoon and ever since his dad was injured. He looked up at his father.
"Dad?" His dad looked down at him questioningly. "I'm really, really glad that you're my dad. And I wouldn't ever want you to go away. Not even for a little while."
The Doctor beamed brightly. He reached down and wrapped his arm around Bristol's shoulders, dragging him to his side for a brief hug. He sounded a bit choked up as he replied.
"Well, I'm really, really glad that you're my son. And that you feel that way."
They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked. Bristol thought about Anthony's bad parents, about Annalise's mean mum. He thought about his Grandpa and how nice he was. He thought about how Tara called to check on the Doctor any time he was sick. He wondered why some people got really nice parents and some didn't. Mostly, he wondered if he knew anyone else with really mean parents, maybe some kids at school. He wished everyone had parents like his.
And then he thought of something he never had before.
"Was your mum nice like my mum?" He asked his dad curiously.
His dad looked down at him and frowned. His pace slowed some.
"No." He admitted. "She wasn't."
"Oh." Bristol said. He looked down at his feet. "Did someone take you away from her? Because she was mean?"
"No. But they probably should have." He said.
Bristol lifted his hand and sought out his dad's. The Doctor wrapped his hand around his son's searching one.
"Was your dad mean?" He wondered.
"The meanest, when he wanted to be." The Doctor affirmed. "My mum wasn't really that mean, from what I remember. She was indifferent. She just didn't care about Uncle Ten or me. Which is sometimes just as bad as being mean."
Bristol frowned. "How was your dad mean? Did he hit you in the head?"
"No. He never hit me. But he hit my mother a lot. He just ignored me and screamed and said very mean things." His dad told him honestly.
Bristol looked up at his father in shock.
"He hit your mum?" He breathed. "Didn't he love her?"
The Doctor stopped long enough to toss his trash into a bin. Bristol passed him his as well. He answered his son's question as they turned to head back towards the car.
"He was obsessed with her. It made him do mad things." He responded.
Bristol tried to imagine his father hitting his mum, because he truly couldn't comprehend the situation, but even attempting to imagine it made his stomach queasy. He realized that the bad guys in that horror film could very easy live in people's houses. One lived in his dad's, even. It made him feel afraid.
"That's scary." He whispered. "I'm glad you aren't like your dad."
His dad stopped walking, much to the annoyance of the people behind him. He pulled them to the side and kneeled, so he was face to face with his son. He gripped his arms gently.
"Me too, Bristol." He said honestly.
Bristol smiled. "I want to be just like you when I grow up."
His dad smiled softly. He ruffled Bristol's short hair and rose to his feet.
"Let's go home and see your mum and siblings," he said.
He thought about all the bad people as they drove home. He strung them up in his mind, like clothes on a line. There was the man who stabbed his dad, there were his dad's parents, the crazy lady who hurt her daughter, the scary man in the horror film. But when Bristol ran though his home and fell into his mother's warm hug, he knew it didn't matter. The good always won in the end. He watched his dad hug his mother and he smiled. His parents were proof of that.