He finally slept, deeply.

The Doctor slept so deeply, that the dreams couldn't find him where he was hiding. He need hours more, days more, but time didn't wait for him to wake. Instead, he found himself being touched, by four small hands, warm and sticky against his cheeks. A finger slid across his nose, smelling vaguely of grape jam and another jabbed at his eye, trying to pull his eye lid up and peer inside.

He let out an internal groan, trying to pull himself up out of the blanket of his rest.

"'s not wake," the boy whispered.

He struggled, managing to pull his eyes open at last. The room was bright, and he was being stared at by the twins. For a brief, agonizing moments, names that didn't belong to them filled him up to the point he thought he'd burst. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, taking on such a daunting task after his world had crashed around him.

Reality was now offering out its hand, as though they hadn't been on fighting terms for such a long time.

He swallowed hard, hands clenched in the bed sheets, while four bright eyes waited for him to find himself again.

He had avoided his real life, as much as possible. Tinkered until the TARDIS was angry, and his brain was no numb he could almost breathe. He'd been drowning in a storm of constant regret, as it swept him off his feet time after time.

But they were waiting, waiting for him to sit up, and be a man. Be their father, so he did. Slowly, he released his grip on the sheets, his fingers aching as the blood rush back in. He pulled himself up, and looked them over. They were both shirtless, covered in the jam they smelled of, and smiling at him widely.

He turned his head, looking at his nightstand. They had bared a corner that was now filled with a plate. There were overly runny eggs, and toast that only barely resembled itself, blackened all the way.

He was filled with a sudden rage, with the TARDIS, with them, with himself. How had they come upon the kitchen? And didn't they understand they were much too young to be that close to a stove. Sure, they were smart, more so then their age, but they were tiny, and vulnerable, and it made him scared.

And in this body, fear often came out as anger. He reached out, grabbing their hands and pulling them closer quickly. They both let out a nervous squeak, but didn't struggle as he looked them over for burns or cuts.

When he was satisfied that the food was the only thing that had suffered he released them. They both scooted back, almost exactly in the same motions, watching him with tears in their eyes.

"You can't use the stove!" he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "It's off limits; just don't even go into the kitchen without me."

Shy blinked, the tears breaking over her lower lid, and Gav quickly sat up straighter. He pulled his sister into a tight hug, sticky arms doing what the Doctor ought to be himself.

The Doctor sighed, running a hand over his face. It'd been too long since he'd been a father, and he wasn't positive he'd done an amazing job the first time. And back then, the first time, he hadn't done the things that had led him here.

His daughter wasn't sobbing. He wouldn't have known she was crying at all, if her scrunched up face wasn't facing him. She wasn't doing this to get his attention; this wasn't some red flag she was laying down in his path. She didn't expect him to apologize, or make this right, and that was what broke his resolve.

If they didn't become a family, make something where there was nothing, then what was the point of it all?

He wanted these little ones safe. He wanted them to live so long it amazed him, and find love, and families of their own. He wanted that so much, it didn't matter he had no idea how to become the sort of father they deserved. It might take time, but he could do gentle again. He knew he could.

The Doctor reached out once more, slowly, gently, pulling them up into his lap. He hugged them, while they hugged each other.

In the silence, he promised what he couldn't say out loud. He promised them a life, a real life. He promised them they would be amazed by the things they saw, and the love they felt. He vowed to be better, and never give up on them, no matter what.

"I'm sorry," he said, after a moment, letting them go. "I meant what I said…but I shouldn't have said it like that. Now…you made me breakfast?"

Gav looked up at him first, and pulled away, scooting across the Doctor's bed until he got to the plate. The Doctor reached out, taking it. It too was sticky and he knew that the next thing he was going to have to accomplish was a bath. He started making a list, of shops, places, events. He started organizing, because it made it possible in his head. He could be a father, one step at a time.

The Doctor looked down at the food on the plate, inedible, even if his stomach did recognize it as food.

It'd been so long since he'd eaten, and he wasn't sure how well he was going to react to this, but he picked up the black toast and took a bite. It dissolved in his mouth, but he continued until it was gone. They looked so pleased with themselves that he managed a smile.

Shy hummed softly, and he sat the plate to the side.

"You'll be needing a bath," he said, reaching out for them.

He scooped them up, before there could be any protest, and carried them back to their room. The TARDIS had already made them a nice bathroom, with child size features, and he found everything he needed inside.

He had them in there, splashing soon enough, and he went out to their room. As he dug through the clothes, he felt tears fill his eyes. That was the one thing he hadn't done-cry. He'd screamed, raged, promised to go back, swore he wouldn't. He'd torn rooms apart, and tried to glue himself back together in any order he could find, but a tear hadn't fallen once.

Now they flowed freely, with his kids splashing in the background. The world seemed to fade away him. He could hear them, kept enough of his mind on that to be aware they were okay, but the rest he let go. He just remembered, clutching small clothes to his chest, his jacket becoming damp.

He cried for all the ones he couldn't save, for a choice he didn't have. He cried because saving the universe meant destroying his own. He let the tears run, until his head began to ache, until he heard restless voice from the bathroom. There was a very good chance that he was too broken to be raising any kids.

But right now, they were three souls adrift in a universe that wasn't going to do them many favors. All they had was each other, and no matter how hard it was, he was determined to make them into a family.