Title, Song Bird
Author, sarahbellesays
Summary, The Doctor discovers a strange little girl in a world not fit for strange little girls. (AU, sort of.)
Author's Note, I had the first two chapters of this story already written up, so I decided to just throw this one up there. Chapter three is in progress, of course~ I guess there's nothing much to say about this one. Hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer, I do not own Doctor Who.

She fell asleep curled up on the small chair in the console room. The Doctor watched her with a hard expression. He couldn't imagine what he was going to do with or how he was going to find the mother that he was sure had passed. In the lights of the console room, her skin seemed to almost glow and shimmer on her bones. She gnawed on her lower lip in her sleep and little snores escaped her small nose. He rubbed his palm against his face, letting out a soft sigh. What in the world was he going to do with her?

He pushed himself off the console and reached down to brush his fingers through her hair. He plucked a strand off the top of her head; she stirred but didn't awaken. Carrying it carefully between to pressed finger-tips, the Doctor spun on the console and pressed a button. A small slid spit out, looking like a disc player. He placed the hair carefully on the scanner and pressed it back into the console. He dragged the screen around and held it by the handles, watching as the DNA was processed through his faithful companion.

He chewed his lower lip as he watched the information spit across the screen. It was worse than he would have thought. Wren hovered on the boarder-line of disastrous for the human race. He wouldn't have pegged her for a Galfraxis. Everything about her was so human, after all. She didn't have the elongated snout or the black eyes. The skin was green, however, and those teeth! He glanced over his shoulder to the sleeping Wren. Her teeth had moved onto gnawing her wrist in her sleep. There was no damage done to her skin.

"Galfraxis it is," he murmured beneath his breath. His eyes turned back to the screen. The information gathered concluded that she was about six years old. "Though, not completely Galfraxis," he said quietly, drawing his finger across the screen. There was Human in her. That would account for the looks. He pulled the screen along with him as he went to the type-writer keyboard so that he could type in the coordinates to the planet. What was she doing all the way here, on Earth? He paused, his fingers hovering above the keys. His teeth grit and grinded.

Pattering his fingers against the keys, he looked searched for the state of the Galfraxis planet. His brows knit together as the information began to trail across the screen. Galfraxis was a warring state. The plant was in a state of complete economic and environmental chaos. He winced at the number of civilian casualties that sprawled across the screen. His gaze turned away and he settled his eyes on Wren. She slept so peaceful and quiet.

He ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a soft breath. While he was no longer bored, he was now rather stuck. He had two choices: return Wren to Galfraxis and risk setting her free in a warring state or attempt to find the mother that he was ninety-nine percent sure was dead. He drew his thumb across her lip in worry.

Then again, he thought, if he returned her to her planet he would be no better than the monsters that chased her so far away from it. He watched her little rib-cage rise and fall as she slept. He couldn't leave her with anyone on Earth, either. Those teeth, that skin- even her strength. Mixed with human, she would much sooner be gutted and explored for scientific purposes than taken care of like a little girl should be.

"You're one to talk," he muttered quietly. There was a pain in his chest and he let out a shaky breath. He had no desire to be taking a stroll down memory lane now. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he pulled out the small leather wallet that had gotten him through so much- out of and into so much trouble! He fingered it carefully before flipping it open to peer at the psychic paper. He felt a firm guilt beginning to grow in the center of his chest. He tapped it against his fingertips. So lost in thought squabbling with himself over the right and wrong of what he was about to do, the Doctor hardly noticed when Wren began to stir and awaken.

She stretched and yawned before curling tighter in on herself; she peered up at him with her cheek buried in her crossed arms. "Doctor?" She chirped.

"Ah, Wren!" He said, solidifying his resolve. He went to kneel in front of her, holding out the psychic paper to her. "I found this." He had remove the paper from its sleeve and now held it between two fingers. She unfolded herself and sat up, looking between him and the paper. He rose his brows and let a smile fall over his lips, though he knew it didn't reach his eye. He couldn't imagine that she would notice.

She took it and held it in her small hands, peering down at the writing scribbled on it. "What's it say?" She asked, holding it back towards him.

"It says," he said slowly, moving so that he could look at the paper with her. "Wren," his voice caught just the slightest. "Wren, I love you very much. The Doctor will keep you safe until I can come back for you." The words were printed across the paper as soon as he spoke them- and with all the will that he desired for it to be so, he knew that those would be the words she saw every time she looked at the paper.

Wren stared at the paper quietly, turning it every which way. "Did she give it to you?" She asked. "Mama was here? How come she left? How come she didn't take me, too?" The child was beginning to get worked up, tears squeezing from her eyes, lips twisting, sharp teeth gnashing. The Doctor sucked in a breath. His hands hovered uselessly on either side of her as she began to sob, kicking her feet and clutching the paper to her chest.

"She had to go," the Doctor lied, uselessly. "To make sure to keep you safe from the people who hurt you."

Wren was inconsolable and he stood and ran his fingers through his hair uncertainty. "Wren," he said, pacing back and forth while she sobbed. "Wren," he tried again.

"I- want- Mama-!"

Children!

"She'll come back!" He said anxiously. "Here, I know what we can do- Wren- Wren are you listening?"

She paused in her wailing to pin him with a tearful stare. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and a pen. He knelt down and smoothed it against her little leg. "We'll leave her a note," he said. "And when she comes back, she can call us in here. And then we can come back and then-"

"Do it!" Wren sobbed. "Do it!"

The Doctor felt his stomach sinking in and his heart wrenching as he quickly scribbled down a number that would redirect to no-where and a small note. Wren took the pen and drew a shaky heart at the bottom of it. She hopped off the chair and took the note. The Doctor followed her to the doors of the TARDIS, watching as she leaned up on her tip-toes to reach the handle. It swung inward and she darted out into the forest. The sun had moved while she slept and the light was fading. He followed her, keeping his eyes on her tiny, twisting form.

Wren took her time looking for the perfect place to lay the note so that her mother would find it. She decided on setting it beneath a big pine tree with over-grown roots. When she placed the note, she ran back to the Doctor and peered up at him. Her eyes were dry, her cheeks ruddy from her earlier crying. "Okay," she said brightly, slipping between his legs and darting back into the TARDIS. He took a breath before sliding back inside, closing the door behind him.

"Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "Do you know what this place is, Wren?" He knew she didn't- but she looked up at him from the chair with big eyes and the excitement on her face was worth the silliness of such a question.

"Is it your house?" She asked.

He laughed. "Yes," he agreed. "But it also can go anywhere at all in the whole universe."

"Can it go to Mama?" She asked, hopeful.

The Doctor swallowed thickly. "I don't know where she is, Wren," he said.

"When she calls," Wren insisted. "When she calls you'll know, right? Then we can go to her?"

"Right." The Doctor agreed with a firm nod. "Until then, would you like to see the stars?"

"What's stars?"

"You've never seen the stars?" The Doctor asked, incredulous. It was a real favor he was doing her, then, by taking her along with him. He would figure out what he would be able to do with her later. For now, however, Wren needed to see the stars and she needed to see them now. He swung around the center console on long legs, fast fingers flicking switches and tapping buttons and pulling levers. It was all second nature to him now as he spun the who-sit-thingy and clicked the space-wacey do-hickey.

The TARDIS shuttered and shook and Wren let out a screech that was half surprise and half laughter. It was only space, he decided. He could open the TARDIS doors and show her space. Show her stars. If he could do anything at all, he could do this. When the ship stopped its jostling about, he turned to look at the strange green girl. She was laughing and smiling and he couldn't help but smile back. He held out his hand to her and she grabbed it, tugging him lopsided as they made their way to the door. He hoisted her into his arms and held her against his hip.

"Wren," he said softly as he pulled open the TARDIS doors. "The stars."

The look on her face was worth a million lies about her mother and a million fake numbers and phone calls and psychic notes. Her absolute wonder was worth everything, ever. He watched her face as she watched the galaxies spill out in front of her. Those eyes peered across the stars. Her little hands clutched the fabric of his jacket, but he could practically see her yearn, reaching, stretching outwards for the stars. Her mouth fell open and her eyes grew wide and round as saucers.

It was worth a lie.

"Can we show Mama, too?" Wren whispered into his ear, pressing her face to his own. She nuzzled her cheek against his hair.

The lie was going to become to big for him to batter down, soon. "Yes," he said quietly.

Satisfied, Wren turned her head back out to watch the stars- to fall in love.

The Doctor discovered quickly that Wren was a little girl with little girl needs. While she wasn't human, she was far enough away from Time Lord that he had trouble figuring out what it was she would need. The TARDIS was kind enough to provide a room that Wren would like. She explored it will all the vigor of a child, upturning her sheets and uncovering every nook and cranny. She seemed ready to nob back off by the time she was done.

The Doctor watched her from the doorway, leaning against it with his arms and ankles crossed. Wren seemed to take little notice of him. She found paper and colors in a drawer and pulled them out. She left them on the floor while she went to go and pull open the closet. Clothes for her were inside and the Doctor stroked the doorframe of the bedroom, hoping his old girl would know he appreciated the gesture of not making him go out and about to try and shop for clothes for a little girl.

"Help me, help me!" Wren demanded as she began to shuck out of her blood-stained dress. She'd thrown a pair of trouser and a purple tee-shirt onto the floor. The Doctor shifted, ready to cross the room and assist her when she got it over her head. "Got it!" She declared, moving to put on the fresh clothes. Her green skin continued uninterrupted from head to ruddy toes. The knobs in her spine were prominent, despite the healthy weight to her. He could only imagine what bit of evaluation was waiting just beneath her leather-tough skin. She pulled on the fresh clothes, rubbing her hands along the fabric of the trousers as if she'd never felt anything like it in her life.

"Color with me," she insisted as she threw herself onto the floor where she'd left the paper and pencils.

The Doctor crossed the room and folded his legs as he sat on the floor. She didn't require much more than that and he was thankful, too lost in thought to be able to entertain her any more than sitting in her presence. She held the pencils in a tightly closed fist and scribbled on the paper with no discernible talent or direction. It was a child's drawing and the Doctor had never been more grateful for it.

She couldn't stay on the TARDIS. The elaborate lie he had concocted was so that she would not have to go through the emotional turmoil of a dead mother at such a young age. Yet, it was inevitable. She would find out sooner or later and the Doctor was coming to a loss of what to do about it. To keep her in the TARDIS would severely hinder his ability to adventure and would, ultimately, cramp his style. Not that he had a style, per se. But Wren would need constant looking after. She was a child, after all, one who had escaped war and whatever other horrors had befallen her since coming to Earth with her fugative mother.

Wren nodded off while coloring and he hoisted her gently into the bed, tucking the disheveled covers around her and brushing his hand along the top of her head. He thought, fondly, of River and of Amy and Rory. He could only imagine their reaction if he attempt to thrust strange, green Wren upon them. She would never be safer, he knew. But he couldn't face them- not yet, not now. Not after he had excluded himself so certainly from their life.

He clicked off the light as he left and shut the door. He debated whether or not to lock it behind him, just in case she went bumbling about in the middle of the night. Well, he thought sourly as he locked the door, there went his night-time excursions.

Life was a lonely place without sleep.