Coming For To Carry Me Home

Thirteen

Disclaimer: I am just borrowing these characters & lay no claim to owning them.

Author's Note: This part was inspired by reading the poem 'Ugly' by Warsan Shire & a lovely gif set that someone on tumblr did to accompany it. Many thanks for the follows & reviews, as ever. Hope you enjoy the part…

"Well, well, well... What do we have here?" Mels jumped visibly as the voice of her science teacher boomed out from behind her in an otherwise silent classroom. She quickly put her arms across the piece of paper she had previously been scribbling on to hide it from view. "Do mine eyes deceive me or is Melody Zucker actually doing work in my class? Have we witness a miracle?"

"No… I was…" Mels stammered as she tried to hide the piece of paper under her desk but before she could manage it the teacher swooped down and snatched it out of her hands, nearly tearing it in half as he did.

"Aww, isn't that sweet. Melody was writing poetry." He snipped sarcastically to the class as all eyes turned to Mels and she felt a blush rise up through her neck and burn into her cheeks. "Should we share it with the class seeing as you clearly consider this to be more important than the work on electromagnetics you're supposed to be doing."

"No!" She was on her feet instantly, her heart racing "No, you can't. It's private and it's-"

"Well, maybe it's the only way to get you to do any work." He sneered.

"Ask me." She blurted out, glaring at her teacher with nothing but hatred. Just another stupid man convinced he knew more than her, knew all about her. He knew nothing. "Ask me anything. I know it."

"Okay then." He smirked and she wanted to scream. Wanted to tell him what a hateful man he was, what a waste of oxygen. But he had something of hers, he had power over her and she couldn't have that. So she held her tongue. "How would you make an electromagnet stronger?"

"You could wrap the coil around an iron core, add more turns to the coil or increase the current flowing through it." She replied quickly. "Another. Ask me another."

"What… What is electrolysis used for?" He frowned slightly, caught off guard by her correct answer.

"To break down water into hydrogen and oxygen." She replied without a pause. "And another."

"But how do you know this? You never listen, you never do the work."

"Because I'm smart. I'm very smart. But you've never bothered to find out because you thought you knew all about me and who I was and what I could do so ask me another question. A difficult one." Mels growled, breathing hard and trying to keep her temper in check.

"Fine." He replied shortly, his lips pursed. He would not be spoken to like that by a child: especially not this child. "What is Kirchoff's first law relating to electric circuits?"

"At any junction in a circuit, the sum of the currents arriving at the junction equals the sum of the currents leaving the junction." She replied in a bored voice. "Is that it? Can I have my paper back now?"

"No, you may not!" He shouted, his eyes bulging. He didn't know how she knew that, it wasn't something she could have read in any of the books aimed at children her age. It frustrated him: angered him to be outsmarted by the little brat. "Now sit down!"

"Oh it's like that is it?" Mels sighed. "I was really trying to be good today as well. But fine, have it your way." She reached forward and tore the paper out of her teacher's hands before stomping across to the doorway.

"Mels, don't." Amelia pleaded quietly as she passed her but Mels merely shook her head at her friend.

"You'll see the headmaster for this, you mark my words!" The teacher shouted.

"Knock yourself out." Mels spat in reply as she slammed the door behind her.

XoxoxoX

The Doctor walked silently behind the young woman as she stomped down the street. He was, as ever, invisible and unnoticed. Nothing but a flicker in the corner of her eye. Sometimes he wondered if it was his greatest penance: having to watch her life and never being able to talk to her, to give her a hug when she cried or laugh with her when things were good. Sometimes he thought it was his greatest reward to be able see her every day, to help her when she needed it. He watched her as she screwed up the ball of paper she held in her hand and threw it aggressively into the bin, wiping her face with her other hand as she did. He wanted to run over to her, to tell her that it would all be okay and that she was so much better than the idiots that surrounded her. But he couldn't. So instead he waited there, frozen like a statue (and about as much use) until she went around the corner and he could retrieve the crumpled paper that she had guarded so fiercely. He shook with anger as he thought what this paper represented.

Sometimes he really hated humanity. He loved it most of the time, adored the people and the planet but days like today made him sick to the stomach. He hated bad teachers. Teachers that abused their power, that belittled children. Poor, innocent, messed up children who needed nothing but love. And instead they received snide remarks, insults and criticism. Bad teachers were the worst aspect of humanity: people who were trusted to help and instead just poured their indifference on generation after generation of children. People like that made him want to rip the world apart, to take away all the good things they didn't deserve. And those people seemed to be attracted to Mels, then to River, and that made it even worse. To see her fragile young self so relentlessly tormented by people who were worth a fraction of her made him so angry. To see her entire life controlled and made worse by the humans she came into contact with made him realise that the people of Earth, right now, were very lucky he chose to be the Doctor. Because for the sake of a crying girl, who had been hurt again and would never stop being hurt by vile Gods of fate, he could so easily become a destroyer. But he'd made a promise a long time ago, and it was one he intended to keep: no matter how difficult. So instead he smoothed out the paper he clenched in his fists and began to read.

My mother never told me

That life would be easy

My mother never told me

That people are kind

My mother never told me

That life was fair

Or that good always wins

My mother never told me

That I would be beautiful

That I would be loved

That I would be safe

Because my mother never lied.

But I would give every good day

And every happy dream

To hear one lie

And to see her smile.

The Doctor gulped, his lip quivering as his eyes filled with tears he resolutely dismissed. It hurt so much to know how much she hurt. She had been through so much and there was still, and there always would be, so much more to come but she was still writing poetry. People who had given up hope, who saw no beauty in the world: they didn't write poetry. People who were so broken by what had happened, who couldn't see how they would make it to tomorrow: they didn't write poetry. But here she was, broken and battered and bruised but still hopeful, still hanging on, still writing poetry.

It was a testament to her mother and father, her friends through her early years, that she was like that. Many other people would be lost by now: their souls beyond the reach of anything good or kind. And if Mels (and later River) was anything she was always kind. Morally ambiguous and kind of trigger happy, yes, but never cruel, never spiteful. And it was his job to keep her this way. So he turned the paper over, pulled a pen from his pocket and stared at the blank sheet in front of him. He'd never been any good, in fact always been pretty rubbish, at poetry. He thought momentarily about popping back and getting Shakespeare to knock him one up but he quickly dismissed this idea. If it came from anyone else, was anyone else's words, it wouldn't work. It had to be him. This was his job. This was the only job that mattered now. So he began to write.

Your mother never told you

That you are special

That you are good

That you are loved.

But just because something isn't said

Doesn't mean it isn't true.

And things that are now

Will not be forever.

What today is a mountain

Soon will be but a spec of sand.

Now is not for lies

About the good in every man

But there is so much more

That words cannot express

So believe me when I promise

That you are everything

That the world cannot always be.

The Doctor shrugged as he looked down at those words. He wished he could say so much more. Could tell her that one day, not in the way she wanted but in a way, she would be held by her mother- loved for the daughter she was. That one day he and her parents would be with her and her own dysfunctional family would make sure she never felt alone again. But he could never tell her that, was unable to reveal those particular spoilers. So he hoped that when he posted this back through her door later it would do. It was all he could give and he just hoped it was enough.

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