[A/N: Once again thanks so much for the nice comments! Here's one of my favorites: 13 finally gets to build her screwdriver!

I'd also like to give a quick reply to a review by lautaro94, who's been following this story right from the start: thanks so much for the constructive criticism. I agree that the TARDIS being blocked by El's telepathy may seem a bit forced in there, but do note I make up the story as I go, so none of this is planned/plotted. I more or less wanted to figure out a way to exclude the TARDIS right from the beginning as that would leave no complications to solve. (Since the old lady is basically a giant deus ex machina) I'm still exploring the backstory with 12, so there's always room for surprising developments in the future. My reasoning for now is that with El being young and not yet having her telepathic senses under control, the TARDIS isn't quite ready to handle her presence. She might get more used to it, though.

Hope that explains it a bit!]

Chapter 9: Building a screwdriver

"Right, a couple of rules. Don't go upstairs before either Lucas, Dustin or me has told you it's safe. Don't steal any food, cookies or eggos except the stuff I've put on the table. Don't go out and talk to anyone about who you are. No explosions, strange sounds or smells, and absolutely no hyper-interdimensional portals opening up. Do you guys understand that?"

Mike looked at the duo on the couch with his hands on his sides. Eleven nodded, fumbling with the buttons on the woman's coat. He turned to the woman. "Ma'am?"

"Yes. No. I'm not sure. Could you repeat that one more time?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just keep a low profile, okay? I don't want anyone finding out about you while we're going to Will's funeral."

"Oh, don't you worry Mike." The woman smiled. "I'm an expert at keepin' a low profile. Really. Managed to pass for a Neptunian nurse for seven months straight."

"Yeah, and why am I having so much trouble believing that? Anyway, stay out of trouble. We'll see if we can find out more at the funeral." He nodded to Eleven. "I'll be back in just a couple of hours, El."

She nodded. She still found it difficult to see Mike go (a feeling which didn't seem to go away despite the frequency of it), but at least she had the woman with her. Her being around somehow made things easier to cope with. She guessed it was because she wouldn't be alone.

"Mike!" A male voice shouted from upstairs.

"Coming, dad!" Mike yelled back. He turned once more to his guests. "I'll see you guys later."

And gone he was, the wood creaking under his sneakers as he made his way upstairs. Eleven and the woman were left motionlessly listening to the noises on the floor above them as the Wheeler family prepared themselves. Each reacted in their own way when they finally heard the front door slam shut (which seemed like ages later); Eleven sighed deeply, the woman immediately jumped up only to start pacing across the room. The girl followed her with her eyes. It was almost funny how closely she reminded her of the odd man she had met that one night in the empty room. The same weird gestures, the same nonsense talk, and even the amount of strange natural authority she evoked whenever she spoke to her or the others. Yet Eleven wasn't exactly sure whether to fully rely on these instincts, because she knew there was more than what she had remembered last night. Something had happened after the arrival of the mad man with his blue box. She couldn't quite remember what it was, but maybe this was a good thing. She knew it was something bad, something dark. Possibly it was something that could stand in the way of trusting this woman. And she really, really wanted to trust her, because despite everything, there was this weird familiarity that felt so good. Warm, like the feeling she'd have when she would think about Mike. That made her blush.

"Alrighty!" the woman piped up, "time for some more deduction. You like riddles, Eleven?"

"Riddles?" El asked.

"Yah, they're kinda like… I don't know, actually. Unsolvable little buggers that keep botherin' you until you managed to figure out how they work. I can't complain, I need somethin' to keep me busy, but this time someone's life may depend on it. Will's life. So we figured out how…" – she jumped on the couch and slapped on the wall – "this works, but there's still a bit I'm missin'. Think about it. That mysterious… gateway, what's so odd about that? Well, aside from the fact it's an interdimensional rift that should never have been there in the first place, of course."

El shrugged. "How it… appeared." she mumbled, carefully choosing her words.

"Yes. Obviously. Gateways don't appear out of nowhere. Somewhere around 'ere, someone generated so much… power, it was enough to tear into reality itself. That's a first." She quickly casted a glance at the girl. "Don't see that as a compliment. Or maybe do. I don't know, not a single species I know has ever been capable of that. And they probably wouldn't do it even if they could. Even Time Lords knew better than to mess with the limits of the space-time continuum. Besides, what purpose could it possibly serve?"

She jumped off the couch and started pacing again. "Of course, could be power. Classic who-has-the-biggest-one games, but humanity wouldn't be this stupid, would they? Have none of you listened the past 3000 years? For real?' She shook her head. "No, surely that couldn't be it, stupid. UNIT would already have this area completely sealed off, or burned down, for that matter. Not to mention the other 200 interstellar secret organizations keeping an eye on you lot. So that must mean it is a kind of accident. Or could you still classify this as an accident? Cosmic oopsie?" She stopped dead in her tracks. "Why am I trailing off so much? Come on, it's really not that hard! You're a bit shaken up, but your head's still intact! For the largest part, that is."

Eleven kept an eye on the woman as she walked back and forth. She felt sorry for her. Of course, finding Will was important to the young girl, but she knew there were other things that did matter. The woman probably realized this too, but rather than a simple goal, this was more of a purpose to her – it was all she cared about and the thought of not being able to accomplish it frightened her.

I'll come back for those who need it. Hope. Hope.

"So who did it is not important right now. What is important, however, is to find this particular rift. That's quite frankly the best chance we have at findin' Will. So in that case, the only difficulty is to track down the energy source." She smiled. "Oh, yes, I could do that, if I just had my infernal sonic!"

She rummaged through her pockets, but – again – couldn't find anything. Eleven asked: "Sonic?"

"Yes, sonic screwdriver. Just a simple device I could use to trace all kinds of energy. It's very nifty, but I seem to have lost it when I made that tumble to earth. Along with everything else." She sighed. "So I 'spose that's another dead end." Her face fell again and she sat down at one of the boxes across the room, hands folded in front of her mouth. Eleven wasn't exactly sure whether to be happy or feel sorry for her. She wanted the woman to find Will, to help him, but at the same time she knew the dangers she had to face when she would. Back in the depths of that awful place with the Bad Men was the darkness, the portal… and the monster. What would happen to the woman if she found it? What would happen to Mike?

"Unless…" The woman suddenly shot up as if struck by a lightning bolt. Eleven drew back, a little scared. "Oh, brilliant! Why haven't I thought of that sooner? Doesn't matter if I don't have one, I could build one!"

With renewed energy, she walked towards the stairs. She would probably have rushed right up if there wasn't the sudden push that hit her, nearly throwing her down again. One hand tightly gripping the wooden railing, she turned around, some wild lock of hairs covering her eyes. For once, she was truly lost for words.

"You can't go," Eleven said, a small drop of blood trickling from her nose. "Mike said you couldn't."

She watched on as the woman carefully stepped down from the stairs again, shaking her dizzy head. "Well, yes. I see. Just... just let me explain, Eleven, okay?"

"You can't go," the girl merely replied, her voice suddenly firm with a determination the woman had never heard – or expected – from her.

"Yes, I know that's what he said. But let me... look, I'm not plannin' on going anywhere, alright? I'm just going to see if I can find any materials I could use to build a screwdriver. I won't leave the house. Promise."

For some reason, she could almost see the girl reacting to that last word; as if there was something in her eyes that responded to it. Well, the strange thing was that it didn't even surprise her, because she remembered it as well, some kind of deeper meaning behind it that was somehow tied in with her own past. For once, she felt actual sadness for her own inability to remember. Being reborn was something, but not being able to recall her purpose, the meaning of everything that made up her past was somehow a thousand times worse.

"I understand that you're concerned about Mike and our safety. But this is my best chance at figurin' out who I am, understandin' the importance of the burden I carry with me and the lives that came before mine. Please, Eleven, if it's necessary I'll beg you not to deny me this opportunity."

It may have been her face, which all at once seemed so much older, or the heartbreaking sincerity which had sounded through her voice, but Eleven suddenly realized there was a strange order to the things around her. Not dissapointing Mike was important, but allowing the woman to help was vital, something that had to go above everything else. Could it be because she recognized something in her? Because she remembered?

The man with the box. There was something about him, not something happy, something sad. He never told you, but you could see it. Does this woman have something sad too?

Well, maybe. But right now she was in an empty room, not one that was visible, and would it be fair to let her stay inside it? To not help her find a way to open the door, to not let her find out what was outside of it? To not help her out of the darkness and into the light?

Hardly.

"Okay," the girl said. "I'll help you."

"Oh, thank you so much," the woman said, and this time her smile wasn't just upbeat or cheerful – there was such gratitude in it that for a second, El was afraid her face would break open in intense brightness. There wasn't much time to reply, though; before she had even the chance of opening her mouth, the woman was already on the stairs again, wildly gesturing her. "Well, let's go then! Time to build a screwdriver!"

And Eleven followed, not once thinking about the rules again.

It was almost as if though the woman had never seen an ordinary house before (though Eleven couldn't blame her, after all, had she?) and now decided to take the full opportunity. She rampaged up and down through the ground floor, first to the kitchen, then the living room, to the corridor leading to the garage and back to the kitchen again. The little girl just stood in the middle of it all, fiddling with the buttons on the long sleeves of the ragged coat. There wasn't much else she could do.

"Right then!" the woman cheered as she pulled some of the drawers open. "Not havin' the benefit of havin' the TARDIS, dull environment, bit of time pressure, so we'll have to improvise a little. But that's no problem." She suddenly uttered a surprised cry, ducked and pulled something from under the kitchen counter. Turning to Eleven, she smiled: "Well, cheer up a little! This is going to be fun!"

She threw the girl a couple of eggos and ran around the corner. While El stuffed a couple of delicious waffles into her mouth, she tried to catch a glimpse of what she was doing. There sure was a lot of noise as she... rummaged through the drawers to collect all the spoons? And the forks? Even the knives?

"There. That should be enough for the casing. Oh, could you hold this for a bit? Thank you, supergirl."

Apparently she had forgotten that certain things – especially a lot of loose things – weren't exactly holdable. She threw the whole bunch up to Eleven, who managed to just grab a couple of spoons and two forks while the rest clattered to the ground. The woman was already half through the living room before she realized her mistake. "Oh, here's me being silly again. Sorry about that. Let me fetch you a bucket,"

Eleven nodded and made sure to check under all the furniture before the woman returned, a steel bucket in her hands. The cutlery made a hollow, clanging noise as it fell on the bottom. Once filled, she laboriously carried it further into the room, where the woman just appeared to be taking apart the television set. "Oh, long time since I've fiddled around with such primitive technology. Look at that, it's just a box! A box filled with little bleeping pieces and lamps and funny things. Okay, better stay back, because it may end up explodin'."

"Exploding?"

"Yah. You know, when it goes boom. Well, I don't know, it could go boom, but I'll try my best to keep it short and clean. Just watch out."

Eleven quickly retreated, looking on a tad uncomfortably as the woman pulled a few wires and messed around with some panels. All of a sudden the tv started to emit a strange, humming noise. "Oh dear," the woman muttered, clearly looking nervous as she started pulling more parts from the machine. This wasn't doing much good, obviously, as the humming only grew louder, and apart from that there was now smoke rising from the top as well.

"Yeet! Okay, no worries, I should just give it a firm quick slap and then –"

Zap! There was a bright flash, then the woman's head shot back, hair waving around it in some kind of blonde explosion. Eleven dropped the bucket and rushed toward her. Before she could reach her, though, the woman was already upright again – apart from some black streaks across her cheeks, she seemed to be doing remarkably alright. El stared. The woman stared. It took them exactly five seconds to burst into a bright laughter – the woman giggling like an excited child and the girl displaying what felt like her first real smile in ages.

"Toast!" the woman cheered as she held up a burned eggo, and that was enough for another five minutes of joyful laughter – five minutes in which they were no more than a bunch of children giggling about an exploded television. Eleven cherished those minutes – she wished it would never end.

Unfortunately it did, although she could count on a couple of more eggos as they took of to the garage. Once they arrived, the woman switched the lights on and dropped the wires and items she had carried with her to the floor. El put the bucket down as well, using her other hand to wipe the crumbs out of the corner of her mouth.

"Lovely!" the woman said, running around the room to look for any useful equipment. "There's nearly enough in here to build a proper sonic. Say what you want, but human ingenuity is brilliant. Oh, look at me, I'm rhyming!"

She rummaged for three more minutes before returning with a set of goggles and a cilinder-like machine. If Mike had been there, he would have explained to Eleven it was a "welding machine", the kind his dad had purchased with the intention to do some jobs around the house. (An intention which Ted Wheeler had, like many of his other 'ideas', postponed until an unimaginable eternity.)

"Okay, I seem to have everything in place. No, wait." She scratched her head. "I'm missin' something. Am I? There's steel, there's the electrical components, but I need... oh, stupid." Now she shook her head, letting out a deep sigh. "I knew I'd overlook something. Alien material! I can't craft a sonic semi-telephatic device without using a bit of extraterrestial technology. Oh, shoot!"

She turned around, putting her hands on her hips as she tried to hide the bitter dissapointment on her face. It couldn't be right. It wasn't fair! Why did it always have to be difficult – why had there to be at least one big hurdle in the way when things finally seemed to be leading somewhere? She started to wonder whether all of this was truly a test. Could it be possible that she somehow got trapped in her confession dial again?

Suddenly there was something else; a hand tugging at her sleeve. She turned around to find Eleven standing there, holding some kind of orange-yellow crystal in her open hand. In the dimmed lights of the garage, it shone brightly and casted a beautiful shimmer on them.

"What is... where did you get that?"

"Yours," Eleven said. "Doctor."

"Doctor? That's funny. You're funny." she replied, a bit absently. She carefully put the crystal on the workbench and proceeded to put the goggles and a couple of gloves on. "Doctor, me? Could you imagine it? Well, no, but that's enough jokes for today. Now it's tinkerin' time. Oh, the beautiful alliterations! I should give Shakespeare a call and see if he's up for another round of wordplay! No, better not, he still hasn't forgiven you for beatin' him last time. Alright, Eleven, I don't want to be a party pooper, but I think it's better if you wait in the living room. It'll be safer there."

"Okay," the girl replied, though not sounding very sure. "Will you come back?"

"Hm?" the woman turned so that El was now being stared at by a couple of massive black eyes. "Yes, of course. Silly question. Do you really think I would leave you alone after all that you've been through?"

"Promise?"

"Promise. Yeah, if you want."

The girl rapidly nodded. Under the goggles appeared a broad smile – an honest smile. "Then you'll have my promise. Always. Now get out of here before I accidentally fry your eyebrows. Or something else. Don't want to think about the things that could go wr –"

But Eleven was already gone before she could complete the sentence. For a second she just stood there, looking at the closed door; then cast one more glance at the crystal before turning the welding machine on. It certainly appeared her identity and Will's dissapearance weren't the only mysteries that needed solving. As if those two weren't already unbearable.

On the other side... had it ever been that easy?

Eleven listened to the metallic clunks and thumps as she waited for the woman to return. She was sitting in the La-Z-Boy, looking around the room to study all of its interesting contents. It had taken some persuasion, but she was now fairly convinced the woman wreaking havoc in the garage was the same odd man with the blue box she had encountered that one night in the empty room. Only it was now a woman... without the box, and her memory, apparently. Eleven wanted to help her remember who she was, but at the same time she was also a bit afraid, just as she wasn't completely sure whether to trust her. Oh, there was the desire of course; after all, the man had promised to come back for her. But the fact that she had to make a new promise didn't exactly comfort her. It could be the memory loss, sure thing, but there were still things Eleven didn't clearly remember as well.

There are not only happy things about him. Also sad things. Also bad things. You saw it. In his face, in his eyes. Did you also see them in the woman's eyes? Did he fulfill his promise? How did you escape? Why has she forgotten you? Why has she forgotten the promise?

Amid this rowdy bunch of screaming questions was another voice, Papa's voice, so clear she could envision him sitting in front of her: I want you to tell me about the man, Eleven. I want you to tell me his name. To tell me who he is. You can't trust him, Eleven. You can never ever trust him.

She pressed her hands on her head and whimpered. Too many questions. Too many lies. She didn't want to hear them, she wanted to trust the woman. To help her to help them, and after that, see the stars, the countless stars and the brightest of them all, but no more lies, no more –

"Are you alright?"

She shot up. The woman was standing in the portal to the corridor, goggles pushed up to her forehead. In one hand she held a weird, glinstering object, with a bit of the crystal on top.

"Yes." Eleven said. She wiped the bit of blood on her upper lip off. Hopefully she hadn't turned the whole upper floor upside down in the process.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." she said more firmly, and this time she noticed the woman frowned a little. She didn't reply to it though, instead choosing to shrug and walk up to her. "Okay then. I've managed to put together this nifty looking thingy. First time I've done this, so it might need some testin', but if I got everything correct we'll be able to trace the dimensional energy in no time."

She pressed on the object and it suddenly started to glow, emitting the familiar soft hum. Above their heads, the light started to flicker. The woman's face lit up and pleasure and she waved it around, turning on the rest of the lights, the radio on the drawer, even the microwave in the kitchen. The bag of popcorn someone had left in it exploded and started popping, adding to the loud orchestra of other appliances which started beeping or humming once the woman pointed the screwdriver at them. To her, it was a confirmation that the hurdle had been taken – another small, yet well-deserved victory.

To Eleven, it was magic.

The woman fiddled around some more before turning everything off again. She juggled with her new screwdriver for a put, then caught it and stroke it lovingly. "Seems like we got a nice thing rollin' here. Alright, let's get all of the mess cleaned up before Mike comes home. Wouldn't want to dissapoint him now, would we?"

Eleven shook her head. No, she didn't want to dissapoint him. After all, this was an important thing – maybe not the most important thing, but certainly an important thing.

If just the television wasn't beyond repair.