Will We Meet Again?
Chapter 10. Christmas Invasion
"They say home is where you heart is set in stone, is where you go were when you're alone,
is where you go to rest your bones.
Is not just where you lay your head, is not just where you make your bed.
As long as we are together does it matter, where we go?"
Home – Gabrielle Aplin
A deep voice came to cut through the rushing air, demanding all of me to look up and see who it belonged to – even though I had a pretty good guess.
"So, where was I?"
The owner of the voice was grinning a Cheshire grin, his eyes new and a tiny bit mad.
"Oh, that's right. Barcelona!"
Upon impact, the very first thing I caught sight of was leather. My heart skipped a stilted beat, imagining that I was close to meeting Nine.
That however, was long before my eyes trailed across the body, up to a familiar set of coppery eyes and scruffy hair. Ten was looking at me with an absent expression, like the gears in his head were registering a speed slower than what he was used to.
And then he smiled.
Like it was instinct – this effortless, pure little smile that looked like it was made up of every goddamn star in the sky. As cheesy as a thought it was, something about it felt justified.
"Doctor?" I asked, confused. I felt like fidgeting under his gaze, but there was something about the air holding me in place – something was off.
"Hello." His voice was breathy, but he dragged out each syllable.
There was something intriguing about the way he was looking at me too, drinking me in like it was the very first time in a long time that he'd seen me. On wobbly knees, he came to stand closer, a spark fizzling behind his eyes. He was about to say something, do something – an apparent desire to act on what had seemingly lit up his eyes.
That was before his body begun spasming.
I took a massive jump back, trying to process what was wrong with this whole image.
Ten, wearing Nine's leather jacket and looking younger than ever could only mean two things – either he'd felt particularly nostalgic over his younger self, or... oh no.
Just as I had reached a conclusion on where I was, ready to help get the Doctor off the floor – a hand tugged me back harshly.
The sight of a new head of hair, this time gold like swirls of buttermilk, was enough to both relieve and strike me senseless.
Rose Tyler, body shaking from apparent shock and with eyes sharp enough to kill, had pulled me back to stand next to her – half concealed behind a pillar. She was staring daggers at the Doctor, observing each and every move of his' warily. What shocked me more than her look of complete distrust towards Ten, was the way she was clutching to my side and holding me in place, as if she were trying to protect me from an enemy.
Almost as soon as it'd started, the newly regenerated Doctor got over his slight outburst of energy and dashed to the console. He began flicking switches, checking the monitor as if nothing was out of the ordinary at all.
"6 PM... Tuesday..." He spoke slow, his jaw rolling like he was testing it.
Rose and I stood frozen, wary as we watched the Doctor turn a couple of knobs. Despite the exciting finale I'm sure had taken off before I had gotten here, the air was scarily still – stilted, like we were all standing on a thin sheet of ice that could break with the use of a single wrong word.
"October... 5006... On the way to Barcelona!" He finished, standing tall as he finished using the console. He had straightened up then, grinning ear-to-ear as though he was extremely pleased with himself. He looked up at us. "Now then... what do I look like?"
My eyes were wide, shifting from the Doctor to Rose – who looked more scared now than she did hostile. I was about to try and break the silence when the Doctor immediately broke in, holding up a hand to silence us.
"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. No. Don't tell me!" He rambled quickly, getting into one of those adrenaline high moments of his – something I now realised was completely new for him. "Let's see... two legs, two arms, two hands..."
"Slight weakness in the dorsal tubercle," He noted, playing with his wrist, circling it around.
And then, fast enough to make the ground shake, his hands flew up to his head, "Hair! I'm not bald!"
"Yeah, but you will be if you pull at it like that," I whispered under my breath, half snorting at the thought. Unluckily for me however – like Aragorn the ranger listening to the ground and having his crazy ears hear something a thousand miles away – The Doctor seemed to catch onto my smartass comment.
Immediately his face seemed to curl, pouting. "Fiona Moore, do not jinx this! Look at my big hair!"
Just as the Doctor began going into another bout of new observations – something to do with his sideburns and his how thin he was now – I caught notice on how Rose's grip seemed to have loosened.
Now, instead of holding me in place with a cast-iron grip, she turned to look at me full on – like a mother wondering whether the weird stranger had hurt her baby.
"Ona, you know 'im? Why's he wearing the Doctor's clothes?" She whisper-stressed.
Her hazel-y eyes were ablaze with the question, but all my mind was saying was 'wow, the universe did a great job on her she was gorgeous, wow' – an appropriate reaction to meeting anyone as good-looking as Billie Piper, I'd say. I opted out for just stuttering a bunch of 'a's' and 'um's' – not at all in the right headspace to go on about explaining to her what regeneration was.
And if my memory did serve me correct, she'd find out soon enough.
Suddenly, the Doctor made an incredibly loud gasp of realisation – his face alight with the air of someone making the most wonderful discovery they'd ever make.
" I... have got... a mole. I can feel it," He rolled his shoulders, his voice reverent, "Between my shoulder blades, there's a mole. That's all right, love the mole."
With our attentions having being snatched, and him looking like he had intended for it all along, he grinned at us funnily. "Go on then, tell me. What do you two think?"
What could I say? With him basically preening like peacock already – his hair all ruffled – he made an awfully easy target.
"You look like a loon," I smiled. "Like if a fox, Dr. Suess, and a stick of celery were all genetically spliced to make a person – you'd be the result, doc."
He looked so completely undeterred – like someone could compare him to a trash can right now and he'd find a way to compliment himself out of it.
"So you're saying I'm a tiny bit foxy?" He waggled his eyebrows, "And a tiny bit rhymy."
I rolled my eyes, the corners of my lips tugging up. It was strange, but a part of me felt like I could've gone on for hours just squabbling about nothing in particular with him. I suppose it was for the best that Rose took a step forward to interrupt.
"Who are you?" She cut in, her voice so uncomfortable and scared that it actually made me feel bad for messing about. She turned to me, "You called him 'doc'. Why're you talking to him like tha'?"
"Rose, he's the Doctor," I felt my eyebrows fall, because weirdly enough – like Amelia – Rose seemed oddly unguarded around me, like she had known me since long before now.
"No, why aren't you more worried?!" Her voice rose as she shook her head roughly, clearly not believing. "Where's the Doctor? What's he done to him?"
"You saw me, I, I changed..." The Doctor looked lost, indicating to the spot over his shoulder, the spot where he must've regenerated before I got here. "...right in front of you."
"I saw him sort of explode, and then you replaced him, like a... a teleport or a transmat or a body swap or something."
The Doctor seemed at a complete loss for words, prompting Rose to charge at him – looking like she was ready to pummel him for answers. Jumping in between them, I held my hands out to show her I meant to help.
"Rose, look at me," I garnered her attention, getting those angry eyes off the Doctor and on me.
"He regenerated. He changed his face so he didn't have to die. Now if you know me half as well as I feel you do" I cringed at that, still uncomfortable with the fact that Rose Tyler along with many other probable companions knew me better than I did them for some reason. "You'd know that I've met up with different versions of him. This Doctor happens to be one of that lot. Trust me."
She swallowed thickly, her eyes closing tightly as those she were trying to reign herself in. Opening them up again, she whispered in a pinched tone, almost like she believed the Doctor couldn't hear, "I trust you. It's him I don't trust."
The Doctor looked crest-fallen at that. "Rose, it's me. Honestly, it's me."
"Prove it," She looked at him, stubbornly cross.
"Fine. How could I remember this? Very first adventure we ever had together, the lot of us. Trapped in that cellar, surrounded by shop window dummies, oh such a long time ago. I took your hand and I said one word. Just one word, I said "Run"," He grabbed her hand to emphasise the point, swinging it around merrily. He looked at her happily while her own eyes were wide.
"Doctor?" She exhaled. Her sigh was softly deflating – it was as if a tension had lifted yet left her with a melancholy instead of relief.
He grinned at her, completely oblivious to her clear sadness, "Hello."
I frowned at the scene. I felt uncomfortable – like a freaking stalker breaking in on a stalk-ee's intimate moment. Though, I suppose a stalker would've enjoyed the transgression – it being a part of their jobs after all. I just stood awkwardly still, wishing I were anywhere else.
Because they were the Doctor and Rose Tyler! Even though I had just met his wife in the future, I knew that this relationship he had with her here was important. There was no possible way to be moony about that.
"And we never stopped, did we? All across the universe. Running, running, running..." The Doctor hopped back to the console flicking a few switches and assembling coordinates. He then spun round with a snap, his eyes finding mine, "And you! Never stopped jumping."
He stepped forward then – towards me. The look on his face was mischievous, like he was playing a game he knew he was gonna win at – hands in his pockets like was trying to be unassuming. He stopped until he was just a hair's breadth from invading my personal space. "Would you like me to 'prove it' to you too, or d'you believe I'm me?"
"Let's go with option one. I still have my doubts about you, stranger," I responded with mock-scepticism. Of course I believed he was the doctor, but I would've been a lot less clever than I gave myself credit for if I didn't try and squeeze as much information as I could out of him, where I could.
"Right, well – now this is trickier, it was so long ago after all – but I do say I vividly remember the first time I met you, Fiona Moore," He spoke like he was teasing – making me grow a hell of a lot more worried. A, because he was beginning to look increasingly more like a drunk – with me realising he wasn't even supposed to be up on two legs now – and B, because I didn't know how to feel about finding out about the future.
At least where I was involved.
The Doctor however, didn't take notice of my expression – his face looking as though he were reminiscing, "It was late that day. The sky like fire that's how red the afternoon's were. I had snuck into the woods, close to the drylands, to get to the secret stash of books about Earth I kept hid. He didn't like me reading them after all. That's when I found you. I thought you had eyes that matched the trees themselves, y'know?"
My eyebrows shot up. What in the seven hells was I supposed to do with that?
The Doctors words were semi-slurred. So much so in fact that barely any of what he was saying was entirely coherent. And while the bits I could make out were all incredibly poetic – they still sounded like the drabbles of a man who was half asleep and half mad. I was saved from having to come up with a reply when Rose spoke up.
"Can you change back?" She questioned him rather harshly.
The Doctor in turn looked despondent. "Do you want me to?"
"Yeah," Her tone was final, sharp enough to cut.
"Oh," His face fell, then he turned, almost apprehensively to me – like he was gearing to walk out into a storm, "And you..."
"Don't be daft," I huffed, my bottom lip jutting out, redirecting the air-flow to ruffle the long bangs framing my face. "Of course I don't want you to. You're still you after all."
He looked down at me, wide-eyed –his mouth slightly parted. "Oh."
There was something in his tone I wasn't expecting. Disbelief. Like he actually might've been thinking I'd say the opposite. I felt my heart soften a bit, rolling my eyes because he had actually gotten to me. He must've been quite the stupid genius, I thought softly – to think I'd say otherwise.
I punched him in the shoulder lightly, telling him without words to stop being so dumb – only to have him beam back – almost like I'd given him the best compliment he'd received all week.
Rose, on the other hand, seemed completely unrelenting. She couldn't seem to care in the slightest that he was hurt by her words. "Can you though?"
"No." The Doctor ended, seeming rather disappointed in how Rose was handling this. He looked at her curiously, "Do you want to leave?"
"Do you want me to leave?" She panicked, voice picking up an octave.
"Of course not, Rosie. He's giving you a choice," I sighed, my heart going out for her. I took a step forwards and put a hand on her shoulder, "For the record, I don't want you gone either."
She smiled a small smile along with me, some of the obvious strain draining away from her face. It was true I absolutely didn't want her gone, especially since I hadn't even gotten to know her yet.
The Doctor, jumped right back though, going off on the console. "Cancel Barcelona. Change to... London... the Powell Estate... ah... let's say the 24th of December. Consider it a Christmas present. There."
He stepped back, his arms tucked under his armpits in an almost defensive manner.
Rose looked at him, suddenly, as though she were scared for her life, "I'm going home?"
The Doctor's expression was veiled – looking a bit darker than I remembered, "Up to you. Back to your mum... it's all waiting. Fish and chips, sausage and mash, beans on toast... Christmas, turkey."
"Oh, something bad always happens to you on Christmas though," I said to him, my eyes narrowed.
"I suppose it does. Or maybe that's just bad timing!" He flipped a switch, smiling an exuberant smile, "The universe is full of coince-"
The Doctor stopped in his tracks, his eyes like a deer stuck in headlights as he gagged. The TARDIS shuddered under our feet, almost like she was connected to the Doctor. Rose and I both looked at the man with worry.
"What?" Rose prodded him to go on.
"I said coincede-" He choked again, like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. When the nasty retching noises stopped we watched on in confusion as a gold cloud of golden mist filtered out from the Doctor's mouth. "Oh... the change is going a bit wrong and all."
He fell to his knees harshly, his face contorted. His hands clutched tightly onto the metal grate, his body shaking like he was in pain. I treaded forward, a tad apprehensively if anything, and patted his shoulder.
"Hold on. Just get the TARDIS to where she needs to go before you die and leave us stuck in space. Then you can get your beauty sleep."
"Excellent plan," He grimaced, dragging himself off the floor and onto the console. Like a switch had flipped, he got this look in his eye – one that clearly said he was off his rocker. He tugged onto a lever, "I haven't used this one in years."
Seconds after flicking it, The TARDIS began to shudder violently –nearly knocking us to our feet.
"What're you doing?!" Rose shouted at him, her voice irritated.
The Doctor smiled a little crazily at her, "Putting on a bit of speed! That's it!" "My beautiful ship! Come on, faster! That's a girl!" He began turning more knobs while Rose tries to maintain a more secure grip on the console.
I had grabbed a tight hold on one of the coral pillars, the spiny texture digging into my skin painfully.
I couldn't help the distinct alarm beginning to gallop through my veins. The Doctor was looking and sounding violent, crazed. I felt myself go mute, the fear of how much this all felt like an amusement park ride on the verge of destruction, making my heart go into panic mode.
"Faster! Wanna break the time limit?"
"Stop it!" Rose shouted at him – but all her attempts were in vain.
"Ah, don't be so dull... let's have a bit of fun! Let's rip through that vortex!"
I had had it. With my survival instincts kicking in, I waited for the TARDIS to violently rock again before I let go and collided into the console, rather painfully. I landed close to the Doctor, catching his eye.
Logic, use logic, my mind was yelling at me. Rose was shouting at him – her anger just spurring him on. Could it be that easy to just do the opposite?
"Stop this, you dolt!" I started, my panic and frustration taking the best of me. Then, trying my damndest to keep my voice steady, I tried being softer – wanting him to calm down. "I-I know you've just regenerated and you don't know what kind of a man you are yet, but I do. And this isn't it."
I meant what I said. From all versions I knew of the Doctor, I remembered him being the most human. And even though humans could be stupid, reckless little creatures – which he do just as convincingly – I knew he had the largest penchant to do good.
Now then - was it my imagination, my stupid hopeful brain trying to find something where there was nothing, or did something odd just flicker in his eyes?
His face seemed to cool down, calm for only a moment, "The regeneration's going wrong. I can't stop myself. I don't want you hurt," He clutched his head in pain, "Ah, my head..."
He violently sprung up into standing position again, his voice having gone back to being crazed.
"Faster! Let's open those engines!"
"What's that?" Rose shouted over the loud, suspiciously like an alarm, sounding sound.
"We're gonna crash land!" The Doctor shouted, appearing over my shoulder. He grabbed hold of my arm, almost like he was actually bracing me for what was about to come.
"I swear to god, if you get us killed – I'm going to murder you," I glared at his stupid grinning face.
"I'll be looking forward to that!" He laughed manically, "Oh, I love it! Hot dawg!"
Rose screamed. "You're gonna kill us!"
"Hold on tight, here we go!" the Doctor smirked madly, "Christmas Eve!"
"Here we are then, London! Earth! The Solar System – we did it!"
The doors were thrown open and all I could think about was finding a bush to puke my guts out into – the next step being to throttle the Doctor for being such an ass, because I honestly felt as mad as a hippo with a hernia right now.
He had been so unbelievably mad just then. Like insanity had stole into his mind like a deranged thief, adding new dangerous ideas, seeding a new personality and muddling up the rest.
Ullu ka patha – I scowled at his back.
Though it seemed like I'd have to get over the icky, sick feeling myself – because who else could've been there to greet us than Mickey Smith and Jackie Tyler themselves.
"Jackie. Mickey. Blimey! No, no, no, no, hold on. Wait there. I've got something to say. There was something I had to tell you, something important. What was it? No, hold on, hold on. Hold on, shush, shush, shush, shush," The Doctor got up all in their faces – his face morphed into confusion like he was concentrating on discovering the cure to some great disease. Then he smiled, "Oh, I know! Merry Christmas!"
Funny, he had just seemed the picture of health before keeling over, falling flat onto Mickey.
"What happened? Is he all right?" Rose was first out the TARDIS.
"I don't know, he just keeled over. But who is he? Where's the Doctor?" Mickey was eager to reply, almost tripping over himself as he looked at Rose – the first time he probably had in months.
"Don't worry, that's him. That's the Doctor. And yes, we have a good explanation for this," I sighed, clutching my head as it still spun from whiplash.
Properly making my way out after Rose – my eyes doing the slightly stunned thing eyes did when they went from a dark place with artificial light to someplace much brighter – I stared up away from the snowy wonderland we had landed ourselves into and into the faces of what felt like characters I had seen long ago, in what now felt like a dream. I smiled, "Hello, Jackie, Micky."
"It's you!" Jackie shrieked, her face looking a hell of a lot more confused than she had been with just the Doctor. She looked vaguely like she knew me, her words kinda reflecting that. She plastered on a trying smile, "Oh, it was Frannie – no, Frances, wasn't it?"
"'Frances', sure let's go with that," I smiled tightly, repressing the urge to snort, or even just to give up completely and retire to a life of being a hermit, "I'm sure we'll all have time to get acquainted later. Let's just..."
I looked down at the unconscious form of the Doctor, my thoughts turning sad as I realised that this was him – younger than ever – not even yet with the same basis of what I knew he'd grow into eventually. He looked so utterly incomplete – and I suppose it broke my heart a tiny bit.
The Doctor was this great character, of old. I should know, I had been raised watching him face daring-do's and unspeakable evils – knowing that he always intended to be quick, too-smart, and incredibly intimidating.
But the way he looked now, passed out – completely vulnerable – well, I suppose no amount of anger I felt towards him could've deterred me from caring about his sorry ass.
I sighed deeply. "Let's get him inside."
Entering the house, one thing was clear.
It smelled too strongly of spice and evergreen – the lingering scents of Jackie's cooking mixing in with the cut bark of their tree. 'Strong' actually felt like an understatement. 'Way too goddamn strong, holy smokes'? – Just a smidge closer to the truth.
But a part of me knew it smelt right, like what home should've smelt like around the holidays.
"Why does it smell like Santa threw up in here?" I asked, flashing Rose a feigned look of disgust. I tried hiding the strain of fatigue in my voice – knowing I was gonna need some proper rest soon.
"What, don't you like Christmas?" Jackie asked, affronted. She really did give off an aura of an ultimate mum – something that made the sight of Christmas a little harder for me to deal with.
"I'm just excited to finally put a sweater on," I replied vaguely, my brain flashing back to the dangerously hot summer drought I had been in no longer than a few days ago. Most of America really wasn't the best if you liked the colder months like I did. I sighed longingly, "The extra big kinds that you could just hide your hands in."
After the Doctor was unsanctimoniously thrown on the bed after having us all haul him up the rickety staircase of the Tyler estate, Jackie took to changing him into the PJ's I remember he'd adorned in the original episode.
I barely managed to avoid crashing on Rose's floor when I plopped down onto the couch with a deep sigh. I was completely beat from my adventure with Eleven – and nervousness I knew was going to make an appearance from having to try and keep Ten safe – well, I knew it was all slowly emptying out my energy reserves. The blonde shop-assistant had shortly followed me, crashing on the couch adjacent to my own. The both of us shared an understanding look – taking in similar sights of bloodshot eyes and slumped shoulders – and chuckling to ourselves despite the situation.
"You alright? You look a bit stressed," Rose smirked at me teasingly, her tongue caught in between her teeth.
I snorted, my eyes dry, "Haha, yeah – it's the stress."
"Tea, then?" She grinned mischievously, her eyes warm. "A good cuppa fixes everything."
"Ah, the British solution to everything. I've been considering making the change from coffee to tea too – I hardly think travelling through space and time is any place to sustain a caffeine addiction," I smiled at her, "Maybe later."
Her youthful face seemed to take on a more solemn look after a few seconds of silence. "Are you worried?"
"Currently yes – about many things," I sighed. There was a lot to consider. First off, and probably the most obvious, were those fugly demon looking aliens – what were they called again? the Stickoracks, Styro-somethings, oh who cares – whom would shortly be forcing each and every human being with type A positive blood onto the roofs of their houses.
I felt my shoulders sag in relief a little, remembering that it was all just a clever little party trick – and that no one would really die. I wasn't in control this time round.
But I suppose there were more imminent threats to worry about, I thought, eyeing the Christmas tree knowingly.
I looked back at Rose, noticing that her gaze was pointed at the door of the room that held the Doctor. I smiled a bit sadly at her. "Are you worried?"
"He's not the Doctor. He's not the proper Doctor," she replied, voice distracted. Then she turned to me, "I'm just worried tha' you don't care. I thought you n' him were..."
I watched her curiously, feeling suspiciously like this was about to head into spoiler-territory. Slowly, I moved forward to look at her fully. "I'll just have you know now, Rosie, this... this is kinda the first time I've met you. You and the Doctor with how young he is here."
"First time?" Her pretty eyes widened as if in shock. I watched her deflate very slightly, realisation seemingly hitting her. "Oh."
"Oh, don't look so glum, Rose Tyler," I replied, a bit hesitantly if anything. Even with Amy and River, I felt like I had been talking out my arse, not really understanding why they had both gone silent and sorta sad when I told them. I smiled a little at her, deciding to cut the bullshit and just say what I actually felt, "I may still be a bit confused and new to this, but I'm happy to have met you."
She smiled fondly. "Well, I'll have you know – you and me, we're good mates." She scratched the side of her head a bit self-consciously. "Not the best first impression, I guess."
"Not at all, you're doing great," I grinned, already realising I'd like her quite a bit from how easily we were chatting. Then under my breath I mentioned, "It's a step up from you just being some fictional character."
"About that... If you don't mind me askin'..." She began timidly, twiddling the cuffs of her sweater as she peered up at me, "What was it like back in your world? Having a favourite character like 'im?"
"What do you mean?" I asked lazily, concealing a yawn as I sat up to pay closer attention to her.
"Like you told me – An older you told me... The Docta' and other people like 'im and me. You cared about us even though we weren't real," Her eyes were full, making me forget all traces of what was making me tired in the first place. "You told me once that you cried the time we went to see my dad – and other times you couldn't tell me about."
I blinked, my heart swelling up for the girl.
I had said that. A me that wasn't me. And oh god, I suppose I did know what I must've been talking about – Rose Tyler and Bad Wolf Bay – her being lost forever.
I needed to stop – she couldn't have known I was sad otherwise she'd pry. Putting up a ruse of looking completely bemused, I took a second to think about what she had asked me in the first place.
"It's must sound weird, I know. It was even considered strange where I'm from. But..." I took a shaky breath, my heart going soft at the memories I had saved from watching this show, "What people didn't realise back home was that, when it comes to fictional characters, they're just as real to us, me and people like me – as real as our friends, lovers, siblings or parents. It doesn't matter that we can't touch them or visit them or engage them in conversation.
What matters is that they've made an impact on our lives, and that's what makes them real."
Rose looked up – actually real – smiling such a genuine, warm smile at me. "And they all mean something to you?"
I paused, not really wanting to admit to her what once seemed like a harmless little thought – that now seemed like a secret meant only for my own heart to keep hidden.
"Yes," I began, putting all my feelings into the word. My voice trailed off along with my gaze as I realised I could tell Rose the truth of how it actually felt, just being an observer, "...but sometimes, there's that one character. That one character who has nothing, but deserves everything," I spoke reminiscently, like I couldn't even stop myself at this point. "I dunno, they always just strike a chord with me."
"And the Docta', is he like that to you?"
Rose surprised me, stopping me in my tracks.
I thought about it for a second. Then two – and suddenly it felt like someone had suddenly turned on an internal heater inside my system, and my pale skin slowly turned from a ghastly white to the shade of ripe strawberry.
The Doctor – sure he had been my favourite character – I had admitted it myself. But he was real now, wasn't he?
For someone who couldn't even admit to thinking of him as a friend – Well, 'favourite character' and 'favourite person' suddenly began to seem like two very different things.
"Rose! You and your friend can come in now!" I was saved from having to come up with a response that didn't make me sound like a complete ninny, when Jackie called us in from the other room.
Rose hopped up from the bouncy cushioning of the sofa, "Coming, mum!"
Watching as she bounded off into the room with the Doctor, I decided not to follow – already knowing she'd handle the situation without having it come down to taking the Doctor to a hospital. A concept that, if what had happened with Seven was any indicator, he might not have walked away from.
No, instead of following, I watched the flickering tree with its tiers of lights. So what if it was actually a terrorising alien thing that would come alive and try to kill us all later – it still looked pretty.
I felt my breathing constrict, my thoughts turning to memories far away.
I never had this kind of thing before. Or at least, I hadn't had in a very, very long time. Something so perfectly domestic – to be so perfectly comfortable with another.
In the years leading up I began walking on eggshells, every hour of every day, in the days following Christmas. Mum would get temperamental, Jackson would get even more distant – and everything generally felt a lot more lonely as we sat together pretending everything was fine.
It had been the anniversary of the last time any of us had seen my dad, after all.
But the way in which the decorations were catching the light now, made me think of happier times – when I had been so young and unburdened.
I felt my mind flash and suddenly it was 2007 – Christmas Night. The crowning thought being that our tree was ridiculous. It scraped bits of plaster up from the ceiling – looking like it had truly belonged in a forest, instead of dominating over the small living room we had. Even back then, Mum and I never really knew how to do Christmas. We'd find these odd bits and baubles all over the place to hang up – something an outsider could've seen as a bit sad, I supposed.
So why did we use to grin the whole day through? A miny-me almost exploding when mum turned on the fairy lights, my fingers itching to get going with decorating.
Funny how events like these stayed stuck in the mind when so much else didn't. But I'm glad they did, otherwise we'd just be left with the bad memories. Despite everything thing that eventually happened – how it became harder to hold on to good memories as times got sadder – this memory reminded me how we tried, how we did love, despite our faults.
After Jackie, Rose and Micky left the room – probably to go into the kitchen – I snuck into the room with the alien himself.
I stared down in disdain at the pinstriped pajama wearing lunatic who hadn't given me a seconds worth of a damn break in the past forty-eight hours I'd known him. I drew a breath. Well, 'lunatic' might've been a bit of stretch with the way he looked now.
Sleeping on his back with his hands tucked over themselves – wispy hair falling into his eyes – He definitely looked a lot less crazed when he was asleep.
With a grudging annoyance, I pulled up the old wicker chair Jackie had left next to the Doctor's bedside. As much as I hated it, my eyes strained not to fall to watch his sleeping face.
"Stupid, fast man," I cursed the sleeping alien. I sighed, crossing my arms over the other, "You're really no use to me unconscious, you know?"
Positively delightful, I thought. The world was hours from falling into a mass panic and here I was talking to the passed-out remains of the only person who could've done anything about it.
I inhaled and exhaled deeply, my thoughts straining as I caught sound of Rose and Jackie having an argument of sorts outside.
"'Rudeness is merely an expression of fear', isn't that what they say?" I crossed my arms, my voice meant only for the Doctor against the commotion that had picked up. Sure he was asleep, but I suppose it was calming talking to him – even more so when he couldn't blither back. "Don't mind what she says. She'll come round."
I leaned back in my chair, my eyes falling shut for what felt like the first time in eons.
"Fiona, dear," It was Jackie's voice that suddenly broke me out of the calm I was trying to achieve. I gave her a look of confusion, as she looked slightly caught out by her knowing of my name, "I know, I know, I'm sorry about that. 'Frances'–" She laughed, "You'd think I've gone senile, especially at my age. Anyway, Rose was just tellin' me in the kitchen about what you've been up to – you know – in space?"
She crossed the room, a trepidation in her step as she took a seat on the bed to look at me properly, "I just want ta' thank you. She says you look out for her. And I know you can't be any older than she is, you're practically a baby, yourself – so thank you."
I looked at her – conflicted on what to say. She was thanking me for something I hadn't even done yet, but how could I let her down after that – What could I say? 'Soz lady, I haven't actually done any of that, bye'?
I knew she wouldn't get it. Hell, I hardly could.
"It's no problem," I swallowed thickly, feeling a gloss beginning to coat my eyes. If this is what it was going to be like – I didn't want it.
I suppose a part of me just felt bitter over the future version of me and whatever heroic thing she could've done to earn such a heart-felt thanks. I coughed, looking around to change the topic, "Where is Rose?"
"Oh, she and Micky've gone out for some Christmas shoppin'," She replied off-handedly, before handing me a cup she had brought in along with her, "Anyway, this is for you."
"Tea?" I felt myself smile despite myself.
She looked at me knowingly, "The best in all of London."
I raised a brow, my voice deadpan as I replied, "I don't doubt that for a second."
"Oh, hush. You're too much like that doctor," She smiled, not offended in the slightest. Then, snapping her fingers, she made to leave, "No offense, but you look exhausted dear. Get some sleep."
I grinned tiredly, considering the option gratefully.
"Bad Qismat," I sighed into the chilly air, whole-heartedly agreeing with the words. Unlucky, unfortunate, unhappy.
I had lost myself in idle thoughts, neither sad nor happy – just not being able to get to sleep.
Maybe I was cursed. I wasn't religious, nor did I lean closer to any particular faith, but my grand-mother – as quick as whip as she once was – always believed in old folk stories about evil. Maybe that's what brought me here.
I snorted. Okay, maybe that was stretching it a bit far.
It had gotten to that point where I was almost mentally reliving the days I'd spend back when everything was normal. My days at the shop, creaking open the windows to let the raggedy store breathe – the little rusty radio I owned, buzzing with each little tune it'd play.
Too tired to think, I absent-mindedly began singing softly along to one of the more frequent songs I'd hear from the busted music-box.
"I'm a phoenix in the water
A fish that's learned to fly
And I've always been a daughter
But feathers are meant for the sky
And so I'm wishing, wishing further
For the excitement to arrive
It's just I'd rather be causing the chaos
Than laying at the sharp end of this knife.
With every small disaster
I'll let the waters still
Take me away to some place real.
'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone
Is where you go when you're alone
Is where you go to rest your bones
It's not just where you lay your head
It's not just where you make your bed
As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?
Home, home, home, home."
In the minutes that came, I found that I had resorted to a soft singing to stave off boredom. Perhaps it was instinctive, singing to someone as you sat by their bedside – like mothers knew to do to soothe their babies. Or perhaps even just to lull myself to sleep.
My voice wasn't too grating on the ears as I sang, but it wasn't anything close to Mariah either. Instead, I found that it matched the rest of me – annoyingly delicate.
God, the amount of times I wished I had a voice fit for the strongest power ballads, with the strength to belt out entire musical numbers...I'd be on that Broadway train in seconds.
Rose and Micky still weren't back, Jackie on the phone outside, leaving me with the unfortunate end of staying stuck to the Doctors side to make sure he didn't just stop breathing.
There was still the opposing side of the bed he slept on, empty and appealingly cushioned – but there was no way in all seven hells I'd be that blasé about personal space, especially when it came to sharing rooms with a stranger.
Practically a stranger, my mind taunted. Yeah, not like haven't shared a bed already – that would be so incredibly difficult to see coming.
Great, even my thoughts were turning against me now – harkening back to when we shared a bed in 'ye old England'. Instead of blushing like a school-girl and looking away bashfully, I poked back at the thought with equal fervour.
I directed a facetious little smile at the voice in my head. Yeah well, I wasn't exactly in the correct state of mind then – still thought this was a dream, remember?
My mind strayed back to the song, thinking a bit about the words. A terrible decision really, because soon I felt my insides go a bit queezy. The words talked about leaving home for the idea of an adventure – something that seemed so entirely different to where I was now.
Feeling a bit sick with myself, I stopped singing.
I jumped when, the very second after I had stopped, the Doctor let out a grunt – his face contorted up into a pained grimace. I hopped up, my face a stock-photo image of concern.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" I asked the unconscious body in a state of panic. I only felt myself calm down when I saw the familiar mist of golden energy leave his mouth – feeling a bit stupid because duh – that was supposed to happen. I leaned back in my chair, rolling my eyes at myself. "Of course he's not. He's in an actual regenerative coma and I'm just talking to myself."
Coincidentally enough, the sight of the puff of light allowed my mind to wander back to where I had just been previous – before another whole whirlwind of things began to unfold here with the Tyler's.
My mind flashed suddenly to something I had seen – after Amelia, after Eleven, after Eleven from the future, after Bob coming to find me – the light.
"Oh." I gulped, sitting up straight like a bottle rocket.
That's when it hit me like a softball to the head. An epiphany of sorts.
I tried, so, so impossibly hard to scrounge together all the information I needed – trying to make sense of it, because of course – everyone and their nan knew 'Doctor Who' could be a completed train wreck of a show to try and understand at times.
The light. The light from the crack at the end of the universe. I had seen it with Rory – I had seen it with the Clerics in the show (although hopefully not here, because I really was betting on Bob to have saved them). It took people from their spots in time and threw them around to land in different parts of history – or throwing them back to the spots where they seemingly belonged. I had seen it in the big bang – after the Doctor 'died' – everything that should've been, going back to where it should've been.
Was I so foolish to have only just realised that I could've been 'fixed' that way too?
Oh I could've screamed. I felt like it – wanting to tell the whole world. But a part of me knew I'd have to keep this secret. It was for my ears and my ears alone.
That's when my mind strayed back to the Doctor. Going back would mean leaving all this.
I looked down at the sleeping man sadly.
"I'm sorry, but for as long as I stay here with you, I'm always going to be looking for a way back" – that's what I had said to him, an older him – the two of us sitting in the TARDIS corridors.
"Then stay," – That's what he had said not any longer than an hour ago. He made it all seem very much like a choice, but I knew it wasn't the type where anyone would end up completely happy.
It was him or my family.
"If you were me, you'd do the same you know?" I breathed out into the open air, almost like I could see the words leave my mouth and dissipate forever – the Doctor staying completely oblivious to the inner workings of my mind. I looked at him, feeling the facade finally crack. I felt my face crumple slightly, feeling the exhaustion of all this emotional weight finally creep up on me. "If you had someone you... loved. Just waiting on you to get back to them – then you'd understand."
I waited a second, almost like I expected him to reply. Exhaling softly when he didn't, I looked back at the ceiling.
"Maybe if we had met differently," I spoke soft, "Maybe that, instead of snatching me off from home – if you met me like you would any one of your companions. If I actually chose to get on the TARDIS – the normal way."
I felt slightly bitter – because I'd know, better than most, than there was no point in dwelling on maybe's.
Now, I supposed it was only a matter of time. Waiting until the odd light finally decided to take me back to Eleven – up to where he'd meet the Pandorica.
Despite the sudden pang of guilt I felt, I felt slightly better knowing that if what happened was supposed to play out the way it had in the episode – there's nothing I could've even done to stop what was coming.
A light flashed brightly, suddenly.
My eyelids fluttered open. When had I even shut them?
I heard rustling and looked up.
I was in the TARDIS. In the console room – only that it was Eleven's version, the lights looking spindly and disorienting.
That, and the fact that I wasn't alone.
"Idris?" I called out in complete shock.
There she stood – the embodiment of the TARDIS herself – looking so deceptively human for the look she wore on her face.
"My dear," she smiled oddly, warmly.
Something caught between a smile and disbelief, I choked out, "How are you- where am I? How can I see you like this?"
Idris had died, the TARDIS explicitly saying to the Doctor that she'd never be able to speak to him again. Not how she currently was to me.
"You're dreaming, little one," She tittered, her grey dress blurred to my eyes – almost like she was a floating spirit. She smiled knowingly. "And you've always been able to see things a little more clearly, haven't you?"
"Why am I here, Idris?" I felt my eyebrows screw up. Did she know of the plans I had been considering, mere seconds before I must've fallen asleep?
I didn't care that I thought of her fondly – that she had stayed somewhat of a friend to me in the time I hid out aboard her deck. If she tried to discourage me in any way – I wasn't going to listen.
"Why shouldn't you be?" She looked around the space like she missed something. "Thought you'd like a chat."
"Alright then, let me ask a little differently then," I held myself back – looking at her with a calculating cool, despite the fact that she looked as harmless as an aimless little bee. "Why am I here, Idris?"
"Why is anyone anywhere?" She questioned rather poetically into the great open space. Something about the way she smiled after that though, telling me she knew what I meant – wanting to know why I was in this fictional land in the first place.
"Perhaps the universe liked the idea of you here, with me and our thief."
I felt my heart sink a little, starting to follow her as she twirled weightlessly around the TARDIS console – almost like she was literally running away from the questions I felt only she could answer. "But I had a life. A family!"
"Had?" She stopped moving, turning around to look at me dubiously – just a hair's breadth away from me.
I gave her a look as hard as steel. "Have."
"I don't see why you're complaining. You were miserable," She almost looked down at me. Although, it was odd to see that she didn't regard me as normal human would – she seemed almost like she was just stating facts, no personal bias seen.
I felt my hard look give way – a desperate sob make its way up my throat. "I was not miserable. Often days I'd come home bone-dead tired and weary, and sure I'd get sad sometimes – but I was not miserable."
"Yes, but isn't this the better alternative?" She asked, genuinely curious.
"No. No it isn't," I shook my head in denial – my ears feeling quite shut. "I just need to wait it out. The Pandorica. The crack in time – it'll send me back."
"Time won't- No, can't! Can't send you home," She tsked, rambling like the Doctor would. "Damn tenses."
"Can't or Won't?" I looked at her fully, a tiny bubble of hope saying I had caught her out. "Because there's a very fine line that makes those things insanely different!"
She just gave me a sad look, perching herself onto the console. "Won't you give him a chance? He cares for you so."
"Cares for me?" I felt my brows hit my hairline. I didn't know what to think about that.
She just smiled – like she had a secret she had no interest in sharing.
"Idris, please," I pleaded, a desperate hand clutching onto the trail of her long skirt. I sunk to my knees, skin hitting glass. I just wanted a solution. I suppose it was pathetic – cowardly – but I just wanted someone to take me by the shoulders and say what it was I could've done.
Not knowing was scary, after all. And I felt like I hadn't an ounce of bravery left.
I almost flinched when I saw her get on the floor with me – her knees crossed as if she were a toddler.
"Don't hold your head so low, dear heart," She tapped my chin, an affectionate glitter in her eyes. "Courage is contagious. When a brave man takes a stand, the spines of others are often stiffened – their hearts enlightened. Learn from him."
Her face had melted, like she so very fond of something to do with me. Then, as if she had gained an air of foreboding, her expression turned serious. "I plan to show you a series of... dreams, I suppose you could call them. Whether they are things you need to see, or things you want to see, I believe that'll be up to you."
I was about to ask what she meant and why she was doing this, my lips stuck on a question. However, almost like she could read my face, she answered for me.
"It's to make you see, small one. For you to decide where your heart belongs without me forcing it through your eyes. In the end of it all, if you still wish to leave..." She hesitated, before she smiled knowingly, "Well we'll have to see about that, won't we?"
"You're not making any sense," I started, but then this feeling began to creep up my spine, higher and higher until I felt myself beginning to fall. I felt the fabric of her skirt in my hand begin to evaporate, like steam you couldn't catch.
"Idris, please! What did you mean?"
"Sweet dreams," I heard her voice in my ear, the surroundings of the room beginning to fade until there was nothing but darkness left. "But if my calculations are correct – and they're never wrong – you won't be getting much."
I shot up straight at the sound someone almost ripping the door off its hinges and throwing it back.
"No, leave him. Just leave him! Get the girl and run!"
Jackie's voice, I think, was blaring through the grogginess over my ears. I briefly registered the conversation I had with Idris, my head hurting when I realised I had a whole new issue to worry about that'd have to be thought about later. For now, it looked like matters of life-and-death seemed the more thing to fret over.
Just as I started to gain a notion on what was happening – something along the lines of 'killer tree' – Rose, Jackie, and Micky had rushed into the room, shuffling to the end of the room where my stool was seated.
"Doctor, wake up!" Rose cried from over my shoulder, her voice frustrated. "Fiona, wake him up!"
"Me?" I shouted back, alarmed. No, that wouldn't work. The only reason he'd ever get up in the first place was for her – the girl he loved but didn't know yet – calling for him to help. Sure I was sitting closer to him and that made sense why Rose wanted me to try, but still, I had no power in the slightest over him.
We all shrieked in terror as the fern ends of a large spinning object began working itself closer and closer to the door.
"Oh, damn it all to hell!" I growled angrily, getting on my knees to reach the sonic the Doctor had tucked hidden inside his Jacket pocket. Who cared if I wasn't Rose Tyler – I was all that was left, I thought, taking note of Rose hugging her scared mum from behind me.
"I'm going to get killed by a Christmas tree!" Jackie screamed as the tree tore through the door.
Wasting no time with theatrics, I bent down to where my hair was partially draped over the Doctor's sleeping face. I placed the sonic in his hand, ready to try and rouse him from his coma.
Oh good grief, I really hope this works.
"If you're all good and rested now – we really need you," I sighed softly, a part of me diffidently giving in. I drew a small breath.
"I need you."
A second flashed where the Doctor didn't move and my eyes fell shut. I registered my heart actually feeling like someone had stabbed into it, the beating having gone completely too erratic.
I failed. I just sealed the deal to the deaths of four innocent people, including myself.
I was going to die in a place, in a world, that didn't know my name. Alone and so far away from home – just because the Doctor didn't care whether I lived or died.
But that was when something extraordinary happened.
A flash of wind feathered past me, familiar sounds of buzzing lighting up in the air. And then an explosion.
Oh, if what I thought was happening was indeed happening – it better had been.
I opened my eyes, my jaw going slack at the sight of the Doctor sitting up, his screwdriver aimed at the burning remnants of the tree that had very nearly killed us.
"Remote control. But who's controlling it?"
That's all the alien said before he was ten steps out the door. I stared after him – too many questions swirling around in my head. It then took us all a hot second, but soon enough – we had joined the Doctor on the terrace outside.
There he stood, everything about him dripping with power and authority as he pointed the sonic menacingly at the three pilot-fish– completely in spite of the fact that he had a frilly dressing gown on.
"That's them. What are they?" Micky asked loudly as they backed up and beamed away, only to be sharply hushed by Rose. He didn't seem to be in the mood for listening though, because there he was replying to himself after the pilot fish beamed away. "They've just gone. What kind of rubbish were they? I mean, no offence, but they're not much cop if a sonic screwdriver's going to scare them off."
"Pilot fish," The Doctor spoke mysteriously, his voice surprisingly even compared to the drawling cackles I had heard from him on the TARDIS.
"What?" Rose asked, confused, from beside me.
He turned around, his face stoic as he made eye contact with the four of us – his eyes briefly landing on each of our faces. "They were just pilot fish."
He groaned, once, before doubling over in pain. Like I'd done so many times in the past when Jackson was a baby – crawling to every high place he could get to – I dropped forward to stop the Doctor from hitting the floor, the lot of us all huddling around to make sure he didn't fall off the ledge.
"Are you alright?" I grunted, struggling to hold him up as he draped a heavy arm over my shoulders, his hand clutching at my shoulder tightly. Jackie quickly rushed to his other side to help me support his body weight – seemingly picking up on the fact that I was way too small to do it on my own.
"You woke me up too soon. I'm still regenerating. I'm bursting with energy," The Doctor looked down at me, extremely worried, before he stilled. Like he was wrestling with a hairball, he eventually ended up breathing out another wisp of golden energy. "You see? The pilot fish could smell it a million miles away. So they eliminate the defence, that's you lot, and they carry me off. They could run their batteries on me for a couple of - ow!"
He jumped, curling in on himself. I watched him, worried to death, a part of me wanting to pull away entirely because of how out of my depth I was. Like a complete coward, I wanted to hand him off to Rose and stand watch – watching like the observer I felt I was.
"My head! I'm having a neuron implosion. I need –" The Doctor tried, struggling on the words.
"What do you need?" Jackie cajoled him for an answer.
"I need –"
Wide-eyed, Jackie interrupted him again. "Say it. Tell me, tell me, tell me."
"I need –"
"Painkillers?" She suggested.
"I need –"
"Do you need aspirin?"
"I need –"
"Codeine? Paracetamol? Oh, I don't know, Pepto-Bismol?"
"I need –"
"Liquid paraffin. Vitamin C? Vitamin D? Vitamin E?"
"I need –"
"Is it food? Something simple. Bowl of soup. A nice bowl of soup? Soup and a sandwich? Soup and a little ham sandwich?
"I need you to shut up," he exploded, so far gone from the normal wheel of emotion when it came to exasperation.
"Rude and not ginger," I whispered under my breath with a role of the eyes.
"Oh, he hasn't changed that much, has he?" Jackie snapped, looking to the rest of us like she was disappointed.
The Doctor kept stressing, "We haven't got much time. If there's pilot fish, then. Why's there an apple in my dressing gown?"
"Oh, that's Howard. Sorry."
"He keeps apples in his dressing gown?" He questioned with a genuine confusion on his face.
"Doctor, time," I warned. Even though I was thoroughly enjoying the scene playing out, I wanted him to relay anything he could to us – just in case something went wrong.
He was about to reply, his eyes finding mine again – before he threw himself down in another fit.
"Argh! Brain collapsing. The pilot fish," He stuttered, his hands starting aimlessly, like he was trying to grab hold of something. I was thrown for a loop when he grabbed onto my shoulders, looking me dead in the eyes, his own so very mad and alarmed, "The pilot fish mean that something– something– something,"
"I know, I know what's coming," I panicked, feeling like I was going to start hyperventilating just looking at the panic on his face. What should I have said to him to make it known I couldn't have done anything? That fate would play out as it should have and that he'd save the day in the end?
I looked at him, trying to school my features into something even remotely believable. Feeling quite like I was lying through my teeth, I said the first thing that came to mind. "I-I'll take care of them – for whatever that's worth."
He made a noise – something caught between a grunt of pain and a laugh – then, with his lips curled like he was trying so very hardly to hold onto his words, I watched as his eyes slipped back into his skull – unconscious once again.
In a blur of action that soon followed, with Jackie making sure the door was securely shut behind us, we had moved him inside once again.
There, sitting on the bed, Rose worriedly mopped his brow while I stood just as concerned from the corner of the room, my arms crossed.
"He's worse. Just one heart beating," Rose looked to me, her eyebrows furrowed. I shifted uncomfortably at that, inwardly struggling with what to do. I knew that the solution was the fumes from Jackie's tea – but I also knew I couldn't get any to him now. That we needed to wait until we were in the TARDIS at morning.
"Yeah, normally you'd just hit him in the chest and he'd be up and running," I thought of his time with Martha in Shakespeare's company – a point of the adventure I left too early to see. I smiled despite myself. "But now... best not."
Mickey had taken to the phone, and I knew that the company would just start getting into uncovering information about the Pilot fish and the Syca-whatever-they-were-called's – information I already knew about.
"Hey Rose, could I use your shower?" I asked abruptly.
What could I say? This was all getting a bit too much – and I suppose it didn't hurt to have a chance to wash all this cave-dust off of me.
"Yeah, course," She sighed tiredly, "You can use my room. It's the door over."
Thanking her, I moved out the room – my eyes leaving the Doctor's face last.
Rose's bathroom, surprisingly, did not smell like roses.
In fact, it smelt a bit bubble-gummy – not enough to make you sick, but enough to remind you that she was indeed, quite young. The scent being exactly like that perfume teenage girls everywhere used when they were around twelve. I smiled. Very fitting for Rose Tyler, I thought.
In the shower I allowed myself to mull over the dream in which the show's leading time machine herself, decided to make an appearance in. Her words were confusing – to put into terms lightly. But the way in which I saw her, she apparently cared for me – the affection almost sisterly.
Still, what would I have known about that? All I knew was that her words fuelled the little theory I'd been working with – her demeanour making it seem as though she wouldn't stop me when the time came. And about the 'dreams' she mentioned... well, I'd just have to wait and see what came of those.
Having borrowed some cotton bandages and antiseptic from Jackie – I took to changing the bandages on my leg – having a small amount of knowledge on basic first aid from those mandatory classes they'd make you do in school. The cut was decently clean now – not looking at all like the red, bleeding welt I had caught glimpses off when River had taken to patching me up. Instead, marked as a thin stripe going from my ankle to just below the side of my knee – it looked to be getting better already, even though it'd definitely scar.
When I was done with that, a curious tick made me want to get up and judge how badly changed my face felt – as though it actually had changed in the past few days.
I looked in the mirror and grimaced. Ugh, I must be having one of those unattractive days.
Did I think days, oh – I meant years.
Alright, I'll admit I was exaggerating, it wasn't as if I looked like the grudge – in fact, I looked a tiny smidge healthier than what I seemed used to. A faint redness dusted my cheeks, my eyes a lot more awake despite the fact I hadn't had a proper nights rest in what felt like a millennia.
What the mirror also forced me to notice though, were the markings along my ribcage – half forgotten due to the fact that I hardly ever looked at myself like this. Crudely tattooed coordinates sat atop my skin – the ink still fresh. I had gotten it done the day I turned eighteen – having snuck out one night to the parlour a couple blocks down. It was a rush of adrenaline that got me these, I understood – but even now, I supposed I never would regret them.
The coordinates '34.8762° N, 73.6934°E' emblazoned the skin along my waist. They were coordinates to the great Lake – Saiful Muluk.
The Lake had been a huge bowl shaped dent in the rocky land – almost like a giant asteroid had created the space, leaving the heavy blankets of snow space to melt and form a river. My mother had grown up close to the lake, in a small town off the beaten track – only moving to a bigger city further inland when she had me.
Trust me when I say that it was very 'The Sound of Music' – green hills alive as the wind almost danced with your hair – I knew from when she'd take me there in the summer. Those massive stooped mountains – us kids would run there barefoot, up through fields where every couple of years, the buttercups and honeysuckle would bloom.
The place was incredibly important to me – perhaps that's why I got this silly little tattoo done.
I frowned, my mind dredging up an old memory – long forgotten – but somehow stored deep in memory.
There was this story – an old fable my mum used to tell me about the lake. That the place was named after a legendary prince who fell in love with a star.
It began with the prince having dreams of a woman with crystal eyes, waking up in hot flashes, only to long more for a chance to meet whoever she was. He had told his father about the dreams only to immediately be discouraged. The prince was human and the girl was not of this world, his father scolded him, they could never be together. But one late winter's night, the prince snuck out from his home, climbing the narrow slopes towards the lake – an odd pull in his heart telling him that he needed to be there. When he got there, ground laden in snow but with the lake still unfrozen, he watched in awe as a beam of light descended from the sky – landing in the centre of the lake. A new patch of thick ice, having grown instantaneously in the direct centre of the lake by the beam, now harboured a pale woman. The woman, the star, would then begin to bathe with the freezing cold water of the lake – the prince astounded because he had finally found what destiny had seemingly been trying to bring to him.
There was more to the story than that – more than I could remember. However, one distinct thought rang true – the story didn't have a happy end.
There was something about the memory that unlocked a glimpse into the past though – to when I was no older than five, my mother reciting the story to me in her native Urdu tongue. We'd sit by the fireplace in my room, with her often brushing my hair as she told me story after story.
I laughed. A silly little snort at first – because of what a simple thought, a simple memory, that was.
Before I even knew why, the next laugh turned into a soft sigh.
The sigh was resigned and weary – I felt it reflected in my bones. To me, it might've signalled the end of deliberate effort and the beginning of passive deterioration. It was a sigh so quiet that it could've easily gone unnoticed out there in the Tyler's flat, with how loud it all was. It would have dissipated out into the vastness of the world and made no effect at all.
It was in that bathroom though, that the sound felt like it could've shattered my ears – leaving me empty as it left for good.
The next sigh turned into a sob.
The tears didn't burst from my eyes – not like water from a dam, spilling down my face. I didn't scream and pound and wail, nor did I make any sound louder than what a cat might've done sniffling. Not like I had done on the TARDIS.
The tears came like a faucet had gone leaky and you couldn't have done a thing to fix it. I felt the muscles in my chin tremble like a small child. Moment by moment, they kept falling. Salty drops from my chin, drenching my shirt.
I can't. I can't stop. Even as I pressed my hand against the wall it shook, it trembled. It was raw, everything, raw tears, raw emotions. I can't stop. I can't stop. Why can I not stop crying?
I felt like I was missing a part of myself – not a single person around who cared enough to listen. She would've listened.
To think, even at eighteen years, I was just a scared little girl crying for my mum.
A harsh knock forced me to take in a sharp intake of breath, stilling all noise in the room, "Ona, I left some clothes on the bed for you!"
"Yeah, thanks," I tried.
"Make sure you brush your teeth before you come in for tea."
I took a second to stabilize my voice, but I felt my mouth draw back into a wry, watery grin, "Who are you, my mom?"
I heard Rose giggle despite her obvious fatigue, a sweet sound that filled up the air, before she was gone again.
I got up, looking at myself in the mirror and frowning. I never had learned to cry with style.
I didn't have the pearl-shaped tears rolling down my cheeks from wide luminous eyes, like on the covers of those terribly obtuse young-adult novels.
I wished I had though. Then maybe I could have done it in front of people, growing up, instead of in bathrooms, darkened movie theatres, in shrubberies and empty bedrooms. Like the epitome of sad teen stereotype.
Creaking open the door to observe the space of the room before I came out, I caught sight of the clothes Rosie had left for me. I felt my lips lift and my eyes warm into a smile – regretting the fact that I ever once thought the Tyler's weren't thoughtful.
Because sitting on the bed was a large, extra-warm looking sweater. Just like the kind I had mentioned – when I thought no one was listening.
. Ullu ka patha – means fool, but is literally translated into son of an owl (because apparently that's insulting. Jk, I'd be pretty insulted).
. Bad Qismat – means 'a generally unfortunate/unlucky person'.
A/N: Hyello people, welcome back. I'm so fricken sorry to end the chapter here. I was initially planning to make it a one-off and then giving Fiona to chill out and talk to the Doctor properly for once – but I didn't intend on making it so long, so I had to cut it up unfortunately.
But I guess this is good news, since I'll most probs have the next chapter up super soon.
Ok, to a address a couple things – starting with the story based on the place she grew up and the 'Lake Saiful Maluk' – this is an actual place in Pakistan that I've visited (look it up btw, it's so stunning) with the story of it being named after a prince and a 'star' or a 'fairy' being real as well. The actual story is quite long, which prompted me to change it ever so slightly – but getting to the main point – i've decided that nothing in this story can go by 100% without meaning, and that maybe this mini-story ties into symbolism revolving around the main story? Idk, you tell me if you like this idea – because I do honestly have things planned for the 'dreams' the TARDIS foreshadowed about (very Ebenezer Scrooge, I thought).
Argh, I absolutely can't wait for the next two chapters – because I've already written most of it and am so excited to write a chapter that doesn't just take from the original episodes (which will come in two chapters worth of time) – while still being super important to the story.
Also, before I forget, the song included is just this random little tune I happened to stumble upon – that somehow perfectly describes how Fiona must've felt at the start of the story? I initially heard a cover version though – sung by Dodie Clark, Melanie Baker, and Zannah – which is super good (go check it out if that's your kind of thing).
Anyway, as always, don't forget to leave a review as I do enjoy reading them oh so much – always replying where I can, so here's some of that -
I wanna thank beebo-esque (love your name btw! I'm hoping that's Brendon), lautaro94 (friend, I am trying so hard to catch up to all the episodes of old who – but really, I gaurentee I'll get the seventh doctor in there somewhere – thanks), and V, for your super heart-warming comments. Thanks guys!
AlsoEirafae – I love, love your comments, friend – they never fail to make me smile. I'm so happy you think the OC's a well-rounded character (even though I've been trying to lay off too much mental story-telling and engage more with the episode). Also, the sadistic inner workings of my brain loved that you fell victim to the dreaded cliff-hanger (always hate those myself).
Another thanks to Sam for reviewing again – ooh, I love your suggestion about 13 and making it a short (even though she appeared for a brief snippet in the first chapter). I'm not sure whether I'll get to do that soon tho, which is sad, since the path I'm following right now has reasons for why she can't teleport any further than the Eleventh Doctor (hint hint, nudge nudge – maybe it's the Pandorica?) – but I really am itching to introduce her and the Twelfth Doctor in the late future (don't worry, since I hope to make this story go on for a bit).
Oh and thank you to S02blom – Happy belated Easter to you too! I'm so happy you love this story as much as you do. I really appreciated the snippet of 'btw don't forget to let her break-down' because I honestly might've forgotten if you hadn't reminded me – even though a small part of me hates that this chapter made it seem like she might've had more stress put on her because of Idris and the whole shebang.
Now, that is something I promise will be resolved, or at least lessened in the next two chapters, as she finally gets a long chance to just talk to the Doctor and de-stress.
Thanks for reading along as always guys.