To the Stars and Back

by LiteratusAO3

Following the Game Station and the Christmas Invasion, Team TARDIS set out to do what they do best: explore the universe, get into trouble, and run for their lives. And as a threat to their happiness grows in the form of a shadowy organisation known only as Torchwood, they learn that the past doesn't always stay buried and the future isn't what they think. (Covers season two.)

59. Chapter 59

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Zoe was missing.

Or, more accurately, she wasn't on the TARDIS, which to the Doctor's mind constituted missing.

He wasn't overly concerned given that, according to Mickey, she had drunkenly mugged Jack of his Vortex Manipulator before disappearing in a crackle of blue-white electricity. A quick check of the records the central computer logged of the Manipulator's travels – a new facet added following Jack's unfortunate kidnapping and torture – showed her in Los Angeles, 1955 for nine hours before she appeared in the heart of Downing Street where she had remained ever since. Despite assured that she was with Harriet Jones, his fingers twitched impatiently to see her, to continue their conversation from the night before, or even to have a fight as at least that would mean that she was there in front of him rather than not.

The feeling of uselessness that churned inside him, stretching down to his fingers and toes and poisoned his already bad mood was an expected yet bitter pill to swallow.

Part of him had hoped that Zoe would turn to him to try and sort through the chaos the truth unleashed in her mind – thousands of years was a lot to wrap your head around if you weren't used to the idea, he thought – and perhaps she might have done had he not put his foot firmly in his mouth and been happy about the whole thing.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," the Doctor muttered angrily, dropping onto the jumpseat and resting his heels on the console. He hunched down in the seat, glad no one was there to see him sulk like a child. "You just had to go and open your big mouth and make it awful, didn't you?"

The look on her face when he suggested that maybe the changes were positive burned through his memory, guilt clawing at his chest. When he first realised what the data was telling him, there had been one single moment of brilliant, blooming hope that started in his chest and spread through his body. He had wanted to scream and shout and weep his joy, not for a second considering how it might affect her and how she might not find it as joyous as he did: That came later once he calmed himself and turned his attention back to his research, wanting to be completely sure that her telomerase enzymes were changed before he told her the news, not sure either of them would be able to bear it if it turned out he was wrong and the results were faulty.

As he lay next to her in bed and watched her sleep over the intervening weeks, it had been difficult for him not to feel that hope burn through him when it looked more and more likely that they would have more time together than they initially thought. He would lie on his side and watch the gentle movements of her sleep disturb her body, dreaming of a time one hundred years from now when she was still on the TARDIS, their room changed from a century's worth of shared living, and her looking exactly the same. The want pulled him into hopes and dreams of the future that they walked through hand in hand, unmet friends at their side.

He wanted it more than he remembered wanting anything.

A future with Zoe, someone he could grow old with, maybe a family again if that was what she wanted.

With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and wished his sleep hadn't been as fractured as it was. Not having expected to sleep much as he never did after a fight with Zoe, the throbbing in his head kept waking him up each time he dropped off; coupled with Zoe's absence in their bed, her side cold and empty, he had ended up tossing and turning for most of the night before managing to get two hours of uninterrupted sleep that left him feeling, if possible, worse than before. It was almost a relief to get up and shove his body into the shower, the hot water pounding against his back and easing the soreness in his muscles that stemmed from crawling through the Sanctuary base.

He reached for his phone only to remember that he had broken it to create a barrier to stop the Ood from reaching them in the maintenance tunnels and a nauseous sensation filled his stomach, mild panic at being out of contact with Zoe making him twitchy. The edges of a panic attack crept up on him before a hand came to rest on his shoulder and he jumped so violently that he jack-knifed off the jumpseat and whirled around to find Rose standing behind him, eyes wide and startled.

"Whoa," she said, uncertain. "You all right?"

"You're really quiet when you walk," the Doctor replied, embarrassed, hearts hammering painfully in his chest. "Have you considered metal-soled shoes?"

"Then you'd complain I'm too loud," she pointed out. "Lost in thought?"

"A little, yes," he said, rubbing his chest and looking at her: The last he had seen of her had been on the rocket as they tumbled into the black hole and he was relieved to see her in one piece. "Hi."

"Hello." A smile spread across her face. "Mickey an' Jack said you were awake so I thought I'd come an' check on you. How d'you feel?"

"Like I've been slammed against a wall," the Doctor replied. "Do I look bad?"

Rose took a step back and dragged her eyes over him. "A bit rumpled. Did you sleep in your suit?"

"Yeah, I should probably change out of it at some point." After his shower, he had put on a fresh suit but pulled on his suit that was on the verge of needing to be cleaned properly; his sonic screwdriver was capable of doing only so much. "I've got a blue suit somewhere I've been meaning to try on for size. What do you think?"

Her forehead creased as she took his place on the jumpseat. "What kind of blue?"

"A little darker than the TARDIS."

"Maybe," Rose considered. "Be a bit weird though. Think I'm just used to the brown." Her legs swung, hands tucked beneath her thighs. "Zoe back yet?"

"No." The brief burst of good mood that came with Rose's company disappeared and he caught a heavy sigh before it left him. "She spent the night with Harriet."

"Okay." Her eyes tracked him as he made his way around the console, fingers touching but never altering the buttons and levers there, fidgety and distracted. "We goin' to pick her up then?"

"Should do," the Doctor said. "I don't want her using the Manipulator to try and pinpoint the TARDIS. The damn thing is a bit of a Russian roulette at the best of times, I don't want to be picking bits of Zoe out of the grating."

Rose's nose wrinkled. "Is that likely?"

"Who knows with a Vortex Manipulator," he replied. "You ever watched Galaxy Quest?"

"Only every day over Christmas holidays when it was released," she said. "Mum made the mistake of takin' Zoe to see it an' then she wanted to watch it again an' again so Mum found this bootleg copy – piece of shit VHS that was all wobbly an' stuff – an' Zo pitched a fit if we tried to watch anythin' else until the tape wore out."

The Doctor's mouth twitched. "She did?"

"She was like that kid from the Exorcist but without the vomit," Rose said. "Course, she was ten at the time an' old enough to know better, at least that's what Aunt Caroline says but –"

"Who listens to Aunt Caroline?" The Doctor finished for her, a bright grin aimed at him. "My point is that the Vortex Manipulator is like the technology from Galaxy Quest. It was made by someone with a passing idea of what time travel is like but no real grasp on the matter so anything can happen. Best to avoid that, particularly if there's alcohol involved."

"She's been drinkin'?"

"She's with Harriet, I imagine there's been a glass of wine or two."

Rose huffed. "It's weird she's best mates with the Prime Minister."

"It's Harriet," the Doctor reminded her. "She's hardly like the other Prime Ministers. You can have a laugh with her unlike Thatcher. She was not someone you could joke around with."

"You met Thatcher?"

"Once and only by accident," he said. "I wasn't supposed to be there. It was the 80s, I was trying to get a gobby Australian to Heathrow airport in time for a flight and accidentally landed us in Downing Street. Dear old Maggie wasn't best impressed with me."

"Imagine," Rose said, dryly.

"Hey." A laugh bubbled its way up his throat. "I'll have you know that me and Winston Churchill are like this." He twisted his fingers together for her to see. "Thatcher just wasn't a woman of taste, clearly. Strong though. She tried to throw me out of the window."

Rose stared at him. "She what?"

"Just grabbed me and –" he mimed heaving something away. "Fortunately Tegan seemed to realise that if I went out of the window then she wasn't likely to get to Heathrow any time soon and managed to get us back into the TARDIS. I've steered clear of Thatcher since then."

"Good call," Rose said, banging the back of her heels against the side of the jumpseat. "D'you mind if we spend the night in London? I want to see Mum an' just – well, I want to see her. After everythin', y'know?"

He nodded. "Yeah, whatever you want."

"Really?" Scepticism clung to her, eyebrows arched. "All right, who are you an' what've you done with the Doctor?"

"Huh?"

"Every time we end up in London you always complain about us bein' there an' now you're all calm about the idea of spendin' a night there with my mother," Rose pointed out. "What's wrong? Are you an' Zoe on the outs again?"

He bristled, tugging his jacket straight, disappearing behind the Time Rotor. "No...maybe...I don't know."

Rose hummed, disbelievingly. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." Except he did, very much, but he was aware that talking to Zoe's sister about everything before she herself had a chance to wrap her head around things was extremely very not good and he might as well move out of their room for how welcome he would be there afterwards. "But thank you."

"All right," she said, resisting the urge to chew on a lock of her hair.. "Just don't leave it a week before the two of you make up again, yeah? You're both miserable when you're havin' a barney. Go find her an' have a chat. I'll keep Mum busy for as long as I can."

The Doctor's mouth twitched, face leaning around the Time Rotor. "You'd do that?"

"Course," she said, grinning. "Also, you should probably get Jack's Manipulator back as soon as you can because the Ood think Mickey's enslavin' him an' there's whole thing happenin' in the garden right now. It's why I came lookin' for you. The Ood've barricaded themselves an' Jack in with the frogs an' Mickey's nearly been electrocuted once."

He stared at her. "The Ood think what?"

"Ood Petunia overhead Mickey sayin' that Jack wasn't leavin' the TARDIS without the Manipulator an' if he didn't like it then he could shove it where the sun doesn't shine," Rose told him. "Jack said there are other things he could shove there – which is really gross an' I didn't need to hear that – before tellin' him that if he wanted him as slave then Mickey was welcome to tyin' him up, which is also gross an' way too much information."

"Agreed." The mental images were unpleasant and the Doctor shook them from his mind. "I'm assuming then that Ood Petunia thought there was an enslavement situation going on, rallied the troops and, what, liberated Jack?"

"Yep." Her p popped as her legs swung. "But first they used the fire extinguisher on Mickey – the kitchen's a bit of a mess by the way – an' then took Jack. He went with them because of course he did an' now they're all in the garden armed with gardenin' equipment. They've managed to electrify the door an' created these gas grenade things. They don't kill, I think, but they stink somethin' awful."

The Doctor stared up at the ceiling and rubbed his eyes, the small throb of a headache lingering, and he sighed.

"I go to sleep for a few hours and everything falls apart," he complained. "Can't I leave you lot unattended for an afternoon without all of this?"

"Experience says no."

"Fine, let's deal with this first and then we'll pop to London," he said, leaving the console as she slipped from the jumpseat. "But why are the Ood rebelling now? Why not when they were actually slaves?"

Rose's shoulders rolled in a shrug. "Maybe they just really like Jack."

It took twenty minutes for the Doctor to untangle the mess that had been made of the Ood's understanding of how the relationships worked on the TARDIS. Ood Lemon had taken up arms near the entrance and the Doctor had to sneak in through Zoe's office, the door opening into a flower garden that was blooming nicely, and then around the back to take them by surprise. Nearly getting a rake to his face for his troubles, he was able to make sense of the situation and the Ood were embarrassed by the misunderstanding, apologising to Mickey with bobbing heads and twitching tentacles, and brushing Jack down as he had tried to escape but was thrown into a pile of cut grass for his efforts.

"That was an odd start to the morning," Jack said, shaking grass from his trouser leg and jumping on the spot to dislodge any stray blades. "Thanks for the rescue."

"It was hardly a rescue," the Doctor replied. "And you should be embarrassed you got caught up like that and couldn't escape."

"I tried!"

"Who'd have thought a pile of cut grass would be enough to stop you?"

Jack's nostrils flared and he turned on the Doctor, mouth opening before he realised that he was being teased. "God, you're an ass."

"So I've been told," the Doctor said. "Not by you though, I think this is a first."

"One for the books," he said, eyeing him warily as Mickey and Rose assured the Ood they weren't upset with them. "Zoe all right?"

"I think so," the Doctor said. "She's with Harriet so she's probably hungover right now."

He snorted. "She was drunk when she left the TARDIS. What happened, the two of you have a fight or something?"

"No," he said, annoyed at the presumption. "She just got some difficult news last night and's dealing as best as she knows how."

Jack's eyes flicked over him before his head dropped in a nod, letting the matter go: It was one of the qualities the Doctor liked best about Jack, the knowledge of when to push and when to step back. "And what about you? Are you feeling any better?"

"A little," the Doctor said, honestly, as it no longer felt like an elephant was sat on his head. "Ood Julian knows what they're doing."

"They were a doctor or something before they were enslaved," Jack said. "They were telling me about how they came to be with the Torchwood crew and it's a nasty story but the kind you'd expect. Ood Julian trained at some sort of medical school though on one of the outer, outer colonies where they don't have slaves because they're too poor."

"Huh," the Doctor replied, looking over to the Ood who had been encouraged to laughter by Mickey. "Do we have to keep saying Ood before their names though? It's like calling you Human Jack."

Jack grinned. "Apparently, they prefer it. Rose asked last night. They said it's about putting their people and their community first."

"That's interesting."

"From a cultural perspective, yes."

"Right," the Doctor said, awkward and ungainly given that his last interaction with Jack was less than pleasant and sincere apologies to humans never came easy to him regardless what regeneration he was on. "I'm going to get us going then. Don't leave the TARDIS until we get the Manipulator back."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jack replied. "Not like I could even if I wanted to. Mickey looks ready to tackle me to the ground."

"It's only because he cares."

A pleased sound left his throat. "I know. I love it."

"Course you do." The Doctor felt his mouth curl, awkwardness softening and he risked tapping him on the arm lightly. "We'll be spending the night in London since Rose wants to spend time with Jackie and we should probably do some shopping since we don't know how long the Ood will be with us."

"We can do that," Jack offered, a small olive branch to ease the tension further. "Once Zoe gets back. I'm sure the two of you need to talk after your not-fight."

"It wasn't a fight."

"Sure thing," he said. "Looked like you were pretty upset last night and she was waiting for the other shoe to drop but you weren't fighting. Got it."

"We're not –" the Doctor paused. "You're an idiot."

"So I've been told," Jack said, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth: The Doctor knew he should apologise yet it was difficult to find the words when the sharp agony of realising that Zoe was out of his reach on Krop Tor burned through him, an echo of a memory. "Go on then. Get Zoe. I want my Manipulator back."

"Jack." His friend stopped, feet heavy on the grass-trod pathway, and looked back over his shoulder, wariness settled in his eyes again. It didn't matter how long he had been on the TARDIS or the lengths they had gone to in order to rescue him from the Time Agency, Jack Harkness always worried that, one day, his welcome would wear out. "You were right to do what you did. I don't like it, and I don't think I ever will, but it was the right thing to do."

His body turned, a smooth transition that brought him angled more fully towards the Doctor and he released a breath. "Leaving her behind wasn't easy for me."

"I know it wasn't," the Doctor said. "You love her too. I forgot that for a bit."

"No, you didn't," Jack said. "It's just no one's going to love her more than you, right? It's how I feel about Mickey. If he'd been the one down there..." he shook his head, face tight at the thought. "It's difficult when we do this with the people we love. When I was in the Agency with my partner...it wasn't really love between us but it was something and it was hard having to leave him behind to finish the job. It's harder now that you guys are – that you are what you are."

The Doctor frowned, hearing what Jack wasn't saying. "How long is it going take you before you realise that we're not leaving you behind?"

"Doctor –"

"I've told you once that you're my brother, you think I was lying?" He asked. "You think Mickey's just taking a same-sex relationship out for a test drive? The girls are only tolerating you?" Jack looked away, sharp slashes of colour across his cheeks. "I can be furious with you for more valid reasons that what happened and it's not going to make me want to kick you out of the TARDIS. This is your home for as long as you want it."

Jack stared at him. "Even after nearly killing Zoe?"

"You didn't nearly kill her," the Doctor said. "That was the Beast and her own decisions, if I'm being honest. You saved the rest of us and that means everything."

Sparing him the difficulties of answering, the Doctor patted his shoulder and moved past him, letting Jack deal with the reassurance that he was wanted and loved in private, and he cheerfully ducked the outstretched arms of the Ood who wanted to apologise to him too. There had been enough apologies – or apology adjacent conversations – for one morning, though he suspected he needed to deliver another one to Zoe. He wasn't sure he was in the right frame of mind for a productive conversation but when the alternative was not having Zoe's company until he was ready, he pushed his uncertainty to one side.

She loved him.

He didn't doubt that.

What he doubted was whether she would want an extended lifetime of him.

There was also the likelihood that she hadn't even considered that yet given the weight of her other concerns, and he felt ashamed for thinking she had spent the night going back and forth on whether she wanted him for longer than she thought she would have him. Between her grief at outliving her family and the sheer shock of it all, he felt that their relationship should fall somewhere further down on her list of priorities to think about and, as he piloted the TARDIS to the Powell Estate, he reminded himself that his support had to come without strings attached. He needed to help her through the chaos of grief, confusion, and fear that he had heaped on her and he wouldn't push her for an answer on their shared future, trusting she wouldn't keep him waiting simply for the fun of it.

Landing the TARDIS in the courtyard of the estate, the Doctor shrugged into his coat and stepped outside. The metallic, polluted scent of London's air filled his lungs and he felt the urge to take his shoes off to feel the concrete beneath. Krop Tor had been difficult and the relief he experienced at being back in the universe again was overwhelming, even if the bins opposite were overflowing and Bev was approaching from Bucknall House, locs lifted into a bun on the top of her head and her hand wrapped around a small child's. He stared at the tiny, dark-skinned human and attempted to place him only to come up empty; instead, he greeted Bev with a smile.

"Hullo," he said, pleasantly.

"John." Surprise coloured her voice, eyes narrowed in mild suspicion. "Didn't know you were back in town an' I've just seen Jackie."

"Bit of a on-the-fly visit," he said, waggling his fingers at the child in greeting. "The girls wanted to surprise her."

"Don't they always?" Bev had the irritating ability to fill her voice with mountains of disapproval while remaining polite. "Where are –?"

"Comin' through," Rose chimed, barrelling out of the TARDIS with a bag full of laundry on her back. She smacked into the Doctor's shoulder and nearly fell on her face, his hand reaching out to grab hold of her rucksack at the last minute. "Whoa! Oh, hey, Bev."

Bev frowned at her. "Can't you do your washin' when you're travellin'? Why d'you have to bring it back for your mum every time? You're grown now, Rose, best you start actin' like it."

The Doctor bristled at the chastisement even as Rose flicked her hair from her face.

"Don't recall askin' for your opinion," she replied. "But, while we're at it, have you paid my mum back that five hundred quid you borrowed off her three years ago or are we still pretendin' that didn't happen?" She grinned down at the child as Bev choked on nothing. "Hey, Linford. How's school?"

Linford opened his mouth and revealed a set of baby teeth that looked sharp and white. "I hate it. School's rubbish!"

"I hear you, little man, I hated school too," Rose said, smoothing her hand over the top of his tightly curled hair. "Got to do it though if you want to grow up big an' strong an' look after your auntie here, right?"

Linford looked up at Bev, a confused expression on his face as though uncertain why he might need to look after her but since Rose slipped him a lollipop she pulled from the Doctor's pocket, he nodded.

"Good boy," she said, tying her hair back into a ponytail. "See you around, Bev."

Annoyed at the obvious dismissal, Bev opened her mouth to argue only for the Doctor to cough into his fist, eyes flashing her a warning, and she tugged Linford along with her. He watched her go until she had turned the corner of the estate and glanced to Rose who seemed to have forgotten the entire encounter had happened.

"I thought you get along with Bev," he said.

"I do, or I used to, I mean," Rose said, hitching her bag higher on her shoulders. "Since we came back that first time, she's gone right off me. Can't say I blame her. If I was in her position an' thought my best mate's daughter had pissed off for a year with some bloke without botherin' to call, I'd be angry too."

The Doctor shifted, the familiar guilt he felt over that year rearing its head. "Do you think you're ever going to tell her the truth?"

"About what, us?" She stared up at him. "Don't know. Maybe. S'pose it's up to Mum, isn't it? She's the one who has to live here full-time. 'Sides, aren't you worried about people knowin' about you?"

"At this point, half of London knows about me," the Doctor said. "All of UNIT, this Torchwood lot, Elton and his gang, Harriet and an irritatingly large number of politicians – what's more at this point?"

Rose laughed. "You sound really old when you complain like that."

"I am really old."

"Nana always says that you're only as old as the person you're feelin'," she told him. "So that makes you thirty." She frowned, suddenly concerned. "An' Zoe ancient."

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, Rose inadvertently treading too close to the sensitive bruises of the night before. "I wouldn't say ancient."

"Amazed you can get up in the mornings," she continued, warming to her theme. "Don't need a cane or somethin' to help you walk."

"All right, all right," the Doctor said, lifting his foot to kick her rear end. "Go and see Jackie. Tell her we won't leave without Zoe seeing her first."

Rose gave him a small salute. "Have fun with my drunk sister."

"I always do," he said, waving as she took off at a jog, rucksack bouncing on her back, and he slipped his hands into his pockets. "Right, then."

The Doctor had become so accustomed to Zoe's company that he felt strangely naked as he walked through Peckham without her, hopping onto the first bus that would take him to the nearest tube station. He dropped into an empty seat and stared out of the window, watching the grey world of London pass slowly by, knee bouncing as anxiety washed through him. Maybe she didn't want to see him. She had said that she needed time to think and he began to doubt himself, worried that she wouldn't want his company – silent or otherwise – and the prospect of being rejected by her caused knots to tighten in his stomach.

By the time he had travelled the tube, hand gripping a sweaty handhold and a Chinese tourist toppling against his chest as she lost her balance, the desire to vomit the scant contents of his stomach into the nearest bin was present. He wove his way between the crowds of tourists, commuters, and stay-at-home mothers who dominated the pavements with their expensive pushchairs; unnecessary, he considered, peering into the carriages to smile at the tiny babies, thinking how much easier it would be to have a papoose carrier when he and Zoe –

No.

The Doctor cut that thought of before it was able to take root in his mind, ruthlessly ripping it out and throwing it to one side. She had made it clear that she was undecided about having children and it wouldn't do to get his hopes up when their future was so uncertain.

It's not about me, it's not about me, don't make it about me, he thought to himself as he cut down King Charles's Street and stepped out onto Horse Guard's Road where mid-morning joggers, weekend tourists, and dog walkers made their way up and down the wide road. Glancing at the Foreign and Commonwealth Offices as he passed them, the Doctor stuck his hands into his pockets and tried to ignore the sense of nervousness that wrapped around him like a tight band. From his plinth, Lord Mountbatten loomed over him, as tall in death as he was in life, a faint memory of a drunk weekend in Space Vegas with him, Romana, Aphra Behn, the Trưng sisters, and Ayodele Awojobi enough to force a blush to his cheeks.

Hardly his fault given that any time Trưng Tac was involved in a party things tended to get out of hand.

Not that Romana had helped matters in the slightest.

It had still been early days for them when neither of them were sure where they stood with the other and the absence of Sarah Jane cut into him like a burning knife, resenting Romana for taking a place that didn't belong to her. When she had told him – never asked, Romana was never the sort to ask for permission – that she wanted to learn more about his humans, he had tossed a book in her general direction and told her to get started only to emerge from his repair work on the TARDIS to find that she had decided to conduct her research in a far more hands on manner.

The haughtiness that he had found off putting at first was softened in the surroundings of a seedy bar Louis Mountbatten had taken them to – a bar's a bar no matter where we are – and he remembered how the light had reflected off her dark hair, threading the loose waves with flashes of red that made him think of Levokania. He remembered how she had looked at him over her shoulder, daring him to do something to prove that he was the man she thought he was, and how she looked with surprise flickering across her face when he sat down and joined them.

A sudden, unexpected burst of grief for Romana burst in his chest.

She had died so many centuries ago, long before the War ended, and he had mourned her as best he could but he found himself missing her still.

Oh, dear, are you missing me? Romana's voice – the last voice he had heard when he said goodbye to her one final time, expecting to see her again soon enough – echoed in his mind. That's awfully embarrassing for you, Doctor.

"Shut up," he muttered, rubbing at his face. "I'm tired and emotional and don't need you in my head right now."

The Doctor soon found Zoe sitting outside a café that looked like a smooth tourist trap. It wasn't the sort of café she normally frequented, the smooth polished floors and wide glass windows, servers dressed in crisp black and white uniforms and light on their feet a sharp contrast to her usual haunts. She preferred tacky linoleum floors and lights that flickered unpleasantly over head, the smell of old grease and stale sweat coating their lungs with each breath, as she swore up and down that if you wanted a proper English breakfast then they were the places to go.

He disagreed based on the simple fact that he liked to eat food from clean kitchens and preferred to avoid the risk of food poisoning at all costs.

From his vantage point on the road, she looked sick.

Pale and clammy beneath the bright sunlight, she was dressed in a jumper that didn't belong to her with a coat he didn't recognise tucked over the back of a chair, and her dishevelled hair was scraped back into two buns. Dark smudges pressed into the skin beneath her eyes and her posture was slack, the jut of the table the only thing stopping her from dropping her head into her breakfast. Her fork missed her mouth, head resting on her hand, and she looked miserable and in pain.

He picked his way between the tables, his shadow falling over her in greeting, and she looked up, fork in her mouth, taken aback at the sight of him. He hesitated, uncertain of his welcome, until she pushed her foot against the chair opposite out from beneath the table, inviting him to join her and to breathe easier again.

"Morning," the Doctor said, taking his seat. "You look lovely."

The whites of her eyes flashed when she rolled them. "I look about as good as I feel, which is like shit. I drank way too much last night for way too long and while I got rid of most of it on a politician's shoes, I'm still feeling it."

"You threw up on a politician?" His hand itched to take the fried bread from her plate, knowing she wouldn't eat it as she found it too greasy; folding his hands into his lap instead, he looked at her. "It wasn't Harriet, was it?"

"No, it was someone else," she said. "A Tory, so there's that."

She shrugged.

"Oh, well, that's all right then," he said, slipping his hand into his pocket. "I thought you might be a little sore headed this morning. There was mention of a bottle of whiskey and an successful mugging." Embarrassment touched her cheeks, stabbing her sausage and aggressively dunking it into her fried egg to avoid his gaze. "I've got something that'll help. Give me your wrist."

The lack of hesitation as she pushed the sleeve of her jumper up towards her elbow and extended her arm to him spooled warmth through his body. Fingers brushing against the inside of her wrist, he pressed a hypospray against her veins, thumb rubbing over the spot even though it was a painless injection. Relief flowed into her and colour warmed her skin again, a small, pleased sigh slipping free as her eyes blinked away the pained haze that came from a difficult hangover.

"Thanks," she said, sounding more like herself as she sat up straighter. "That's much better."

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

The Doctor jerked his hand away from Zoe's, fingertips burning as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn't, and he looked up to find a tall woman standing above him, small paper pad at the ready.

"Er –"

"He'll have a cup of tea and a plate of scrambled eggs with some toast, please – brown not white bread." Zoe ordered for him, and the server nodded, jotting the order down before stepping away. "I'm guessing you haven't eaten since before Krop Tor."

"Not really, no," the Doctor admitted, suddenly realising how hungry he was when it became clear that she wasn't in the mood to shout at him or immediately delve into a continuation of their conversation. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, biting into her sausage and looking at him as she chewed. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Some, not a lot." He leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against his stomach, eyes tracking a jogger with an energetic dog moving past down the road. "It was difficult to turn my mind off. I think I managed a couple of hours though. What about you?"

"I passed out sometime around two, I think," Zoe replied. "But that was at the end of a really long night. Harriet had to turf me out of bed this morning because she had a conference call with the EU leaders. Something about fishing rights. I don't know, I wasn't really paying that much attention because of the hangover." She bit on the end of her sausage and chewed, turning her plate towards him. "Want my bread?"

"Don't mind if I do." He reached over and picked it up, shaking the beans off and biting into it with a crunch, the food a welcome relief to his empty stomach. "Where did you go? The Manipulator put you in LA for a few hours before you got to Harriet. Not that I was keeping track of you, mind. It's just that –"

"The location app, yeah, I know," she said. "I wanted to go to this bar I like Massachusetts – you know the one with the nice mozzarella sticks? I was aiming for there but I got the time and location wrong. Ended up in LA in 1955. It wasn't too bad except for the overt racism, misogyny, and Zygons."

The Doctor paused mid-chew. "Zygons?"

"Two of them were threatening Marilyn," Zoe explained, pushing her mushrooms and egg onto the end of a chunk of tomato and putting it into her mouth. "I don't know why. That bits hazy. But it was a whole thing, you know how it goes. Got to see Ella Fitzgerald live though. That was a lot of fun."

"Wait." He stared at her, the beginnings of jealousy creeping in. "You mean Marilyn Monroe?"

"Yeah."

"You met Marilyn Monroe without me?"

Her lips twitched up. "Jealous?"

"Yes!" He lowered the fried bread and stared at her, envious. "Was she amazing? I bet she was amazing."

"She was amazing," Zoe confirmed. "Very kind too. I might've saved her life but she didn't have to be as kind to me as she was because I was really drunk when I met her and just got drunker throughout the night. Stole her coat too. That was an accident even if it still counts as theft."

"Is it a nice coat?"

She leaned to one side and lifted a sleeve for him to see. "Properly fancy. I can be like you and Jack now with my signature coat and a fun story of how I got it."

"Jack got his coat from a charity shop," the Doctor pointed out. "Mine was given to me by Janis Joplin. One story is more interesting than the other there."

"Agreed," she said. "I do enjoy Jack's charity shop story."

"Hey."

His foot tapped hers beneath the table and she grinned at him, opening her mouth to tease him further when his breakfast appeared, the sight of it making his stomach rumble and he picked up his knife and fork and was halfway through it before he remembered his manners. Looking up from his plate, prepared to apologise, he found Zoe busy with finishing her own food and the comfort that came from simply being with her and eating their breakfast forced a lump into his throat that was difficult to swallow around. Only once their plates were cleared and they had a pot of tea on the table between them did they speak again.

"What happened to your hand?" The Doctor asked, nodding at her bandaged palm. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Zoe said, looking at the white bandage as though surprised it was there. "I just dropped a glass and cut myself on a shard. It's fine. I had a look at it this morning and it's –" she cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "It's not as bad as it was last night."

"Can I?" He gestured at her hand and she rested it on the table for him to unwrap, peering at the wound that was inflamed: It remained slightly open though the muscle had knitted itself back together, the edges red and hot to the touch, and he suspected another day would pass before it was like she had never been injured. "Does it hurt?"

"Itches." Her fingers twitched towards his. "Only when I think about it though."

Carefully wrapping the wound again he nodded and brought her palm to his mouth to feather a kiss there, the soft sound of her breath hitching drawing his eyes to her. "When we get home, I'll put this to rights."

"Doctor..." his name trembled in her mouth. "I –"

He folded her fingers over his and warmed her knuckles with his breath, head bent over her hand, thumb resting against the rapid thrum of her pulse in her wrist.

"I'm scared too," he said when words failed her. "For different reasons, obviously, but I'm scared as well."

Zoe swallowed. "Yeah?"

"Terrified."

She leaned forward in her seat and curled her fingers around his wrist with her free hand, holding onto him as though anchoring herself in place. "Can we not about this for a bit? I don't – every time I even think about it, I can't – I want to start crying and I just...I'm really tired. Everything has been so busy the last couple of weeks. From your meeting with Ryga to the Wire to Ryga fucking with Rose and then Krop Tor...this is just – it's one thing too many and I can't deal with it right now. I know I have to and I will. I just want to take some time where we don't have to talk about it straight away so can we put it to one side, just for a little bit? I want to enjoy myself for a bit. I want to sleep. God, you have no idea how much I want to sleep. So can we put this off for now? Please?"

The Doctor squeezed her hands. "Yes, absolutely. Rassilon, please. I want to sleep too. I don't sleep well without you any more and there was a mini-rebellion on the TARDIS this morning that just made me exhausted and Jack and I kind of sorted things out, I think. I didn't actually say I was sorry but the tone definitely implied it and I want to spend some time with you. It feels like it's been ages since we spent some time together just the two of us. I want the yurt, love."

Zoe laughed, shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed last night. We're both exhausted. I should've waited before asking."

"No, don't be sorry," he said. "You had to know and if it wasn't last night it would've been some other time with worse timing. You and I don't do well when we're not telling each other things."

She remembered Zoe Heriot and how hurt he had been that she had kept her from him.

"Yeah." Zoe drew in a deep breath, fresh air filling her lungs. "D'you want to get a hotel room and sleep?"

"We have a perfectly good bed on the TARDIS."

"Which is parked on the estate, I reckon," she said. "That's ages away. There's a hotel an eight-minute walk from here. We could be asleep in less than fifteen minutes."

The temptation surged through the Doctor. He thought longingly of stripping out of his grimy clothes, drawing the curtains against the sun, and crawling between clean sheets with Zoe before he wrapped his body around hers.

"You've got Jack's Manipulator," the Doctor said, tracing the edges of it on her wrist. "He's TARDIS-bound until he gets it back. That's actually what precipitated the small Ood revolt earlier."

She sighed and pulled her hands back from his. "Must I think of everything?"

"What are you doing?"

"What's the point of being us if we don't use the privileges that come with it every now and then?" She asked, swiping through her contacts on her phone and typing out a message with indecent speed. "There we go. Someone from UNIT will be at the hotel to meet us and they'll take the Manipulator back to Jack, which means we get to sleep."

Amusement curled his mouth. "What about the hotel room?"

"Ah." Her eyes skittered away from his to look out over a small family that was walking down the road hand in hand, the four of them spread wide, Mum and Dad smiling at each other over the tops of their children's heads. "I was planning on staying at a hotel anyway. The thought of jumping through the Vortex while feeling like shit didn't exactly appeal and neither did going home to Mum like this either so I booked one earlier, used Harriet's contacts to skip the whole check-in thing. I was going to head there after breakfast."

"Shall we get going then?" The Doctor asked, sliding past the thought of Zoe alone, hungover and sad in a hotel room by digging out a handful of money and dumping it on the table. "And do you think they'll dry clean my suit? I thought it'd be fine for another wear but I severely misjudged the situation."

She reached out and pulled a Fern'k 1000-vnk bill out from the pile and replaced it with British money from her wallet, tidying up the coins that constituted a generous if chaotic tip.

"They'll have dry cleaning," she promised. "Room service too."

"It sounds perfect," the Doctor said, getting to his feet and holding his hand out for hers, an automatic gesture that he had only a split second to worry about before she slipped her hand into his and stepped around the table, tugging her coat on. "I think we need a holiday for at least six months after everything."

Zoe yawned. "You'd get bored after six days."

"I can't be bored, not when I'm with you," he said, honestly, and she glanced up at him, the edge of her fear visible in his eyes and he tugged her close, pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss. "I love you."

Her arms slipped around his waist and she pressed herself into his chest, face buried in his shoulder, and he held her as the faint spring breeze rolled over them.

---

Exhausted from all that had happened, Zoe and the Doctor ended up staying in their hotel room room for two days and two nights. He caught up on his sleep deficit first and pulled on his freshly laundered suit to disappear to a book shop where he bought a large number of new releases – and a few of the classics he wanted to revisit – and created a pile of them on their bedside tables so that there was a high chance they were the first thing Zoe saw when she woke up. It was a blissful, quiet, and much-needed break from their routine that they passed in a haze of sleep, eating, reading, occasionally watching TV, and only talking about light-hearted topics that stayed far away from anything serious or emotional.

They eventually made their way back to the TARDIS late Monday afternoon, rested and more at peace with everything they had yet to properly discuss, accidentally falling in with a crowd of students where they bumped into a few students that recognised them as the substitute teachers from Deffry Vale High School. Much to the their combined amusement, the students introduced them to their friends as 'the teachers who blew up our last school'. Waving goodbye to the students at the tube station, the Doctor grinned into Zoe's hair on their journey towards Peckham.

"I've definitely had people remember me for worst," he said, making her laugh. "Ms Tyler."

"Stop it," she grinned, leaning back into him. "But keep going."

By the time they reached the TARDIS, they were in good spirits and the Doctor was pleased to discover that nothing had burnt down in his absence. In fact, everything looked significantly cleaner than normal.

"Did you hire a cleaner?" Zoe asked, suspiciously, as he took her coat and hung it up on the freshly polished coat stand. "Or was this stress cleaning?"

"You stress clean, I stress knit," the Doctor reminded her, palming her hand in his, moving through the console room. "I get the feeling this might be the Ood. Unless your mother's suddenly taken it into her head to clean."

"Not bloody likely," Jackie said, appearing from behind them, delight crossing her face at the sight of the Doctor flinching in surprise, sweeping in to hug her daughter. "Hello, sweetheart. Rose told me about what happened on the devil planet of yours. How you doin'?"

Zoe stared at her and memorised the lines around her eyes and the small creases around her mouth, the beginning of softness under her neck as the skin started the process of losing its elasticity, and her chin wobbled.

"I'm fine," she lied, unconvincingly. "It was – I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Jackie said, holding her at arm's length and looking her over. "It sounded bloody terrifyin' all of that. Jack said that whatever it was hurt the Doctor." She glanced at him. "Didn't think anythin' could hurt you what with your superior biology an' all that."

"Some things can," the Doctor replied, spreading his hand on the small of Zoe's back, supportive if she needed it. "Hello, by the way."

Her eyes flicked over him, checking that he was in one piece even as it gave the impression of a careless dismissal. "Don't think I like you keepin' my daughter from me for two whole days while you go off an' have a sex weekend somewhere."

Colour burned through his cheeks. "It wasn't a sex weekend!"

"I should hope not," she shot back. "You can do better than a horny weekend in London when you've got the whole universe to choose from. Take her somewhere romantic, for christ's sake."

"This whole conversation makes me want to bleach my brain," the Doctor complained. "I would very much like for it to be over now, please."

"Mum." Zoe found her voice, strangled and strained as it was, and both Jackie and the Doctor looked to her. "I've got – I have some bad news. Harriet told me when I saw her and I wanted to tell you in person but...I'm so sorry but Elton died."

Jackie stared at her. "What?"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" The Doctor asked, taken aback as she hadn't said anything during their weekend off. "Elton's dead?"

Jack pulled up short from around the corner, Mickey ploughing into him. "Did you just say Elton's dead?"

"Oh my god." Rose's head appeared from the kitchen, the rest of her body following with a cup of tea in her hands. "Who's dead?"

"Elton, apparently," Mickey said.

Her mouth dropped open. "How?"

"It's like goddamn whack-a-mole in here," Zoe said, annoyed. "Are the Ood going to make an appearance too? Should I wait for them before I go on?"

"They're in the garden singin'," Rose replied. "At least I think it's singin'. Jack says they're meditatin' but that's not important. What the hell happened to Elton? We only saw him a few days ago. How's he – what happened?"

Zoe ignored her and reached out for Jackie, fingertips brushing over her arm. "Mum, are you okay?"

Jackie blinked and shook her head, hand lifting to rub at her eye. "What happened? How did it happen?"

"It was –" she sighed. "There was an alien. By the time anyone realised what was happening it had killed Elton and his friends at L.I.N.D.A. There was nothing anyone could do to save them."

"Oh." Jackie took one step back, the wall pressed against her, and she slid down it until she was on the floor. "Did it hurt?"

Yes, probably Zoe thought.

"No, I don't think so," she said, crouching in front of her and curling her fingers on the top of Jackie's rounded knees. "I'm sorry, Mum."

"Don't be." Jackie patted her hand clumsily. "He was...he was a bit of an idiot, really."

"Yeah, he was," Zoe agreed. "And I sure as hell didn't like him but idiots don't deserve to die and you liked him once. Not too long ago. It's okay to feel weird about this. I feel a little strange and I threatened to fill his bed with snakes if he came near you again."

Rose slid down the wall until she was shoulder to shoulder with Jackie, offering her the cup of tea in her hands. "Here, drink this. Good for the shock."

"I'm not in shock," Jackie said even as her hands shook when she took the tea. "I'm fine. It's nothin'. He was – he didn't mean anythin' to me. Not really."

"That doesn't mean you can't grieve him," Jack told her, making himself comfortable on her other side, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "You're right, he was a bit of an idiot but he was a harmless one who just wanted to save his mum. He didn't deserve to die. You're allowed to feel sad about that."

Zoe hated seeing Jackie cry. There was something too intimate about watching her mother struggle, tears on her cheeks, and she rested her hand on Jack's shoulder as she cried silently, hand pressed over her mouth in an attempt to stuff the sobs back inside. She sat back on her heels and watched Rose and Jack comfort her as best as they could while Mickey and the Doctor hovered anxiously above them, uncertain how to help and not wanting to get in the way.

It was one of the moments that Zoe was going to miss out on in the future.

One of the many small moments of life that she wouldn't get to experience with her family because of the changes to her body, and she rose to her feet and turned into the Doctor's chest, resting her temple over his hearts.

His hand smoothed a path down her back, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"God, I'm a bleedin' mess," Jackie muttered, thumbing away the smudges of mascara from under her eyes. "Cryin' over a stupid man like I'm a kid again."

"You're allowed to cry when they're dead," the Doctor said. "Those are the rules."

Jackie rolled her eyes and allowed him and Mickey to help her to her feet, tugging on her jumper and finishing the lukewarm cup of tea. There was a slope to her shoulders, a pale tiredness that settled beneath her make-up, and Zoe wanted to step forward to take her arm and look after her while she could only Rose beat her to it. Threading her arm through Jackie's, she leaned against her side.

"C'mon," Rose said. "The TARDIS showed me this great room the other night. It's like this spa room but so much better. All natural rock an' scented steam. It's really relaxin'. Think it's just what you need right now."

The Doctor frowned. "What room's this then?"

"Don't know," she replied. "But she's been showin' me some of her old rooms. Don't know why you don't use the trampoline room any more, it's so much fun."

His eyes lit up. "I'd forgotten about that room!"

"A spa sounds lovely," Jack said before the Doctor demanded Rose to show him where the room was and distracted them all. "Is this Tylers only or can anyone join?"

"You're an honorary Tyler," Rose told him, ignorant to how those words affected Jack who was rendered momentarily speechless. "We should all go. Bathing suits are required though. No nudity."

Jack's face dropped. "What is the point of going to a spa if you keep your clothes on?"

"Yeah, I know, it's the worst thing ever," Mickey said with faux sympathy, patting him on the back. "C'mon. We'll dig out our trunks an' join up with you in a bit."

Rose beamed. "Excellent. Doctor, Zoe, you in?"

The Doctor looked to Zoe, happy to follow with whatever she wanted to do, and shook his head when she turned hers to the side, a small dip down that he read easily.

"We've got a few things to do," he said, twining his fingers with Zoe's again. "But we'll get lunch ready."

Zoe watched them leave, the four grouped together in a way that she was no longer a part of and the sight of it ached. Her throat closed up, emotion tightening around her, and she rubbed a hand across her face, the benefit she had reaped of the last two days trickled from her, leaving her cold and bereft. Not even the Doctor's chest at her back was enough to warm her through even as she leaned into him, dragging his arms around her.

His breath disturbed the air at her ear. "Are you okay?"

"No, I don't think I am," she said, annoyed at the sound of tears in her voice. "I look at them and all I can think of is what I'm going to miss out on. It's not fair."

He sighed, softly. "It's not."

"I wish –" his hearts seized, eyes closing as he braced for the blow only for her to shake her head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter what I wish. It is what it is."

"You're allowed to feel sad," the Doctor said in an echo of Jack. "You're allowed to feel whatever you want. You don't need to get over this right now. Feel sad or angry or whatever. Don't stop yourself from feeling that because you think you have to."

She wiped her face with the edge of his sleeve, his arms hers to control. "If I start crying, I might not stop."

Gently, he turned her so that he was able to brush his thumbs beneath her eyes and frame her face with his hands. She felt fragile, almost as though one wrong move would shatter her into a thousand pieces.

"What can I do?" He asked. "How can I help?"

Her throat moved in a swallow, fingers curling around his wrists. "I don't think you can. I think I need to deal with this on my own."

The Doctor wanted to protest that, tell her that whatever it was she needed to do, he could do it for her, even when he knew that she was right. There were some things that needed to be dealt with alone and this, unfortunately, was one of them. He had given her a poisoned chalice when he handed her the news about her changes and he was forced to watch as it infected her, crippling her, and he was unable to do anything to make her better.

He felt useless.

If she asked him to do the impossible – return her life to normal and reverse the changes – then he would try and find a way to do it in order to make her happy. However, he had already looked at ways in which to do what she it – gene therapy, DNA alteration, telomere surgery – but none of them solved the key issue of her mind having been rewired: To change that was the only way to change everything else and, as she knew too well from her experience with Zoe Heriot, messing with someone's mind was a dangerous, unpredictable thing. He struck lucky with the Chameleon Arch, half certain it would have killed her had the wind not been blowing in the right direction, and he was positive he wouldn't be as lucky the next time.

Her changes were permanent.

Her lifespan extended beyond what either of them had imagined.

It was done.

The Doctor wished there was a way to make it easier for her, a way to soften the blows that kept coming, and there was a small nudge in the back of his mind, the TARDIS gently supportive and chastising all at once: A reminder that it wasn't his fault even though it felt like it was.

"Can I distract you for a bit?" He asked, fingers sliding through her hair to cup the back of her skull. "Give you something else to think about?"

Her eyebrows lifted. "That's the weirdest way you've ever asked me for sex."

"Not that!" Laughter burned his chest. "Although, are you in the mood?"

"Not really," Zoe admitted. "I'm not in the mood for much, to be honest. I kind of just want to sit and eat ice cream."

"We can do that too," he said. "Or I'm thinking of a glass operetta on Tulas. Might be nice for Jackie too given Elton and everything. Do you feel up for it?"

"Depends," she said. "What's an operetta?"

"You've never been to one?" Surprise whipped through him. "I'd have thought for sure that Reinette would have taken you to – oh no, wait a second. Operetta's didn't start becoming popular in France until the mid-1800s. Never mind." Her mouth curved up in a fond smile. "It's like an opera but shorter, funnier, and less ambitious."

"And the glass bit?"

"That's the best bit," he said, enthusiastically. "The people of Tulas are made of glass. They're born in the sand and crafted into their shape by people called Poeians, which is kind of like a master craftsman, if you will, and they spend the first twenty years of their lives living inside this heated chamber before they reach maturation. Their entire planet has adjusted over the years to accommodate them so the ground is extra soft in case they fall and they have this amazing gravity machine that senses when a person trips and immediately reacts. Honestly, I don't go to Tulas enough, I need to change that."

Zoe smiled widely. "It sounds amazing."

"It really is," the Doctor said. "You're going to love it." He faltered, hesitant. "If you want to, that is. We don't have to go. I can pop out and get some ice cream instead if you want."

"No." Her hands flattened against his chest, slipping a button back and forth through the button hole. "Let's go. We can get dressed up and have some fun. I know better than to lock myself in a room and wallow. Besides, Yatta would be horribly disappointed in me if I didn't try."

"And no one wants to disappoint their therapist," he agreed. "Do you want me to jump ahead to your appointment with her? I know it's in a couple of days but we could skip those days."

"I'm fine," Zoe told him. "I mean, I'm obviously not fine but I'm fine for now. I wouldn't even know what to tell her anyway. She's used to so much weird with me but this is a lot of weird and...I don't know. Let's stick to the routine for now."

"Okay," he said, leaning in to kiss her before he released her. "You go tell the others and I'll –"

"Doctor, Zoe." A jump rippled through both of them and they turned to find Ood Hyacinth standing at the mouth of the corridor. "My apologies for interrupting your conversation."

"That's fine," the Doctor said. "Thought you were singing."

"We were communing with the universe," Ood Hyacinth said. "That is best done through song."

"That sounds fascinating," he said, curious. "Is this a religious practise or something cultural?"

"It's communicative," they replied. "We speak to the universe and the universe speaks back."

The Doctor blinked. "How?"

"Through song."

"Yes, but –" Zoe's elbow in his stomach cut the words off. "Sorry. Did you need help with something?"

"We've received co-ordinates for the Ood Sphere," Ood Hyacinth said, surprising them. "Would you take us home, please?"

---

Ood Sphere, 4221

As far as the eye could see, pure white snow blanketed the geographical features of the Ood Sphere. No one knew what the snowless ground looked like as there had always been snow. The planet developed from a frozen hunk of ice billions of years earlier; the coldest planet in the solar system, the furthest from the sun, considered too inhabitable to support life. And yet life had flourished when the ice melted, rivers forming and snow taking its place. Small bacteria formed first in the melted water and then grew in the rivers, slowly changing and mutating until the first land-based life crawled from its depth and evolved to survive life on the surface.

There was no one around to name them and so them named themselves Ood.

In their language, Ood meant one, only. And, for millennia, they were the only sentient life form on their planet, their bodies seeking nutrients from the snow and the water, the tentacles that developed on their faces perfect for absorbing every last atom of nutrition so that nothing was wasted. As they were alone, they had no need to communicate with other and never developed vocal cords, using the river that contained their source of life to develop their telepathy.

They lived for hundreds of thousands of years in peace, contemplating the stars above them and philosophising with the universe that sang to them. That peace was ended when the colonisers came in rocket ships that melted the snow and filled it with pollution, poisoning and killing the first of the Ood who approached them. Peaceful by nature, they approached with their hindbrains in their hands, an expectation of friendship wrapped around them, only to suffer when the humans thought them stupid, cattle, and rounded them up in great swathes and cut their hindbrains off without anaesthesia, ignoring the screams of agony that echoed around the metal containers, and fitted them with a speech box.

Indignity after indignity was heaped upon them as the humans took control of the Ood Sphere and decimated their small section of it. Angered by the resistance that sprouted up, surprised that anything they deemed so stupid would be able to organise pushback, one enterprising human tracked the Ood for weeks to find their base and, instead, found the river. Diving deep into the freezing depths, they found the source of life and rather than being awed by such a thing of beauty, they had to ripped from its home and transported to the production facility in order to ensure the subservience of the Ood forever more.

It worked.

For hundreds of years, the Ood were enslaved and soon there was no Ood left that knew what it was like to be free. Generation after generation were born into slavery, taught to keep their heads down, reassured that one day the universe would answer their songs and send help to them.

Ood Sigma was a young Ood of forty-three when the Doctor, Zoe Tyler, and Donna Noble arrived on the Ood Sphere and they knew then that the universe had answered their call. The first taste of freedom on their tongue was a sensation they would never forget, their gratitude to the three travellers knew no limit, and so Ood Sigma waited in cold snow drifts for the sound of the universe and their family returning home.

The TARDIS breathed into existence in front of them, the bluer-than-blue outer shell comfortably at home on the Ood Sphere, and Ood Sigma reached out in greeting to the TARDIS, its presence welcome and wanted there. In their mind, the TARDIS reached out to touch them, a greeting and a hug all at once.

"Bloody hell it's cold out here," Jackie exclaimed as she opened the door. "We're goin' to need our coats."

"We're not going to be here for that long," the Doctor told her, giving her shoulder a gentle shove. "Come on, you're blocking the door. Blimey, it's beautiful here. Look at all this snow!"

Ood Sigma would have smiled had they a mouth to do so.

"Doctor, Professor Tyler, welcome back to the Ood Sphere," they said, stepping forward to greet them. "You are, as always, honoured guests."

The Doctor blinked, taken aback by the greeting. "Oh, well, that's very nice of you, thank you. I should say this is our first time here. I don't know how much you know about us but we don't always do things in the right order." He pointed at Zoe at his side. "This one's not even a professor yet."

"I understand," they said. "In that case, I am Ood Sigma."

"Hello," Zoe said. "It's lovely to meet you."

Ood Sigma tilted their head, eyes fixed on hers. "There's been a great disturbance in your life very recently. Your sadness is a physical thing."

"You're telepathic, of course you are," she said, uncomfortable. "Could you maybe not dip into my mind, please? I've had enough of that recently with the devil and I'm just over it."

"My apologies," Ood Sigma said, bowing their heads. "However, you're broadcasting your pain rather loudly. It's difficult to ignore."

The Doctor reached up, arm around the back of Zoe, and brushed his fingers against her temple, shoring up her mental wards. "There you go. That should be easier now."

"Thank you, Doctor." Ood Sigma flicked their eyes over the others. Never having met them, they knew who they were from the TARDIS and a small brush against the Doctor's mind. "The universe tells me that you are bringing my family home."

"Yeah," Jack said. "It was a bit of a strange situation. They were enslaved by some humans on a base in orbit of a black hole. When all was said and done, we – well, Zoe – decided to bring them with us. We weren't sure we were going to find the Ood Sphere. It's very well protected."

"It has needed to be," they said.

"I bet it has," Jack replied. "Can I just say that it's a real honour to meet you? I studied your people when he was at the Time Agency. You're absolutely amazing and I can't believe I'm here."

"The honour is ours, Javic Thane," Ood Sigma said. "No. Not Javic Thane. Not any more. Jack Harkness is the name you are searing onto your soul."

He grinned. "It has a better ring to it, doesn't it?"

"All right, all right, enough fanboying," the Doctor said, amused. "We just wanted to make sure we were in the right place before the Ood came out. Mickey, could you –?"

"On it."

Mickey stepped back into the TARDIS and, when he reappeared, the Ood from the Sanctuary Base emerged from behind him, tentative steps into the snow soon turned into them kneeling and touching the ground, tears slipping from their eyes at returning home.

Ood Sigma spread his arms wide and music filled the air. From deep caverns and ice homes, the Ood of the Ood Sphere sang to welcome their family home. Jackie felt tears build in her own eyes and she found her daughters' hands, holding on as she listened in amazement at the sound of the universe singing through the Ood. The grief, pain, and regret she felt at Elton's death was soothed by the music that washed over her and, at her side, Zoe wept silently into the Doctor's arms, his head bowed over hers as he murmured soft, soothing words of love and comfort to her.

"Oh my god," Rose whispered when it was over, wiping her face dry. "That was beautiful. That was so beautiful."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Ood Sigma, thank you for letting us hear that."

"Thank you for bringing my family home," they replied. "Yet again you have shown your friendship to us in ways beyond compare. Should you need our help in the future or the past, know that you have friends here."

"We should – er – we should go." The Doctor struggled to find his words: The song they had sung twisted emotions inside of him and he needed to get inside before the tears froze to his skin and burned him. "Let everyone get settled in."

Jack jerked forward, stumbling through the thick snow to Ood Lemon, the closest one to the TARDIS, and hugged them. "Take care of yourselves. I'm sorry we couldn't do more to help."

"Professor Tyler." Zoe turned back to Ood Sigma and stepped through the snow, wishing she had a pair of socks on as the snow bit at the skin between her shoes and the cuffs of her trousers. Ood Sigma reached for her, cool, dry hands enclosing over hers. "This pain you're feeling now will one day solidify into strength. I've seen your future and I've seen how happy you will be."

Zoe pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, releasing it with a worried frown. "You have?"

"Your fears are valid and your grief is honest but there is joy in your life to come," Ood Sigma assured her. "And the joy you bring to others will make this pain worthwhile."

"I help people?"

"Many, many people owe their lives to you as we owe our freedom," they said. "You have your own song in the universe and you're only at the beginning of it. Embrace what the universe has given you and remember, always, to live well and to be kind."

Zoe sniffed, tears blurring her vision. "Thank you. I – I appreciate that."

"Until we meet again, Professor Tyler," they said, releasing her hands and bowing.

She wiped her face dry. "I look forward to it, Ood Sigma."

And later, much later, when Zoe was sat in the audience of a glass operetta on Tulas with the Doctor's hand in hers and her mother at her other side, she thought that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.