Working together, Lyssa and Martha managed to drag the limp body of John Smith out of the TARDIS. Setting him carefully on the floor, they stood up straight and looked around. They were in an enclosed structure that was already old, even in 1913. It seemed to be some sort of barn or shed - the floor and walls were made of stone, and hay and dusty farming equipment was scattered across the large room. A closed door was set in the far wall, and several very dirty windows let faint glimmers of sunshine light up the area.
"So, according to the instructions, we need to get our supplies and wait outside," Lyssa thought aloud, absently rubbing her chin. "There's supposed to be a road we can follow to get to the school."
"He better wake up soon," Martha muttered, casting a baleful glance at the unconscious form on the floor. "For someone completely unconscious, he is awful at being carried. I'm not lugging him several miles to the nearest town," she warned Lyssa, crossing her arms. "He can sleep here on the ground if he wants, and we can come back for him tomorrow with help."
Lyssa laughed, but nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words. The poor man would probably have a bruise when he woke up from the number of times they'd nearly dropped him, or whacked one of his ridiculously long limbs against the TARDIS doors as they'd dragged him out.
"Let's grab our luggage and lock up the TARDIS," she decided, heart twinging a bit at the thought. "Then we can head outside and look around, figure out what to do from there."
"Might as well, see if we can tell how far we are from town," Martha shrugged. "I'd rather not end up walking in the dark if we don't know where we are and we're trying to reach it."
They quickly grabbed the three trunks the TARDIS had assembled for them, leaving them by John, then returned to the ship one last time to lock up. Lyssa glanced around the darkened console room, now only dimly lit. She sighed, resting a hand against one of the coral pillars, startling when the faint light in the room reflected off her new ring. Pressing her lips together, she stared at it unblinking, then forcefully averted her eyes. She didn't have the energy to deal with that right now.
Normally, the ship would be humming through their bond at this point. But on a normal day, the Doctor wouldn't be human, and they wouldn't be preparing to spend the next three months pretending that's all he was.
The ship remained silent, and the room remained dark. Still, she sent a whispered goodbye through their bond, hoping the TARDIS would still receive it somehow, then turned to leave.
Not nearly as close to the ship, Martha just patted the walls fondly before exiting, pulling the door shut and locking it, tucking the necklace with her key on it firmly under her dress. She straightened her coat then turned to Lyssa. "Are you ready for this?"
Lyssa shook her head immediately. "Not even remotely. Are you?"
Martha laughed. "Nope. But if I backed down from everything I wasn't ready for, I never would've gotten into med school. We got this. He trusted us for a reason." She tilted her head at John's body, then smirked. "Even if we are gonna make him pay for it later."
Lyssa couldn't help her laugh as she and Martha crouched down, pulling John's arms over their shoulders and heaving him to his feet, his head hanging forwards. They made their way over to the door, Lyssa shifting her hold to pull it open.
They stepped out into a small clearing in the middle of a forest. The trees towering around them provided a thick green ceiling the same shade as the grass beneath their feet, beams of sunlight occasionally popping through. A short distance ahead of them was a dirt road covered in hoofprints and wagon wheel marks. In the distance, hoofbeats and creaking wood could be heard coming their way.
"Do you hear that?" Lyssa frowned, glancing in the direction of the sound, though the road curved and she could see nothing but trees and bushes.
Martha nodded, expression cautiously hopeful. "Maybe we can ask them for a lift, claim we got... I don't know, robbed, or something, and that's why we're out here. Maybe our previous ride abandoned us." She glanced at John. "Or the driver turned into a different species and passed out."
Lyssa snorted. "Let's not go with that one, yeah? I'd rather not end up in an asylum, or whatever passes for 1913's version of that."
Martha grimaced. "I did a report on the history of mental health a few semesters ago. You're not wrong."
They both straightened as two horses pulling an enclosed buggy rode into sight. An old man with a graying beard and homespun clothes sat on the driver's bench in front of the buggy. He tugged the horses to a stop by the clearing before they could even say anything, pulling a lever and hopping down to the ground.
"Good afternoon," he said politely, tipping his hat at them, not blinking an eye at the two young women holding up an unconscious man. "I'm here for..." he paused to pull a crumpled piece of paper from one pocket and read off it. "A Mr. John Smith, a Miss Lyssa Devons, and a Miss Martha Jones." He lowered it and glanced at them. "If I might be so bold as to say you look like their descriptions, might I then be correct in assumin' that those names belong to you?"
Lyssa exchanged a bemused look with Martha, then returned her attention to the old man. "Yeah - uh, yes, yes, that's us," she nodded uncertainly. "How... how did you know we'd be here?"
He lifted the paper in the air. "It was all explained in the letter, Miss. Where and when to meet you, what you'd look like, and where to take you. It was right terrible what happened with your ride, leavin' you here like that. But don't you worry, old Harold Toffens will get you to your destination!" He tipped his hat again.
"Er, yes, it was quite... disturbing," Lyssa agreed, with another uncertain glance at Martha, who shrugged back at her. "And you know to take us to the boarding house, correct?"
"Farringham School for Boys, yes, Miss," he nodded.
"Er... who sent you that letter?" Martha asked with a feigned carelessness. "It's been a long day, see, and I just want to make sure you're the... right man. No offense," she added awkwardly.
"None taken, young Miss," he said with an affable smile. "The letter was signed by a 'Mr. E' only, so I can't say for sure as to who hired me, but I was paid quite handsomely." He nodded. "Oh, yes, very handsomely. Enough to not ask questions, as stated in the letter. I'm an acceptin' type, me." He paused. "Although, come to think of it, I was told to say a phrase to prove my authenticity, as it were. It's a might bit strange, beggin' your pardon, but I was told you'd recognize it."
He waited for their full attention then straightened his hat and held his hands behind his back as he recited, "It's bigger on the inside. Whatever that's supposed to mean."
Lyssa and Martha exchanged a look. Whoever this 'Mr. E' was, they had to be connected to the Doctor somehow. Someone who knew what that phrase would mean to them, without giving away secret information to a random non-time-traveling civilian.
At least, she hoped he was a random non-time-traveling civilian.
"Thank you, that's what we needed to hear," Lyssa smiled. She still had questions - so many questions - but it looked like the same person who had so carefully created elaborate backstories for them had also created a way for them to get to the boarding school, so that was enough for her for now.
"Then we have an understandin'," he smiled. "Now that that's out of the way, might I offer my aid in gettin' the young gentleman aboard?" He nodded at the still form between the two of them, who had yet to stir.
"That'd be appreciated, thanks," Martha nodded gratefully as he came forward and took most of John's weight, lifting him into the buggy and settling him against the far side.
"No problem, young Miss, that's what I'm paid for," he said cheerfully.
"Well, er, we appreciate that very much anyway, Mr. Toffens," Lyssa smiled politely, struggling to hide her ever-increasing desire to just lay down and take a nap. "We just need to grab our luggage, and then we'll be ready to go." She paused, realizing that their luggage was inside the barn, right next to the TARDIS, which Mr. Toffens had likely not been paid enough to ignore. "We'll just grab it and be right back, if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on the Do- er, Joh- er, Mr. Smith," she said, growing increasingly flustered as she tried to figure out how to address him.
"Actually, you better stay here. You're recovering, remember?" Martha broke in with a warning look at her. "Bad enough you had to strain yourself by lifting... Mr. Smith. I'll grab the luggage. You rest," she directed her firmly, disappearing into the barn.
Mr. Toffens chuckled. "She's a fierce young lady, that one." He glanced at Lyssa in concern. "Are you all right, Miss? You're not liable to faint, are you? I don't have much in the way of skill at takin' care of folks."
"I'm fine, thank you," she hastened to assure him. "Martha is very skilled in the art of healing, and is just looking out for me."
"Here we are, then," Martha announced as she exited the barn, holding one of their trunks. She set it down by the buggy, then returned to grab the remaining two as Mr. Toffens got to work securing the luggage onboard.
"All set," he stated proudly when the last one was strapped in. "Might I help you ladies in?" he asked, offering a hand to assist them up the step.
"Thank you. Truly," Lyssa told him genuinely as she entered into the buggy, taking her seat next to John.
"It's my pleasure, Miss," he nodded, helping Martha up and closing the door behind her once Martha was seated. "Hold tight now, it'll be a bumpy ride. We got a fair bit of rain last month, and some of the trail was washed clean away."
The buggy shook slightly as he mounted his seat up front. He clicked to the horses, and then they were off, reins jingling and wood creaking.
Martha took a deep breath. "This is it. No turning back now. No TARDIS, no Doctor... we're on our own from here on out."
"Well... us and our mysterious benefactor," Lyssa pointed out in a hushed tone. "Whoever he is, he must be from the future - our personal future. There's no way he'd be able to give those precise instructions to our driver otherwise. He had to know how everything played out so he could tell Mr. Toffens where and when to pick us up."
"Maybe it's the Doctor," Martha said hopefully. "The Doctor after all this is over with, I mean."
Lyssa glanced at the still man beside her, only the faint movement of his chest indicating he was even alive. "I don't know. It doesn't feel like him. If it were him, I think he'd go about it a different way."
"But if it wasn't the Doctor... then who?" Martha frowned.
Lyssa glanced out the window at the passing scenery, biting her lip as an ominous feeling washing over her. "That's the question." Subconsciously, automatically, her hand reached for the Doctor's, intertwining her fingers with his, forgetting, for a moment, that he was no longer the Doctor.
And then his hand curled around hers.
xXx
Lyssa was in the library with Martha, speaking together in hushed voices over tea, when John came in early one morning. She sent him a smile, feeling butterflies fill her stomach at the affectionate glance he gave her, no matter how used to it she should be by now after almost two months.
"Good morning, ladies. How are you both feeling today?" he asked, approaching them and touching a gentle hand to Lyssa's elbow.
"Better than ever," she grinned up at him. "I'd say I could run a marathon, except I hate running. And look!" she held her hands up in the air. "No shaking."
"Lyssa! That's wonderful!" he beamed, reaching up to clasp her steady hands in his warm grasp, running a thumb over her ring. "And thank you, Martha," he added, turning to the other girl. "I know she wouldn't have recovered so quickly without your skill and care."
"Oh, trust me, Mr. Smith," she smirked. "I had nothing to do with it. Though it is nice for my knowledge to be appreciated."
"What about you, John?" Lyssa turned her attention back to the taller man. "You're very cheerful for it being so early in the morning. I trust you slept well?"
"Oh, very well," he assured her. "Although..." he tilted his head to the side, gaze growing distant. "Sometimes I have the most extraordinary dreams."
"About what, Mr. Smith?" Martha asked, watching him curiously.
"I dream I'm this..." he trailed off, searching for the right word. "Adventurer. This... daredevil, a madman. 'The Doctor', I'm called."
Lyssa stilled, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Martha. He'd had vague dreams of his past before, but this was the first time he'd mentioned his title.
"And last night I dreamt that you both were there with me. Martha, you were my companion," he nodded at the med student. "And Lyssa, you were there too, of course, you're always there. Always by my side, even in my dreams," he said fondly, giving her hands a gentle squeeze before releasing them.
"A teacher, a librarian, and a caregiver, Mr. Smith?" Martha raised an eyebrow, keeping her expression carefully blank. "That sounds like the start of a rather impossible story."
"Ah, but a man from another world, though," John persisted, glancing out the window to the sky far beyond. "More than just a silly little teacher."
"Well, it can't be true because there's no such thing," Martha stated dismissively, turning back to the desk and picking up her abandoned tea.
"Yeah, everyone knows aliens don't exist," Lyssa agreed, biting her lip to suppress a laugh and glancing away to hide her eyes that she was sure were dancing with mischief. "Only nutters believe in aliens."
"Or agree to marry them," Martha muttered into her tea. When Lyssa scowled at her, she simply raised her cup in salute, smiling beatifically. "Good thing we don't know anyone like that, right?"
"Yep. Or anyone who agrees to run away with a man they just met," Lyssa returned with glee, throwing stones from her glass house with utter complacency and grinning when Martha narrowed her eyes at her.
"Am I missing something?" John asked slowly, looking between the two girls in bemusement.
"No, not at all," Lyssa shook her head, giving him wide, innocent eyes.
"Of course not, why would you think that?" Martha asked at the same time, frowning at him in feigned confusion.
He narrowed his eyes at them both in skeptical amusement. "Oh, don't start this again," he scolded them lightly, fighting back a smile. "You two were teaming up on me the whole way over from America. Don't think I don't recognize you doing the same thing now."
"We're just keeping you humble, Mr. Smith," Martha informed him easily, taking another sip of her tea.
"Really, that's a full time job all on its own," Lyssa mused. "We should quit our other jobs so we can focus better on that."
He clutched a hand to his heart, sending her a hurt look. "Betrayed, by my nearest and dearest." He pretended to stagger backwards before regaining control. "I must be off, to recover from this crushing blow." He paused. "And class is about to start. Don't want to be a bad influence on young, impressionable minds by showing up late." He winced. "Again."
"Wait," Lyssa called as he turned to leave. He stopped immediately, turning back to face her. "Are we still on for tonight? For our walk? I'd like to go into town, if we have time."
He frowned. "Are you sure you'd be up to it? It's a long walk. I don't want to jeopardize your recovery by moving too soon."
"I'll be fine, I promise. I know my limits." She gave him her best pleading expression. "Please, John?"
"Yes, of course," he agreed immediately, staring at her with a dazed expression before abruptly snapping out of it. "Wait. Hold on. You - " He blinked rapidly, sucking in a breath and looking like he was suddenly and valiantly fighting a desperate internal struggle as she maintained her pleading look. "I - you - Martha?" he turned to the other girl desperately.
Martha fought back a smile. "She'll be fine. The exercise will be good for her, and you'll be right there if she needs anything."
"Please, John?" Lyssa asked again, showing absolutely no mercy and giving him a hopeful smile. "It'd be so nice to spend some time together."
He caught sight of her expression and promptly caved. "All right." He softened, returning to her and lifting a hand to trace down her cheek. "I'd love to spend time with you tonight."
Some students passed by in the hallway and he froze, eyes widening. "Except now I have to get to class, I'll see you tonight, love," he promised her in a rush, pressing a hasty kiss to her cheek and calling goodbye to Martha before whirling around and disappearing out of the room in a swirl of brown.
Lyssa blinked after him, cheek tingling, before letting out an accidental giggle, hand coming up to cover her mouth. "He really is just the Doctor without memory. Just as bad about keeping time as ever."
Martha snorted. "And just as besotted with you as ever," she muttered into her tea, just low enough that Lyssa couldn't quite be sure that's what she heard.
"What?"
"What?" Martha said innocently in return, glancing at her curiously. "I didn't say anything. Did you?"
Lyssa hummed skeptically, not believing her but not caring enough to push either. "I wish I could win the Doctor over that easy," she mused, returning her gaze to the doorway John had just rushed out of. "I could definitely have fun with that." She paused. "Actually, I'd probably abuse my power. Bad idea. Never mind."
"You're kidding me, right?" Martha said flatly.
Lyssa glanced over, brow furrowing. "What? I like to think I'm self-aware enough to realize that. Not like it's relevant anyway."
Martha groaned, slumping forward and slamming her head into the desk.
xXx
Lyssa whipped around to look at John, turmoil bubbling up inside her. It would be good if he was finally waking up, but on the other hand... once he woke up, he'd be fully John Smith, with whatever memories the TARDIS had given him. Neither of them actually remembered the other's past, for all they were supposed to have shared it. She didn't really know him, and he wouldn't truly know her.
It was like the start of some cheap novel. Two people deeply in love with the other, except they also both had secrets they kept from the other. Deep, life-changing secrets.
She could only imagine the plot twists. Maybe some mysterious, attractive person from their past would appear out of nowhere and threaten to introduce a love triangle, creating angst between the happy couple because they couldn't communicate like proper adults until the second-to-last chapter.
She'd always hated books like that.
"Is he waking up?" Martha whispered, leaning around Lyssa to catch a glimpse of him.
"I'm not sure," she responded in the same tone, following the other's gaze. "Maybe?"
John still lay slumped against the other side of the buggy, pale and still. He hadn't moved since his hand curled around her still shaking hand, though it clasped hers securely; tight enough that it wouldn't just slide free, but limp enough that she could still easily believe he was asleep.
As if his hand had just instinctively wrapped around hers when she took it.
As if even though his mind didn't remember... the rest of him did.
She felt her eyes fill with tears despite herself, overwhelmed by the rapid events of the day. Even now it was only barely starting to feel real. She swiped at her eyes with a huff.
"I think he's still asleep," she said thickly, avoiding Martha's gaze. "Who knows how long he'll need to recover?" She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced back to see a sympathetic smile.
"He's not the only one who'll need to recover," Martha told her gently. "It's okay to be upset, Lyssa, you know that, right?"
Lyssa waved her off, pretending to be fully focused on John. "I'm fine. He's the important one here, not me. I'm just being stupid and emotional. I don't know how I'm supposed to do this. Not like I've ever been in a relationship before, especially not one as... serious as this."
She could sense more than see Martha's frown. "It's not stupid to be emotional. Your feelings are valid, too. This entire day has been... mad," the other girl settled on with a huffed laugh. "It's all right to be overwhelmed. Frankly I think I'm going to need a long nap before I can even begin to process any of this. He's going to owe us big time. I'm thinking a spa day. Or maybe a week," she amended after a moment's thought.
Lyssa took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting go of her tangled emotions for the moment, and turned to give a grateful smile to the other girl. "Thanks, Martha." Vina had said something similar just a few hours earlier - had it really been so short a time since she'd been with Twelve and Bria? It felt like days had passed already, if not weeks. "I... needed to hear that," she admitted, lowering her gaze.
"Anytime," the other girl shrugged easily, not making a big deal out of it. "And hey," she nudged Lyssa with her elbow. "At least this should be fairly easy as adventures go. Three months of pretending you're too weak to do any heavy labor? Think of all the naps you can take."
She smiled wanly. "I don't need that much sleep anymore, but I appreciate the thought. Maybe I can catch up on my reading, or something. I think the TARDIS packed a couple books for me."
John stirred beside her, a small groan slipping out.
She turned to face him, heart rate picking up. "Do- uh, John?" she asked uncertainly.
He groaned again, forehead wrinkling and lips tugging down into a pained frown as he shifted, curling into himself ever so slightly.
"I think he's having a nightmare," Martha said in surprise. "I never - I guess, he's human now. Makes sense he'd get them, too."
Lyssa frowned, looking him over more carefully this time. Even though she'd never seen the Tenth Doctor have a nightmare, only the Eleventh, she knew what he looked like in distress, and the instinct to comfort him was still there. "He's always had nightmares," she said quietly, hesitantly reaching her free hand out to him.
"Are you going to wake him up?" Martha asked with a hesitant frown.
Lyssa shook her head. John might not be fresh off some trauma, but he would still have the memories, even hidden, of a dark past, and she knew the dangers of startling awake someone with PTSD and in the middle of a nightmare. She had no doubt John would handle it just as well as the Doctor if he were to accidentally hurt her with a violent awakening - which is to say, not well at all.
And if his subconscious remembered her, then maybe she could help another way.
Pulling on her memories of doing this with Eleven, she gently tugged him away from the side of the buggy and towards her until his head rested on her shoulder, hair just brushing the side of her chin. And just like then, he quieted, though his expression was still pained and he unconsciously leaned closer to her, seeking her touch - just like the Doctor.
She bit her lip, hesitating before raising her hand to gently card through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. And just like then, his face smoothed out into a peaceful expression as he relaxed fully, leaning into her touch.
And just like then, she felt her cheeks heat as she glanced away, though she didn't remove her hand. She caught Martha watching and flushed further. "What?" she said defensively. "It's what works for him."
Martha held her hands up in surrender. "Hey, I'm not saying anything against that. I think it's great that you can help him." She shifted so she sat more comfortably in her seat - or as comfortably as she could, in the old, creaking buggy. "But something tells me you're not going to struggle as much as you think you are."
"What do you mean?" Lyssa frowned, tilting her head to the side curiously.
Martha groaned. "Okay, now I'm sure of it. The only one suffering here is going to be me." She rested her forehead on her hands. "Three months of this," she muttered under her breath. "I don't think I can take it."
xXx
"Okay, try and hold still," John instructed her, focusing intently on his sketch.
He'd asked Lyssa if he could sketch her on one of their outings with nicer weather - and he'd looked so hopeful she couldn't help but agree - and so they were now sat outside near the woods on a comfortable blanket. He balanced his sketchbook on his knee, and she sat patiently in her assumed pose.
Well. Patiently might have been a relative term.
"I can't sit still, my nose has an itch," Lyssa complained, squirming on the blanket. "Have you ever tried to sit still when your nose has an itch? It just gets worse and worse until it's all you can think about. Like now, for instance."
He cast her a long-suffering yet fond look. "Oh, all right. Go ahead and scratch. I'm hardly going to get a good expression when you're like this, unless you want to look like you're about to sneeze."
"I'd actually rather not be immortalized looking like that," she muttered, finally giving in to the incessant urge and scratching the bridge of her nose. "Okay, I'm done," she promised him once she no longer felt distracted, folding her hands on her lap once more and assuming a prim expression. "Go ahead."
But he was squinting now, frowning at her face. "No, that doesn't quite work. It's very proper, but it's not you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm not a proper lady?" She feigned a scandalized look.
His eyes went wide. "No, no, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," he hastened to assure her. "You are the most beautiful and proper of ladies, in every way, no one could ever question -"
"You're overdoing it just a bit, but feel free to carry on," she interrupted, fighting back a smile.
He gratefully fumbled to a stop, then narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "You knew what I meant the whole time, didn't you?"
"Eh," she waved her hand a little in the air. "I don't know what you were specifically getting it, but I will admit I know that's not what you meant," she glanced at him, eyes dancing with mischief.
He glared at her without heat, eventually shaking his head, fighting back his own smile. "I knew what I was getting into when I decided I wanted to court you, and yet somehow you continue to surprise me. What I really meant was that while you are absolutely a proper lady," he glanced at her pointedly and she just smiled beatifically. "Yes, that's it! That's it right there, hold that expression!" he exclaimed, switching tracks abruptly and alternating between staring at her face and scribbling madly on his pad.
She froze, trying not to change her expression while also wanting to express her confusion. "I don't - why didn't you just ask me to smile if that's what you wanted?" she questioned, struggling not to move.
"Because you would have just given me a polite smile," he answered absently, still intent on his drawing. "And while you still look lovely with a polite smile, I prefer you looking a little more like... this." He lifted his pencil from the paper and leaned back a little, studying his finished result. "It's one of my favorite expressions on you. It's more... you, not the manner you assume when around company. I see it a lot when you look at me," he settled on, adding a bit of shading. "You can relax now, by the way," he added. "I got the important bits, all that's left are details."
"What's so special about the way I look at you?" Lyssa asked slowly, half afraid of the answer. She didn't feel like she looked him any different, but maybe this was one of his altered memories.
"Well, there are several different expressions - all of which are beautiful," he informed her in a low voice, smirking when she blushed. "But there's always this mischievous gleam in your eyes, like you know something I don't," he said fondly. "Never in a cruel way, mind, you haven't got it in you, but kind. Clever, too, like you're up to something." He raised an eyebrow at her and she glanced away, biting back a smile.
"Yeah, okay, that's pretty accurate," she allowed with a laugh. "More than you know," she added in an undertone, humor fading as she thought of the fob watch that rested so innocently above his fireplace.
"All right, I'm done," he sat back with a satisfied smile and rested his pencil on the ground. "Thank you. I'll add it to the others."
Lyssa froze in the middle of getting up from her seat. This was the first time she'd ever sat for a drawing with him. So either John Smith had memories of drawing her in the past - and the TARDIS had even provided them for him to keep up the ruse, and if that's what had happened, she and the ship would be having words, because things were just getting ridiculous at this point.
Or... he was drawing the Doctor's memories of her.
And something told her that that option was the most dangerous of the two.
A/N: Okay, this isn't quite where I wanted to end this chapter (I had a far more dramatic ending in mind), but it's been a long day, and I'm ridiculously sleepy right now. If I continued, I'd probably end up writing something along the lines of her reading John's journal and finding a drawing of - oh, wait. Those are my notes for the next chapter. Oops. Never mind! So anyway, be prepared for the next chapter to start off with a dramatic ending! ;)
Also, I have no idea how long this arc is going to be, so be warned it's probably going to be one of the longer ones. Hope that works for everyone! :)
It has come to my attention after last chapter that apparently a lot of British people use the term 'fireflies', and in fact, have never even heard of the term 'glow worms' before, which means that google lied to me, which I simply cannot believe, it's never happened before.
Short author's note this time, I'll probably remember all the stuff I meant to write tomorrow. (Or as soon as I post, honestly it could go either way).
Special thanks to everyone who's favorited and followed, and shout-out to everyone who reviewed! I'm not able to respond to reviews rn, but I will try to soon, and please know that I read and appreciate every single review I get! You guys are great! :)
Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :)
General Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, just Lyssa.