oOo

They were finally in the capital city of Hyrenia III, long promised as a spot of vacation, and Susan was glad and grateful for the pause in their travels. Not that she minded wandering about, seeing the Universe with her grandfather, but every now and then a rest, as she jokingly put it, was just what the Doctor ordered.

Susan frowned at the thought. Every time she made the joke her grandfather muttered something about being too heavily influenced by Earth, but honestly, he was the one who could never seem to stay away!

Susan's frown deepened as she tucked her hair behind her ears. How many times had they been on Earth, anyway? What was the fascination? She supposed it had something to do with her parents, but since her grandfather wouldn't talk about them outside of vague platitudes about it being all for the best, she had no way of judging. "It's not fair," she muttered as she wandered around the crowded bazaar, then put it out of her mind. She'd never known her parents, true, but the Doctor had certainly done his best to give her a fantastic life. Living on the TARDIS was an adventure on its own, and she wanted for nothing. Nothing except the one thing she could never have; her parents.

It was at this juncture in her thoughts that he'd approached her, the stranger in the colorful clothes with a brolly in one hand and a hat on his head, offering to tell her what was in her heart. Both her hearts. She'd followed him, not down a dark alley or anyplace threatening; she was too wise for that even at the tender age of 10. But off to the side of a bustling plaza, out of the mainstream. People, human and otherwise, moved past them, but they may as well have been alone for all the notice anyone took of them as they seated themselves on a low stone wall.

"How'd you know about them? My hearts, I mean." Susan was a forthright child, not afraid to speak her mind. Sometimes, her grandfather appreciated that quality in her. Sometimes.

The oddly familiar stranger sitting next to her certainly seemed to appreciate it; he chuckled as he gazed down at her. She knew what he saw: a skinny little thing, all big dark eyes in a serious face and equally dark hair falling just past her shoulders, wearing a nondescript navy blue jumper and matching boots. Instead of answering her, however, he merely held out his wrist. After a moment's hesitation, she took it. Moved her fingers and held it again.

A frown creased her forehead. "Two?" Susan tensed. No one was supposed to be chasing them , but you never could tell with Time Lords. At least, so she'd been warned. "I won't tell you where he is," she said, fiercely protective. "I don't care what he did, I won't help you get him back to Gallifrey."

His smile was gentle, disarming, and he made no move to stop her as she edged nervously away, ready to bolt, only the intrigue of meeting someone who shared her heritage keeping her there. "I wouldn't dare try to take him back; I'm not that brave. I came here to talk to you, Susan."

She stilled. "How'd you know my name?" She hadn't told him.

"Because I know you."

"Do you know my grandfather?"

The smiled deepened. "In a way. You see, I am him, a few regenerations down the road." He waited for her reaction.

"Prove it." The words were defiant, her expression doubtful and suspicious, but she didn't stand up, didn't bolt like a frightened horse. Just waited quietly for him to prove that extraordinary claim.

He'd done it, too, Susan recalled, still standing in the doorway while her noisy family clattered around in the kitchen. He'd reminded her of things no one had witnessed besides she and her grandfather, things that had happened in the privacy of the TARDIS or when they were traveling alone. Occasionally they picked up traveling companions, but none lasted very long, and this man had never been one of them.

His TARDIS key, Susan recalled, had been what finally convinced her. She'd touched it, felt the familiar, unmistakable thrum, and stared at him, wide-eyed, while he explained why he'd broken one of Gallifrey's strictest laws and crossed his own time stream to speak to her. And she'd listened; Susan remembered it as vividly as if it had happened days instead of years ago...

"What happened to them? Did they die?" Her voice caught on the last word, and she was startled to feel tears gathering behind her eyes. She'd thought herself long resigned to her parents' presumed deaths.

"I can't tell you what happened to them. Not because I'm trying to protect you, at least not the way you're about to accuse me." She blinked, startled again at the way he seemed to intercept her thoughts. "I have an enemy who is trying very hard to find you, and I wish to make it as difficult as possible for him to do so."

"Is that why my grandfather won't tell me what happened to them?" she asked shrewdly.

He smiled and tapped the head of his brolly. "Partly. And partly because he doesn't know."

"How could he not know?" Susan protested. "He's had me since I was a baby. Hasn't he?" she asked as a sudden doubt crept into her mind.

A doubt the newcomer quickly banished. "Yes, he has. But he knew it would be safer for you if his memories of those times were...not accessible. And so they're not. But he does know one thing: Your parents loved you, they never wanted to leave you."

It was the same thing her grandfather had already told her, but hearing it now, from her grandfather's future self, made her finally believe it, in her heart as well as her mind. She'd demanded more details anyway, but he'd refused. "When the time comes, I'll tell you, I promise. When I know everything myself." That had certainly raised her eyebrow, but before she could ask another question, he stood up. "It's about time for me to go." He glanced around. "Perhaps it's best if you keep this meeting to yourself."

"You don't want me to tell him, you, about seeing you, him, you?" Susan was young and being raised outside of Gallifrey; she still struggled sometimes with the syntax of time travel. It was especially hard, this time, her first honest-to-goodness paradox.

He shook his head firmly. "What he doesn't know can't hurt me. Or you. I just want to be sure you understand how important this is, so you'll know what to tell me when my past self sees your future self." He stumbled a little over the grammar himself.

Her eyes widened at that one. "You've crossed your own time stream and you're going to do it again? Why?"

"Because you are very important to me, Susan," he said softly. "You're my family. My only family, no matter which me you're living with. All I know is that I will be coming to see you, when you're much older, and there are some things you'll tell me about this meeting that I'll need to know in order to come back and see you." He frowned. "Bit of a circle, there, but it can't be avoided. But I do need you to avoid telling me about this meeting now, the current me, that is. Your grandfather."

"I'm not supposed to keep secrets from him," Susan began doubtfully, then widened her eyes as she saw--and recognized–something in his expression, in the way he held himself. "You can't hypnotize me, not without me being willing; if you're really him, you know that," she warned him. She'd seen that look before, on her grandfather's patrician features, and if she hadn't already been firmly convinced of this stranger's identity, that would certainly have done it.

The Doctor raised his hands defensively, but a smile hovered around the edges of his mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I would never attempt such a thing, I promise. So what information shall you wring from me in order to keep your silence?"

Susan thought it over carefully, not bothering to ask him to just tell her since he obviously already knew the answer to that question. "I want to know if I'm happy, when you come to see me. If we live somewhere." She looked up at him. "Am I married? Do I have children?" She'd never even considered such a thing before, but suddenly it was the most important thing in the world to know. "You don't have to tell me anything in between, just where I'll be when you come see me. So I'll know it's coming."

The Doctor looked at her carefully, then nodded. "Only fair. If all goes as it should, then you will be, let's see, about 36 or 37 years old. You will be married and have three children, named after your husband and parents. I'll see you when your youngest is two," he added, but Susan wasn't to be distracted.

She regarded him out of skeptical eyes. "Some trick, that, knowing their names, since I haven't met any of 'em yet. Tell me the names. So I'll know for sure."

There was hesitation in his eyes now, but she knew she had him. "No hypnotizing," she reminded him, smug in her pre-adolescent superiority. "Just say the names or no deal."

"David," he finally capitulated. "Kyris. And Dorothy."

Susan wrinkled her nose doubtfully. "Kyris? And Dorothy? Are you sure?"

"She goes by Ace." The words slipped out before the Doctor seemed aware of them, to judge by the chagrined expression that followed immediately after he spoke. "And that's all you'll get out of me, young lady." His voice was stern, and Susan didn't bother trying to tease any more information out of him. She already learned far more than she'd dared hope to find out. It wasn't hard to figure out she'd marry someone named David, since Kyris was a Gallifreyan name and she doubted very much she'd ever wind up marrying anyone from her native world. Not if her grandfather had anything to say about it.

Speaking of whom...she glanced nervously over her shoulder. "I have to get back, I promised to meet Grandfather for lunch and if I'm too much later he'll make me go about with him the whole time we're here." She smiled, a brilliant smile that transformed her solemn features, making her seem, for the first time, her actual age. "Thank you. Even if I never get to be with them, it's nice to have something of my parents."

"You're welcome." She'd turned then, impulsively kissing him on the cheek before racing off across the plaza. When she risked a look back, before turning the final corner that would take her completely out of view, he was gone.

It wasn't until then that she realized he'd only answered her last question. She hesitated, torn between wanting to chase after him and demand to know if she was going to be happy, and not wanting her grandfather to revoke her permission to go about on her own today. In the end, the desire for independence won out; after all, she reasoned, if she ended up with three kids, she must be settled somewhere. Raising one child on the TARDIS was one thing; raising a whole pack was something else altogether, and she couldn't see her grandfather putting up with it. Plus she was married, so that counted for something.

Comforted by that thought, Susan put thoughts of her grandfather's future self out of her mind and hurried to meet the one who was no doubt impatiently checking his Earth-style watch and muttering to himself about tardiness.

Her parents loved her, hadn't wanted to give her up but had done so for her safety. She hugged that knowledge to herself, silently reciting three names that would be important in her future.

David.

Kyris

Dorothy.

Her family.