Yeah, this chapter is based pretty heavily off the "Good Night" one-shot with Amy and 11 (if you haven't seen it, it's available on YouTube). That being said, I felt it'd be very applicable for Barry as well, and I wanted to do a couple more character one-shots as opposed to just repeating all the canon stories. Enjoy!

Barry sighed, rolling out of bed. The TARDIS floor was cool under his bare feet. His four-poster bunk bed was incredibly comfy, the temperature and lighting were always at the perfect level, but tonight he just couldn't get to sleep.

Might as well get in a run, he shrugged to himself. A few miles or so of racing through TARDIS corridors would hopefully tire him out enough. Barry stretched, padded out to the corridor, and lightning crackled through his eyes. In a burst of wind and lightning, he was gone.

Doors, open and closed, flashed by and disappeared in the blink of an eye as he ran over floors, walls, and even the ceiling. He saw an Olympic-sized swimming pool, the library, aquarium, wardrobe, cloister room, Zero Room, gardens, cricket pitch, butterfly room, zoo, LEGO room, the gymnasium where the Doctor had taught him Venusian aikido…

Barry slowed to a halt as he spotted the kitchen, with the door half-open and looking inviting. He shrugged to himself and wandered in, intending to make a cup of hot chocolate, maybe head to the library and curl up with a copy of The Doors of Stone by Patrick Rothfuss, released in 2055.

"Knock, knock," a familiar voice came from behind him.

"Who's there?" Barry asked without turning around.

"The Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

The Time Lord raised an eyebrow. "Never heard that one before."

Barry shrugged and turned around. His mouth dropped open.

"Wait, what are you wearing?" The Doctor shrugged awkwardly, taking off his feather boa and sunglasses and putting them on the table.

"Oh, I was at this, this party in the '50s. Frank Sinatra, Albert Einstein, Father Christmas, and I. At least, I think it was Father Christmas…never did find out whether or not he was a Rutan. Then before that, I played triangle in the first production of Carmen, popped by the court of King Athlestan in 924 CE, and visited the Golden Age of Spain for a drink with Judah HaLevi. Lovely man, fantastic poet."

At Barry's astonished expression, he shrugged. "I don't sleep as much as you lot. I like staying busy."

He scrutinized Barry. "What's wrong?"

"Doctor…my life doesn't make sense."

Whose does?"

"No, I'm serious," Barry said, and the Doctor looked at him as he started to pace. "When I first met you, I'd spent my life as the son of a murderer. I grew up with Joe and Iris. I didn't have a lot of friends, 'cause no one wanted to hang out with me. I double-majored in physics and chemistry because I wanted to be a CSI. I started dating Kara in part because I wanted to make Iris jealous. I went to England to escape it all. And then…"

He shrugged and wheeled around to meet the Doctor's eyes. "And then, in a flash, everything changed. I grew up with my dad. Iris was my next door neighbor. Kara and I were together for no other reason than that I love her. So many of the things I did, never happened, and now I have all these memories of new stuff. Except I remember both sets of lives. Two lives. And I've been trying…"

Barry leaned on the table. "I've been trying to just accept it, 'cause that's time travel, and I wouldn't give it up for anything, but it's…it's…I've got two whole different lives, in my head, at the same time. I don't even have the same grandparents!"

"Barry Allen," the Doctor said gently, and he crossed the table to put a hand on Barry's shoulder.

"The thing is, Barry, everyone's memory is a mess. Life is a mess. Everyone's got memories of a holiday they couldn't have been on, or a party they've never went to, or met someone for the first time and felt like they've known them all their lives. Time is being rewritten all around us, every day. People think their memories are bad, but their memories are fine. The past is really like that."

"That's confusing," he shook his head.

"Now you're starting to get it!"

"So how do you know what's real and what's not?"

The Doctor shrugged. "How do any of us know what's real? All we can do is be the best people we can be, with the memories that we have. A man is the sum of his memories, you know. You've got more than most. Be grateful for that."

"I guess," Barry nodded, ending with a yawn. The Doctor smiled gently.

"Good night, Barry. Sleep well."

That night, for the first time, he dreamt of his mother with no pain, only joy for the gift he'd been given.

Next week: The Lazarus Experiment! Be safe and well! And, yeah, I had to get in THAT knock-knock joke. I mean, c'mon.