So this was a really wild chapter to write, and it shows at over 8,000 words. The longest chapter I've written by far for this story. I know it was a long wait for this chapter, but I hope you'll find the wait was worth it.
I thought about cutting the chapter in half, but I really, truly wanted to get the End of the World episode over and done with, and it just didn't feel right anyway.
For the first time, I've written from the Doctor's POV in this chapter, so I hope I did his character justice. (Also, if I use American slang in POV where British slang would be more appropriate, please do tell me, and I'll correct it if I can.)
And finally, thank you so much to those who have reviewed. Each time I get a review it really pumps me up and gets me back to writing on this story in my free time.
With all that said, buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy the ride, because things are about to get real.
The Doctor stared down at his hands. Empty and utterly useless.
Have these hands — in all his incarnations - ever done anything right?
His long fingers flexed on air, where moments before Zoe Peyton — one of the bravest people he'd ever known — had been only seconds before. And she had been afraid.
He'd seen the remaining color in her pale face drain away the moment she realized what was happening. He'd felt her cling to him, much in the same way he had tried in vain to hold onto her. To keep her from disappearing.
And it wasn't enough.
He wasn't enough.
The very thought burned inside of him as hot as the fires he'd witnessed in the Time War. The feeling fueled his mounting anger and frustration.
At the universe.
At the last human — a monster in literal human skin.
Even at Captain Jack Harkness for being an impossible walking-talking-paradox that made his skin crawl from mere proximity.
But mostly he was furious at himself for his failure to keep her safe. The one person he had let in since he regenerated with this face. Since he ended the Time War and single-handedly brought about the destruction of his homeworld.
The feeling burned white-hot in his gut, and all he wanted — all he wished for — was to make things right.
Yet, he only had the power to make ONE of these things right.
I will get her back.
It was this thought he clung to, as he stared at his hands, mind whirling and calculating the ways he could do just that.
Ideas hit him one after the other. First, teleportation through five thousand degrees needs some kind of feed. So, logic tells him the feed must be hidden nearby.
As fast as a flash of lightning, the memory of an Adherent of the Repeated Meme handing out golden Ostrich eggs flickered across his mind.
One: real Ostrich eggs from Earth are not golden.
Two: The Repeated Meme, as Zoe proved, was only ever an idea. A terrible idea doing the bidding of its equally terrible master.
Ergo, the last human used the eggs to sneak the illicit teleportation feed (and it stands to reason, those killer spider robots) onto the ship.
Being clever as him, reversing the feed and getting Zoe back should be as easy as 1, 2, 3.
But first, though it irked him to think it, I have to stop the ship from exploding.
He thought and felt all this in mere seconds, all the while staring at his hands. Blood roaring in his ears, as he hyper-focused on the moment Zoe — brave, clever, funny, and oh, so dangerous Zoe — had been stolen from him.
Funny thing was, she didn't even know just how dangerous she was.
I should have told her everything, he realized. From the moment he scanned her. From the moment he couldn't keep ignoring the growing evidence that said the results were not an error…
Or his wishful thinking.
When Jack had forced his hand to say something to her, he thought he'd told her too much. Really though, he hadn't told her enough. It was a mistake he found himself regretting more and more every second that passed.
Soon, he promised himself. I'll tell her everything soon, but first…
"Heat rising," the calm, feminine voice of the computer announced. "Earth death in five minutes."
First, he had a computer to reset, then a girl to get back.
The Time Lord dropped his hands to his sides, curling them into fists. He looked up at Jack, the living-breathing-temporal-paradox standing far too close for his comfort — and saw the immortal flinch at whatever expression he saw on his face.
"We need to reset the computer," the Doctor said, and turned his gaze to the shattered glass and water spray covering the floor. "There must be a system restore switch somewhere in the engine room."
Jack nodded once. "I know where it is. I scoped the place out earlier, remember. I'll take you to it."
Without waiting, the Time Lord did what he did best. He ran. Right into the chaos of screaming alien guests as they tried to run to safety.
Without missing a beat, he felt the Captain match his pace, making his senses crawl at his continued proximity. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore it. This wasn't the time to let a little heebie-jeebies stonewall him.
They were about to run down a maintenance tunnel, one they knew would lead to the engine room, when they heard someone call out.
"Doctor, wait!"
He did not stop, didn't bother to look back at who addressed him or wonder how they knew his name. He would not stop for anyone when Zoe needed him.
Assuming Cassandra was still alive, he didn't think she would act right away on her promise to use Zoe's skin like women on Earth use foundation, but he wouldn't give her the time to do anything to his companion.
"Can't stop. A little busy right now," he all, but growled over his shoulder.
He thought, That's that then, but then the woman's voice said, right next to his ear, "Then I'm coming with you."
He glanced to his side and narrowed his eyes at the sight of the female from the Forest of Cheem, running beside him. He'd seen her earlier, of course, watching him and Zoe. It was right before Jack had led them away. He hadn't missed the way she'd been pointing her gadget-gizmo- thingamajig at them.
Having sprinted to catch up, sweat glistened on her forehead. Though that may have more to do with the rising temperature than any exertion on her part. "I must speak with you," she said.
"Jabe, no," Jack said, grabbing her arm to pull her back and keep her from following them. The Doctor forced himself to stop with him, feeling himself tense at the unneeded delay. "Zoe would kill me if I let you come with us. You're made of wood. The heat will kill you."
"What I have to say is about Zoe," she said.
Both the Doctor and Jack snapped their gaze to her.
"What about her?" Jack said though he looked like he already knew.
He probably did, the Doctor thought. A flash of irritation swept through him at the thought of a future Zoe confiding in the immortal, but he flicked the unwanted emotion aside with a jerk of his head. Not the time.
"I scanned her earlier," she said, a muted chocolate blush tinting her cheekbones at admitting to this very rude and invasive action. "The metal machine had trouble identifying her species. It refused to admit her existence…
"I scanned you as well, Doctor," she admitted next, "and it had the same trouble with you."
"You stopped us," the Time Lord deadpanned, knowing exactly where she was going with this and not finding the humor in it, "in the middle of a self-destructing space station," here he raised his arms to gesture to the shaking, trembling ship around them, "to tell me this?"
"It named her! I knew it had to be impossible. For her to be…well, it's unheard of," she said, looking flustered. On that point, the Doctor understood her feelings too well. "At least your race, unbelievable as it is, is more likely." Then appearing chagrined, she placed an unwelcome, seemingly comforting, hand on his. "I am sorry."
It took everything he had not to lash out at her. Her sympathy may have been welcome in another time or place, but right now, the emotions and memories he'd carefully trapped behind a steel door in his mind were fighting to get out. He shut his eyes and breathed forcefully through his nose, counting down from 10.
He didn't even reach 7 before the computer droned above them: "Heat levels critical. Earth death in two minutes."
"We don't have time for this!" the Doctor snapped. "Jack, come on. Jabe, just stay here and chill."
Jack started running first, his trench coat swishing in his wake. Without looking back, the Doctor turned to follow, throwing one last look at the female Forest of Cheem's worried honey brown eyes before speeding after Jack.
"Doctor, you must protect her," Jabe yelled after him. "If she is what I fear, she will never know peace or safety if her existence is ever discovered."
He did not look back. As if he needed her to tell him that. He knew exactly what threats Zoe would face if the truth were found out. He faced them himself every day. It was the price they paid to be…well, them. Unique. The last of their races.
As the Doctor and Jack raced to the engine room — "Heat levels rising. Heat levels rising." — they didn't see the lone gentleman, dressed in an all-black three-piece suit and wearing shiny black dress shoes, standing in the shadows. Just calmly observing the running duo beneath silver-blonde bushy eyebrows and wild, almost gravity-defying hair.
If it hadn't been for Jack's presence, screwing with the Doctor's senses, he would have noticed the stranger immediately. It would have been impossible not to with his Time Lord biology.
As it was, the Doctor didn't feel the man's presence. He didn't notice the way the man's body language screamed danger. That slick air of volatile confidence was highlighted by his choice in luxury brand clothing and eccentric use of hair gel.
Nor did he witness the growing manic glint in the man's dark green eyes, as he spoke two words. His voice lost in the explosion of screams down the hall, as the heat levels turned hazardous and the exoglass began to crack.
"She's here."
Zoe snapped awake and gasped, feeling her heart threaten to crawl up her throat as the horror of her situation dawned on her. She'd been kidnapped. By Cassandra. For her skin.
Looking around, a pitch-black nothingness pressed hard against her eyes, and she frantically felt around herself, only finding a cold, rough surface beneath her. It felt like compacted dirt and pine needles, prickling her skin.
She took the sensation in, letting it ground her, even as the thick darkness pressed in on her from all sides.
On the horror scale, she gave it an 11/10. She was more scared than the time Madison's bathroom lights burst while playing Bloody Mary.
At the time, they were just two middle schoolers messing around. Zoe, being Zoe, had volunteered to go first, locking herself inside the bathroom while Madison waited in the hallway. The moment she whispered Bloody Mary a third time, all the while staring at her reflection, the light bulbs had shattered, raining sparks and glass on her.
The darkness had felt absolute then, not even a sliver of light had slipped in beneath the bathroom door from the hallway.
Screaming, she'd tried to open the bathroom door to leave, but the lock was jammed somehow.
She'd begged Madison to let her out, that blocking the door wasn't funny. Zoe didn't know it at the time, but from the other side of the door, a scrawny-armed and tooth-pick-thin Mads was trying to slam the bathroom door open like she was a football quarterback.
"I'm not doing this!" she had yelled back through the door.
Zoe hadn't believed her, but now…
Now sitting in a pitch-black darkness so thick she can't even see her own silhouette, and knowing what she knows now about her abilities, she has to question everything she ever thought was just her vivid imagination at work.
Shaking her head, she curled her fingers into the dirt, focusing on the feeling.
After a moment, she furrowed her brows and inhaled the scent of crisp pine and wet dirt. Was she outside? Surely, Cassandra would have locked her in a cell? Did the teleportation beam take her to the wrong coordinates?
"Hello?" Zoe called out. "Is anyone there?"
At first the insistent silence — and the ever-pressing darkness — was the only thing to greet her, but then a bright green light appeared in the distance. She hissed and closed her eyes at the sudden light. Distant and little as it was, the darkness was that thick.
Blinking her eyes open slowly, she stumbled to her feet, reaching out with her hands, as she blindly moved toward the soft emerald lighting. She half-expected bars to block her progress, but she met no resistance as she put one foot in front of the other.
With each step, more colorful lights appeared, growing brighter and brighter until everything around her was illuminated, and the darkness was no more.
Her mouth fell open, wonder, awe, curiosity, and a tinge of fear sweeping through her as she took in the strange specter of her "prison."
Standing on a path that had an ethereal golden glow, she found herself surrounded on each side by a forest. The leaves and pine needles shimmered an electric green that lit up the area. Everything beyond that light was pitch black.
No stars. No moon. Nothing.
Zoe's fingers found the edge of her t-shirt, as she tried not to let panic take over. Clearly, Cassandra's teleportation beam had missed the mark, and she was on some planet far, far, far away from the Doctor.
As she struggled not to freak out, the trees on either side of her began to sway in a wind she couldn't feel. The leaves fluttered, throwing emerald light and shadow onto the path like a disco ball at a party.
Moments later, a soft, haunting melody began to play. It was a humming sound that both tugged at her memory and made her feel safe, even as reason and instinct told her to keep her guard up in this strange place.
She turned on the spot, trying to find the source of the humming until it dawned on her. The sound was coming from the trees surrounding her.
Halting to a stop, she just listened, that tugging feeling becoming more insistent every second until she finally remembered a woman singing to her, quietly in a warm, trembling whisper, while loving fingers ran through her hair.
"Just close your eyes," Zoe started singing, surprised at how easily the lyrics came back to her at that moment. It was like unpacking a dust-covered memory from a forgotten box in the attic. "The sun is going down...You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now…Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound…"
At this, she closed her eyes and hugged herself in an unconscious effort to comfort herself. Her chest felt tight, as an unfamiliar swirl of emotions gathered over her heart. Long-forgotten, tangled feelings she'd suppressed as a little girl, making themselves known to her.
Because she had definitely been a child in that memory. Maybe four or five. So it would been before the mean Kraken lady had taken her to August.
Which means…
She thought of gentle fingers carding through her hair.
The singer is my mother?
Zoe winced, finding she didn't like the idea very much, though reason said it had to be her. The woman in the memory had been afraid, terrified even. She had felt it in the woman's touch and heard it in her shaky voice.
She didn't like the idea of her mother being afraid and wasn't sure she wanted to know the reason she was so afraid in the first place.
"Is someone there? Hello?"
Zoe stopped dead in her tracks, any further thoughts on her mother and the object of her fear faltering, as she looked around, trying to find the owner of the voice.
She knew that voice.
"Rose?"
As if the forest sensed the urgency of her thoughts, her mother's lullaby dropped off into sudden silence.
"It's just my imagination. Of course, it is," Rose's bitter voice was louder and clearer to hear now without the music. "I'm all alone here. Wherever here is."
"Rose!" Zoe shouted, hardly believing what it was her, and started running, right off the path and into the strange, ethereal forest. Toward where she thought the voice was coming from. "Wait, I'm here. Rose!"
She rushed forward, uncaring as pine and thorny brush snagged at her t-shirt and jeans. The sound of sticks snapping and pine cones getting crushed beneath her feet failing to slow her down.
She kept pushing forward through the thick forest until a raised root tripped her, and she fell hard, having to catch her fall on the sharp rocks and hard forest floor. Sharp pain lanced up her wrists into her arms from the impact.
Breathing hard, she glanced up and saw Rose walking with her back to Zoe across a dark parking lot that wasn't there a moment ago.
Just beyond the stretch of vacant black asphalt — because the parking lot was empty (no cars, no people, just one Rose Tyler) — was the vague, familiar silhouette of Jackie's flat.
Rose was shaking her head to herself, her dark blonde hair sweeping across her shoulder blades. Though it was dark, Zoe could just make out the worn pink hoodie she was wearing, and if the blonde would just turn around and look at her, Zoe was sure she'd see her sporting a pink tank top underneath it.
"Rose!" Zoe yelled as loud as she could, pushing herself up to a stand.
The blonde stopped, stiff and unsure, and turned her head slowly to look back, almost as if she was afraid of what she'd find. Or not find.
Painfully hopeful doe-brown eyes locked with bewildered, yet hopeful hazel-green eyes.
It was her. She was here. Rose Tyler was here!
Zoe was bursting with so many questions. Have you been here this whole time? What is this place? Are you alright?
Before she could ask a single question, Rose, the parking lot, and the glowing forest around her flickered out like a building losing power in the middle of a storm.
And Zoe was dropped back into the pitch-black darkness she'd been in before, heart pounding in her chest.
"No!" she yelled, stretching her hands out into the dark as if she could summon Rose back.
Seconds passed and a new setting filtered around her, flickering to life like a generator turning on and bringing light with it. Instead of finding Rose, looking back at her, she found herself standing in her childhood home's living room.
She would know. How many times had August thoroughly chastised her after she dragged in mud through the living room after playing pirates and cowboys in the backyard with Mads as a kid?
(Not that August knew what they'd been playing. Only quiet games of hide and seek were considered a good time in his book.)
Except the posh, leather furniture and doilies he liked so much, looked like they'd seen better days. The couch and armchair were upended and the glass coffee table's face was smashed in as if someone had taken a bat to it.
Zoe stared in horror at the blood trail she spotted — all thoughts of Rose, her mother, and the strange forest swept aside for the moment at the sight of it — near the toppled bookshelf by the winding staircase. Hundreds of books and a few treasured — now broken and useless — knickknacks, spilling out onto the plush — now stained — white carpet.
Feeling her mouth suddenly dry, she followed the trail of blood droplets up the carpeted stairs. The blood in the hallway led straight to August's office.
Seeing the thick, mahogany door was closed, she licked her dry lips nervously and tried to turn the fancy golden doorknob he'd installed. It started to turn but stopped halfway, obstructed by something. She tried pushing on the door but her father figure had barricaded himself inside somehow.
"August?" she called, feeling her pulse hammer away at her throat.
When he didn't answer her, she put her ear up against the door and could hear him, just barely, talking softly to someone.
Zoe didn't know what was going on anymore. None of this made sense, but she desperately wanted to be inside that room, see him up close. Hear his voice again.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, she felt herself slip like a ghost right through the mahogany door and the matching desk and bookshelf rammed up against it and into his office. She wobbled forward, almost falling into — through? — August's oblivious form.
He was leaning up against the opposite wall, facing the room's only exit. Smartphone pressed against his ear, and blood trailing down his arm from a cut on his hand. Deep red soaked the side of his usually fresh, pressed blue dress shirt.
The hand that wasn't holding his phone was pressing against his side wound.
So caught up in her horror at seeing the man who raised her hurt, she almost missed him saying gently into the phone, "Watch your Doctor Who and fall asleep to it. Think about the Doctor and his world. Imagine what it would be like to be in his world. Let yourself feel it in your very being."
He was talking to her other self, she realized. He was talking to the other her on the night that started everything, and yet, she was standing. Right. There.
Distantly, she was aware of the almost hysterical pitch to her thoughts.
"August? " She tried to touch his shoulder, but her hand slipped right through him. "Dad, please, I'm right here. Look at me!"
August didn't say anything. Didn't even look at her or react to her hand passing through him. His wary, tired blue eyes never strayed away from the barricaded office door.
"Yes!" he said into the phone, firm conviction in his voice. She heard herself say something back, then he said it again more gently and with a chuckle that sounded more sad than amused.
Zoe wandered up close, so she was standing right in front of him. There was no recognition in his gaze. He just continued to stare straight ahead, right through her at the room's only exit. He seemed to be waiting for something. Or someone...
"You must!"
The outburst pained and sharp, draw her attention back to his face, and now that she could read his expression, she recognized the fear in his voice.
Here he was bleeding onto his office floor, and he was afraid. For her. Just because she'd said she didn't want to think about the Doctor, didn't want to sit and watch TV while he might be dying somewhere.
Why?
That question seemed to slam into her full force.
Why did August want her to find the Doctor?
Looking at him now, seeing his fear, finding the hand pressed firmly against his wounded side with her hazel eyes, she knew he knew she'd wake up in the Doctor's universe if she followed his instructions.
So why?
Why was he more afraid of her staying in this universe with him than dying of blood loss?
The answer, it seemed, came in the form of a loud…
Bang!
Head whipping to the side fast, she saw the office door crash open, or try to. The bookshelf standing in its way fell to the side from the force. The heavy desk, the only thing left to offer resistance against whatever wanted through that door, held strong…
But for how much longer?
Zoe flinched, as the office door swung open again and again, fast and hard, little by little. The momentum was pushing the desk further out and away from the door each time the door was forcefully opened and closed.
Without realizing it, she had slid closer to August, unconsciously seeking his protection, even though he couldn't even see her.
What blood was in her father figure's face had drained away. His fingertips turning white from gripping the smartphone hard.
"Forget about me, dear," he said into the phone to the other Zoe, an urgency she hadn't heard before coating his voice. "I am old, and you are young, much younger than you realize."
She knew her other self was confessing then that she'd always seen him as her dad, and though the fear remained on his worn face, something soft and affectionate lifted his lips into a warm smile that made her heart ache.
"And you are my daughter," he said, a long, shaky sigh that seemed to rattle his lungs with the effort, "no matter what anyone says."
The door burst open then with another loud and angry bang. This time August's desk went flying, crashing into the wall and breaking more than one expensive painting in the process.
In the same instant, August threw his phone against the rose-printed wallpaper to his left. The sound of the glass screen hitting the wall face-first and breaking lost in the sound of the desk's collision with the other wall.
She watched the action, stunned. The memory of the sudden silence sounding in her ear, sitting on her ugly, plaid couch all those nights ago, replaying in her mind at the sight.
Waltzing in then, calm as you please, as if he hadn't just forced his way into the room using inhuman strength, was a strange and dangerous looking man dressed in an all-black three-piece suit.
Strange because his hair seemed to be doing a pretty good Kakashi impression from the anime, Naruto, though his hair was silver-blond, shorter, and styled with gel. Despite the wild hairstyle, he looked more sophisticated than a certain Konoha ninja she knew.
Dangerous because the chaotic air of death and pain oozing from his tall frame was suffocating, as he strode in, long confident strides until he stood right in front of August.
Zoe inched back away from August toward the shadowed corner of the room. Even though she knew the stranger couldn't see her — her racing heart, sweaty palms and instincts were screaming for her to hide.
Hide.
HiDe.
HIDE.
"August, it has been a long time," the not-Kakashi said, surprising her with a slight Scottish accent. "I'd say it's a pleasure, but we both know that would be a lie."
Her father figure said nothing, though his lips pressed into a thin line. Instead, he groaned, sliding a little lower on the wall. His strength was waning now that he wasn't actively talking to her. Trying to be strong for her.
Leaning against the wall for support, he looked frail and weak. He looked like a man dying with no hope he'd live to see the next day.
She hated seeing him this way. Hated knowing there was nothing she could do to help him.
The stranger raised a bushy eyebrow and smirked, seeming to enjoy her father figure's pain. "I'm only going to ask this once, so listen closely. Where. Is. She?"
Zoe's eyes widened. He's looking for me. This man, whoever he is, is looking for me.
August only shook his head and closed his eyes, blood starting to bubble out of the corner of his mouth.
This is my fault, she realized.
"Of all the universes. Of all the planets. Your sister had to choose this backwater planet to hide on…"
In the next second, the eccentric-looking man stepped forward and wrapped a gloved hand around August's throat and pushed him up the wall, so his feet dangled a few inches above the office's hardwood floor. August grunted and wheezed for breath, grappling at the man's firm grip around his throat, but otherwise, didn't try to fight him off.
"Now tell me...WHERE. IS. MY. DAUGHTER?"
A startled half-scream, half-gasp ripped from Zoe's throat before she could stop it.
The man froze, tilted his head as if he was listening to something from a great distance, and Zoe slapped a hand across her mouth, feeling inexplicably afraid.
He can't hear me. He can't hear me, she chanted in her mind. I'm not really here. I'm just dreaming...or witnessing an event that's already happened somehow...He can't know I'm here.
But then the man smiled.
On any other man, that kind of smile would light up his face. Make him look handsome and charming. On this stranger, it left her with a sinking feeling of dread in her gut.
Still holding August up by the throat, the man turned and looked directly at her, his dark, chaotic green eyes shining with triumph.
"Found you."
For the second time that day — or was it the first time? — Zoe woke with a scream, shuddering and gasping, as fear and desperation spiraled through her.
The faint words, Chaos reigns, echoed in her mind in the man's voice. Your real father's voice, a cruel part of her mind whispered.
Where the words came from, she didn't know. She didn't remember him saying them to her before waking.
She sat up and was immediately sideswiped by intense nausea. Oh, yeah. I'm sick, she thought. How could she have forgotten that?
"Whoa. Slow down there," a voice said. "You look like you're going to hurl. Please don't hurl."
Wrapping an arm around her stomach, Zoe looked around and this time found herself exactly where she'd anticipated herself to be earlier. In a cell. A cold, damp one that smelled like an abandoned basement cellar.
Across from her, a young woman with long, dirty, and matted brown hair, stared at her with concern on her heart-shaped face. Patches of beige skin on her arms and on one side of her cheek were missing.
Suddenly, Zoe wanted to be sick for a different reason, and it must have shown on her face.
"Hey, it's alright. I know you're scared," the woman said. "I'm Hazel, by the way. Here, you can take my food. You look like you need it. Might help settle your stomach. Sorry, I don't have any water."
The woman - Hazel - held out a steel plate of what looked like a couple of pieces of stale bread and a slab of cheese.
Zoe eyed it for a moment but didn't reach for it.
"It's not drugged," Hazel said, sensing the reason for her hesitation. "Don't worry."
Not wanting to take it, but knowing she really needed it, she accepted the plate of food. "Thank you," she whispered.
She tore into the bread first and immediately felt a difference, as her body finally had food in her system to work with. Though she felt like she was starving, she tried to eat the meager offering slowly. Keyword: tried.
"Must have been some dream."
Zoe looked up sharply but didn't say anything.
Hazel blushed. "Sorry. It's just you were moving around and mumbling a lot."
"I don't know, but it felt real. Like really real."
"Aren't most dreams like that?" she asked.
Mind flash-backing to triumphant, dark green eyes, Zoe shook her head and suppressed a shiver. "Not like that."
Bread eaten, she picked up a slice of cheese. It tasted off like it was starting to mold. She forced herself not to think about it and shoved it in her mouth. Her mouth puckered at the bitter taste, but she kept chewing away.
With food in her stomach and nausea on its way out the door, she found thinking was so much easier. (Seriously, Jack, why couldn't you have just let me eat?!)
She believed, with all the confidence of someone who's watched the Time Lord do the impossible from the safety of her lumpy plaid couch, that the Doctor would save her.
She had to believe he'd come for her.
He burned up a sun just so he could say goodbye to Rose for crying out loud. In her mind, there wasn't anything he couldn't do if he put his mind to it.
She ignored the traitorous voice that whispered that the Doctor in that version of events had been in love with Rose, and she was no Rose, so why would he bother?
She shook her head in denial. It's not like he'd have to do anything like that to save her. He only needs to reverse the teleportation feed, and she knew he was clever enough to figure it out.
It was just a matter of when he reversed the feed, which prompted the question...
"How long have I been here?"
Hazel looked up at her and shrugged. "Not long. Five minutes? Maybe ten?"
"Really?" she said. It'd felt like hours in her dream — was it really a dream though? — and she'd only been awake for a couple of minutes. Three tops.
"Yeah. Cassandra's attendants dropped you here in a rush. They were freaking out about something. There were a lot of frantic hand gestures."
"Oh," Zoe said, remembering the sound of a gunshot and glass breaking. "I think Cassandra's brain tank was shot."
Hazel sat up straight, looking energized by the information. "No way! Please tell me it hit her brain."
"I don't know. I was unconscious at that point."
The woman's shoulders slumped, disappointed at the lack of information. "Oh."
Then her smile brightened the next moment, stretching the scarred tissue on her cheek. "Hey, if she dies, we'll be free!" She looks at Zoe, grinning. "Oh, you're so lucky. If she dies, you won't ever have to go under the knife."
"Uh, thanks," Zoe said, feeling uncomfortable. Would Hazel say that if she knew she was responsible somehow for Cassandra's slasher ways?
The sound of small pounding feet, racing to their cell, had both of the young women looking out the cell bars.
"Something must be wrong with Cassandra," Hazel said happily.
Then Zoe sensed the gentle tug of a teleportation beam locking in on her and looked down at herself. She was beginning to phase away.
Looking at Zoe's fading form, Hazel added, "On second thought, I think I know what's got their panties in a twist." Then she frowned. "You're escaping."
Knowing the Doctor must have reversed the feed, and she was seconds away from being beamed away, Zoe rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the other girl.
She ignored the girl's surprised "Oof!" and then muffled, "Hey! I'm not big on goodbye hugs, you know," and held on as tight as she could.
In the back of her mind though, she knew this shouldn't work — she was in the Doctor's arms when the teleportation beam took her, after all — but what good were her powers if she couldn't make the teleportation feed take a plus one?
She needed this to work.
Demanded this to work.
Please let this work!
Summoned back first, as the Doctor knew would be the case when he reversed the teleportation feed, was Cassandra, standing in the private observation deck she'd beamed out of.
As it turns out, Jack's bullet had missed her brain, only breaking the jar. Her attendants, in the last ten minutes or so she'd been gone, had replaced it with what looked like a giant Earth fishbowl.
Spilling out into the hall behind him were Jabe, her brothers, the Moxx of Balhoon, and other shaken guests, all of whom were eager to find the one responsible for their brush with death.
Zoe had yet to show up, and as the seconds ticked by, worry niggled at the back of his mind that he wasn't as clever as he liked other people to think he was.
No, no, she'll arrive soon, he reassured himself. The feed was linked to her as well, and he'd reversed it. She'll be here. And if she doesn't come, well, one problem at a time.
For now, he had a stupid ape problem to address. Even if said stupid ape happened to be a flap of skin on wheels.
Staring down the last human, he felt the cold disdain written all over his face. "Five billion years, and it still comes down to money."
"And power," Cassandra added with a smirk. "You can't deny the power wielded by the beautiful. Look at me! I am the last human, and I don't look a day over two thousand. Why? Because I am willing to pay the price."
"Funny," Jack said, from beside him, "cuz you just look like a piece of skin and lipstick to me."
Cassandra sniffed. "Oh well, what do you know?"
"Willing to pay the price," The Doctor repeated, his expression stilling — some who have seen this particular face on his previous incarnations have called it merciless. "How many people have you hurt in the name of 'paying the price?' How many people have you taken and killed for money? For looks?
"Call it what you like, Cassandra, but you are a murderer. Cold, plain and simple."
The last human scoffed. "Ha. That depends on your definition of people, and that's enough of a technicality to keep your lawyers dizzy for centuries. Take me to court, then, Doctor, and watch me smile and cry and flutter - "
"And creak?" the Doctor asked.
"And what?"
"Creak. You're creaking."
"What? Ah! I'm drying out!" The last human's skin, a cannibal butcher's version of a patchwork blanket, began to shrivel and shrink before their eyes. "Oh, sweet heavens. Moisturize me, moisturize me! Where are my surgeons? My lovely boys! It's too hot!"
The Doctor folded his arms and raised his hand in a What can you do? gesture. "You raised the temperature."
"Have pity! Moisturize me!" When no one moved to help her, she switched tactics. "Oh, oh, Doctor. I'm sorry. I'll do anything. I'll even give you back your mongrel girl."
"No need for that," an achingly familiar voice said, and he felt some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate at the sound, "when I'm right here."
His Zoe stepped forward, and the Doctor felt his two hearts skip a beat at the sight of her. Not for any other reason than the happy relief he felt with her back by side, safe and sound, of course.
Jack must have been feeling something similar because he was grinning outright at the brunette's sudden appearance. A visible warmth in his eyes the Doctor didn't like one little bit.
The Time Lord turned his attention back to his companion. She had color back in her cheeks and a fierce light back in her green eyes that had been missing the last time he'd seen her. It was good to see her standing tall under her own strength and power again.
Her wavy chocolate hair was a grade-A mess though, sticking up in places he imagined her bedhead would look like. Not that he'd imagined it, mind you.
And her I'm being incredibly clever up here and there's no one to stand around looking impressed t-shirt — and why did it feel like that quote was mocking him somehow? — might be wrinkled and could use a wash, but…
Wait, were those dirt and grass stains new?
The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the brown and green streaks on her shirt, then followed them to her arms and hands. There was dirt trapped beneath her fingernails.
He shrugged it off for the moment. It was just another mystery to solve later, and why did that just seem to come par with the course of knowing Zoe?
At least, the bloodstain on her collar made sense. The Doctor wouldn't forget the way she'd crumpled to the floor after banishing the Repeated Meme from literal existence, face as white as a sheet and blood trickling from her nose, any time soon. A sight he never wanted to see again.
Gaze flickering to her face, he saw she had dried blood under her nose. (Someone really ought to get her a washcloth or something.)
Then to his surprise, he saw a smaller woman with filthy long hair and a friendly heart-shaped face — though most people wouldn't see the gentle soul behind it for the chunk of skin missing from her right cheek — sticking close to Zoe's side.
Spying the patches of missing skin on her arms, he felt his jaw tense, as he realized just who Zoe had somehow brought back with her. Oh, that impossible, clever girl! She had rescued one of Cassandra's other victims.
"Please!"
The pitiful sound had the Doctor's attention pivot back to Cassandra, realizing the last human was now begging for mercy from the very person she'd abducted not even half an hour ago.
Zoe stared at her would-be murderer hard. At first, she seemed torn on what to do, but then a glint sparked in her hazel eyes — one he was alarmed to realize he was becoming very familiar with — and he knew then and there she was about to do something stupid and noble. Like try to save her.
He reached out, catching her hand in his, causing her to tear her gaze away from the dying last human. "Don't. Everything has its time and everything dies."
Her dark eyebrows furrowed together and her jaw clenched, but at least, she didn't rip her hand from his or look back at the last human.
Instead, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills, each willing the other to understand.
He wanted to say, You've only just learned about your powers. Don't you remember how erasing the Repeated Meme from existence took so much out of you? What do you think will happen if you try to use your abilities again so close to each other?
Her eyes seemed to say, I can't watch someone suffer and not try to help, even if that someone is a murderer like Cassandra.
In the end, their unspoken argument was interrupted by the last human's dying screech, "I'm too young to die!" and the sickening splat of skin and blood exploding everywhere.
Zoe flinched at the sound and what it meant, but she kept her gaze trained on the Doctor.
The Doctor's face remained impassive, feeling the universe was a better place without the last human in it, but knowing better than to say it aloud. Instead, he pulled Zoe in for a comforting hug and took the opportunity to remove a piece of shredded skin that had landed in her hair without her noticing.
Amidst the sounds of shocked screams and gasps came a loud, thrilled cry of "Yay! I'm free."
Both the Doctor and Zoe looked behind them in time to see the heart-shaped face girl pumping a triumphant fist in the air.
She caught them looking, but smiled unapologetically. "This is the best. Day. Ever!" She looked at Zoe and smiled wide, showing all her teeth. "She's dead now. It means we're free!"
Zoe barked out a laugh, surprise lighting up her face. "Yes, Hazel, we're free now."
Then the girl, Hazel, paused and looked at the brain — what was left of the last "pure" human — floating in an oversized fishbowl. "She is dead now...right?"
Concern and a knowing look flickered across Zoe's face, too fast for anyone, but the Doctor to notice. Before he could comment on it though, Jack swooped in out of nowhere and picked Zoe up, swinging her around and bringing a smile back to her face.
The Doctor did not grit his teeth at the sight.
"Zoe, Zoe," the insufferable paradox said, in a mock chiding tone. "You and I are having words once I get back to the present-you. You really had me worried there for a moment when you didn't reappear with Cassandra."
"I'm alright, Jack," Zoe said.
"You better be," he replied, and then pulled her in for a hug. When his hand started to drift down south toward her butt, the Doctor growled out, "Oi! Get your hands off her."
Infuriatingly, Jack only smirked at him before giving Zoe one last tight hug — both hands returning to her lower back — and stepping back.
Hazel watched all of this with a mischievous quirk to her lips. "Ooh, is this a love triangle? I love those kinds of stories!"
The Doctor's eyebrows raised up, feeling his ears and neck heat up. Judging by the becoming flush of Zoe's cheeks and the way she avoided looking at him or Jack, he wasn't the only one feeling embarrassed by other woman's words whether there was truth to them or not.
The skin-crawling-walking-talking-paradox, on the other hand, seemed to take the woman's words in stride. He grinned widely and winked at her. "Hello there gorgeous, what would you say to a love square romance?"
Zoe's face heated up even further, sounding scandalized. "Jack!"
Hazel blushed a little at Jack's proposition, touching her scarred cheek self-consciously, but then simply smirked. "I haven't known her long, but something tells me Zoe isn't the type to share."
The brunette in question swung around to her, gawking at the heart-shaped-face girl with what looked like embarrassed astonishment.
Jack guffawed. "Oh, I like you."
Hazel beamed back at him. "I like you, too. All of you, really." The girl stopped as a thought hit her. "Ooh, I know! We should have a party to celebrate Cassandra's death…" she trailed off, her eyes blowing wide at the sight of the abandoned buffet table - a haphazard mess from the violent tremors and explosions earlier. "Holy moly, that's a lot of food!" Without a further word, she ran off toward the buffet table, passing someone's forgotten baby tree sapling on a table nearby as she went.
All three of them watched the girl grab one of the surviving crystal plates and start loading it up with the not-Earth food with varying expressions of amusement.
Zoe, though chuckling to herself at the other girl's antics, also looked like she would like nothing more than to join her. Which reminded the Doctor of the unwanted lump of guilt sitting lodged in his chest he had so far refused to acknowledge.
He cleared his throat. "Zoe, I need to say something."
"Yes, Doctor?" she asked, tearing her gaze from the buffet table to look at him.
The moment those vibrant hazel-green eyes landed on him, he knew he was doomed.
"I'm sorry."
Zoe looked so astonished by the apology, she looked close to putting a finger in her ear and checking for earwax. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I shouldn't have dragged you out on an adventure so soon after stasis," the Doctor said, breathing out the words like a man sucks out poison from a snake bite. "You were in there an entire week. The least I could have done was make sure you ate first."
"Oh, Doctor," Zoe said, looking uncomfortable. "You're not responsible for making sure I eat. I should have taken better care of myself before accepting to time travel with you. If anyone knows what it's like traveling with you, I do."
The Time Lord had to suppress his eye roll at her reference to watching him - HIM! - on the telle.
"No, no, that won't do. When I accepted you as a companion on my ship, it meant watching over you. So to make it up to you, I'd like to make good on that trip to Disney World. You can eat as many turkey legs and pizza slices as you want."
Zoe looked up at him under her thick eyelashes, seeming to study him. He wondered if she knew how that look melted his resolve and made it harder to think clearly.
Finally, she smiled at him, still looking at him from under those damned eyelashes, and it did not fill his chest with a strange warmth. "Alright. Throw in some ice cream, fudge, and cotton candy, and it sounds like a date."
The Doctor grinned, and she grinned right back, and everything seemed to be back to the way it should be. The Doctor and Zoe together.
So when her gaze shifted to something just over his shoulder, and her smile slid right off her face, which was growing paler by the second, it had the Time Lord standing to attention at once. "Zoe, what is it?"
Even Jack's smirk, who had been watching from the sidelines, dropped off into an expression of alarm. "What's wrong? What do you see?"
Zoe only gripped the Doctor's hand tight enough to hurt. Her eyes locked on something behind him. "It wasn't a dream," she seemed to murmur to herself.
"What?" the Doctor asked, looking behind him and seeing nothing, but a crowd of aliens waiting for help to arrive. "Zoe, talk to me. What are you seeing?"
She looked up at him then, expression pleading for him to do something.
"He's here," she said.
Then she said two words, he never thought he'd hear again. "Chaos reigns."
Wooh! I know that was long, but I hope it was worth it. So much went down, and I'm eager to hear your thoughts. Please review, favorite, and subscribe!
For those who are worried because of the time gaps between posts, please know I have no intention of abandoning this story. Real life just gets busy and hectic and demands attention when all I want is to write fiction.
Also, am I the only one who thought Hazel has a cute personality? She just came onto the page that way.
And why is Jack such a flirt? I love it though.
For those who recognized the lyrics Zoe's mother sang to her, have a cookie. I'm no songwriter, so I borrowed lyrics from a song I used to listen to all the time in college. If you want to hear the full song, look up Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift.