[A/N: I prefer to do as little of these messages as possible, but I still wanted to throw one out there for the lovely comments. Thanks, here's a new chapter! 3]

Chapter 3: Stars

Mike wasn't quite sure he understood the feeling of loss, until he did.

What was there to say about it? All of it, the faith he had, the hope of finding Will, the trust he'd put in Eleven, it had all been shattered by that small, yet seemingly endless amount of seconds. Normally he wasn't the one to give up so easily, let alone he was so eager to admit he'd been wrong all the time, but this time… this time was just different. Somehow, the presence of the weird woman had made it all worse. Was it because there was one more person to see how they pulled Will's lifeless body out of the water? Or because there was one more person to witness his outburst against Eleven? In all fairness, he just couldn't help it. The sight of his friend's dead body had unleashed a feeling of utter sadness inside of him, to a point where he just abreacted all of it at the first person he could find. Later thinking about it, it was possibly the stupidest thing he could've done, but he didn't care. She had lied to him. He didn't want to believe it and he really wanted to believe that this wasn't the end of it, that Will wasn't dead, that there was at least a possibility that things turned out to be different in the end. Yet… he had a slight feeling it was false hope.

And so he cried.

The woman had taken all of this in with a new instinct she had found in the reassembling mass of cells that was currently her mind and body. It was an ancient instinct, which felt far more familiar to her than she was comfortable with. The sight of the dead boy had meant nothing to her; just another addition to the stockpile of horrific deaths she had witnessed in her long, sometimes more painful than happy life. She was ashamed to admit it, but perhaps it was not true you would never get used to death. Maybe, after all the destruction and pain, you would eventually be unable to make out the thin line between light and darkness. Had it really come this far?

But with a well amount of relief, she also realized that – although this old instinct was a distinct part of her – it certainly wasn't the most defining one. She did feel sorry when she saw he heartbroken faces of the boys, the way all the life seemed to seep out of them. In some way, it angered her as well. She liked challenges after all, but it seemed like every challenge so far always had to involve a drastic loss on her side – and this time she didn't even have the familiarity of her TARDIS or companions to lean on. Everything was new, everything (or at least quite a load of it) was hostile, and not for the first time (although she found no comfort in this detail), she was truly afraid to lose.

But she would try.

And you could bet on that.

Of course, the shock that had gripped him after the discovery at the quarry hadn't left much room for sensible thinking, neither did he really feel like hiding two people in his basement, but he didn't have much of a choice. Neither Dustin or Lucas wanted to take up the challenge (although Dustin had shown a particular interest in hiding the woman under his bed so that they could chat about space and time all night), so Mike eventually agreed, and let both Eleven and the woman into his house. Eleven immediately crawled back into her little bedspread tent, only to boost up the walkie-talkie and start toying with it again. Fortunately, the woman was getting a bit less enthusiastic as she retreated to one of the couches in the room, drifting away in her own thoughts as her face contorted in a thoughtful frown. He could see she had trouble with sitting still, but he was just thankful she was quiet. It had impacted her as well, yeah, he'd noticed, but he still wasn't quite sure how to feel about her. Generally, how were you supposed to feel about a so-called alien who fell from the sky? As if one strange girl wasn't enough…

In the end, he just felt tired. He sat on the couch and blankly stared at the darkness on the wall at the other side of the room as he tried to ignore the noise of the walkie-talkie. After what could have been one hour, the woman had finally gotten up and now strolled around the room as she mumbled to herself. She suddenly stopped and, rather uninvited, started to rummage around in one of the boxes.

"Hey, could you stay away from that?" Mike asked. "That's not yours, you know?"

"So sorry. I'll put it back, promise. Just need somethin' to occupy myself with." the woman answered. She dove further into the box and came up with Nancy's old transistor radio. "There. Mind if I fiddle around with this for a bit?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Go ahead. Just don't make a mess of it."

"Thanks. I wouldn't ask it if it wasn't necessary, but my thoughts could use a bit of a distraction."

She sat down and proceeded to tear the back off the old machine, her tongue sticking out between her lips. Well, there he had it. Trying to process the death of his best friend in a mushy basement with two girls messing around with some dumb appliances. Could it get any worse?

After a couple of minutes, the woman put the radio on the floor and sighed, blowing a couple of strands from her face. "No, that's no good."

"You done?" Mike mumbled.

"Sort of. Well, yeah. I gave it a little upgrade. It can now transmit all five kinds of brainwaves. Nice practice, but it hasn't worked at all. I'm still stuck."

"Well, good for you… Can you please stop that?"

He casted Eleven an annoyed glance. She looked up from the walkie-talkie, an innocent shimmer in her eyes. "I thought we were friends, you know? You said it yourself. Friends tell the truth, and they definitely don't lie to each other." He felt his blood starting to boil. "You made me think Will was okay. But he wasn't, and he wasn't out there, either. Maybe you thought you were helping, but you weren't. You hurt me. Do you understand?"

Eleven continued to stare at him, not daring to say anything. "What you did sucks," Mike said, turning away from her and curling up on the couch. "Lucas was right about you. All along."

It went quiet for a bit, until Eleven started fiddling with the walkie-talkie again, though it sounded a little lower this time. She seemed ashamed, cheeks coloring red as she did her best to keep her eyes down. Sure, she understood that he was angry, but it still hurt knowing that she had hurt him. Those nasty words reminded her of papa. Of the Bad Men, and the lab. She shivered.

The sudden voice that broke the silence came from neither Mike or Eleven, though, it was the woman who spoke up: "Why are you givin' up?"

Mike turned to her. She was standing up, hands stuffed into her pockets.

"What?"

"I asked why you're already givin' up. You know, sayin' your friend is dead."

"Didn't you see the body? That speaks pretty much for itself, doesn't it?" He turned again. "He's gone. Now leave me alone."

The woman seemed to think for a minute, then walked over to the couch and sat down in front of it, cross-legged. "Well… do you believe he's gone or do you know he's gone?"

"What's the difference?"

"Quite a lot, actually." The woman stared into her lap. For a second Mike swore he could see a shadow passing over her face… then again, he couldn't see it clearly as he was just staring from the corner of his eyes.

"I know it's different to comprehend this, Mike, but I'm old. Very old. There are big chunks I still can't remember, but I do remember that I've spent a big part of that long life under the assumption that everyone I loved and cared about was gone. Just gone. I even believed I was the last of my kind. I wasn't even hopin' that they were still out there somewhere, because I knew they were gone. Do you understand?"

"I suppose so…" he said, a bit timidly.

"Well, and that's were I learned that there was a clear difference between believin' and knowin'. Because I discovered that all along, I was wrong. They were still out there. I just thought I knew that they were gone, but that was a mistake. I was actually just believin' they were gone, which is a pretty daft thing to do on its own, if you ask me. Makes sense?"

"Right."

The woman smiled. "There. As long as you keep in mind that hope is a valuable thing, Mike. This friend of yours, John –"

"Will."

"Will. Terribly sorry. Do you think he would want you to give up that easily?"

"I don't know." Mike sighed. "I suppose not. But it's difficult, you know, I mean, the body –"

"You should forget about the body for a sec. Seen lots of bodies, some of them meant nothin'… and they didn't look quite right, for that matter. Do you believe he's still alive?"

He barely dared to look into the woman's eyes, but he couldn't help it – he was practically drawn to them. It was strange. He didn't knew eyes could carry an age, at least, they didn't became more sagged and wrinkled like your skin would when you became older, but for a second, he didn't doubt that this woman was an ancient alien from some kind of lost civilization – her eyes were old. Very old.

"Yeah," he said. "I think I do."

And as if his confession was the trigger for a next line of events, the walkie-talkie suddenly cracked and sputtered to life as it started to emit strange sounds. He couldn't believe his ears. From the device came the shivering, almost inaudible voice of a boy, who softly sang: "So come on and let me know… Should I stay or should I go? Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble… If I stay it will be double…"

"Is that…?" Mike nearly tumbled over the couch as he made his way over to Eleven, practically crashing into the tent as he grabbed the walkie-talkie. "Hello? Hello? Is that you, Will? Do you copy? Over!"

He shook it a couple of times, but it had gone silent, now only emitting a low static. He looked at Eleven. "Was that…"

"Will," she said, her face glowing. The silly look of surprise and happiness that returned to his eyes made her feel warm inside. She could not help but cast the woman a bit of a proud grin as well – and she nodded, showing her appreciation.

"Can you make him come back? Can I talk to him?"

"I don't think it works that way," the woman said, kneeling down. "Likely a one-way street. Can I have a look?"

"Sure." He gave her the walkie-talkie and she proceeded to fidget with it, turning some buttons. "No, it won't transmit. She must've tapped into some kind of telepathic grid."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know!" she answered, rather cheerfully. "But I'll have it figured out in a bit. Some time. Couple of days, maybe." She looked up. "You should get to bed, Mike. Try and have some rest. You might need it to persuade George and Ringo –"

He rolled his eyes. "Dustin and Lucas, ma'am."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. Gonna need some time to adjust to that. Anyhow, you'll know what to do."

"Yeah," he said. He bit his lip, not really daring to look Eleven in the eye – but he just needed to get it over with. After all, he had been a real jerk. "Sorry, El. I should have believed you. I just was upset."

She gave a short answer, but he was surprised about how right the words were. "Thank you. I understand."

"Ya." He nodded, slapped his knees and got up. "I suppose I'll see you guys in the morning then."

"Night," Eleven yawned.

He went on his way to the staircase, but before he reached the last couple of steps, he turned around one more time. "One more question, though."

"Shoot." the woman said.

"How did you know that was going to work?"

"I didn't." She smiled. "Goodnight, Mike."

"Yeah, 'night." He yawned as well, feeling the full fatigue now finally creeping up on him. She was probably right. He was going to need a lot of energy to convince Dustin and Lucas to come over, but he'd make sure they would. You could bet your ass.

He just hoped he'd get enough sleep tonight.

Eleven gasped for breath as she sat up, drops of sweat dripping down her burning forehead. She recognized the bedspreads and the warm light that came from behind them, but the contortions just wouldn't stop. She closed her eyes and opened them again, drawing deep breaths as she fought against the panic. At last, her body finally became aware of its new surroundings, and she slowly started to calm down again. She listened for footsteps or other noises. Maybe someone had heard her. Maybe Mike would come down to comfort her. She'd like that.

Mike didn't come, but she did hear some other noise. She carefully lifted the bedspread on the front, hands trembling, her sweat-soaked sweater sticking to her back. She saw the woman, who was sitting on a box in the far corner of the room, zealously absorbed into messing with whatever the strange device she was holding was. "There… finally got ya, pesky little…"

There suddenly was a loud zap and Eleven flinched as a bright flash shot from the device. It hit the woman straight in her face, launching her from the box as she let out a surprised yelp. She landed in the corner, with her legs and their torn pants sticking in the air, like a pair of ridiculous flag poles. Eleven watched in shock. She was fairly certain the woman was dead (or at least incapacitated, a word papa had tended to use often), until she could hear a slight groaning. "And now I remember," the woman muttered, sitting up. "Never try to give toasters a gamma boost." She frowned. "Why did I want to make radioactive toast in the first place? Sexy, what did I – oh. That's right. Missin' somethin' there…"

She finally laid eyes on Eleven, who was still peeking from under the bedspread. Lowering her head so that she was on the same level (and nearly making El giggle as she now looked like some kind of oversized cat), she piped up: "Well, hello there. Are you alright? You don't seem alright. Hang on –"

Before El could do anything, the woman had already made her way over to her, kneeling down and peeling the cloth back. "There. Oh, look at you, you're soaked. What's wrong?"

She reached out, causing El to quickly crawl back, staring up at her with big eyes. "Hey, no need to get scared now," she said, gently. "I just want to help you."

She was still a bit hesitant, but she allowed the woman to help her out of her sweater, then shuddered as she wrapped her ragged coat around her. That felt good. The coat was surprisingly comfortable and the filling was soft against her skin. It also smelled nice, but she didn't exactly know what the scents were or what they meant – they were nothing like the sterile odor of the lab.

"There, that's better, isn't it?" the woman said, smiling with utter delight. Eleven nodded, her face now slowly easing into a somewhat relieved smile as well.

"So… do you mind tellin' me what's wrong…?"

El swallowed. "Bad dreams."

"Oh, right. I hate bad dreams," the woman said, pulling a funny, disgusted face. "Well, I don't seem to sleep much anyway, but they're still the worst, don't you think? If you don't mind me askin'… what did you dream about?"

"Home. Bad place."

"Huh." The woman seemed confused. "What do you mean? Home, or a bad place?"

"Home is a bad place," El replied, a bit quietly.

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry to hear that. I can't imagine what that must be like, honestly… or sort of. But you're safe here, right?"

El nodded. She wanted to add a couple of words – for now – but strangely, she didn't want to give the woman more things to worry about. She supposed it was because she was slowly starting to warm up to her, but for some reason, there seemed to be a deeper connection… although she didn't want to think about that now.

"That's good to hear. 'Spose it's kind of a nice place. A tad kitschy, but nice."

"Is your home a good place?"

The woman didn't immediately answer – the question must've surprised her. "Well I… uh, I… yeah, I 'spose it is." Suddenly, her entire face seemed to lighten up in some kind of realization; she had gotten an idea. "Say, how about… how about I tell you about my home? You know, to forget about the bad dreams?"

El just nodded, watching in surprise as the woman jumped up and raced to the boxes, starting to trash around in them. "I swore I just saw somethin' lyin' around here… ah right, there it is." She picked it up to inspect it. "Brilliant!"

With the mysterious object clenched under her arm, she ran off to the light switch. Eleven's breath hitched as it suddenly became dark, the blackness filled with all sorts of thumps and booms as the woman rummaged through the room. After a few seconds, though, she was treated to the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. The woman had placed a kind of light orb on the ground, which projected a whole dark sky filled with little bright spots all over the room. The woman could barely contain her enthusiasm as she sat down next to the girl again. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Eleven said, mouth agape. "Pretty."

"Now then," the woman began, bringing her voice to an excited, low tone. "Those small lights are called stars. The most magical and beautiful things in the universe, if you think about it. Just imagine billions and billions of balls out there, all burnin' up until they explode and become new stars. Right in front of your eyes. And all you have to do to see them is wait until it's night, go outside and look up. Well, not if it rains, of course. Rain spoils everythin'. But just think about it… all that beauty, just waitin' for you to look up and open your eyes. Almost like magic, don't you think?"

"Outside?"

"Yeah," the woman said, suppressing a giggle. "And somewhere driftin' between the stars are we – well, right now. Planet earth."

"Home?"

"Well, your home. Not quite my home. I mean, I like to think that my home is just between those stars, but…" She sighed. "It's a bit far away, but… somewhere out there is another star, the brightest of them all. Well, it's not quite a star, but I like to think it is. That's Gallifrey."

"Gallifrey?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "If I got the name right, at least. Memory's still a tad unreliable. But if I'm correct, that's my home. With red skies, and endless golden plains, and the majestic citadel… That's where most of my people live."

"Bad people?"

"No, not really… but they have their flaws, even though they would hate to admit that fact. I say, for a noble race that has mastered the power of time-travel and dimension-engineerin', their arrogance is practically ageless."

The woman chuckled a bit.

"Mouth breathers," El muttered. That simply made her cry out in laughter – and the girl grinned as well.

"Yeah, I 'spose," she giggled, wiping the tears out of her eyes. "Mouth breathers… best term I've heard so far, to be honest. Anyway, I think it's better if you try to get some sleep. Mike will probably need you tomorrow."

"Okay," she said. The woman noticed the hesitant look on her face and nodded reassuringly. "I don't think you'll get any more bad dreams tonight. I'll be here, don't worry. And I'll keep the stars on. You know, I could really watch them for hours –"

Eleven yawned and laid down, retreating under the coat before the woman could continue. Eventually, she smiled, leaning back and putting her hands under her head as she stared up to the ceiling.

Yeah, maybe she should just keep watching them for a bit.