A long time ago, or in this case the future, Tristan was shot out of the womb straight into an all girl orphanage. She never had a mother and she never had a father.

She did, though, have many mother type figures to zip her dresses, buckle her shoes, and braid her hair. She had many mother type figures that had soft hands, soft voices, and soft hair that smiled and laughed and sang bedtime lullabies.

But she had no father or father type figures. No fathers to lift her in the air like she was a flying bird, no fathers to trim her hair at the rim of the sink, and no fathers to take her to the part to swing for hours on end. She had no father to try to be gentle like a mother, and she had no father to peek through the crack in the door at night when she fell asleep. And finally she had no father to pull her on his lap when she had a good long cry.

Even after 20 years, the whole in her heart never found anyone to fill it up.

The only thing that had distracted her from this hole was her ability to take control of any situation that fell into her hands. When she fell, she took herself to the nurse. When someone else made fun of her, she had no problem confronting that person. When a crazy woman from another planet enslaved giants, she cut their ropes and set them free. And when an alien masquerading as a human tried to mold her brainwaves, she had no problem scrambling his brains with the sonic screwdriver.

Now she was in France in the 1800s, lying in a bed that wasn't hers and wearing a dress that she couldn't walk in. All of that stuff never mattered because she was in control. But now the TARDIS had stopped translating for her, making the entire trip and situation the most confusing thing on the planet, or even in space and time. Therefore, she was no longer in control of anything that was could happen to her.

And that scared the living curse words out of her.

"You won't believe what I was just told," The Doctor walked in, closing the door behind him, "These folks want me to- Tristan?"

At the sound of her name and the sound of her native language, she quickly sat up.

"English?" She asked.

"Um…yes?"

"You're speaking English?"

"Yes, I always speak … English. Are you crying?"

"No." She said quickly and defensively.

"Looks like you are."

"Well I'm not."

"So…you were before?"

"No."

"Well then, let's get inside the TARDIS."

"Will it let me in?"

His eyebrows connected in an expression of confusion, "Of course it would…why wouldn't it?"

Unfortunately, Tristan was a young female in a state of panic, and since she was a young female in a state of panic, her answer made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

"I don't speak French." She replied before grabbing a pillow and digging it into her face.

"Well…I'll leave the door open in case you feel like coming in." His eyes lingered nowhere for a moment, and then they shot up towards the girl with the pillow face.

The corners of his mouth fell when he heard a whimper through the fabric and the feathers. He walked over to the edge of her bed and his hand was raised over her shoulder, but he didn't know whether or not to touch it, so he just let it fall back to his waist.

That's when something inside of him, from a place very deep in his Time Lord brain that he had not used for a very long time, leaped out and controlled everything. That something made his bum plop onto the edge of the bed and gently take the pillow off of Tristan's face. Then that something took his thumb and brushed the tears off her cheeks.

Then that something made him say, "Come here."

Another something inside of Tristan rose from that empty hole and made her scoot over, throw her legs across his lap and her arms around his shoulders.

And those two somethings connected and made her sigh on his chest and made him rest his chin on the top of her head.

While all of this was going on, Clive Étrange was sitting in his bedroom completely dumbfounded. During dinner, the Brainwave Synthesis Machine that was hidden away in a locked drawer in his wardrobe that began to work. The tiny green lights were solid green, not blinking green, solid green. And in almost any time period of the Earth, solid green means go.

He laughed like a mad scientist, "Darling! Darling wake up!"

There was no response from his wife.

He rolled his eyes, this happened all the time. He got up from his chair and walked over to the bed right beside his wife's ear.

"DARLING, I'VE GOT IT WORKING." He shouted in her ear, "WAKE UP."

Nothing.

"LINDA! I SAID, WAKE –"

He never got a chance to finish because right then, his wife's eyes shot open, and so did her body. Her hard head never stopped moving forward, even when it collided with his and knocked him to the ground. She tossed her legs over the side of the bed and walked by her husband who was squinting and rubbing his forehead, which was now turning a bright shade of red.

She smiled and held the Brainwave Synthesis Machine in her hands, "Excellent."

The two Hypnotics giddily ran out into the hallway with the device. They stood outside one of the large rooms where a group of their guests were sitting around drinking wine.

"Hold on to this," He whispered and shoved the machine into her hands "I'm going to call someone out here."

"Salut!" He greeted everyone at the doorway, "Er, George, J'aimerais parler avec toi pour un petit moment s'il vous plait."

George, whose figure gave away the fact that he enjoyed eating loads of cheese, put down his glass of wine and walked out into the hallway with Clive.

"Oui?" he smiled.

"Good luck to you." Clive said and stepped back, letting his wife point the Brainwave Synthesis Machine straight at George's forehead.

George immediately presented a confused expression, but before he could open his mouth to utter anything, a thin stream of green light was gliding from a tiny hole on the top of the machine right into George's head. After the light was gone, there was no evidence on his head, such as a burn mark, that showed that his brainwaves were now in the hands of another.

George's eyes were wide open, and so was his mouth.

"Close that." Clive said and George's mouth closed.

"Absolutely brilliant!" Linda squealed in excitement.

"Alright, alright," he sighed, calming down, "George, go back inside that room and flash everyone your knickers."

The two Hypnotics snorted, squealed, shed tears, and flailed their limbs as the poor man obeyed them.

"Feeling better?" the Doctor smiled.

"Much, thanks." Tristan smiled back as she stepped out of the TARDIS in a white t-shirt and black trousers.

"Want to go sneak around now that you can move your legs?"

She did nothing but nod and follow him out.

"So these Étranges right, they want me to fix their Brainwave Synthesis Machine so they can control the royal family and take over the world. How ridiculous right? So I told them fat chance," he informed her as they were strolling down the hallway, "wait, what is that?" he stopped their trek with an arm across her shoulders.

They both popped their heads around the corner and saw the two adult Étranges laughing like school children that pulled down a classmates shorts in gym class.

"Those two are the worst bad guys I've ever seen." She whispered and the two time travelers backed away.