AN: So I watched The Snowmen on Christmas Day and WOW. Just WOW. I'm sure I'm not the only one who ended up pointing and screaming at the screen. But it made me think. The Doctor didn't just lose the Ponds. In the past two years he had lost the Brigadier, one of his best friends since his second regeneration, and Sarah Jane, one of his most beloved and faithful companions since his third regeneration. Two people he had loved for a very very long time and were the last remaining companions from when he was really and truly happy. Before the War and before everything else. They were always there. Now they're not. And with River gone he has NO ONE left. No wonder he ran to Victorian London. The only human he really knows is Jenny and I don't think she really counts anymore considering how long she's been with Vastra. He did know these other two guys but I'm not sure they're still around. I'll have to more digging about that one.
I looked up Vastra on TARDISfiles and found out that she did a bit of traveling with the Fourth Doctor, so that's kinda cool. It explains how she knows him so well at least.
This is probably one of my first real Hurt/Comfort fics so we'll see how this goes. The disturbing part was that in order to get inspired enough to write AngstMuffin!Doctor was to watch "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant". That's weird.
Writing this as a companion piece to my other Vastra fic "Eurybia's Memory" because why not? And speaking of, I WILL continue that fic because it's awesome. I just need to do some more research which is hard. I'm not good with technothingies and stuff like that. But I will get through it somehow.
Got an outline done for "Cracks" and some random notes for the next storyarc so that'll hopefully get done soon.
For Vastra's backstory I decided that her native dialect would be a weird smoosh of Greek and other things, I'm still working on it but it seems to really suit the way I write her.
Translations:
Aíma= Blood
Dáskalos =Teacher
I know other people have commented on it in "Eurybia's Memory" and they'll probably comment on it here. Because Vastra is a Silurian I decided to give her a second set of eyelids, like other lizard species. Because it's cool and neat and the less human I make her the more fun she is. I think some are mistaking those eyelids for me talking about the Silurian Third Eye. Which Vastra's species of Silurian don't have. If anyone has any suggestions on how I can make the differentiation easier let me know.
Also, comment! Let me know how I'm doing. I became a Whovian back in July and I've been trying to catch up on my Classic Who, but if there are any Silurian and Valyard fans out there don't hesitate to sing out! Any help I can get would be amazing! And comment even if you don't have advice. Any words of encouragement will let me know I'm on the right track!
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White lips, pale face
Breathing in snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste
Light's gone, day's end
And they scream
"The worst things in life come free to us"
'Cause we're just under the upperhand
We fly to the Motherland
And it's too cold outside for angels to fly
Ed Sheeran- A Team
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Autumn sunlight streamed in through every window and it was oddly warm for October. Vastra and Strax had gone out on a job involving mail fraud, a cheating husband and a cod fish, not necessarily in that order. All of Jenny's plans for the day involved finishing a few letters and then catching up on that series by Sir Doyle and if he got one more thing wrong she was going to do something very rude and un-Victorian to him. She didn't so much mind the main characters being men but somethings just were not meant to be changed! Seriously. Where was the romance between the two main characters? For shame! Apparently Vastra had read all of the Sherlock Holmes books when she had traveled with the Doctor and now watching history unfold seemed to amuse her to no end. That and the gender change meant they could continue living in the shadows as they preferred it.
When she had made mention of the short stories about them the Doctor had given her a tooth-baring grin more reminiscent of his fourth self and said, "Well, just you wait until you see the movies." And she had to admit that Jude Law was a pretty good looking equivalent to herself and she had teased Vastra about her, quite clearly mad, counterpart relentlessly until her spouse had gotten fed up and pinned her to the corridor wall. Luckily the TARDIS had managed to materialize a broom cupboard not a foot away or they would have scandalized their poor Doctor more than they already had in the theater. Lucky for them River had been there to distract him with her own set of feminine wiles.
She had just settled down on the love seat near the window in the drawing room when the TARDIS wheezed into existence. It had been less than six months since they had seen the Doctor last and he never did give any warning. Sighing to herself she set the magazine down and waited. Nothing. The blue box sat there and was completely and utterly silent. No Doctor bounding through the doors. No Professor Song sauntering out with a flirt and a wink. Nothing. It took less than a minute for Jenny to realize that something was wrong. It wasn't like Demons Run where he had stuck his, then unfamiliar, head out the door to grimly inform her that he was collecting them for a trip and to arm themselves. Then he had slammed the door in her face just as she opened her mouth to ask why and she had spent the next few hours wondering what that was all about and waiting for Vastra to get home. This was a different sort of wrong, she could feel it.
Instinct honed by years of training and Vastra's firm guidance quickened her blood before she took a deep breath and smoothed her expression. She slid off the seat and hesitantly approached the blue box, gingerly placing a hand on the door. The usual humming vibration was lower, the tingle of the telepathic interface brought tears to her eyes as emotions that weren't her own thrummed through her mind. She got the distinct impression that the timeship was sad.
Pulling her hand away she cleared her throat and raised her chin, blinking quickly. Straightening her apron she knocked firmly.
"Doctor?" She called, "Doctor, are you alright?" She tried the handle and found it locked. She sighed and leaned her head against the door. The vibrations made her bones tingle and the sadness was there; deep and ancient like a bruise, sharp and stinging like a cut. She stiffened her resolve not to cry, tears of sympathy wouldn't help, but she didn't move away either.
"It's alright, dear..." She whispered to the sadness emanating from the sentient vessel, her hands gently tracing over the rough wooden shell, "You're here now. Everything's going to be fine..."
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When Vastra returned home the only plans for the evening involved a glass of Aíma and wine, a hot bath, and a certain warm-blooded mammal, not necessarily in that order. Strax took the horse to the stable and then went off to do whatever Strax did when he wasn't with them. She assumed something involving pubs and thugs, again not necessarily in that order.
Her plans to lick wine and sweat from her mate's navel and thighs in front of the fireplace, while her mask of Victorian restraint shattered from pleasure, changed when she saw the blue box sitting in her drawing room. A distressed Jenny was wringing her hands at her, the mask of Victorian restraint cracking at the seams with worry.
"There's been no word. Nothing. It's been almost four hours now. And she's sad, so very sad." She said. Vastra sighed, gently ran a finger down her spouse's cheek in a way that made her smile, and then reached into her pocket for her key.
The key had changed a few times since she had received it, as had the appearance of the box and her pilot. At the height of his existence, in the prime of his life, the key had been rather large, with an intricately detailed Seal of Rassilon imprinted on it and had hung on a lovely silk cord as a symbol of his status as President Elect. He'd go through strange phases between immensely proud of his position or immensely irritated by the stupidity of the politics in his own people. It had been a rather alarming day when the key had abruptly changed into a simple brass piece, tarnished and beaten on a tattered thread. Now it was slightly shinier, as was the TARDIS and her pilot, slowly healing from the war. He had his ups and downs, as did most veterans of horror, but with him it was so much harder to bring him back when he went to the dark places in his head. His happiness was so much rarer and shorter than it had been before and she worried for him.
Recently it was almost like they were falling backwards into the dark places again and that was a very bad sign. Despite what he told her, time line collapses and the war she firmly believed that the Valeyard was still very much a threat. Even more so now after so many loses and so many mistakes. Watching her friend sink into the depths of despair only heightened the belief that one day the universe would lose it's guiding light to the darkness he kept inside.
The door unlocked with a click under her hand, the interface making her second set of eyelids blink from the strange feeling of alien emotions intruding on her thoughts. Jenny had said she was sad, but that was only her brain translating what it could very basically understand. To Vastra's mind the feeling was that of being alone. Tribeless. Clanless. Mateless. Failure to protect the Tribe. Failure to defend the nest. She cocked her head to the side, keeping her third eyelid down, casting the console room in a dim wavery haze.
She had been taught to interact with the console interface as part of her therapy. The Doctor had been willing to try and help her overcome her issues by allowing her access to a larger telepathic entity. Her own rage, fear and sadness were dwarfed by a massive consciousness that saw everything and anything. Her species meant almost nothing in the face of the universe. She was tiny. Dust particles floating in sunlight. All things came to dust and everything died. It wasn't the fault of the tunnelers who broke through the aged and dilapidated outer wall of their shelter. They had only been catalysts, sacrifices for a greater purpose. Her sisters who had died from the collapse had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but their deaths had been completely painless. Their hibernation deep and crushing suffocation immediate. She was sad that they were dead and missed them bitterly, but more angry that they had died without accomplishing anything and it was that anger that had spurred her wrath. If she had kept her head and sought out help the situation would not have escalated the way it had and she was still paying penance to the workers she had killed. Sixteen warriors of Crios, three from the Eurybia clutch, and ten good human males had died and in the end it mattered not to the will of the universe. It had been a comforting and humbling experience and she had learned so much about her own place on the Earth and in the Doctor's life.
Greetings, Dáskalos She let her thoughts reach out. She let her vision focus. The console room was dim. The rotor and emergency lights the only things illuminating the dark. It was chilly, as if the pilot had let the temperature go to automatic, no longer needing to cater to the needs of temperature sensitive passengers. She breathed deep, flaring nostrils, opening her mouth and curling her tongue to taste the air. The quality was a bit stale, as if going through the same cycle. No one to breathe the air, no need for fresh. Life support had been turned down a few notches then. An automated feature to save power. Turning she met Jenny's concerned gaze.
"Stay here." She instructed softly, "I'll go check on him. Put on some soup and run a bath, as hot as you dare, warm the bed as well."
"Yes." Jenny murmured, subdued. Vastra smiled for her until she smiled back but it was a sad, muted thing.
She closed the door behind her and made her way up the stairs to the console. She had only been taught the very basics on what everything did, but she didn't really need to know in order to interact with it. Reaching out she touched the rotor.
"Emergency protocol seventeen, initiated." The light, precise voice of the Doctor echoed through the room, "Voice interface: Enabled. Telepathic interface: Enabled. Bioscan: Complete. Greetings, Vastra tou Crios kai Eurybia." A light flickered and there, standing next to the console, was a holographic projection of the Doctor.
"What is Emergency protocol seventeen." She stated without preamble.
"Emergency protocol seventeen." the voice of the Doctor answered, "In the event that the pilot is unable to return to the console while in flight after a period of twenty linear Primary Console hours, the capsule will enact emergency landing procedures according to the viable coordinates listed as safe zones."
"What are safe zones."
"Safe zones include coordinates to the locations of known personages with access to Voice Interface, Telepathic Interface, Bio Scan Clearance or a Key."
"So anyone who has traveled with the Doctor long enough to gain his complete trust is entered on a list of viable coordinates for emergency landings in the event of Emergency Protocol Seventeen." Vastra clarified.
"Correct."
"How long has the Doctor been away from the console?"
"Twenty-six hours, forty-seven minutes, fifty-two seconds linear Primary Console time."
"Why come here? There had to have been someplace closer. Someone with more access."
"There is no one else." Vastra blinked, yanked the monitor towards her, brought up the records for the last few landings and blinked again.
"It says here your last destination was England 2012! UNIT! Bannerman Road! Buckingham Palace! Even Torchwood would have suited! You have friends, good true friends in that area!"
"There is no one else."
"What do you mean no one else? Last I checked he had at least eight other contacts! The Lethebridge-Stewarts! Sarah Jane Smith! People who care about you! Not that I'm not glad to see you, it's been ever so long, but you were in the area! Why change course and come here?"
"There is no one else." Vastra had never understood the meaning of the phrase 'to feel your blood run cold' or 'to feel one's stomach drop' or even 'heart in the throat'. But she did know the feeling of dread. That sick feeling of knowing what the bad thing was and hoping beyond hope she was wrong. The last time she had felt this way she had been pulled for hibernation to find half of her tribe's complex buried under dirt and rubble.
"Where are the Ponds..?" She asked slowly. Carefully. Each and every companion the Docter ever traveled with was special in their own way and he loved all of them as much as he ever could. And the Ponds were very special. The first companions in over four hundred years the Doctor had honestly called family. Had claimed as family. The voice interface was quiet for so long that she almost repeated the question. The voice interface, when it answered, was so quiet that Vastra was no longer able to qualify it as a computer interface, but the Doctor in mourning.
"...gone..." She leaned against the console, sighing out a long keening breath. She had sparred with the Last Centurion while they had collected people for Demons Run. He was one of very few males she respected and considered comrade. He had looked her dead in the eye with a gaze so clear and old for a moment she thought she was in the presence of another Time Lord. When he spoke he commanded so much respect that it was as if he were a Silurian commander in his own right. That kind of respect was usually earned over the course of years and he had won it from her the moment he'd disarmed her. He had touched his blade to her throat with such control she'd felt the very tip slide between her scales to touch the tender flesh beneath. All without drawing a single drop of blood.
She never had the chance to know Amelia as well as she would have liked. Her reputation preceded her though and to inspire such loyalty in her mate was impressive. Even weakened by childbirth and whatever torture they had put her through she had still been a lovely, fearsome creature. Her firebird red hair echoing the fires inside.
Gone. Both gone. Well all companions had to leave sometime, that was the way it worked. They were human, they were mortal. Time didn't really exist in the TARDIS but then again, no one really spent all that much time in the TARDIS anyway. They would eventually age to the point that the Doctor could no longer bear to think about it and then they would go home for good. But from the taste of sadness it seemed as if it wasn't just them walking away or being dropped off. It wasn't the usual sort of ending with the promise of maybe seeing them again. This had been abrupt, brutal, without warning and, worst of all, permanent. Vastra stiffened, as a terrible thought struck her. If the TARDIS was here, dark and cold and silent, insisting that there was no one else left and nowhere else to land that could only mean-
"Where is Melody? Where is River Song?!"
The silence that answered was answer enough. Vastra sagged against the console, gripping the edges hard.
Young Melody Pond had been the Doctor's near perfect match for that regeneration. The cause of his brightest smiles and darkest expressions. He had brought her to visit many times and they double dated more times than she could count or remember at the moment. She had her father's steadfast loyalty and ferocious protective nature and her mother's flirty command. It didn't matter if it was her third regeneration, she resembled them strongly still. She had been Jenny's maid of honor at their wedding and Vastra had stood next to the Doctor as he leaned close to give her the one thing that would bind them together forever. They had known the risks. The Doctor had told her about the complexities of their time line though not the way those time lines would separate. Melody had confided her fear that one day he would look at her and ask her who she was to him. They had known going in that it wasn't forever. It couldn't be. She had given up her last ten regenerations for him and, though probably long lived, it would eventually end with her death.
No wonder the TARDIS interface was so emotive. She was merely echoing the emotions of her pilot amplified by their bond and leaking to anyone who had stepped through her doors. There were probably former and future companions, out there in time and space, that were looking out their windows or up at the sky and wondering why they were sad. Vastra took a deep breath. She would sing a dirge for them later. Her comrade needed her now.
"Where is he?"
Instead of answering a series of ceiling lights lit up down a hallway. With a last fond caress to the console she turned and began to follow those lights. It wasn't her imagination that the last thing she heard echoing from the empty console room was a very faint,
"Good luck."
