Author's Note: Once again, I want to extend a huge thank-you to everyone who reviewed! I've been saying this left and right, but your feedback means a lot to me and I hope I was able to live up to your expectations with this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

The first time that the Doctor lost a child, he was in his eighth incarnation and had just returned to Gallifrey. The Daleks had launched their first attack on the planet and dropped a slew of bombs on the city of Olyesti. His second-oldest son was among the dead.

The second time he lost a child, the war was on and the countryside was being torn to bits. His wife and youngest son were taken from their home and shot until they ran out of regenerations.

The third time he lost a child, they were in battle. Several TARDISes had fallen into the jaws of the Nightmare Child and dozens were lost. His third-oldest son and granddaughter were never heard from again.

The fourth time he lost a child, he was evacuating the Academy as a fleet of Dalek ships descended upon them. He was blown into his ninth regeneration while his only daughter was blown into pieces.

The fifth time he lost a child, he was piloting his TARDIS away from the remnants of Gallifrey. He had just executed billions. He tried to forget that his oldest son was among them.

The sixth time he lost a child, he was well into his tenth life and had inadvertently landed on the war-torn planet of Messaline. A girl was artificially born from his DNA against his will. He had called her a soldier, a clone, a generated anomaly, an echo. She was biologically his and a perfect stranger all at once. He refused to be her father until the very end, and yet she still took a bullet for him.

The Doctor was used to watching people die. He was used to the crushing guilt that accompanied his failure to save a life. He was used to losing the people he loved, and he was used to burying children who were far too young. It should be impossible for anyone to cheat death like this.

He could have heard incorrectly. He must have. The earpods were malfunctioning, after all. He knew what he saw on Messaline. Jenny had died in his arms with no signs of regenerating. It could not be possible for her to be in the wreckage of that ship. But if there was one thing that he had learned over the last nine hundred years, it was that the universe loved to challenge his definition of "impossible."

He didn't want to get his hopes up. He shouldn't even let himself get his hopes up. But sometimes everybody lives, the Doctor thought as he frantically tore through the Torchwood medical facility. Maybe they could come back from the dead, too.

The first thing she noticed was the horrendously purified smell. There were no specific properties, or rather, there were no specific properties that her brain could identify at the moment. It was a challenge to open her eyes, much less pick out the chemical compounds in the air. All she knew was that the air smelled incredibly clean, as if she was trapped inside a vacuum. Cold, fresh, and disturbingly clean. Jenny had absolutely no idea where she was—it couldn't be her ship—but the obvious lack of microbes was quite off-putting.

She inhaled and opened her eyes, only to squeeze them shut again. Okay, definitely not her ship then. The cabin of her ship was white, but not this white. This was a blinding, surgical white devoid of any scuffmarks or imperfections that made it feel like home. Given her inherent inclination towards militaristic procedures, Jenny considered herself to be a very tidy person. This however…was unnaturally spotless. She felt the need to scratch the walls or something just to break up the unsettling monotony of it all.

After squinting and getting herself accustomed to the harsh lighting, Jenny did a quick inventory. No missing limbs or broken bones, no apparent internal injuries, vision not impaired, and (she quietly inhaled and listened for the air rushing into her lungs) her hearing did not suffer any damage. Without sitting up, she gently ran her right hand over her face and cringed when her fingertips touched a patch of gauze. A laceration of undetermined severity at the hairline…her brain activity was normal thus far, so likely not serious. A couple of stitches, perhaps, but otherwise she was in good shape. Excellent shape, really. Jenny frowned and tried to understand why this came as a surprise.

She carefully brought herself into a sitting position. She was in some kind of medical bay, and a web of red-and-black wires snaked out of her shirt into a machine on her right. Jenny ran through her mental checklist in an effort to identify the contraption and her eyes widened upon realizing that it was a heart monitor. Survival instincts kicked in and she reached into her shirt, trying to pull the sticky patches from her chest. Nobody could figure out how her binary vascular system worked. That was practically Rule Number One. She'd learned that the hard way years ago, and her father had reiterated that rule more than once—

Jenny froze and backtracked through her memories. Where's Dad? The question bounced around in her head, partly out of her instinct to keep fellow soldiers alive and mainly out of pure and simple familial love. Where was he? She was just with him; she was talking to him through her ship's radio. He was in the TARDIS a short distance ahead of her and they were running, like they always did. She was alone in this medical bay. Was he in a similar room nearby? Were they questioning him, or worse, studying him? He must be injured, or he would have come to her aid by now. It was the only explanation. She refused to consider the alternative.

With newfound resolve, Jenny ripped off one of the wires and surveyed the room. None of her belongings were in the vicinity and she swallowed her panic upon realizing that her gun was also missing. She could make do without it for now. Anything could be a weapon if she held it right. The bed sheet could strangle someone. She could rip off a piece of the heart monitor and use it as a club or knife. As soon as she got out of here, she could easily take down a guard, steal his gun, and find her way back to the ship.

She yanked another wire off her chest. One more to go and GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME!

Jenny shrieked at the top of her lungs as four strangers pinned her down to the bed by her extremities. She thrashed against them, but even with her superior strength, they were just a little too much. "Get off," she snarled, heaving her torso off of the mattress as a dark-skinned female began to reattach the wires. "Get off of me!" She craned her neck and tried to bite down on the woman's hand. It wasn't her finest mode of defense, but it would have to do.

"Jenny, stop moving, or I'll have to sedate you," the woman said firmly.

No sedatives. Fight them off. Get out. She managed to free her left leg and delivered a lightning-fast kick to the nearest doctor. She kept it moving, swinging at anyone who came too close and working to free the rest of her body. She grit her teeth as a sharp needle pierced her right thigh, and her muscles immediately began to relax. No no no no get off me no no no…Jenny's thoughts clumped together until there was nothing left but sheer panic. So stupid let my guard down never let your guard down a good soldier doesn't let their guard down stupid stupid get me out stupid.

Her arms and legs were curiously heavy, as if her blood had been replaced with metal. She blinked back frustrated tears and fought against the chemicals regulating her uneven breathing. Never allow the enemy to see a display of weakness.

The restraining doctors stepped back, leaving the dark-skinned female, who was calmly reattaching the heart monitors. As soon as her job was done, she carefully inspected the gauze on Jenny's forehead. "Your forehead looks fine," she said with clinical detachment. When she spoke again, her voice was kinder. "Can't have you popping those stitches now, can we?"

Jenny couldn't tell if her blank expression was a product of her own free will or the sedatives, but she went with it regardless. "Where am I?" she said flatly. Her jaw was slack and her words muffled, as if she was speaking through a wad of cotton balls. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled faintly. "Doctor Martha Jones. I've been taking care of you," she said. "Do you remember how you got here?"

Memories assaulted Jenny's brain, coming at her so quickly that she could barely decipher them. There was a high-pitched ringing, horribly intense heat, and she couldn't tell which way was up because the ship was spiraling out of control—

"I'm trying to lower the shields, hold on!" she screamed into her radio…

"C'mon, Jenny, we have to go!" her dad shouted back at her…

"I'm trying!"

The ship was falling apart, she was trying to escape, and something was after them. It crashed into her, and there was a horrible explosion as if her ship was on fire, and she had to get out…And suddenly the TARDIS was dangerously close to her ship, flying alongside the escape hatch, she could see it through the window…the door was open and she could see a wild-haired woman flying around the console while her dad stood in the doorway…

"Just jump!" he shouted with his arms outstretched, "I'll catch you!"

Her ship lurched and she was thrown away from the hatch…

"Jenny? Jenny, it's okay, you're safe now. It's okay, we've got you."

She breathed and focused. Never show weakness. They were memories; they could help her determine her situation. Don't get caught up in the emotion. She had to find her father. She forced herself to focus on the here and now, and she looked up to see that another woman was standing alongside Martha Jones. The second woman had dark blonde hair and she was wearing a sturdy black jumper with dark trousers. This woman was no doctor: everything about her screamed defense. Not quite military, but close. Jenny beat down a wave of kinship and stared at the woman with hard eyes.

The woman gently touched Jenny's hand, still limp from sedatives. "I'm Rose," she said. "Do you remember me?"

"My name's Rose Tyler. We're going to help you, okay?"

"You were in my ship," Jenny murmured. She tried to pull her hand away but the sedatives were still too strong.

Rose Tyler smiled brightly. "That's right, we found you in your ship. You were badly hurt. We thought we lost you for a moment, you almost flatlined on the way here. To Torchwood," she added this last bit quickly when Jenny's mouth twitched into a frown. "I'm one of the Assistant Directors here. Do you know what Torchwood is?"

She did. She didn't know very much about it, granted, but she was able to glean some information from various encyclopedias over the years. She'd asked her dad about it a couple of times, but he always avoided direct answers. He always did that. Maybe now he'd be able to help fill in the blanks. Or at least he would once they were together again. "Where's my father? What've you done with him?" Her voice was pathetically garbled. It was too early to determine whether or not Rose Tyler and Martha Jones were truly as harmless as they claimed to be, and she had to keep up a strong image. "Where is he?"

Rose Tyler frowned and Martha Jones's gaze flickered directly ahead. "You were alone in the ship," Rose said slowly. "There were no traces of life. No bodies, either."

"Not on my ship," Jenny said impatiently. Damn sedatives. "Did he crash, too?"

Rose shook her head. "Your ship was the only one we found, Jenny." What? Well, that was good, then. It wouldn't do to have the TARDIS out of commission at the moment. Surely that meant Dad was on his way, or somewhere in the building already. Jenny didn't like it, but she knew when she was stuck. Not beaten, but definitely stuck. She'd need her dad to help her out of here, especially while her body was temporarily incapacitated.

Martha Jones glanced at Rose and lowered her voice. "He's outside."

Jenny knew she wasn't meant to hear these words, but her physiology was a bit stronger than the average human's and she could pick up on the whisper with ease. "Who?" she demanded, and turned her head in the direction Martha was staring at just a few moments ago. There was a decent-sized window about two meters away, and the glass was opaque, but she could make out a hazy outline of three individuals. By the looks of it, they were in the midst of a heated discussion.

"Oh no," Rose breathed, and suddenly Martha Jones was dashing across the room, wrenching open a nearby door and slamming it behind her. Moments later her blurry form appeared in the window.

"Who's outside?" Jenny demanded. She struggled to move her limbs and growled in frustration when they refused to cooperate.

"Jenny, I need to explain something to you," Rose said urgently. Faint shouts drifted through the window. "We think you might have come from a different universe. We've run some tests on you and your ship and you're covered in a sort of residual background radiation found in the void between universes. Do you know what that means?"

Jenny stared at her companion with a furrowed brow. What did she mean, another universe? Was that even possible? Did those even exist? No, it couldn't be. It definitely couldn't be. She'd have learned about them by now, if they truly existed. This must be a part of some kind of trap, or some silly way to goad her into trusting these Torchwood people. Her father didn't seem to think too highly of them. Perhaps he had good reason not to. Well, then she wasn't going to do so either, and she certainly wasn't going to trust them.

"I know it's a lot to handle, and I know you've been through a lot already, but we need you to tell us exactly what you remember. Because if you are from another universe…" Rose's voice trailed off and she bit her lip. "We have someone here who can help. We think you know him already."

The shouting from outside was growing louder. One figure in the window—tall, male, dark hair, it looked like—was particularly animated and kept gesturing towards the window. Jenny grimaced. She needed to get out of here. She wouldn't be kept here like some kind of zoo exhibit. "Who is outside?" Jenny demanded again. She was pleased to find that her voice was slightly more intelligible, but she arranged her face into a blank slate.

"His name is John Smith," Rose answered, her gaze flickering between Jenny and the window. "But you'll probably know him as the Doctor."

The heart monitor temporarily spiked as Jenny took in this good news. Clearly these Torchwood people weren't particularly bright—how could they not know that the Doctor was her father at this point, if he was right outside? —but it was a comfort to know that her dad was here. Already things were much less complicated. The sooner I can talk to Dad, the sooner I can get out of here, she thought, relaxing her muscles to bring down her heart rate. "I want to talk to him," she said, staring at Rose expectantly.

"There's more—" she and Jenny both jumped when a brief shout worked its way into the room. Rose bit her lip again and continued. "He's probably not the Doctor you know. If we're right about where you came from, then he's definitely not the same Doctor. He'd be a…well, he'll be a parallel version of the one you know."

"Parallel?" Jenny exclaimed. "What does that mean, parallel? What are you talking about?"

Rose looked like she wanted to speak, but someone was apparently signaling her from the other side of the door. "I promise, we'll explain everything as soon as we can. I'll be back in a minute, okay?" She jumped up and hurried out the door, closing it firmly behind her.

Jenny stared intently at the window. She was able to identify Rose and Martha through the glass, along with the tall dark-haired man, another balding man, and a shorter man with spiked hair. They were all engaged in a frenzied conversation, but Jenny couldn't make out any of it. Instead she decided to devote her attention to her body. Whatever sedative they'd given her wasn't very strong. She could already flex her fingers and toes, and it was getting easier to move her wrists. Although there was still a distinctly numb sensation in her body from the neck down, it was nice to move with a little more freedom.

Her right pinky brushed against a tiny remote, and Jenny awkwardly turned her head to see what it was. She squinted, dimly recognizing it from some obscure book on early human medical care. If she was correct, then the button would prop the bed into a sitting position. That was a good assumption. They wouldn't have left it within easy reach if it could potentially aid in escape. She fumbled for the remote and hesitantly pushed down on the button, startling when the mattress abruptly began to rise behind her. Within a moment she was sitting at a forty-five degree angle, and as soon as she was comfortable, she examined the remote. Normally she'd need a minute or so to analyze the mechanics involved, but maybe she'd be able to put this to good use if she really needed an emergency escape route. It was unlikely, given the fact that her father was so close by, but Jenny always needed a back-up plan. It was one of the many things hardwired into her brain at birth.

The shouting outside had completely disappeared and Jenny glanced at the window again. Martha Jones and the balding man were facing the glass and Jenny resisted the urge to sneer. Stop staring at me! She wanted to shout. I'm not some creature you can put on display! She seriously considered ripping off the heart monitors again, but decided to wait until her dad showed up.

At that moment, the door opened with a gentle creak. Rose stepped in first, offering a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Jenny's hands clenched into fists as she read Rose's body language. She was incredibly anxious. The tension was radiating off of her as she glanced over her shoulder. "The Doctor's right here. Do you want to talk to him now? We can wait if you're not ready."

Jenny blinked. Despite how incredibly uncomfortable Rose was, she somehow managed to keep her voice calm and gentle. How did she do that? No matter. Talk to Dad and find out what's going on. Prime directive. She folded her hands in her lap and hoped she looked stronger than the sedatives allowed. "No, I can talk to him."

Someone just outside of the door loudly exhaled. Rose stepped aside, glancing nervously behind her once again and murmuring something that Jenny didn't bother to catch. A tall, skinny, dark-haired man hesitantly stepped into the room. Jenny frowned as she studied him. Where was her dad? That wasn't her dad—

As soon as she recognized the man standing in the doorway, her brain completely shut down.

He tentatively entered the room, walking past Rose without a single glance in her direction. His mouth was slightly ajar as his dark eyes locked with Jenny's, staring at her as if he'd seen a ghost. There was some foreign emotion written all over his face that Jenny couldn't identify, and some instinct told her that she probably never would fully understand it. Whatever it was, it appeared to have robbed him of the ability to speak. He stopped a short distance away from her bed.

She stared at him just as intensely, her brain scrambling to make sense of this. She knew this man. She didn't know him well, but she would never forget his face. His was among the first she'd ever seen. His was the last she'd seen after being shot. For years that face had haunted her dreams, pushing her to be better somehow, to prove that she wasn't just a soldier. She never expected to see that face again. And yet here he was. She was looking at her father, and at the same time she wasn't.

"Your bowtie is gone," she murmured as soon as she found herself capable of speech.

The Doctor—she couldn't wrap her mind around the thought of him being her dad—visibly swallowed. "You're alive."

You're here, she wanted to say, but her vocal cords refused to cooperate.

He slowly shook his head. "You're alive. You're—" he ran a hand over his face, covering his mouth for a moment before he continued. "I saw you—you were shot…"

Jenny was dimly aware of Rose Tyler's presence in front of the door, but that was the very least of her concerns at the moment. She quickly ran through an array of scenarios in a desperate bid to make sense of this. Time travel. I must have time traveled. That's why I crashed, because I didn't have a TARDIS and my ship couldn't handle the trip. But that's a paradox, I can't talk to him if he hasn't found me yet…! Her thoughts raced like a locomotive in danger of derailing. She never saw this version of her father after being shot. This was not her father, not the one she traveled with. If she spoke to the man standing in front of her, surely that would cause some horrible paradox, wouldn't it?

She needed a way out. It was too late to avoid seeing him, but she absolutely would not give him any information that could change the future. She clenched her jaw as the Doctor stepped closer and refused to look him in the eye.

"Jenny, I..."

His voice sounded so very small, so horribly unlike the one she remembered from Messaline. Caught off guard, her gaze flickered upwards to meet his. He was right next to her bed now and his eyes were misty. He was not smiling. There was nothing in his face beyond sheer disbelief.

For a moment Jenny expected him to say something, but instead he cautiously extended a hand. She instinctively shied away and oh no, no, no, why am I doing this? She swiped at her eyes. This was ridiculous; there was no reason to cry. She'd time traveled, that was all. It could be done again. She would see her dad—her dad, not the virtual stranger who had left her behind on Messaline— again. So why was she crying?

The Doctor offered his hand again, and when Jenny didn't curl away from him, he gently touched her cheek and wiped at an escaping tear. I shouldn't be crying, she thought, but somehow, as she stared at the Doctor's face, it seemed impossible not to. His face was so incredibly different from the one she was used to. And yet he looked exactly as her dad did when they finally crossed paths again: his face was locked in that same expression of incredulity, but there were a myriad of emotions in his eyes.

The same man, but so extraordinarily different. She felt a childish pang of I want my dad and suddenly the crying made a little more sense.

"You're alive," he said again, still holding her face in his hands. "I don't know how, but…This can't—it shouldn't be possible..."

The words came on their own accord. It was a phrase that her dad used so often around her, words that had come to encapsulate their relationship. She wondered where he could possibly be. "It's not impossible," Jenny said. "Just a bit unlikely."

The Doctor paused as a smile worked its way across face. He didn't say anything else, but he pulled Jenny into a hug that left her feeling crushed and cradled all at once.

Author's Note: The Doctor and Jenny are finally reunited! Honestly, I can't believe I've gotten this far in the story and I want to thank everyone who has been following it. Please leave a review! As always, I'm completely open to constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!