Chapter Thirteen: Wish

Anagrafigoria was a virus that had mutated on a planet called Snio. In his early years travelling, before the Doctor was familiar with the history of that part of the galaxy, he had discovered a rising epidemic. The virus, which was spread by the bite of the planet's plentiful mosquito-like flies, wiped out the entire human colony within a matter of weeks. He had tried, along with all the medics of the other species who occupied the planet, none of whom were affected by the virus. But they had failed. The planet was quarantined until the flies had been wiped out.

Since none of the humans survived, and the virus never spread, no cure had ever been discovered. And, he knew, no cure ever would.

His chances of saving Jenny without giving into the Master were zero.

The Doctor clenched his hands, squeezing his eyes shut, tried to get his breathing under control. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be about to lose another child. Again. He couldn't.

What was he going to do?

What was he going to tell her?

The truth. He had to tell her the truth. He owed her that, at the very least. After a life of lies, she needed honesty now.

She was breathing better now, evenly at least, though still had a tube through her nose and a mask on the side as a precaution. As he sat down beside her and took her hand again, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him.

"Hi," he said softly.

She smiled. "Hi," she whispered. "So how bad is it?"

He swallowed, fighting the urge to cry. "It's … not good news."

"Please, Dad, just tell me."

He was so broken, he almost missed the fact that she'd just called him 'Dad' for the first time.

"You've got anagrafigoria," he said. "It's a virus. There's—there's no known cure, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

She nodded slowly. "So let me guess … it's fatal, right?"

The Doctor lost the words. She read his expression and nodded. "Thought so. He did this to me, didn't he. To try and make you give him the TARDIS. I guess … I'd survive this if I wasn't human."

"Yes," the Doctor whispered. "Yes, you would." A single tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

"You can't give into him."

He stared at her, unable to speak. Jenny continued. "If he—he got it, and—and people got hurt, because of—because of me, I couldn't—I don't want that. Dad. Please, you can't give into him."

"I know." The tears came, and he clutched Jenny's hand like a lifeline. "I know I can't. Oh, Jenny."

She was crying, too; her breath hitched and she began choking again. The Doctor snapped back into medic-mode, giving her the mask and trying to calm her down till her breathing was even again.

Jenny tried to speak behind the mask, but the Doctor shook his head. "Don't try to talk, sweetheart, it'll feel worse."

She pulled the mask off defiantly. "How long?"

He couldn't lie to her. The lump was back; he saw her heart break in her blue eyes as he told her, "A couple of days, maybe less." She let him replace the mask, and he kissed her on the top of her head.

Her hand made to pull the mask off again, and he took hold of it to stop her. Her other hand tugged on his sleeve. He hesitated, then removed the mask. "Yes, Jenny?"

"I want to see the stars."

Her final wish had been surprisingly easy to choose, Jenny thought. A week ago, had someone told her to make one, she wouldn't have been able to decide. Now, knowing where she came from, she wanted to see it for herself before she … died. Unfortunately with her father's home planet destroyed, seeing space itself was just going to have to do.

And what a sight it was.

From her hospital bed which the Doctor had wheeled into the console room, Jenny stared awe-struck out of the doorway at the Butterfly Nebula, forty-third stop in her father's around-the-universe tour, that had started with the Aurora Borealis.

"I could stare at this forever," she sighed.

"You could," the Doctor said gently. "Though we have plenty more stops if you want to keep going."

She wanted to so badly, but felt a lot weaker than when they had started, and desperately needed to sleep.

"One more stop?"

He nodded. "I'll make it a good one."

"Better than this?" Jenny drank in her final glimpse of the nebula, unable to believe in anything more beautiful.

"Even better than this."

When the Doctor threw open the doors again, Jenny was surprised to find they were not floating above some galaxy, but on solid ground, on a planet.

"Do you feel strong enough to stand?" he asked her.

She didn't, but determined to try, Jenny slipped out of bed, allowing her father to help her walk, and unsteadily stepped out onto alien soil. "I can't believe I'm on another planet," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

They were surrounded by lush plantation, filled with noises of hundreds of wild creatures. A road led off to the side towards what looked like a town. "What planet is this?"

"This, is Messanine. Welcome to your birthplace."

Jenny gaped. "It's nothing like what you described."

"Well, it wasn't like this then. We're a couple of centuries down the line. They seem to have done all right, don't they?"

"Can we go further?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Jenny stepped forward again, but even leaning on the Doctor she struggled to remain upright. He lifted her into his arms and manoeuvred her so she had a good view. "Better?"

"Much."

They headed towards the town, taking in the scenery, and eventually came to a square. In the middle was a statue.

"Er … Dad? Is that what I think it is?"

"If you think it's you and I and Donna and Martha, you're right," the Doctor said.

The inscription read For the bringers of peace, may we never forget.

The Doctor and Jenny stared at it for a while, then Jenny's head dropped onto her father's shoulder, her eyes trying to close. "Dad, I'm tired."

The magic words made him wheel round and head back towards the TARDIS.

"Thank you," Jenny said softly on the way.

"Don't mention it, sweetheart. I only wish I could do more."

"No. You've done enough." She wound her arms round his neck properly and hugged him. "For what it's worth, I'm really glad you're my dad."

He stumbled to a stop; Jenny saw him blinking fiercely for a moment, before he swallowed and carried on, reaching the TARDIS. He lay her gently back on her bed, closed the doors and put the TARDIS into flight, returning to Earth.

Jenny was exhausted, and in pain, and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but wouldn't let her eyes close. The Doctor wheeled her back into the medbay, and started running tests again when she spoke. "Dad."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I—I'm scared." She swallowed.

He froze for a moment, then took hold of her hand and squeezed, seeming not to know what to say.

"I-I'm scared that—that if I fall asleep … will I wake up again?"

He swallowed, and nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes. Of course you will, Jenny."

He was lying, she knew that. She also knew that he knew she knew. And it did little to comfort her, but she appreciated the attempt. "Thank you."

He kissed her again and just sat holding her hand as her eyes closed against her will, and she sunk into a deep sleep.

TBC …