Living Quarters
Harris Manchester College
5:45 a.m.
Emily Smith sat on the edge of her bed, holding her head in both hands. For the past four days, she had barely been functional. The extreme highs and lows she experienced reminded her of her mother who had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder when Emily was 12. Emily thought of herself as a rationale person, but for the past week, she had been teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown unable to control her emotions from moment to moment. One moment, Emily was on a high, moving at such a frenetic pace that everything was a blur. The next moment, she would crash and find herself sitting on the floor with her eyes closed as painful memories surged—her mother's death, her husband's desertion, her lost baby.
There were other memories, too; memories which did not belong to her. Memories of a planet, not Earth, on fire. Its burnt orange sky glowing red and the screams of millions as the planet decayed into ash. She felt the pain and heartache of one lost amongst the stars. This memory could only belong to one person—The Doctor. Emily had not seen or spoken to him since that night at the dining hall. Yet, she knew that her erratic behavior and these strange memories were the result of her interaction with him.
Standing up, a wave of dizziness overcame her so strongly that she had to sit back down. Emily's fists curled up as she felt her anger mount. This was the Doctor's fault. Before meeting him, she had been a strong, resolute woman determined to live life on her own terms. Now, she was a tottering wreck, barely able to leave her apartment. To Emily, this was unacceptable. Forcing herself to stand, she walked to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. As she did so, she noticed daylight was beginning to crest on the horizon. Normally, Emily would already be outside completing her morning run. Now, she could barely walk to the bathroom. Bending over the sink, Emily splashed cold water on her face. She knew that somewhere in Oxford was the Doctor and she was determined to find him. Walking back into her bedroom, Emily got dressed. Sunlight was beginning to fill the sky. Last night's weather report promised that today would be sunny, balmy 65 degrees. The perfect weather, thought Emily, to find the Doctor. Today, Emily thought she would find answers to everything, including her past.
Bodleian Library
Broad Street
8:27 a.m.
The Doctor stood outside the brocaded doors of the Bodleian Library waiting for it to open. Never a patient man, he thought about using his sonic screwdriver to open it. The Doctor pulled out his favorite tool and suddenly, he stopped, remembering what happened the last time, he entered the library without permission. A very angry librarian chased him out, chastising him for entering the library before it opened. The Doctor tried to explain that he had been there when Thomas Bodley first opened the library in 1602, but he was met with the door firmly being shut in his face. The Doctor laughed inwardly at the memory and it relieved some of his tension. Leaning against the door, the Doctor felt all of his 903 years weighing on him. He stared down the length of Broad Street wondering if Emily was looking for him. When he touched her face, the Doctor absorbed her memories and found most of them to be stark and painful. She had suffered so much loss at such a young age-the death of her mother, the disappearance of her husband and the loss of her baby. The Doctor knew that she was his daughter from her memories and her resemblance to her mother. Yet he needed a DNA test to investigate his theory. If Emily was indeed his daughter, then she shared at least half of his DNA. From what he learned about her, she was an exceptional scholar. Her climb through the academic ranks was nothing short of miraculous and her publications on time and space theory rivaled anything he had read on earth and that is what worried him. The Doctor knew that he was not the only alien in the universe who kept watch over the scientific discoveries made by humans. He had not been there when she was growing up, but now he needed to protect her from danger.
The Doctor turned as he heard the clicking noises of the screws in the door lock turning over. The same librarian, who had kicked the Doctor out years before, opened the door.
"Hello!" cried the Doctor. "It's been a while."
The librarian, whose name was Ms. Clennell, looked up at the Doctor and rolled her eyes. "Well" she said with an exaggerated sigh, "at least you waited this time." Turning her back on any further conversation, the librarian walked back into the building with the Doctor following. Ms. Clennell, obviously irritated by the Doctor's presence, proceeded to ignore him as she walked back to her desk. The Doctor usually left people alone, but he needed information about his daughter and he believed that this woman would know her.
"Erm" asked the Doctor clearing his throat "Do you know Emily Smith?"
The librarian turned around and pierced him with a glance. "You mean Dr. Emily Smith?"
"Yes!" said the Doctor with some relief. "What do you know of her?"
"Smart, talented, nice" barked Ms. Clennell. She stopped walking and turned to stare at the Doctor. "She obeys the rules."
The Doctor grinned at the jab. "Does she come here often?" asked the Doctor.
The librarian walked up behind her desk and sat down. From there, Ms. Clennell could stare down at the Doctor and the look was not too pleasant. Staring at him over her glasses, the librarian found that she did not like this man. She knew every tutor and lecturer at Oxford and she was particularly found of Emily Smith, having known her since the girl arrived here at Oxford as a fifteen-year-old prodigy. Ms. Clennell remembered the girl staying at the library for hours at a time, in part, to escape classmates who seemed to take pleasure in bullying her. She had heard about Emily's collapse at Harris Manchester College dining room and the man accused of causing it fit the Doctor's description perfectly. Leaning on the desk, Ms. Cannell wanted to make sure that her choice of words was clear to this man.
"Dr. Smith" she began in an even tone. "often comes in here to work."
"Oh great" said the Doctor. "If I could just find out when . . ."
"Why?" asked Ms. Cannell, her voice growing colder. "So you can cause her to collapse again?"
The Doctor's eyes grew wide. He had forgotten that Oxford, despite its international reputation, was in fact a small college town. Someone with Emily's reputation, he reckoned, would make her the center of attention here. Her collapse at dinner, the Doctor remembered, would probably be the talk of the school.
"Well" said the Doctor. "I just wanted to check up on her."
"Do you know" snapped Ms. Cannell "that she has been acting erratically ever since?"
"Well, I" began the Doctor.
"There is no 'I' Doctor" retorted the librarian. "This is not about you." She sighed for a moment, then shook her head. "This is about a young woman that many of us care about."
The Doctor stood for a moment and said nothing. As badly as he wanted his daughter in his life, he also realized that dragging her into his world might cause her even more pain. He didn't want that. Looking up at Ms. Cannell, he nodded that he understood and turned to go. As he was walking out of the library, his cell phone buzzed. Grabbing it from his coat, he saw that it was Martha. Flipping it open, he quietly said hello.
"Doctor" said Martha "I've got your DNA results."
"She's my daughter" said the Doctor without feeling.
"Yes" said Martha. "The match between your DNA and hers is 100."
"Thanks Martha" said the Doctor. He started to hang up when Martha shouted into the phone.
"Doctor!" yelled Martha. "Don't hang up!"
The Doctor put the phone to his ear. "Yes" he said quietly.
"The DNA match is positive" said Martha. "But most of her genetic makeup is human."
The Doctor stopped walking and stood just outside of the library. Chewing on his lip, the Doctor's brain went over a million calculations of what this might mean for his daughter. The conclusion was too painful for him to comprehend.
"This means" said the Doctor "that she will die."
"Yes" said Martha quietly. "Her DNA does not show that she has any of your regenerative powers."
"That explains it" said the Doctor.
"Explains what?" asked Martha.
"Explains why she has been having a reaction to the memories I passed on to her" said the Doctor.
"Doctor" said Martha "You cannot pass your powers to her." The Doctor could hear the click of keyboard buttons as Martha was typing. "In fact" said Martha. "It might be best if you did not have any contact with her at all."
"But" replied the Doctor quietly "I need her."
"I know" said Martha, "and you are wonderful." The Doctor could hear that Martha had stopped typing and was putting all of her energy into the conversation. "But you are fire and ice" whispered Martha "and sometimes those who love you pay a price for it."
The Doctor felt himself grow cold. Martha and Ms. Cannell were right. He needed to leave his daughter alone. Closing his eyes, the Doctor searched his mind and found her memories. Despite the bleakness she had faced, Emily had always found happiness in her every day life--whether it was working with her students, laughing with her colleagues at the pub, or walking the countryside near her grandfather's house in Uffington. She had faced loss, like her father, but unlike him, she tried to put down roots and invest in those around her. She deserves to live her life, thought the Doctor, without the constant danger he would put her in.
"Doctor" asked Martha. "Are you there?"
"Yeah" said the Doctor. "Thanks Martha, I'll speak to you soon." Without another word, he hung up and began walking aimlessly down Broad Street. The Doctor cut across Cornmarket Street to High Street and headed for the Botanic Gardens where he left the Tardis. Walking past the examination schools where he first saw her, the Doctor was stopped by a voice.
"Oi" shouted the woman, causing the Doctor to turn around. It was Emily. She marched straight up to the Doctor until they were face-to-face and he could have sworn that she was ready to punch him. Standing this close to her, the Doctor could see that her eyes were red with dark circles underneath them. My memories, he thought, have been too much for her.
"I'm sorry" he said quietly and turned to go. Emily grabbed him by the arm and shook her head. "We need to talk."