A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback!
"Life went on, but it was never the same again." – David Jones
The Doctor eyed the little eatery with the corner of his eyes, on his way back to the TARDIS. He frowned, he really didn't recall it being there when they first arrived. Weird, he thought to himself, his memory being his greatest ally. Apart from a few gaps, that is.
"Bill, go back to the TARDIS. I need a few moments," he instructed, avoiding eye contact, too busy staring at the recently appeared construction.
"You okay?" she pondered, wishing more than ever he'd still gotten his mood badge so she could have a proper reading of his feelings. She didn't know him for long, but she still found it impossible to have a sense at least of what went through his head.
"Yeah," he nodded his head vigorously, "Go now. Off you pop. I'll be back in a mo'."
"Alright," reluctantly, she agreed, watching him wander off to God knows where, before finding her own way back to the spaceship.
Pacing in a slow motion, the Doctor reached for the entrance of the little restaurant. He was surprised to find a barista already there when he walked in. He cleared his throat, trying to get her attention.
Looking towards him, the young girl smiled, "Ah, our first customer. Welcome!"
He forced half a grin on his lips, studying her carefully, "You work fast. The town has been running for what, half an hour now?"
"Forty seven minutes, actually," she joked, pointing at the clock, "Actually, my mum left it ready for me, for the day of the arrival, so meanwhile everybody was off fighting smiley robots, I came here to set everything up."
He made a face, almost believing her story, before taking a seat in front of the balcony. "Your mum, where is she now?"
She shot her shoulders up and down, "I don't know, where are all the people who came here before us?"
"Dead," he spat, harshly.
The girl's face saddened instantly, but she did her best now to let her composure fall, "Well, I guess death is a part of life, isn't it? We all die in the end, that's the only thing in our lives we get to be sure about."
Licking his own lips, he agreed, "I suppose it is," he looked up to stare at her big sad eyes, "I'm sorry for your loss."
The barista smiled sadly, "I'm sorry for your loss, too."
He rose an eyebrow, intrigued, "Who said I've lost anybody?"
"Your eyes," she confessed, glancing right into them, "You look like you've lost somebody you cared for recently."
The Doctor chuckled, satirically, "Does it count as a loss if you can't remember what you've lost?"
"Every loss is a loss," she debated, leaning her back against the counter.
He took a long breath, tapping his fingers melodically against the surface of the balcony. "How do we deal with them?"
"I don't know," she bit her lower lip, "I'm still learning myself."
"If you ever find the answers," he teased, "Then please let me know."
"Will do," she shrugged.
Buffing, he let his eyes wander around the place. "Your mum did a tidy job here."
"Can I get you anything?" she seemed to have ignored him, "It's on the house."
He opened his mouth to object, but changed his mind in the midst of his actions, "Why not."
Smiling – more to herself than to him, she moved to provide him something, "We have, um, red algae, green algae, blue algae, and a few more whose colors are too untrusting to be eaten."
He gave some serious thinking to his upcoming answer, "What do they taste like?"
She squeezed her eyes, "I haven't got a clue."
He couldn't help himself but to crack a laugh, "Tell you what, why don't we find out together?"
The lady offered him a smirk, as she grabbed all the tiny little cubicles and laid them on the table, before taking a seat in the opposite side of him. She watched as he carefully chose one, then randomly grabbing one herself, "So, who are you?"
The Doctor was too busy staring at the food to sustain the eye contact, "Who are you?"
She threw a pink algae inside her mouth, "I'm just a girl with a diner."
He tilted his head in agreement, "And I'm just a guy in a diner."
She grinned, amusedly, "Fair enough."
He didn't settle with his answer, however, "I got here a little before you humans awoke, actually. Had to arrange a few things for the arrival."
"Really? Like a caretaker?" she pondered, her eyes sparkling oddly.
"There's a little bit more to it than just a caretaker," he argued, a little offended at her insinuations. "More like… a helpline."
She frowned, "How is a helpline any better than a caretaker?" she pondered.
"Guess it's not, it just sounds fancier," his brows arched themselves in a very high bow.
She beckoned, playing with another algae between her fingertips. "Are you going to tell me why we were in need of a helpline?"
He scratched his chin, uncertain, "Why would I?"
"I'm giving you free food," she argued.
"Fair enough," he made her words, his.
He didn't just blurt it out, however. The Doctor raised his head, leaving all the cubicles untouched – he could have just walked away, since he hadn't gotten around to eat any, but something about her had impacted him, and he felt like he owed her a story, at least. He had no idea why, he just knew he did.
The girl was starting to get uncomfortable by the way he was staring at her, almost memorize her features, and she made sure to divert her eyes. "Well, go on, then."
The Doctor still made sure to take his time, "I've recently started to travel with a new companion, so I asked her where did she want to see first, and she told me: the future."
"You're saying that you're not just the helpline, but can also travel in time?" she questioned, already forgotten of her discomfort.
"One comes with the other," he mumbled, before coming back to his story, "So my spaceship brought us here. The land of the happy, of new beginnings, of new opportunities."
"Did she like it?" the barista queried, being the one to search back for his ocean eyes,
"What's there not to like it?" he snapped, a bit too rudely for her liking, but she let it pass, "We were welcomed by the Vardies, who then offered us mood badges. We were fool enough to take them."
"They're just standard badges, everybody gets them after waking up," she argued, having her own thrown somewhere in the mess of the counter. She made sure not to put it on.
"Standard until you start feeling something, until you stop being happy, and then, and then they come for you."
Her eyes were wide with intrigue. "Who comes for you?"
"The Vardies," he had half a smirk on his face, "The robots that came to assure happiness, stopping anything that would get in the way of such happiness, including life itself."
She swallowed hard, almost too scared at the situation, even if she had seen worse. "Why would they do that?"
"Because they were programmed to do so," he had no other reason, no other explanation. "They didn't know any better."
"What did you do?" her lips were left half opened, too curious.
"The only thing I could do, of course, try to blow up the spaceship."
She made a face, grunting, "Doesn't really seem like it worked. The spaceship is still intact."
The Doctor snorted, in acknowledgement, "There was a little convenient inconvenience in my way: humans."
She rose a brow, "Why do you always make us sound like the bad guys?"
He stared at her suspiciously, "Have you seen the human race?"
She bowed her head, hesitantly, "Yes. But not all humans are bad. There's still good in some of them. The bad doesn't always overtake the good."
His tongue vigorously traveled his lips, "Guess you're right. You're not so bad yourself."
The barista blushed instantaneously.
Without expecting an answer, he carried on, "After we learned you humans were already here, he couldn't just blow up the spaceship, so I had to undone everything that I had done already, clueless towards what I could do to save the remaining population of Earth."
Her eyes were craving for more.
"Bill, my companion, called me to see something; an old lady, naturally deceased, not murdered like all the first colonies that got here, and then, like one plus one equals two, it all started to make sense."
"I don't get it," she confessed.
"Wouldn't expect you to," he mumbled, arrogantly, "You see, grief is consequence of death. It's pure math; somebody dies, somebody mourns for the dead, it's the circle of life. So, when people started to mourn for the old lady, the Vardies couldn't comprehend such a feeling. Grief was an enemy of happiness, so they eradicated it. Of course, the more they killed people, the more people grieved for them. So they just carried on eliminating it, until no single human was left standing."
She placed a lock of her hair behind her ear, "What would happen to us, then? When we learned about our family's death, we would naturally grief for them as well, right? Would they have killed us until no human would have been left standing?"
"They would have exterminated you until the very last," he blurted out loud, mercilessly, "So of course you dumb humans decided to take matter into your own hands and kill the Vardy themselves."
She clinched her teeth together, "That can't be good."
"Of course not," he babbled, "Humans and guns; when will they learn that words win wars?"
She simply grinned, waiting.
"They attacked the Vardy. Killed them, destroyed them. Well, they would have destroyed them all hadn't the robots felt under attack. The Vardy struck back. Again, it's simple math: killing leads to killing," he hassled, more annoyed than before.
"Tough day to be a human. Or a Vardy," she humored, not really expecting him to be amused.
Surprisingly, he looked smug, "Accurate. The Vardy would have won, hadn't a scary, handsome genius from space interfered and pressed the reset button."
"Wonder who that might be," she laughed, amazedly.
He didn't appreciate her insinuations, however. "I wiped their memories, they don't haven't got a clue of who you humans might be."
"Lucky for us, I guess," she assumed, humming, almost a relieved look on her face.
"Yes," he concluded, "You humans now get to start over, with no prominent threat to your survival. I just hope this time around you won't destroy another planet."
"Me too," she confessed, condescendingly smiling, slightly.
Letting out a long breath, he gathered all the tiny cubicles together, before repeating her words, "Me too."
The bartender leaned back, sighing, "Well, where are you off to next?"
The Doctor shot his shoulders up and down, "Planet Earth, 21st century. I've got to look for a few things, a few promises I promised to keep."
She nodded, almost unnoticeably, "Look for what you've lost?"
"In a sense, yeah," he agreed, out of the sudden avoiding eye contact, sad to say the least, "I just don't know where to look first."
She scratched the corner of her eye, getting rid of what dared to escape there, "Maybe fate will bring you right into her."
He frowned his forehead, puzzled, "How did you know it's a her?"
She shrugged, indifferently, "Somethings you just know."
He rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand, "Yeah, well, fate has gotten an old habit of letting me down," he snickered.
She smiled, sadly, "Maybe fate still holds a few surprises for you."
He sniffed, "I hope so."
With no further notice, he got up, straightening up his jacket, finding his way with his eyes towards the door, "I hope you cope with your loss."
She offered him a closed smile, "I hope you find your loss."
They exchanged one last look, before each following their separate ways.
A/N: So, what do you all think? Any feedback is much appreciated *-*