In Its Own Good Time

"You've got to reach inside, Jenny. Concentrate."

I AM, dammit.

She hadn't said it, but she might as well have. The Doctor watched with rapt eyes as his daughter stared at the pebble in her hand. Maybe 'concentrate' was a poor word-choice. She was concentrating so hard that she'd lost her mental shielding. He could feel her nervousness and frustration, all the power roiling in her head, the psychic force she was pouring out. But the kelosite in her hand wasn't reacting. It lay in her hand, smooth, grey, and utterly quiet.

"I don't mean try harder." He said quietly. "I mean focus on what you're trying to do. It's like I said. This kelosite is full of chronon particles. Don't focus on making the stone glow. Focus on exciting those particles. Focus on the particles, Jenny. See them in your head. They're not moving much, are they? Now you want them to move faster. Push them."

Jenny glanced at him, her eyes intense, just a shade away from black. He wants me to see something. But all I see's a stone with a little funny energy around it. I don't know what he's seeing. I still can't see it. She nodded, and dropped her eyes back to the pebble. But I'll try. I'll keep trying. I'm going to beat this.

The Doctor didn't let her thoughts worry him. So she hadn't seen the particles yet. It had only been two weeks, after all. She was only starting. And kelosite was the perfect place to start working on her time-sense. All children had started with kelosite, started playing with it at six and seven years old. The kelosite mineral was saturated with the particles that made up time itself, created the physical effects of ageing on matter at the subatomic level. The stone filled itself with chronon particles, attracted them and packed them in like a sponge absorbing water. He could feel the artron energy inside the particles pulsing, all packed inside that little grey rock, just waiting for something to bump the particles into each other and get them moving, let them release that power.

Was that a flicker? No. The stone remained pale and cool.

Okay. New tactic.

"Here, Jenny. Follow me this time." He lowered his shields a bit, let her watch his mind work. He reached into the kelosite with his thoughts, moving as slow as he possibly could; added a tiny bio-electrical spark, a little nudge. The first particle moved in his mind's eye. It bumped two others. Bumped more. Chain reaction. The particles wobbled, tapped each other, released artron energy on contact. To his physical eyes, the stone on Jenny's palm was glowing a very soft amber. He grinned down at it, his face lit by the stone.

"One of the simplest ways to look at time, and still one of the most beautiful, you know." For a moment, father and daughter stared at the kelosite, glowing like a tiny gem in Jenny's hand. Then the Doctor lifted his eyes, let his concentration go. The glow faded.

"Your turn."

Jenny's concentration sharpened. She stared at the stone so hard that she forgot to blink.

The hope in the Doctor's eyes faded. Nothing.

Jenny's brow furrowed. It's not working. It never works. She glanced up at her father, her eyes frustrated and shamed.

The Doctor smiled at Jenny, masking his own emotions with the ease of long practice.

"No worries. The Capitol wasn't built in a day, after all." He folded her fingers over the stone, stuck his hands back in his pockets, and turned on his heel.

"Just keep practicing. I'm going to pop into one of the gardens for a bit. Need to run a check on that hydroponic under layer for the seres trees and the roses. See you in a bit."

Jenny nodded, and turned her eyes back to the pebble of kelosite as her father strode out of the room.

The Doctor held his relaxed, cocksure posture until he was halfway down the corridor. Then he let it slide. The smile faded, his face becoming lined and still. His thin frame seemed to drain of the energy that so often infused it, leaving him pale and wan. His head tipped back slightly as he walked, and his eyebrows quirked, as if something pained him. He suddenly looked every bit his age. Alone, he let his eyes grow wide and dark and blank.

He'd been so sure that working with the kelosite would stimulate her sense of Time. So sure. Ever since that day in the cells two weeks ago. She had been seeing Time. Hadn't she?

What was he doing? He was no professor. He was an adventurer. Scientist. Sometimes a diplomat. Sometimes, rarely, a politician. Oh, he liked to talk and explain, but he was rubbish as a teacher. He'd never been any good explaining things to his daughters, thank Rassilon the teachers at the Academy had handled most of their educations. He'd had a terrible time with Suz, trying to be patient enough to let her learn. And she'd had her secondary education. Jenny didn't know the first steps.

He opened the door to the garden. He was letting himself get discouraged too easily. She was only beginning. She could see time signatures, he knew that. She did have the ability, latent as it was. It was frustrating, yes. Disappointing, yes. But it would get better. He smiled to himself.

Then the smile faded, fast as it had come. The Doctor shook his head. Was he really that desperate to lie to himself? No. It wouldn't get better. It couldn't. If he had forgotten, as if he could forget, his world was gone. The Untempered Schism, the tool used to fully form a child's conception of Time by showing them its patterns throughout the fabric of eternity, was gone. Jenny was Gallifreyan. But she was no Time Lord. She could never be initiated. There was no way to stimulate her senses fully, open her mind to the true workings of Time. She was missing the part of herself that was most essential to what he was, what she should be.

What if she could never see the beauty and wonder that was Time, flowing all around her? What if the best she'd ever manage was a good technical understanding, coupled with hunches and glimpses from the corner of her eye? She'd never see the true beauty all around her. Never be truly what she was supposed to be. To be only part of what you were meant to be…

And he couldn't do a thing about it. Not a thing.

He kicked the nearest thing he could find as he wandered through the garden, a very large stone. It should have hurt. He barely noticed. Anger and frustration ran through him like ice.

He couldn't open a schism. It had taken an entire staff of senior Time Lords, members of the High Council, to maintain the Schism in a stable state without threat to the time continuum or the fabric of reality. There was no way he could do something so dangerous on his own. And even if he did, her brain was nearly mature. What effect would the Schism have on a nearly formed mind encountering it for the first time, rather than a young, impressionable consciousness? Impossible. In every form of the word.

But oh, if only he could. If only…

His brows shot up for a moment. What about the Heart of the TARDIS? Showing her that? It held an imprint of the Vortex. Perhaps…

Are you completely daft? As open as she is, as psychically uncontrolled? She'd lose herself inside it. It killed you last time you tried it, and you've got experience. You can't, and you know you can't.

He kicked another rock. It rolled down a small incline, splashing his trainers with water from a small stream. The Doctor sighed.

Enough. Calm down.

He would simply have to adjust. His daughter was going to be handicapped. Other people made it through life without the ability to see time. Most other species, in fact. And she was smart, fast, incredibly good with gymnastics. To anyone else, she was light years above average. He was the only one who saw what was missing. How much was missing.

He dropped himself on to a small bench, staring off blankly.

Well. Let it stay that way, then. She'd grow into it, he'd told her. It took time, he'd told her. Let her think that. She didn't need to know what she was missing. She never needed to know.

He sat still, his shoulders slumped, eyes vacant. Another secret for him to keep.

Author's Note: Thanks to Lindenharp for the Kelosite idea.