Jessica returns to the hospital. But the first the Doctor knows of it is when the nurse from the desk comes to get him. They speak confidentially outside the quarantine room. There is someone, the nurse says, lurking around the Tardis. He couldn't get a good look at who, but there's definitely someone there.

So soon after the incident with Mrs Lees, with only Lizzie's word to reassure him that Clara really is sleeping, his hearts go dark with dread. Sonic in hand, he excuses himself and goes to investigate. The trip down in the lift is long, and the walk across the lot is even longer. There is someone there. Just the shadow of the edge of something short and dark, some little knee-high creature bundled up against the door. Dargruns, perhaps, stretching their smoky selves up to the keyhole, forcing themselves slowly between the panels, seeping in at the cracks. Or a Linvin, Wardibrigs, a Porristyn, any number of things he really doesn't need right now. He might even be inclined just to go and have a look, find out what he's dealing with and decide whether or not it's urgent. If it's something he'll be able to drive out again and which poses no immediate threat, well…

Don't give him that look. It's been a long day and he's still shaking off the sleepiness of Lees' visit. It's not burying his head, it's called prioritizing.

You can only imagine, then, what a relief it is to find that the dark shape is only his dear little scout, late returned from the wars. The Tardis must be a comfort to her; she's curled with her head against it. Probably just taking a little break before she came in to report.

What you can't imagine is what a relief it is to see her alive and unharmed. You probably think you can imagine that, but the Doctor will happily assure you that you can't. You can't feel it with two hearts' worth of love. You can't feel it with the knowing of her, and the knowing of what they came from, how far they've dragged each other on, sometimes when they didn't even want to. She's a recent addition (relatively) in his life, but they've been to hell and back. Never meant to know each other, never meant to be more than mortal enemies. The mask she once wore as an agent of the Silence was supposed to be the last image held in his old eyes.

And yet, and yet…

So no, you don't imagine. He thanks you so very kindly for trying, and sits down next to her.

She senses him too late and jumps. She should have felt him coming a mile off. Should have picked his footsteps out by their weight and spacing and approach long before he reached her. "Doctor!" and she claws her way hand by hand across his shirtfront to fling her arms around him. "Doctor, is being much sorry, so much-much sorry, was never meaning to be lets him down and-" He pulls her tight against him until she stops.

"There now, Agent Apple. You haven't let me down. What's the matter?" She shifts around so that her back is to him. The Doctor knows exactly what she wants. He shies. Once bitten and all that. It has more than crossed his mind that this might yet be another trap. When he doesn't respond, Jessica tries to guide him. She reaches back, picks up her ponytail and holds it out to him. Wanting it played with, stroked, braided. "Not just now, if you don't mind."

"Oh. Right-yes. Is not being very good agent nowtimes-"

"Oi! Words…"

"Meaning 'Now', Doctor." So she sits up on her knees, head held high. With soldierly remove and in as few words as she can manage, Jessica debriefs her commanding officer. "Am having tracked MissusToffee to where is having hideout with Bad Louis. Am knowing well the way to finding them. Was being captured, but now escaping. Bad Louis am being all chained all up at hideout, and is having had much big beatings. Missus Toffee am having deep-injurings in left shoulder."

With his better self already chiding him, the Doctor murmurs, "About time we had some good news."

"Right-yes, Doctor, but-"

"Oh, there's more? Do tell me there's more. Dear, sweet girl, tell me there's more." Her face twists, torn. It's not what she was going to say next, clearly, but now that he's asked for it she reaches to a pocket inside her sweater and produces something wrapped up in cloth. Puts it in his hand. The Doctor takes the edge of the cloth and lets it roll out, unravelling. The little vial has a glow of its own, the fine, shifting golddust inside finding its level like water. He holds it up momentarily to the light. "Have I ever told you you're very clever, Jessica?"

"Yes, Doctor… What am it being, please?"

"Less 'what' and more 'who'. And I don't know quite yet, but Lizzie might be able to tell. It can only be a good thing."

"Bad Louis am not knows that her am having takes it." The Doctor grins, laughs outright at this. "Him was giving it deep protectings, so Jessica-"

"Words, love."

"…I… knows, was knowing was important thing. But, please, Doctor, is wanting to be saying much sorry for-"

"Because you were caught? But you escaped! Even better! And you brought back information and something to barter with, and more than we've had from the beginning. We're finally a step ahead. I couldn't be prouder of you!"

"Not proud!" she breaks. Throws off the arm around her with violence. It hurts. And now, finally, the Doctor realizes where he found her, that she was curled up on herself, that there has been a hollowness in her face he hasn't seen in a long time. It fades now, giving away to a maddened desperation. She picks the scrap of cloth out of his hand and stretches it out, holding it up for him to see. It is ice blue, stained a little dark. Where the blood has been trapped against the clear sequins, you can still see what it is. "Is being from MissusToffee's dress! It am having been what was injuring her!"

"It?" he echoes. Murmurs in confusion, "The dress was what… No. Not the dress. Jessica, don't refer to yourself as 'it'. We're past that. That was a long time ago."

"Was not being Jessica," she tries to explain. Sinks in on herself, hiding her face in shame against her knees. "Was not being Jessica. Was being Little Ghost. Was escaping and meets her on the stairs. Or parts of her anyway. Not understanding it. Not all of her was being there. So that could escape and not being captured again, was using bad-stake for injurings MissusToffee."

So now, now that he knows it's safe to do so, and more to the point now he knows she needs it, the Doctor concedes; he picks up a strand of her hair and twists it over and over between two fingers.

"Not does," she breathes, and snatches it back from him. "Is being much more worse than just injurings MissusToffee. Was almost to have been killing Bad Louis. Murdering. Like when was Little Ghost and murdering all Two-Hearts except Doctor and Riversing-"

And yes, it's a shock to him. A tremor shakes the Doctor. But it shakes him only once, and if he's careful he can pretend that it's just because she mentioned her former vocation. He reaches bravely for her hair again, and this time guides her in against him, under his arm. "You were in a bad situation, and you wanted to get out-"

"Almost killing!"

"Exactly! 'Almost' is the big word there. You didn't, you stopped."

"No. Him am having stopped her. If not does, then is totally putting stake through his neck and not even thinks about it. Jessica am being bad-lie-designation; her am being really still Little Ghost, down in heart-places."

She wants to get up now. She's trying to. She'd walk away from him. Probably try and fumble some goodbye, as if she was never coming back. The Doctor couldn't have that. Couldn't watch it. Despite her weight and superior strength, he grabs her too tightly for her to go anywhere. "No. These noodly arms of mine will be good for something and keep you here. You see, you're very wrong. Because look at you, all upset and broken! How wonderful is that?! These," he says, pushing them off her face with the pad of his thumb, "are the most excellent tears ever to be cried, and do you know why?"

"Why is, Doctor?"

"Because the Little Ghost would never have cried them. Wouldn't have given it a second thought. Thrown away the guilt with the broken-off stake." Taking her face between his hands, "You are Jessica. You are brave and strong and smart and guilt-ridden and so fiercely, overwhelmingly human it makes my chest all but burst. You were scared and you fought. I'd rather that than lose you, any day of the week."

She doesn't believe him. But she will. He'll make sure of it.

"Come on. It's cold out here, and Clara ought to be waking up. Let's get you inside." He takes her hand but she leans back against it, shaking her head. "No arguments, Miss Apple. I am too old to be sitting on cold concrete, and you've done far too well to be out here away from all your friends. I won't allow it. Now, on your feet, if you please. Come along."

She relents, and allows herself to be guided for all of a few steps. Then, terrified, struggles away from him again, "MissusToffee comes here! Bad Louis tells her to, when Jessica was stone-person, and was to be wearing Jessica-face and comes here and-"

"And there was absolutely no harm done. We caught her just in time. Well, Lizzie did. With a door. Right in the side of the head, it was great. You'd have liked it." Which glosses over a whole range of things, but is essentially is the truth. Those other things aren't what she needs to hear. He drags her, as through so many other things, through her deep misgivings and back to their centre of command. It's only then that he is distracted from her for anything more than a moment.

Clara is stirring. Even as he approaches, she stretches out into a long and very satisfied yawn. It's still twisting and writhing through her when he sneaks up behind her chair and makes her jump yelping out of it. "Doctor!" she cries, indignant. "That was the loveliest sleep I've ever had and it's ruined now." At least someone got something out of Toffee's visit, he thinks ruefully. He bites his tongue when Clara turns her head up to tell him, "Jessica's back. She's… She's around here, oh, there she is."

Lingering in the doorway, holding it open. About to run. It's the sight of Adam and Clara perhaps, knowing they were both victims in this. Or it could be Lizzie, moving step by cautious step toward her with a glare of deep suspicion on her face. That could very well be it.

Lizzie grabs for Jessica's wrist. Jessica flinches, but lets it be taken.

Lizzie lets go much faster than she did even when she discovered Toffee's disguise. "That mask," the witch breathes out, fingers drifting lazily a millimetre or so from the skin of Jessica's face, "Don't you ever take it off?"

Jessica flees. The Doctor follows after and finds her waiting for the lift, jamming the button fast as Morse. "She didn't mean that!" he calls, and tries to drag her back. This time Jessica plants her weight and uses it fully against him. "She didn't! It was brief contact. She saw what was closest to the surface-"

"Yes, Doctor! Mask-faces. On top of surface. Mask am being broken and gone, but him was hearing Lizzie; it am never really takes it off."

"It's all you've been thinking about. Of course it's close. It'll go away again, like it did before."

She doesn't believe him. More so now than before. Then something doubles her shame and she cowers away toward the doors. The Doctor turns. Lizzie is coming down the hall toward them. Softer now, "Jessica?"

Only the Doctor hears the mutter, "Not even being…"

"Jessica, I'm so sorry. It's just an instinct. I saw the Little Ghost's mask, not because you're wearing it, but because you wore it for so long. It was such a large part of your life, after all. I didn't mean to scare you, dear."

She is holding out her hand. An apology, yes, and a show of deference. She's not afraid to get to know Jessica again. There's more beyond the memory of the mask and she is acknowledging that. The Doctor nods to her; it's the most anyone could ask.

But the bell rings, and the doors of the lift part. Jessica leans, still straining towards them. She hangs, balanced between the life she's come to love amongst them and the belief in her heart that she isn't worthy.

"Alright," the Doctor says. He gives it as much snap and force, as hard an edge, as he can possibly summon. It's not the best impression of a Major General he's ever done. It is, perhaps, a passable impression of a lesser officer. A lieutenant, maybe, or a brigadier. "You want to be a soldier again? Fine. You still have information I need, Miss Apple. Now get back in that room until you've given up every last scrap of it and I'm satisfied with the plan of counter-attack."

She whips round to stare at him, full of fear. Her chest shudders with the sob and the gasp she holds choked in her throat. Utterly devastated. The Doctor does his level-best to stay stony-faced. All he wants to do is hug her again and make her toast and just bury her in strawberry laces, but he stays cold.

Ultimately, Jessica's shoulders sink, and she hangs her head. "Yes, Doctor."

The lift doors close again. She walks away from them, stiff, obedient steps. The good soldier. Lizzie falls into step with the Doctor behind her. Leans across, and through her teeth asks, "Are you sure this is the wisest course of action?"

"I know what I'm doing."

"You say that an awful lot. Statistically, I don't know if you know this, but you're telling the truth about fifteen percent of the time."

"I partially know what I think I'm doing and what effect I believe it will have."

"…Even with that admission, we only creep up to sixty percent."

He stops midstep. When she's ahead, he reaches up and lightly raps her skull like a door. "Ask that noggin of yours what dull little person sat around adding all that up, would you? Must make a note to go and give him something better to do."

But this little joke is too much for Clara. They come to the door of the room smiling about it, and find her trying to speak to Jessica. Jessica is standing in the pose the military term 'at ease' far across the room and determinedly will not speak back, face still dark with guilt and shame.

Clara, sleep clinging in the corners of her eyes, says in her best teacher's voice, "Alright, boys and girls, hands up if you're really confused just now," and sticks her own hand into the air with a sarcastic little flip.

Lots of work to do, the Doctor thinks. Lots and lots. But he's still got the vial in his hand. Jessica knows where to find Lees and Sieverts. However she might feel about it, the enemy is injured, on the back foot for the first time since this all began. Lots of work to do, yes. But for the first time, he's got something to work with.

You'd be forgiven, looking around him, for thinking this is their darkest moment.

But there's a good feeling just starting to build up again, just starting to will the Doctor on.

[A/N – the author offers her most insincere apologies for any tugged heartstrings – she's wanted to write Jessica angst since Zombi Music.

(Not a tiny bit) Sorry,

Sal.]