Thank you for continuing on to Chapter Two. It means a lot to me. =3 And your wonderful reviews! They always make my day.
Disclaimer: I didn't include this last chapter, but I should hope it's painfully obvious that I do not own Doctor Who.
Allon-sy!
Chapter Two: Riddle
The girl came to several hours later, her eyes flying open and darting wildly about. The violet in her hair vanished and the brown was replaced by a vibrant orange while the black remained, adorning her head with the colors of the Earth holiday of Halloween. She shot up into a sitting position and gasped as the blanket covering her fell to her waist, and as her face turned bright red a lock of her hair and her nails turned a shocking pink, clashing magnificently with the orange. She snatched at the blanket and clutched it close to her chest, covering herself and looking around the room with wild eyes.
"It's all right; you're safe," the Doctor assured her quickly, rushing to the bed he'd moved her to and pushing her back to lie down. "Don't exert yourself. Your body experienced incredible damage and you're still recovering."
Her face screwed up in confusion and concentration, and it took a moment for him to realize she was struggling to swallow. "Water," she croaked through a parched throat.
The Doctor couldn't help but think that the first words out of her mouth could have been a bit more climactic as he reached for the glass of water he'd had the foresight to set on the table near the bed. He went about the task of awkwardly helping the girl to raise herself up in a much gentler manner and pressing the tip of the glass to her lips, and it seemed she couldn't quite remember how to swallow, as the water dribbled past the corners of her lips and in curving paths to fall from her chin. After a few seconds she seemed to remember how drinking worked and took the glass in both hands, gulping thirstily at the contents until it was empty. Several locks of her hair turned violet once more. The Doctor tugged the glass from her grasp, which was surprisingly firm, and she let her hands fall to her sides as she lay down again. "Thank you," she said hoarsely. "Where… where am I?"
"It's the med bay of my spaceship," The Doctor informed her, going to the sink and filling the glass again. "Like I said, you were pretty beat up. I fixed your broken bones and injuries, but there wasn't a whole lot I could do about the bruising, I'm afraid."
She looked down at her arms, which were decorated with blue and purple patches of abused skin. Almost curiously, she pressed down on one and winced. A strip of her orange hair changed to brown. "Ow."
She acted as though she'd never had a bruise before. The Doctor seated himself at her bedside again and asked, "All technicalities aside, how did you get onto my TARDIS?"
She stared at him blankly.
"Time and Relative Dimension in Space," he elaborated, figuring her confusion was over the unfamiliar word.
But she shook her head, her puzzled expression remaining prominently in her features. "I don't know… I can't remember," she mumbled, another lock of her hair going pink. The Doctor stared in amazement at her hair. Orange, black, pink, and purple all at once. He took a quick glance at her nails, which had gone orange. He guessed the colors signified the emotions she was feeling at the moment, but which emotions the colors represented were much harder to ascertain.
"All right… breaking through the shields would have taken an enormous amount of energy; it's not surprising you're experiencing some memory loss," the Doctor said logically, though the answers he so desperately wanted were slipping through his fingers. "What's your name?"
She thought very hard for several moments before she looked at him with an expression of defeat and admitted feebly, "I don't know."
The Doctor sighed, trying very hard to hide his frustration. "And I don't suppose you remember where you're from?"
She shook her head, and judging by the expression on her face, he could tell he wasn't doing a very good job at keeping his aggravation with the lack of answers in check. A strip of her hair turned a deep, mournful blue. "I'm sorry," she apologized, biting her bottom lip.
Immediately, the Doctor felt guilt knot in his stomach. "No, don't do that," he said, indicating his own bottom lip, and she ceased nibbling on hers. "It's not your fault," he told her, helping her to sit up again and pressing the glass of water into her hands.
She gulped at the water much like the first glass, and the Doctor considered telling her to slow down before deciding such a command wouldn't do her much good anyway, as she was obviously too parched to listen rationally to anything having to do with water.
"Well, then, first things first," the Doctor said, leaning back in his chair as he watched the girl, whose hair was losing its pink, the color fading into a shimmering white. "Since you can't remember your name, we're going to have to figure out what we should call you."
She looked at the Doctor in astonishment. "Call me… you mean… you want me to stay here?" she asked very slowly, like she was struggling to find the proper words. Her brain must have been addled by her adventure through the TARDIS's shields. Give her a couple of days and her brain function should return mostly to normal, though he couldn't say the same for her memory loss…
"Unless you have someplace else to be," the Doctor shrugged, taking the empty glass from her again. "You can stay here and recover from both physical injuries and mental strain while we figure out who you are and where you've come from."
"Stay here," the girl repeated, and for the first time since he'd seen her, the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Yes… thank you. I'd like that." More violet streaked in her hair, and then a color the Doctor hadn't seen her wear yet – a bright yellow, like sunshine.
He got distracted. "Your hair…"
Her hands went to it involuntarily. "Is there something the matter with it? You didn't have to cut it off, did you?!"
Typical. Women and their hair. He'd travelled with enough female companions to know that all women who had hair were very sensitive about it. "No, not that. It changes colors."
"Of course. Doesn't yours?" But then she stopped, staring intently at him. "But… no. It's been brown this whole time. And you obviously aren't in pain."
Finally! Progress! The Doctor leaned forward, as though getting closer to the girl would elicit more information. "So, brown means pain."
"Yeah. Everyone knows that."
"And who's everyone?"
The girl paused. "I don't know. It just… felt like the right thing to say."
"Automatic response. That's good. Reflexes are all still there, then. Wonder what else got retained in that head of yours. Anyway, names! We need a name for you. Something that suits you. Now—" he stood up and went to the sink, filling up the glass for the third time. Sitting back down and handing it to her, he said more quietly. "What should we call you?"
The girl stared at him blankly. "What are you looking at me for? How should I know? I'm the one who can't remember!"
"Fair enough," the Doctor sighed, biting the inside of his cheek and tugging at his earlobe in thought. "Drink your water. Now! Names… names… Tell you what, I'll start listing and you stop me when you hear something you like. Let's see… Abigail. Anita. Beatrice. Christine. Eloise. Helena. Julianne. Josie. Laura. Nancy. Olivia… this is harder than I thought it would be, actually. Any of those to your liking?"
She shook her head, still in the middle of a sip of water.
"But those are all very ordinary names; wouldn't suit you, oh no… you need something unique. Something exciting… something different. You… you came from nowhere, from the stars themselves… from the great beyond. A mystery… now…" he stared very intently at the girl. "What is a good name for a mystery?"
"A different word for mystery?" the girl suggested blankly. "And while we're on the subject, what's your name? You said you were a… doctor. Doctor who?"
"No name. Just the Doctor. But you need a name. Oh, yes, you impossible thing…" The Doctor lost his train of thought a bit just staring at her and wondering. "I can't figure it out. I can't figure you out. You're just this big nameless enigma… a riddle with no answer… and I don't know—"
"Wait. I liked that."
"Sorry, what?" He asked, snapping out of his thoughts.
"That word you said. Just now. Rig… something. I liked it," she told him, grasping at the echoes of what he'd said repeating in her head, which were fading too quickly for her to latch onto the word she had liked.
"Riddle?" the Doctor supplied, baffled.
More streaks of yellow appeared in the girl's hair. "Yes, that one. Can that be my name? It's got a nice ring to it. Riddle."
This girl would be the end of him. She was driving him half-mad already with curiosity, and now she was starting to reveal all those odd little quirks people carried about with them. "Well, that's not really a name, but… in this situation I suppose it's very appropriate. All right! Riddle it is," he grinned. "Nice to meet you, Riddle. I'm the Doctor."
And her hair went entirely yellow, just like that. "The pleasure's all mine," she beamed at him. But when he offered his hand to her, she stared in confusion at it and locks of her hair returned to orange. "What are you doing?"
"Offering you my hand. You put yours in it, and we shake."
She looked at him skeptically. "I don't think I'm in the proper physical state to… shake."
The Doctor couldn't suppress a chuckle. Definitely not from Earth, this girl. "No, you don't shake your whole body. You just sort of… lift your arm up a bit and then bring it back down a few times. It's called a handshake."
The girl stared at his hand a few more moments before she extended hers and he gripped it. She allowed him to direct their arms in the motions a handshake required before pulling her arm back. The Doctor smiled at her expression of thought. "How was that?"
"Strange," she decided after seeking the right word for a moment. "But… not bad."
"No, not bad at all," the Doctor said. This child was very entertaining. "Now, I'd say you're right enough to get up and walk about a bit. And I'm sure the med bay will get really boring real quick. Why don't we have the TARDIS whip you up a proper bedroom, yeah? And after that, we can try out a few more questions that should elicit automatic responses in the kitchen. I don't know about you, but I am starving."
The newly christened Riddle was very satisfied with her new bedroom, her hair going yellow with violet streaks when they TARDIS led her and the Doctor to a room previously empty. It had been occupied with a bed and a dresser and painted in colors as vibrant and numerous as those her hair came in. She was perfectly content to disappear into the closet for several minutes and discard the blanket she'd been wrapped in for a pair of jeans (which she had never seen before but was delighted about nonetheless) and a green sweatshirt. The Doctor wasn't sure if she was wearing an actual t-shirt beneath that or not, but he supposed he'd have to take her one social convention at a time.
She acted like she'd never seen food before either, thrilled by the simple ham sandwich given to her and even more enticed by the banana, which the Doctor found highly amusing. "So, those colors," the Doctor began, indicating her hair, white streaks added to the colorful array since she'd been given food. "Brown means pain. What about… black?"
"Fear," she replied at once. "Though it can be interpreted as worry, too. Red is anger, green is hope, blue is sorrow…" she paused for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. It was difficult to think. It gave her a headache. "Yellow is joy… purple is… gratitude…" She grimaced as her head throbbed.
"You all right?" The Doctor asked in concern, watching brown appear in her hair.
"My brain hurts," she mumbled, taking another bite of banana in order to avoid talking for a few moments.
"Oh, yeah… sorry about that; forgot to warn you. You'll probably have headaches a couple of days. Breaking through the TARDIS's shields messed with your head a bit, your memory in particular." Still, as a precaution he stood and leaned across the table, pulling an ophthalmoscope from his pocket (he'd loaded his pockets during his stay in the med bay, not sure what he might need with this girl) and directing her face towards him. "Let me see?"
She sat rigidly still, her body tensing to feel his fingers on her chin, holding her head steady. He was dismayed to see a lock of her hair go black, and he checked for any abnormalities as quickly as he could before retreating and reseating himself. "Just a headache. Nothing's wrong. You're fine," he assured her, watching with some relief as the black in her hair returned to white. "You were saying about the colors?"
"Oh… orange is… confusion. White is peace or contentment, gray is loneliness, and pink is embarrassment. I think that's all of them."
"But that's brilliant!" the Doctor exclaimed. "A trick like that, it would have to make a person completely honest. Which gives us a clue. A completely honest race… hm. Never heard of one like that. Every species has their secrets."
"I have a secret. My head's keeping everything away from me."
The Doctor couldn't repress a chuckle. "That's not quite the same. Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions. Don't think about the answer. Just blurt out the first thing that pops into your mind. What's your name?"
"Riddle." She froze and looked rather mortified. "Wait… that's wrong, isn't it? That's the name you gave me."
"It's fine. You just haven't reached it yet. How many suns?"
"Two." That was good. He could work with two suns. That eliminated a vast number of planets to search through. He couldn't help but think that Gallifrey had two suns. Maybe… just maybe there was still a chance…
"What color is the sky?"
"Purple."
The Doctor let out a long, slow breath. That had been his last hope. If she had only said orange... he could have believed the machines had made some sort of error, that she was Time Lord after all… but her skies were purple.
He gathered his thoughts, picking at a few crumbs dangling off the crusts of his own sandwich. "Where—?"
"Stop," Riddle interrupted him suddenly, and he stopped mid-question. He looked up at her and was at once appalled to see that much of her hair had gone brown, and she was holding her head in her hands. "It hurts too much."
He could have kicked himself. "I'm sorry," he apologized at once, dropping his sandwich and standing up. He guided Riddle to put hers down and get to her feet and steered her out of the kitchen. "You need sleep. It's the best thing for your recovery."
"I'm not tired."
"Doesn't matter. At the very least you need to lie down and do nothing, think of nothing. Ask the TARDIS to play some music if that helps. Oh, and keep the lights off." He was going off what Rose had done that time she had gotten a migraine, but a headache resulting from a breach in a very powerful spaceship's defense mechanisms probably warranted similar treatment.
Riddle sighed, but complied. "Fine," she mumbled as they reached her bedroom door. She had no idea what time it was, but bidding the Doctor goodnight seemed an appropriate sentiment.
"Goodnight, Riddle." He watched her open the door. Just before she slipped inside and shut it behind her, he added, "Call me if you need something, all right?"
"Yes… thank you." She smiled and shut the door.
The Doctor, unsure of what to do next, reverted to his usual ways; tinkering with devices in the console room. He was working on the zigzag plotter, which had never worked quite right and he hoped to make fully functional. It was a complicated bit of wiring he had to work with, and as he dug up the control panel and began sonicking various bits, his thoughts returned continuously to the girl in the bedroom down the hall with two hearts who wasn't Time Lord. What was she, then?
After a few hours he was still at a loss, though he had admittedly improved the plotter's functionality, and he jolted when he heard the sound coming from down the hall.
The sound that was very similar to screaming.
No… that was the sound of screaming.
"Riddle?!" The wires and panels were cast aside instantly, the Doctor racing down the hall as fast as his legs could carry him almost immediately as the screaming continued. "Riddle?!"
He burst through her bedroom door without much thought to find her tossing fitfully about in her sleep beneath her covers, her hair entirely jet-black. Whimpers and moans slipped past her lips as she suffered a nightmare, struggling against an enemy that did not exist on the physical plane. "Riddle!" the Doctor exclaimed, going to the girl's bedside, cringing when she screamed again and started sobbing in her sleep.
He knew that waking her up mid-nightmare when he was little more than a stranger to her wasn't his best plan of action, but it was the only one he had and he simply couldn't bear to let her fight against her unseen enemies when she was already physically and mentally exhausted as it was. Avoiding her flailing limbs, he pressed a hand against her shoulder and lightly tried to shake her awake. "Riddle."
Her body gave a great jolt and she snapped into alertness, bolting up and scrambling backwards into the headboard and nearly off the bed, breathing in short gasps and looking around the room with wild eyes shining with tears.
"No, it's okay! It's me," the Doctor said quickly, holding his hands up in entreaty. "Just me."
She stared at him for a long moment before her gaze focused and her body relaxed just slightly. "Doctor," she whispered in relief, though she remained where she was, curled up at the edge of her bed with her arms locked around her knees as though she was trying to imitate the fetal position. The smallest strip of her hair turned yellow, a shocking contrast to the black, and suddenly she was sobbing, hiding her face behind her knees as her body shook and various streaks of her hair went from blue to pink and back again in an endless loop. The Doctor could only assume she was feeling equally depressed by the contents of the nightmare she'd been suffering from and the humiliation of breaking down in front of him.
Oh, he hated it when people cried in front of him. It tugged at his hearts, twisting them, making his body ache to comfort them. And this girl was no exception. In fact, he felt the pull more strongly. Perhaps because she was merely a child. Perhaps because he felt a sort of kinship with her (it was so rare to meet another creature with two hearts). Perhaps because she'd been through so much, quite obviously, in the last day and a half; more than anyone should have to deal with. Whatever the reason, he found himself scooting closer to poor Riddle and wrapping an arm around her, letting her find some solace in the contact as she slowly unraveled her limbs and began to cry into his jacket rather than her knees. "It's all right. It's safe here, remember? You're all right. You're safe."
All right and safe. The only two comforts he could possibly think would do her any good.
"Fire," she cried nearly unintelligibly, and the Doctor strained to listen. She was trying to tell him what she had seen, what terrible illusions had plagued her in sleep. "Huge… buildings falling. Screaming. Bright blue lights… pain…"
Was she seeing what had happened to her?! This could be a major breakthrough! He couldn't just let this pass him by – he had to know, he had to see it! He angled himself so he could look the girl directly in the eye. With his hands on her shoulders he said seriously, "Riddle. I know this isn't something you want to do, but it could be very important. I need you to relive your nightmare with me, all right? I need you to trust me. Can you do that for me?" He was reaching towards her face already, his fingers on her temples with the tips brushing her hairline – and he found himself hurled from her mind almost immediately. Good lord, he'd never experienced that before! Nobody had ever thrust him out of their thoughts! They'd created doors to keep secrets hidden, but nobody had ever exiled him the way she had!
Riddle shook her head, tears spilling out of her eyes. "No, I don't want to. I can't…"
She chose now to be difficult? Fine, then. If he had to beg, he would. Time was running out, and this was urgent! "Riddle, please. It could be crucial to finding out who you are."
She sniffled and thought it over before she screwed her eyes shut and nodded, flinching when the Doctor's fingertips went back to her temples.
It still took him a few moments and an impressive amount of effort to probe her thoughts and delve into her fading subconscious. He shut his eyes, trying to see what she saw. It was blurry at first, but grew sharper every second as Riddle allowed him in.
He saw a glittering purple sky, as violet as Riddle's eyes, and buildings of glass in every color he could imagine, even some he had never seen before. He saw rolling hills of blue and pink grass and trees reaching towards the heavens with leaves of gold. He saw people who looked so human draped in the same material as Riddle's ruined blue dress in rainbow assortments. And he felt the world, and heard it. A gentle breeze that smelled of vanilla, or something close to it, and there was music drifting upon the wind, and the Doctor knew somehow that such a song was coming from the trees as their leaves rustled. It was all so beautiful. Her world, whatever it was, wherever it was, was magnificent. Just as magnificent as his home world had been.
And then the breeze died. The song ceased. The air turned stale.
With a tremendous crack, the sky turned dark and opened into a great schism, a black cavern darker than night. Riddle whimpered.
"Stay with me. It's just a dream; it can't hurt you," the Doctor reminded her gently, desperate for her to keep her mind open to him.
The fissure grew wider, swallowing the violet sky until Riddle's world fell into an impossible night, blacker than any dark on any planet the Doctor had ever known. Her world had been stolen, taken into the maw of the void and devoured.
And that's when the screaming started. Terrible sounds of unfathomable agony; the screams of the dying. The Doctor felt the crippling fear that Riddle felt; a race that was completely honest, he realized. A race that couldn't know true evil or true pain because there was no way to achieve deceit; no true way to hide the desire to hurt. Every emotion on display. A race that, when confronted with such pain or such evil would be overwhelmed by their fear of the unknown.
Faint and brief shimmers of reflection dotted the sky, but it was too dark to make out what was flying over the heads of every person on the ground of Riddle's world. And then the sky was lit up by bright blue concentrated beams of light, and the Doctor watched in horror as, when the lasers hit any living thing, their skeletal structures were displayed for just a moment before they crumpled to the ground, their lives stolen from them in the blink of an eye.
"No," he muttered, his face screwing up in concentration to keep ahold of Riddle's memories. Her fear was overpowering; it was making him lose his grip. "It can't be…"
Such weaponry was all too familiar to him. But it was impossible. It had to be impossible.
And that's when the voices rose, those terrible mechanic voices void of all emotion; the voices of creatures bred for murder.
"Exterminate! Kill all the—!"
Riddle screamed and the Doctor found himself hurled from her mind so abruptly and so forcefully that he was physically affected, jolting backwards as Riddle curled into a ball and began sobbing into her hands. "The sky was eaten," she wailed. Her hair was changing colors rapidly, from blue to brown to black and gray and all over again. "The monsters came. Made of metal. Didn't stop to listen. They killed us all on sight. Everyone. And… and…" she hiccupped and broke down entirely. "I don't remember anything else. Just that… more than anything else, I wanted to be safe… I needed to be safe."
There was more. There had to be more. The way she had gotten so injured still remained a mystery, but for now they had made an enormous breakthrough. "Daleks," he spat in disgust. "That's what destroyed your world. A race with one sole purpose: to kill everything not Dalek."
Riddle's body gave a tremendous shudder. "So scared… it was all I could think about. I'd never been scared like that before."
"I know you hadn't," the Doctor said, because it was true. In her head, he had felt her fear. Even now, it still sat in his stomach like a knot. Slowly so as not to alarm her, he wrapped his arm around her again and held her close, the way he had been before he'd asked her to relive her nightmare with him. "I know."
"But why?" she whispered. "Why do they kill? Why would anyone?"
The Doctor sighed and ran his fingers through her hair a few times. "It's all they know."
Riddle sniffled and shut her eyes, slowly getting herself under control. Her hair had ceased its rapid changing of colors and had finally rested on black, interrupted by white streaks. The Doctor thought surely those colors couldn't exist together – after all, one meant fear and the other peace – but the longer he held her, the wider the streaks of white grew until all that remained of the black was a single lock hanging over Riddle's eyes. He was beginning to understand how such exhibitions of emotion worked. Whatever she was feeling was displayed, and though she had been afraid, she was also content with the comfort. The stronger the emotion, the more its color showed.
"You should get some sleep," the Doctor said quietly. "What little you got couldn't have been very restful."
"I can't sleep. I'll see those… Daleks again," she mumbled, shuddering to remember and hesitating briefly before using the foreign name.
"I can make sure the nightmares stay away."
She looked up at him skeptically. "How?"
"Close your eyes," the Doctor commanded, and was shocked when she obeyed. She had been so obstinate up until then. He pressed his fingers to her temples again. "If this is going to work, you have to let me in."
She must have decided he was trustworthy, because the wall barricading him from her thoughts slowly dissolved.
"Imagine everything that makes you scared, or unhappy, and close the door. I can lock it." He watched images of a black sky, of blood, and of Daleks float by to be captured behind a door she created in her mind. He felt fear and pain briefly before the emotions disappeared behind the door with her nightmares. "Can you give me the key?" he requested. It appeared in his hand after a few moments, and he stuck it in the lock and turned it, hearing the satisfying click before it dissolved. "There," he said, pulling his hands away from Riddle's face and opening his eyes. He found her violet eyes staring into his and grinned after recovering from the initial shock. "Do you feel better?"
She didn't need to answer for him to see that she did; the black strip in her hair had been replaced by a vibrant yellow. But she nodded and replied feebly, "Yes."
"All right, then. Goodnight, Riddle… again." He stood and made to leave, but one of her small hands darted out and caught the end of his jacket. "Don't go!" she exclaimed quite suddenly, her voice laced with panic. The Doctor turned to find her staring at him with wide eyes, her bottom lip quivering and her hair streaked with blue.
"What is it?"
"I… I don't want to be alone," she admitted, blushing. Her hair, forever a spectacle, gained a lock of bubble gum pink. Lowering her eyes to her lap, she mumbled, "You don't have to stay a long time… just until I fall asleep. Please?"
The Doctor thought fleetingly of his zigzag plotter before deciding it could wait just a little longer. He reseated himself on the edge of her bed. "Well, if you're going to sleep, you should probably lay down," he pointed out. She smiled and did as he said, shutting her eyes. The blue and pink faded from her hair, leaving only the white and yellow.
The Doctor reached out his hand and ran his fingers once more through that wild, perplexing hair of hers. She was so very like a child. Surely she was younger than Rose had been. On a whim, he asked, "How old are you, Riddle?"
She yawned. He could tell she was falling into sleep already. "Ninety-eight," she mumbled, and the Doctor didn't have time to reply with his exclamations of shock before her breathing evened out, informing him she had fallen asleep at last.
In spite of her blessing to leave once she was asleep, the Doctor remained, staring at Riddle with a look of frustrated confusion. Two hearts. An unnaturally long lifespan. He wondered if she could regenerate too, though he wasn't going to test any theories. She was so very Time Lord, and yet wasn't.
What was this girl, how had she gotten onto his ship, and most importantly, how did he restore her memory so he could finally have all his answers?
All right! Done! Long chapter, too. Hope you liked it enough to review!
Also, (mumbles) I'm starting to run out of ideas. (Normal voice) I'd appreciate ideas you may have? They might help me with plotline glitches I'm currently having.
Also, I propose a vote, because at this point it could go either way. The Doctor and Riddle: do you guys want to see them get involved romantically, or are you content to see them as just friends, albeit rather close ones? I've got ideas for both and I haven't really picked one over the other yet. Keep in mind both options dictate different endings to this story.
And one more thing: Please come back for Chapter three! See you next time, my dears!