The words were nonsense, of course. Sarcasm, surely, he was pissed at the way she'd treated him.

But did I really believe that? I may not have known the man very long, but I knew how understanding he was, how intelligent and wise his incredulously impossible age made him. He could completely empathise with her, and how the situation looked. Her daughter going off with a strange man? Very suspicious in the papers.

I wasn't sure how long he'd left me thinking and mulling over those words, and I was sure I'd forgotten some of them. The only thing that mattered now was that he knew my mother.

"Was she…did she, erm, travel with you, like I do?"

He nodded, his eyes focused on me as though I held all the answers to his dilemma…what was it again? I held his eyes for a long moment.

"How long ago?"

It seemed trivial, even to me, but I had to know, I just wasn't clear why. It annoyed me in some way that she'd known him before me, and had the audacity to conceal his existence...and to forget it was another thing altogether!

"Well, technically about 6 months ago, by TARDIS time…by my time. Something must be broken…I just remember landing in the woods expecting London as always, sometimes I just let her take me to wherever she fancies," he recalled, brushing his hair back with his large hand and leaning on the wall next to the door, just out of sight through any windows. In the short pause, I heard my mother shouting over the phone, so angry that she was talking impossibly fast.

"And here I land…what is it, around 25 years later? I meet you…Donna Noble's daughter."

"Coincidence?" I implicated weakly, deciphering the meaning behind his musings. Surely he didn't believe in destiny.

He shook his head. "Something's always tied me to her, this family, just them." He shook his head slowly as he thought. "No. Must just be the TARDIS…I don't know…recognising." He saw the look I gave him as he continued to personify his space ship. "I'm clutching at straws."

Just then, the door clicked open, and my mother's face fell like thunder. But her words were threateningly slow and quiet. "You stay away from my daughter."

I snapped a look between both parties, him staring away and her glaring at him, thinking she was staring him down into shame. I knew I'd be losing the battle sooner or later, so I complied with one look from him. His brown eyes were sombre, but indicative. It would be best, they told me.

As soon as I was behind the door frame, she closed the door shut, closing any image of the Doctor away forever. I stared blankly, waiting for any hint of his return. But I saw his blurred image fade the further it got from the door. So I waited. For what, I wasn't certain. A snap, like string breaking, tying us together. Severed as we were, with no way of saying goodbye. That seemed…well….vague. I was too vague to even register that he was gone, and that I couldn't possibly see him again.

I traced back slowly, not taking my eyes from the door once, hoping to see a long brown object show up again. Eventually I had to stop looking as I came into the living room I'd not seen for over a month. It seemed to small, unusual for my home to now be as big on the inside as on the outside.

"Now, missus, I want to know everything that happened. Everything."

My mother sat down on the sofa and patted the spot next to her, her face set into a forced calm. I sat, robotically, feeling sick to my stomach. I recalled how she said 'everything', the implications behind her words perfectly clear.

"The police would want to know his name," she pushed, but that was the most difficult to answer, for the simple fact that he didn't really have one. He was simply, 'The Doctor'.

If she remembers, she'll die.

His voice echoed with tragic ghostliness, and a tear sprung to my eye. "It…it wasn't anything like what you're thinking. I had all the choices in the world to make, including whether to stay or go. I've never been impulsive in my life, and its left me limited. But I was there, with a chance, and I took it. I have no regrets, and I trust that man with my life."

I let the words fly out before I could stop, stare at my mom's frightful expression and blush furiously. I'd systematically, as I thought in my private mind, confessed to having a crush on a man my mom knew years before me, travelled with, and didn't, or couldn't, remember. I was sad for her at first, but also glad. I didn't want to think how she felt for him…had she met him before she met my dad? Before she met her first husband?

When I did look at my mom, on the other hand, her eyes looked distantly away, just past me, pouting as though concentrating on a thought she couldn't quite grasp. She stayed that way for a few moments, and I grew nervous as I recalled the Doctor's words again.

"Mom, I'm fine, honestly. I just…think I need sleep. A lie down at least. Travelling can take it out of you."

She snapped back into reality, but somewhere in her eyes was still that thought. Could there be something there?

She nodded, and swallowed hard. "Yeah, you go on. I'll bring you something to eat."

I smiled in return, not really hungry, but it would take her mind off of things.

…

The Doctor waited in his TARDIS, alone. Once again, he faced the prospect of travelling with just himself.

He leaned back on the control panel, staring at a random spot on the floor, considering the situation. He still couldn't comprehend the chances of running into Donna again, much less that her daughter was Mia. Much less that she was his companion, just as brilliant…perhaps even more brilliant, than her mother, and he didn't realise. Not that they shared much in looks; other than the red hair, of course.

He scanned the TARDIS slowly. He listened to the sounds she made, the empty echoes it made as she tried to make the sounds last, just so he wouldn't feel as lonely. But the truth was that it made it worse. The sounds she made now, he was reminded of how Mia would comment on them, like the creaks of the door she complained about on her first day, but he was sure that she'd grown to think of them as familiar and homely, like a song welcoming her home. He was positive he'd sensed her mood ease earlier that day as they entered the box. He could even picture her stood next to the door, looking defiant and guilty at the same time over her reckless actions, her bright red hair covering only part of her face. He felt sick, because he'd only come to realise that his companions were made that way by his influence, made brave and stupid with the slightest hints of brilliance, just to stay with him. Madness. It was odd that a genius like himself could only realise that when his latest companion was gone. He felt sick, because of the implications. She didn't need to jump on the krillitane, but it got her in the room with him. But going passed the sickness and concern over her safety, he felt something else. Gratitude? Happiness? It was definitely, defiantly positive, and it felt strange for him. He gave a once over of the ship again, noticing how dark every corner seemed now without her.

…

I didn't really sleep, but the solitude was blissful enough. I spent the half an hour my mother had granted me before bringing me a snack considering my situation, noticing the silence, and how quiet it was without the Doctor's jabbers, and how much I missed it. I found I couldn't stay still, that once I sat in bed I stood again, before forcing myself to stay down. I then glanced around my normal, average room, how dull it seemed. How ordinary. This couldn't be my life now, not again. I'd done this. I'd seen aliens! Aliens, of all shapes. Id conversed with them, stood slightly behind the Doctor of course. I'd been on other planets, ones of such beauty that I was tricked into thinking that one could be my new home. Numerous suns, evenings watching them set to be replaced by larger moons, reflecting on odd coloured oceans to mimic earth the best it could. No matter how many times you saw the same phenomenon, you never got sick of that one. Not next to that man. He would describe exactly what caused the water to be that colour, why the planet needed that many suns, why the sand lit up beneath your fingers. So fluently that it was like a commentary, and soon you would understand if you followed the words, not just the tones of his voice, which I was often guilty of. No, knowing what I knew, seeing what I'd seen, I couldn't go back. There had to be a way. And there was only one.

She had to remember.

Just then, as if on cue, she appeared behind the bedroom door, a tray knocking against it. "Hungry?"

I stood, and took the tray from her hands. She looked weak, now I'd had chance to really see her. Her face was almost as pale as mine. "Thanks."

She sat in the wicker chair next to my bed, and I sat opposite her. I knew then that we needed to talk, both of us having something to say.

"So, what was your 'friend's' name?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does."

I glared hard at her. "So you can tell the police?"

She stared past me again, and then looked down to her lap. "For my own piece of mind."

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself, before I was going to launch myself into another rant. "Mom, you've known me for over 20 years, now. Have I ever done anything reckless? Have I ever given you reason to doubt my sanity, intelligence, or common sense, before this incident?"

She didn't answer, which usually meant no, but she didn't like to be wrong.

"Well then, believe me when I say that those things haven't essentially gone away. I was safe with him. He…saved me. While you were away, something…happened. A child was taken. I nearly was too, but he came and saved me, and we saved the child. Simon, his name is. From then, I guess he spent the whole time saving me."

I wasn't sure she was listening, for she had the same distant look in her eyes. I gave it some thought. I was instantly aware of the presence in my mind.

"I'll explain some more later, I'm still quite tired." She snapped back again and nodded, uncharacteristically quiet. Just before she exited, she turned her face on me. "I called the police, told them it was a mistake. You went away with a friend and forgot to tell me."

My eyes widened. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Impulse, I suppose." With that she was gone. I wished there and then that the Doctor had a phone, and that if he did, that I had his number.

Instead, I closed my eyes and thought about my plan. I'd never interacted with whatever was in my head before, not passed images anyway. I was hoping they could give me an answer.

Hello?

I waited, only for a second, until a voice replied.

One is aware of your motives for communication, and one must reply 'yes'.

Yes to what?

That one can help.

Oh. Good! Thank you! How?

The voice was more clear and compliant than I'd ever heard it before, and distinctly male. I wondered whether it had a name.

We are not given names.

Oh. That was a bit creepy…and a little sad.

We get by, miss. You would like to see the time lord again.

Yes.

And you would risk your mother's safety for this.

I hesitated. Was that it in a nut shell? If so, that was despicable.

Not exactly. I want her to remember, so that she doesn't look so lost. And so that she would understand what I have to tell her. So she could trust him, like I know she did once. I think he did too, he's tied to us, in some way. She feels to be a missing link, I suppose. He said she was once the most important woman in the world-

You do this because you love him.

I felt myself go silent.

One shall help you, as you have at last acknowledged us.

Sorry…how can you help?

We have our ways of protecting the mind, miss, our sub-race. Since our host still requires control so we can move, one must provide shields. A casing around the mind. One can place a shield around your mothers. She will remember, the damage will be prevented.

Like…disarming a bomb?

In your mother's case, indeed that would be appropriate.

I thought over the words, evading the reveal of any distrust. I had to go into this with as much trust as possible.

Thank you, I feel you ought to have a name.

The voice didn't reply, and I didn't wait.