Chapter Six: No More Lies

Wilfred yelped in surprise and dropped the plate. The Doctor's eyes widened.

There she was. His throat immediately tightened as he saw Pennine properly, and couldn't get out a word. He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing; almost immediately she moved forwards and wrapped her arms round him.

It was a tight hug, but she was careful to avoid his wounds; he clutched her back, burying his face in her neck and breathing in her scent, unable to believe that she was there.

"Sweetheart," she murmured, stroking his hair with one hand and rocking him gently, reminiscent of his childhood. For a moment he tried to kid himself that he was a child again; just that curious little boy with no concept of the future ahead of him.

"Mum," he gasped. "I— I—"

He didn't know what he was trying to say; he thought he might even be trying to apologise—but she shushed him and kissed his shoulder tenderly. "It's all right, my baby; it's all right."

It wasn't, it wasn't. "M-Mum—you can't—"

"I've got a few minutes. Only a few."

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't hold back the tears. His mother continued rocking him, gently shushing him, and he clung on, hoping that she would never have to let go. Hoping in vain.

It was every bit as wonderful and painful as he had expected.

All too soon, Pennine drew back, and the Doctor was forced to loosen his grip. He could only just bring himself to meet her eyes; they were swimming with tears, but they also held the same determination that had graced them the last time they had spoken—when she had told him …

Before the Doctor could process, she had turned from him and addressed the other man in the room. "Wilfred."

Wilf was on his way out of the room, obviously wanting to give them some privacy, but at his name he looked up, startled. Pennine beckoned him towards them, and he took a couple of hesitant steps.

"There's something I have to say before I go. To both of you."

The Doctor and Wilf stared at her, both confused.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" the Doctor managed to get out. If any of them, he should be the one apologising. "For what?"

"For keeping you two apart. Although, in my defence, I didn't have much of a choice."

"Huh?" Wilf said. "I don't understand—"

The Doctor, however, stopped breathing as the meaning of her words impacted. "Mum—you don't—" He looked away from her, towards a confused Wilf. Pennine looked at Wilf too, and a penny seemed to drop in the old human.

"Vera?" he whispered.

She took his hand, pulled him closer to her, and then—confirming the Doctor's theory—gave him a kiss. Wilf looked too stunned to respond, and she pulled back sadly.

"I'm sorry." Both men were in shocked silence. She took the Doctor's hand, squeezed it, and then gently put it in Wilfred's. For a long moment the three of them were interlocked, and then she slowly, reluctantly let go, leaving the others connected.

"Take care of him," she said quietly to Wilfred, who silently nodded. "I have to go."

The words jerked the Doctor out of his shock. "No! Mum—"

"Ssshh." She hugged him again and kissed the top of his head. "I have to, Sweetheart; you know I do."

"I don't—want—you to go," he said in a strangled voice, every word needing to be forced out.

"Believe me, baby, I'd stay if I could." She kissed him one last time. "Goodbye. I love you."

As she dissolved into nothing, the Doctor collapsed back on his pillow and buried his head in his hands, trying to hide the sobs that threatened to wrack his whole body. After a moment he jumped as he felt someone sit down on the bed next to him, and gently pull him into his arms. The Doctor was too much of a wreck to fight him off and instead accepted the embrace, his breath coming in painful hiccups as the flood of tears came.

He didn't know how long he cried for. Wilfred never moved, never spoke except gentle shushing noises; he just held him. The Doctor sank into the illusion that he was a child again, but it was different this time. There was no memory of a moment like this. Only what he could have wished to be.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?" Pennine looked around and smiled at her son. It had been just the two of them now, for a couple of years. Ever since her husband—well, that was best left alone. The rumours surrounding his mysterious disappearance, which fortunately Sweetheart didn't seem to have paid any attention to, had started to settle; and in a year the boy was going to be Initiated.

"Why am I different?"

She hesitated. "Different? Everyone's different."

"Yeah but Tapper thinks I'm more different."

Pennine tried not to laugh. "In what way?"

"He called me a human."

Had she been holding anything, she would have dropped it. As it was, she hadn't been, and so Sweetheart didn't seem to have noticed her panic.

"Why did he do that?" Pennine asked after a moment, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

"I dunno. He said I'm like one, but I don't think I am. Am I? What are they like?"

"They're …" She trailed off. Curious, brave, resourceful, compassionate—all words that sprung to mind—she couldn't say. Because she knew that they fit her son perfectly. Well, they would. "They can be stupid, nasty and violent, and think they're better than everyone else." Not that that description was limited to just humans. Some members of her own species certainly deserved it. In fact, pretty much every Time Lord fit the last one.

"I'm not nasty, am I?" Sweetheart's lip trembled slightly.

"No!" Pennine said quickly, realising her mistake. "No, baby, you're not. Not in the least bit."

"Or stupid?"

"Sweetheart," she said, gearing herself up for repeating the biggest lie of her life. "You are not at all in any way human."

He seemed satisfied with that. "Okay. I'll tell Tapper he's wrong."

Pennine sighed as Sweetheart went back to his room. She was going to have to keep an eye on that friend of her son's. If any adult decided to pay attention to his theories …

No. That wouldn't happen. She'd seen enough to know she wouldn't be discovered. Still, she still couldn't shake off a feeling that the boy nicknamed 'Tapper' was going to be a lot of trouble to her son.

Wilfred's mind was strangely blank. The Doctor slowly calmed down, and Wilf would have thought he had fallen asleep if he couldn't see the occasional silent tear drip. That, and his hands were still shaking. The rest of the Doctor was completely still, his head resting on Wilf's shoulder, despite the height difference probably making it a less than comfortable position.

Wilf didn't want to move, but he found he had been stroking the Doctor's shoulder—the one that hadn't been caught by the whip—with his thumb. The gentlest of movements, just to remind him that he wasn't alone. He wouldn't break the silence until the Doctor was ready.

The moment came. The Doctor's eyes flickered open; he wiped them with his sleeve, and slowly sat up, breaking their contact. He didn't meet Wilf's eyes, but didn't protest when Wilf took his hand and squeezed it.

"So," the Doctor said in a quiet voice. "She—she called herself Vera?"

Wilf nodded, smiling slightly. "Vera Adams. It was … thirty-eight years ago, now, we met."

The Doctor visibly swallowed. "I-I guess that makes you—"

"Proud."

TBC …