A/N: Shout out to DreamPrincess2591 for reminding me that this story exists on the internet. This update is for you and whoever else still reads this, especially those who read the original. May Ship 5 live on forever in our hearts and this poor reader have no idea what's coming next.

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Sub-battle TARDIS number three hundred forty-seven had long since erased the name of her original pilot from her records, or at least the ones that anyone else could access. She still kept it so that she could read it at times and be hit by something resembling a fine blend of loneliness, guilt, and general sadness. Because of this, the art of hiding one's pain and regret was well-known to her, and she could see through anyone else's juvenile attempts. She was a connoisseur of dejection. What she did not know, however, was how to comfort anyone. So, all who resided in the timeship remained miserable for a time, finding themselves waking up at odd hours of the night, haunted by the memory of something bad or the fear of something worse.

Guardian had one job, and she was failing miserably. She tried to keep things normal, for her pilot's sake, but she couldn't, not when the world was falling apart.

Now there were things to do, systems to override. She could not stop for every distress call, not if it came as a cost to her passengers. She would simply have to let the world burn to help fuel a frail semblance of normalcy.

She circumvented her systems to the best of her ability, and when that failed, perfected her hard-light projections so she could use them to make additional modifications. She spread herself thin, reading books, updating her systems. She ignored the nagging subroutine that screamed that she was not made to be what she was becoming, something flexible, something soft. She killed the nagging subroutine that told her that she was made to kill. To ease the ache of it all, she checked her weapons stores, then returned to her pilots. They spoke of their adventures late into the night, and woke in the morning knowing that they were braver than they thought.

They were all much braver than they thought.

It took two weeks for Angelo's arm to heal. The break was bad, but the other children had expected it to take four days to heal at the most. After the third they began to worry. After the fourth they took matters into their own hands. The cast was cut off in Bernadette's bedroom and the wound was inspected. It was still bruised, black and blue. It was wrapped again in the medical bay and the girls were told to be patient. Angelo was a frail child. He always had been.

During the second week, when the pain eased, the ship began to teach her children how to fend for themselves. If all hell was to break loose, they should be ready. They should be ready to wait while the ship waged war against hell itself.

"This setup is standard across the majority of galaxies," the TARDIS began.

"Can we go back to multivariable calculus?" Angelo begged. "That's easier."

"No," the TARDIS replied. "The first four knobs control the burners, and the last the oven. Today we'll be using a gas stove."

"Can we make sweets?" Talitha asked.

"No. You should learn how to make real food for once."

Bernadette toyed with a kitchen knife absently. "I already know how to cook."

"All of you should learn how to cook. If you do, soon we'll be able to have a lovely little Otherstide."

Angelo smiled brightly. "Otherstide!"

It was, in fact, the boy's favorite holiday. There were gifts, food, and most importantly, family. In Talitha's opinion, the food was the event's saving grace.

Historically, Otherstide was meant to honor the Other, one of the four founders of Time Lord society. However, sources disagreed heavily upon what the Other's contributions were, so the festival dissolved into a generic sort of holiday.

Otherstide was all about family. Each House, each family, or both would meet, exchange gifts, and have a feast. Otherstide was about home. Home was light-years away on Gallifrey. To say the least, this was going to be a rough Otherstide.

Talitha stood in the workshop, sparks shooting past her face. She was welding together a gift for Bernadette, a little toy comprised of cogs and gears. Talitha did not know what she wanted for herself, but she was ready to be surprised. She trusted that her friends were well enough acquainted with her tastes to think of something on their own.

It was not the first Otherstide they had spent together. They had done something similar the previous year when Lady Vatusia, Bernadette's mother, had offered to take Talitha to Mount Lung, where the House of Lungbarrow once stood. This offer dated her, as "once" was a word of relative importance. The House was no more. All embarrassment aside, Talitha was then welcome to spend the day with the Oakdown family, then travel to the House of Deeptree to drop off Angelo for the night's festivities there. The idea had excited the girls, as the House was often talked about in the hushed tones of scandal. They were able to put faces to the names their elders spoke when they thought no one was listening. There was Leela and the Kithriarch who despised her, there were Andred's parents who would never again speak to him, and everyone else who would also avoid him, even though the prydonian castellan himself was not present. There was, however, one unexpected guest: Agent Torvald. Talitha had met him once before, as he had worked with her father on occasion, but he did not notice her. He kept his distance, as was to be expected, and he kept his silence. Sometimes, the human Leela would glare at him.

Hopefully, this Otherstide would be better, no matter how bad things already were. Absent fathers would remain absent, but with less family came less family drama. Without the comforts and confines of Gallifrey, they could focus more on making the TARDIS their home, a place for the family they had found. That was what Otherstide was all about: Family.

For Bernadette, the yearning for her family did not ease. She could still remember her mother's words and her father's smile. She could remember his laugh best of all. Her mother had taught her that we are not our families, but they had made Bernadette who she was. She couldn't leave them. But her mother had told her to run, so she ran. She had told her to stay safe however she could, whatever the cost. She had told her she loved her.

But she hadn't said goodbye.

There was nothing Bernadette wished for more that Otherstide than to say goodbye.

Talithayevestrandaveri only cared about food, and she was content.

There was too much food for three people. Against Guardian's advice, Talitha had prepared three pies, one cake, and two dozen smaller pastries. Bernadette had made rolls, casseroles, and cut fruit into interesting shapes. Angelo had made pot roast.

Together they set the table, the ship making sure the Angelo wasn't doing all the work. In the true spirit of Otherstide, they talked and teased each other mercilessly late into the night. At midnight, the gifts were exchanged. Each person received three gifts each, one from each family member.

As tradition dictated, the head of the household received their presents first. Guardian had not been expecting anything, but the children were waiting patiently for her to unwrap the parcel on the console.

The projection did the task expected of it. The children had worked on it together, a combination of all their talents. Talitha had drawn, painted, and pieced; Bernadette had sketched, cut, and carved; and Angelo had designed the intricate mechanism for the music box that sat atop the control panel. The timeship feigned surprise, as she had witnessed the construction of her gift from start to finish. It had taken all her restraint not to peer inside and inspect the mechanism so as to piece together its tune before. Now, holding it so close to her heart now made it feel worth the wait. She allowed herself to take in every detail: the suns painted on the box's side, the smooth arcs that ran along its edges, and the printed metal key. She turned it, opened it, and the contraption sang. The tiny column of the miniature control panel went up and down as the music played, bright and clear.

"Thank you," she said. In all her time, she could not think of any other words to express how she felt.

She moved on.

Bernadette was second. Angelo gave her a set of bookmarks to replace the ones she lost in the library almost daily. Talitha gave her a toy cat that would always wander to the warmest part of the room. Guardian gave her a sweater of martian merino wool. Upon closer inspection, Bernadette could tell it came from the gift shop of a certain museum. The security tag was still attached.

Talitha received an overcomplicated but surprisingly functional pencil sharpener from Angelo, a handwritten guide to watercolor painting from Bernadette, and an electronics kit from the timeship. Appended to the instruction manual was a Terran children's book detailing the finer points of counting to ten.

Finally, it was Angelo's turn to open his presents. He was so excited that he seemed about to burst. Talitha gave him a teddy bear. Bernadette gave him a notebook. Guardian gave him a box of toy soldiers.

"You can't give him that!" Talitha protested.

"Why not?" the timeship asked. "It was the only thing he wanted."

Angelo unpacked the toy soldiers, turning them over, inspecting the figures for damages and noting them with relief. Bernadette remembered these, as he had brought them to her house when he moved in. Excitedly, Angelo named all of them, pointing out the imperfections that set them apart. He showed her the chips in their paint that distinguished Ronan from Damon, but there was one that was set apart from the rest. Amongst the red-clad figures was a guard with a golden plackart and breastplate. It was a little Captain Andred, made to stand watch by his bed, staser at the ready. He and his original guard were wooden, carved with Leela's knife and painted poorly by the real Captain Andred. It would have been sweet, if it had not been only to make up for the fact that they were never there, leaving Angelo to be raised by his Cousins, then later his neighbors.

Bernadette hadn't known until her mother told her, until her mother told her to have pity. Have pity for the guards' child, who will grow up to be a guard. Bernadette felt foolish for not realizing earlier, as everyone else had. Temporal science did not come easily to Angelo. He was frail and tired easily. He healed slowly and was overly cautious of injury. The rumors were true: He was half human.

But he was still a child, a friend, and a good one at that. She could not hold that against him. So, if reminders of war comforted him in the absence of this family, she would let him be. Besides, it was Otherstide.

The children went to their rooms, their presents in tow. They thanked the ship before bed, each in their own way, and she turned off the lights and wished them goodnight. But in the night, Guardian marvelled at the first gift she had ever received. For the first time, she had been part of a real family. Regardless of who or what she was, she was loved. And that, she thought, was the true meaning of Otherstide.