Wilf left us then.

It wasn't that he wouldn't like to travel. "I think I'm just too old for all the excitement," he said, sighing happily. "This was amazing, so amazing. And no one will believe it. I can't tell anyone, will just call me crazy."

"Are you sure, gramps? I bet the TARDIS can make you a cosy little place where you don't see and hear us."

"Oh that'd be even worse! See, Donna, darling, I have friends down there. They're not good for much, but I love'em. And your mum, annoying as she is, she'd be lonely."

Donna sighed and hugged her grandpa tight. "I'll miss you."

He patted her shoulder and smiled. "I'll miss you too, my love. But this is for you, not for me. I'm better off imagining you're having fun, just fun. Without the parts that can do you harm. Can't watch that, dear." Donna let go of him and he turned to the Doctor. "And you, boy, you take care of her, you hear me?"

The Doctor stood by the console, one hand already at the lever. He nodded, face serious. "I will, Sir, oh I will." His lips twitched upwards. "One last visit to the stars?"

"Ah, I think I'll pass." He smiled fondly. "I want to keep that first awe in my heart, you know. Not make it something ordinary."

"Yeah, I get it. Well then, let's bring you back!"

The Doctor bounced around the console, doing his usual flipping of switches and levers. Here was a button to press and there some dials to turn; the engines hummed with a sad undertone.

"I'll miss him too," I muttered, patting the coral pillar next to me.

Kira gave me a funny look, but no one else paid me any attention. We landed soon and everyone let go of whatever they had clung to, this time.

I followed them. Wilf took one last glance at the magical interior, smiling to himself. Then he stepped outside and took a deep breath. "That's better. Familiar, you know? At a certain age you're happy when everything is where and how you know it."

The Doctor dipped his head to the side. "Oh, I'm not sure I've reached that age yet."

Wilf only laughed and waved us goodbye. He and Donna walked alone, back to their house where they shared one last hug.

The image was serene. A promise she'd come back, a promise to still be there, when she would. Somehow it stung to watch them, somewhere deep within my guts. It was bittersweet and at the same time burned like acid. Like something tugging at me, at my insides, at something that was hidden too deep to reach.

I turned away and went back inside. Back into my room, where I conducted my weekly tests on Kira. Size, wingspan, teeth. I noted it all down to compare the data, even though I didn't have to.

He wasn't growing. He wasn't changing. But maybe that was normal for his species. He might just take a while.

The flying lessons were another story. The Doctor had provided me with a room for practises. A bunch of hoops and short tunnels to fly through. At first, the little dragon had been sceptical and had even tried to eat the plastic from one of the tubes. But after enough bribing with bugs and after literally throwing him through a hoop, he eventually understood what this was all for. And since then, Kira was happy as one could be whenever we made our way over here.

The first few weeks had been… well, rough. His flight attempts had been clumsy and uncoordinated, ending in Kira landing against one or the other wall or getting caught in a ring and whatnot. Each time that happened, I had picked him up to check for injuries, but the little one was robust - although never sad about the cuddles.

With time, however, it got better and now he managed to shoot through most rings and glide with almost ease through even the longer tunnels.

After the last round, he landed on my head, squeaking and nuzzling my hair. I giggled, filling out my papers.

"Yes, yes, you can be proud of yourself, Kira. That was a lot better than last time. Maybe we can spice things up a little, soon."

His answer was a short chirp.

I had also tried to categorise the noises he made. They were all rather high pitched, but lower than a mouse and different in tone. The chirps were really almost bird like, but also not quite. And sometimes, rarely, I had also caught him giving off a kind of faint hum. It was hard to hear and probably more a feeling than an actual sound. And I had no clue what the pattern was behind it.

Today, however, I couldn't quite concentrate on any of it. My handwriting looked crooked and there was a certain lack of fascination for the observed progress. Kira had to climb low enough to tap my glasses with his nose for me to realise that I had been staring at nothing for a solid minute or so.

"Yeah, I know," I mumbled. "Let's get lunch or something."

But I wasn't hungry at all. The food looked bland and I listlessly poked a mushroom with my fork.

"My, someone's in a bad mood."

I glanced up from my plate just in time to witness the Master flop down in the chair opposite to me. He plonked down a plate with some stuff on it I didn't recognize. It definitely wasn't anything I knew from earth, although some of it looked like vegetables.

"Want some? I'm not sure it's made for your taste buds, though. The telorians are fond of rather spicy food."

"I like spicy."

I reached over and poked a roundish red thing with my fork, eyeing it suspiciously before carefully taking a bite. It was surprisingly sweet and fruity and it really did burn a little. But not so bad that I couldn't endure it. "That's good. What is it?"

"You'd spit it out would I tell you."

I scoffed. "I don't think so. Are those fruits?"

"Nope."

"Vegetables?"

He chuckled.

"C'mon, tell me."

The Master shoved another red thing into his mouth and chewed for a moment. "It's blood."

"Blood?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, not only, but it's the main ingredient. Telorians have a culture that's literally built around their own blood. Because it's sweet and tasty." He gave me a nasty grin.

"So…?"

His expression fell and turned into a pout. "Can't shock you with anything, can I?"

"Nope." I shrugged and stole another thing from his plate. "So, do they kill each other for this?"

"Nah. They do donations. There are several blood-types with different tastes and so they get paid for everything they offer. The rare ones get more money, of course."

"Huh, doesn't sound so bad."

My own plate was forgotten. It wasn't as if I would waste anything. The TARDIS recycled everything into its atoms anyway. That's what the Doctor had told me. The only thing it took to make food was some energy. And he could always refuel at special places called rift. Whatever exactly those were.

Kira sniffed at one of the red things and promptly sneezed. He watched me carefully when I ate it and decided to try one anyway, very carefully. The spicyness didn't seem to bother him after a bite and soon the thing was gone and he licked his snout.

"See? Wasn't so bad."

The answer was a hiccup. Kira jumped in surprise and glared at me. He wanted to squeak, but got interrupted by another one.

"Don't look at me like that." I giggled.

Kira clearly wasn't happy. He rolled on his back, lay flat on his belly, flapped up and down a few times and even flew a small loop, all without any success. Another hiccup shook him in his flight and he dropped back on the table, hiccuping again and… spitting out a tiny flame.

"Whoa! Master, did you see that?"

"I did. The little menace learned a new trick."

"Do you think the spiciness triggered it?"

"Could be." The Master emptied that last of his plate. "I guess you have to feed him more of it. As soon as I'm out of reach that is"

"As if you'd mind seeing him set something on fire."

"I'd mind being the one being set on fire."

Kira did a little jump and tried it again, but nothing else came out. Even the hiccup had stopped. He poked my hand, but I had nothing else to give him.

"We'll try that again soon. But not yet, okay?"

The little dragon dropped his head on my hand and moved no further, probably sulking.

"So… now tell, lil' lumin, what's bothering you?"

I glanced up at the Master's eyes, wondering how he always sensed when something was amiss with me. He was probably the opposite of empathic and yet, with me, he always knew. But what was there to tell him? I just felt… odd, without right or reason.

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you."

I sighed and shook my head. "No really. I don't know what's bothering me today. Maybe it was all just a little too much again. Too much input, too much adventure."

"Mhm… I see. Then better get some rest before you end up all mute and boring again."

I laughed and stood up. "No, it's not that bad. But you're right I'll avoid too much input for some days."

.

But it didn't get better the next morning and also not the one after. I spent the days restlessly starting one thing after the other without ever sticking to or finishing anything. The Master persisted on skipping any psychic training until I felt better and also to make sure our minds could properly heal from the overstimulation.

A week passed, or whatever might constitute as the equivalent of a week inside a time machine. I did have a watch that showed me earthen time, but somehow the meaning was lost here. Either way, I tried to get behind what was making me feel so weird, all while trying to keep Kira entertained and while finally beating this game I had been struggling with for too long.

Here and there I visited the control room to chat with the Doctor and with Donna, or just to sit there and listen to the engine sounds. Today the two were gone, somewhere on an adventure probably. They reappeared some hours later, when I had finally managed to focus enough on the pages on a book to not have to read the same page thrice in a row.

When I looked up, they were just strolling in, weirdly enough with the Master in tow. He was carrying a plastic bag that had something green and purple sticking out. Probably some vegetables for cooking. Something he did here and there, simply because he wasn't a friend of replicated food.

I watched them. The Doctor was babbling, Donna was interrupting with jokes, the Master didn't say a word. It was so… familiar. Almost the same as it had felt to see Donna with her grandpa.

Then it struck me.

Why I had felt weird, why the scene had felt odd, why I was so restless and why nothing ever felt right anymore. It was a feeling I had buried for too long and so deep that I had lost access to it. Until now.

"You alright, Lucy?" asked the Doctor with a smile. "You're so thoughtful these days. We can do whatever you want. How about a picnic by the sea?"

"Doctor…"

"No? A stroll through a zoo? You love zoos. Or maybe…"

"Doctor." The words almost didn't want to come out, sticking in my throat. But I had to. There was no way to avoid it any longer.

"Stop babbling, spaceman. What do you want to do, Lucy?"

I gulped and looked her in the eyes.

"I want to go home."