"Hello, Doctor," Lyssa said with a smile, holding her hand out. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Again," the Eighth Doctor returned with his own charming smile. He took her hand in his, both still oddly glowing, and the world exploded in heat and flame.

For a moment she thought she was jumping again and almost felt tempted to stomp her foot in frustration. Then she felt the Doctor's hand still clasped warmly around hers and paused - that had never happened before. The connection, the ability to touch, always faded by the time she started to jump. But there he was with her, looking just as stunned as he took in the swirling colors of the Time Vortex before they faded, replaced by a scene that was all too familiar to her.

It wasn't a normal storm that occurred," a gold-washed version of the Eleventh Doctor told a younger, fully brown-haired version of her. "It was a Time Storm. What hit you was quite literally a piece of the Time Vortex. It struck you, and pulled you in, rewriting your biology to enable you to survive the Vortex. You now literally have Time flowing through you, and I'm sorry, but it was a piece of my timeline that struck you, which is why you're tied to me. You fly through Time, but keep getting tugged back to my timeline."

The scene changed to a vaguely familiar middle-aged man with short dark hair, wearing a black suit coat over plaid pants and standing in front of a row of severe looking men in robes, rippling gold around the edges of the area as if played on a screen.

The Doctor sucked in a sharp breath, his hand stiffening in hers.

"You asked me to justify my actions – I am doing so," the man - the Doctor? - started. "Let me show you the Ice Warriors, cruel Martian invaders; they tried to conquer the Earth too. So did the Cybermen, half creature, half machine. But worst of all were the Daleks, a pitiless race of conquerors exterminating all who came up against them. All these evils I have fought while you have done nothing but observe. True, I am guilty of interference, just as you are guilty of failing to use your great powers to help those in need!"

The stern faces did not change at his accusation, instead rippling and fading into the Vortex once more. Similar to when she'd first jumped to Eight, a rapid series of scenes began to play out before them, flickering by at an increasing pace.

Lyssa, clinging to the walls of a battered ship hallway as the Tenth Doctor sprawled across the floor, face filled with pain and eyes glowing a bright ominous gold. The Seventh Doctor, stepping out of the TARDIS into an alleyway, only to be caught in the middle of a gang war and shot, collapsing to the ground. Lyssa, kicking and screaming as she was dragged away by Cybermen.

A man with curly hair falling from a great height, a long striped scarf fluttering in the air. Lyssa, standing in the middle of a hallway that was an odd mix of sterile and rust-eaten. Her necklace was missing, eyes glowing and face filled with a righteous fury as she faced down a woman in an eyepatch. Lights flickered and flashed around them, gold ribbons of fire twining around her hands and long curls being tossed about as if by some great wind. The Twelfth Doctor, crouched down as he cradled a limp form to his chest, face torn with grief and pain.

Scene after scene until the Doctor wrenched his hand from hers and the world abruptly swirled away, as if down a drain. They were back in the TARDIS, the ship humming comfort and welcome though their bond.

"What... was that?" the Doctor panted, staring at his hand, then hers, the glow gone from both as if it'd never been there.

She shook her head, eyes wide. "I don't - I don't know," she stammered. "That's never happened before. I've known you for years now, we've touched plenty of times, even the first time we met that never happened. And - and I took your hand last time I saw this you, and nothing happened then, either."

He frowned thoughtfully. "So there was something different about this time, something to make it unique."

Something shifted, metal sliding against metal, and they both whirled.

The previously smooth black base at the bottom of the console now had a small, rectangular section popped just slightly out of place, glowing dimly around the edges. The TARDIS hummed with delighted mischief, and the glow brightened for a brief second as if to show off before dimming completely as the piece popped neatly back into place with a faint clink, returning the base to its unbroken whole.

"The Heart of the TARDIS," the Doctor breathed, eyes wide and incredulous. "I happened to be doing some repairs, but nowhere near that. She opened on her own."

"Wait." Lyssa glanced down at her hands. If she was still glowing from the Vortex, and then the TARDIS added her Heart into the mix, then that would leave the Doctor the odd one out. Except his hands had been glowing as well... "Uh, this is going to sound weird," she started awkwardly. "But by chance, you weren't happening to be doing any of your repairs with regeneration energy, were you?"

He stiffened, hard eyes meeting hers with a suspicious glint before softening with realization. "I was," he admitted. "An experimental measure, meant to test her inner shields. The TARDIS urged me to keep it there when you arrived. "

"So if I had all that Time Vortex energy, and you had regeneration energy, and then the TARDIS added some of her Heart to the mix..." Lyssa said slowly, knowing they were connected somehow but struggling to understand.

"The... visions," he mentioned awkwardly, seeming to be struggling with the same thing. "You appeared with different versions of myself. You appeared in my TARDIS, infused with the energy of the Time Vortex. The energy, it sends you to random points through Time," he guessed, and she nodded.

"You said it was to save my life," she told him. "My body has been changed enough that I can contain it without burning up, but only to a limited extent. I'm like... a reservoir, only with the Vortex instead of water. When it gets to be too much, I jump to bring it back down to safe levels."

"But only to random points along my timeline," he continued, and she nodded again. He glanced at his hands, bringing the golden glow of regeneration energy to the surface before letting it fade again. "Because we connected at the precise moment both of us were brimming with energy specific to us, and they blended together, tying the energy flowing through you to my timeline."

"And the TARDIS?" Lyssa asked, eyes flitting to the console, the ship humming innocently in their bond.

"A direct connection to the Time Vortex should have killed you," the Doctor stated bluntly. "Unless, as I suspect, the TARDIS stepped in. Using her Heart, the immense power she wields, to bind it, directing the flow to protect you."

"So... the reason why I jump is because we shook hands today? At exactly the right moment?" Lyssa tried to follow along, long used to the news that the Vortex was really not great for mortals, even those meant to travel in it. He nodded and she scrunched her nose. "But I've been jumping to you for almost three years now," she protested. "How was that possible if I hadn't connected, or whatever, with you yet?"

He shrugged. "My future self said the Time Vortex struck you with energy from my timeline. This," he gestured between the two of them, "seems to be a fixed point. A massive, complicated event, filled with three of the most powerful types of energy in existence. It's possible that their combination sent ripples out through time and space, affecting both the past and future. It likely created the Time Storm that struck you in the first place."

"Time energy from the Vortex, the ability to hold it from the TARDIS, and... regeneration energy from you to connect me to your timeline," Lyssa breathed, eyes wide. Yes, she could certainly see how different types of energy colliding could create a large amount of chaos.

He nodded. "You've likely already noticed a variety of changes from that."

She suppressed the urge to snort.

"Such as decreased aging, increased health, and..." he frowned at her thoughtfully. "I'd have to run some tests to be sure, but being in such close proximity to the Vortex, you could see bleedover of potential future timelines as well."

Wait, was that why she could look ahead? And why she'd struggled so much when she'd tried it with the Family of Blood? The connection had been forced open too wide by whoever was hunting her without the TARDIS there to protect her, overwhelming her?

"It seems you're familiar with that," he raised an eyebrow, watching her curiously. She nodded and he smiled. "A time sensitive, then. Though I daresay you see more than most, with a broader, closer connection to the Vortex." He cupped his chin with one hand, tapping a finger against it thoughtfully. "May I be so bold as to presume that much of what you see involves myself or my adventures?"

Well, yes, but probably not for the reason he was thinking. Still, he was on the right track - and she couldn't exactly tell him why she knew all about his future, not when he didn't find out until she met Eleven for the first time. So she nodded again, though slower this time.

"Interesting," he mused. "Again, it is likely influenced by your connection to my timeline. Although," his tone grew serious, eyes coming up to meet hers, "I'm sure you already know this, but it bears repeating. You must be cautious about what you do with this knowledge. What you see is only a potential future, that may never come true - but by taking actions because of it, you may cause the very future you seek to change to come true."

"Like every Greek tragedy ever," she muttered sardonically and he laughed. "But I get where you're coming from," she assured him. "The Doctor - er, my Doct - the one from the future," she finally managed to clarify, fighting a blush, "has talked about it with me as well. I try not to make too many changes unless it's to help save people. And even then," she sobered, remembering Suki, and her futile efforts to save her, "I know I can't change fixed points."

He nodded firmly. "Some things cannot be changed, no matter how serious the cost." He paused. "And sometimes it just ruins the fun, knowing what's coming," he grumbled with a pout she recognized all too well. "I'm better at seeing possible futures this regeneration, and while it's come in handy on occasion, it's very dull, knowing what's going to happen before it happens. So I try to forget most of what I saw, just as I'll likely forget most of what I saw in the vision we shared. Too risky, and too boring, all at once." He smirked at some inside joke. "Fortunately, I'm also quite good at forgetting, this go around."

She shook her head with a laugh, thoroughly unsurprised to hear that the Doctor would wipe his own memory purely for the chaos that would result. "Well, I'm not good at that. At least, not on purpose," she told him. "So I can't just erase what I know, but I'll keep most of my secrets to myself, barring saving lives." She paused, deciding it was only fair to warn him. "I also don't know everything, there's a lot I didn't see," like everything before the Ninth Doctor's era, "so I'll probably end up inadvertently causing trouble on my own, too."

He frowned, but agreed easily enough. "Though, I must say, I am rather curious..."

"No spoilers, Doctor," she teased, and he laughed.

"I brought that upon myself, I suppose," he admitted. "That being said, outside of what you have seen, and anything my future self may have mentioned, do you know much about me? This version, at least?"

She shook her head. "I've only met you twice before now. The first time I didn't know you were the Doctor, and the second time was right after you regenerated, and wasn't for more than a few minutes at most."

He smiled. "That is excellent news. While I have some brief knowledge of your future as well, I daresay I don't know much about you as a person either. So, rather than cheating and using sneak peeks, how about we get to know the other the old-fashioned way?"

She couldn't help a grin. A part of her missed the Doctors who knew her, and the easy comfort that came with being so familiar, but she was also excited to get to know this new Doctor - and on even footing for once, neither really knowing more than the other. "I think that sounds like a fantastic idea."

"I can be quite good at those from time to time," he preened. "Which leaves only one last thing. I asked you once before, and you couldn't then," he told her with the enigmatic air he loved to don. "But things have changed since then, for both of us, I think. So, Lyssa Devons. Would you do me the honor of traveling with me?"

She laughed. She'd traveled with the Doctor for years now, and still it felt like an amazing gift each time they started something new. "I'd like nothing more."

He grinned, bright and wide and gleeful. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, heading to the console and flipping a lever. A flash of light ran up the rotor and into the ceiling, rippling out and leaving behind a new design, changed to the inky black expanse of space and filled with slowly moving planets and stars.

He gave her a smirk, clearly delighting at her awe as she slowly spun in a circle, trying to take it all in at once. "Welcome to the TARDIS," he told her, throwing his arms out wide. "Next stop, everywhere."

xXx

They'd promptly landed in a rusting garbage scow, much to the Doctor's chagrin.

But that was okay. It'd been overtaken by pirates - and not the nice-ish ones like Captain Avery, but rather the mean, murder-y ones, who'd misjudged the ship they were taking over, and were less than happy with the results. It had been rather satisfying, if not totally mature, to pelt the leader in the face with moldy lettuce right in the middle of his monologue.

It'd gotten him to stop talking, though, so she stood by it. And the sunset from the bridge of the ship, after they'd taken care of the pirates, had actually been surprisingly beautiful.

The best sight of all, though, that made the whole thing worth it, had to be the Doctor slipping on a banana peel. Now that was a memory she would treasure for the rest of her days.

xXx

It wasn't so different, traveling with this Doctor. He was still the smartest man in the room - who could be absolutely clueless at times. He still loved to teach - and to show off - and to learn new things, eyes sparkling with each new mystery that arose. He still hated pears, much to her delight when he randomly tried a 'mystery snack' at a bazaar, only to spit it out in disgust seconds later.

He still cared for innocents, standing firmly in their defense and refusing to give way to those who wished to harm them. He still had a darker side, carefully hidden until he was pushed too far, and then the Oncoming Storm would come out.

He still sulked when she stole the last banana as revenge for laughing when she tripped and fell into the fountain - again. Really, though, it was starting to get suspicious how often that happened. Obviously, he still thrived in chaos and despaired when too long went by without something to hold his interest.

Actually, really the only difference she noticed - the only difference that mattered - was in his eyes. A lighter version of the Doctor's from the Time War, while he was still centuries old, and had experienced much of the darker side of life, he was innocent in a way his future selves could never be again, and a part of her grieved every time she saw it.

And then he would blow up the toaster again while trying to apologize for accidentally starting a revolution right before breakfast again, and she was reminded of just how little things had changed.

In the end, he was still the Doctor, and that was all that mattered.

xXx

"It's funny. I always used to look up at these stars from Earth, and now I'm looking at the other side of them. And all I had to do was skip universes," Lyssa remarked, dangling one leg outside the TARDIS. She pulled the other leg up to her chest, resting her hands on it. "Still just as pretty," she smiled, watching as the stars in the constellation twinkled, somewhere far outside the protective bubble the TARDIS created around the ship.

"What did you like to do, back in your old home?" the Doctor asked curiously, leaning against the other side of the doorframe. "You haven't mentioned your life back there much, choosing instead to focus on what you've done here with me."

"Well, I have only been here about a month," she forced a smile, trying not to stiffen. "You can't talk about everything all at once, or you'll have nothing left to talk about. Not to mention, I know how you love a mystery," she teased with a weak smirk.

"I've been found out," he pretended to be scandalized. "And here I believed myself to be hiding it so well."

She laughed. "Afraid not," she teased, before sighing, knowing she'd need to talk about her old life eventually. "There's not much to say," she returned to their previous topic. "Dad died when I was a kid, lived with my mother until I was twenty, when I left and was brought here." She shrugged. "I liked to read, imagine..." escaping "...far off fantasy places. Nannied after high school, I suppose. Helped bring in some money to cover..." alcohol "...groceries and rent," she finished. "Didn't have much time or money to do much else. Things really did get bett- more interesting after I met you."

"Still, it must have been hard, being torn from your family and all you knew," he said with a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry you lost all of that."

She was silent for a long moment, watching the bright lights of distant galaxies twinkle in the dark expanse of space. "Don't be," she said at last, not looking away. "I'm not." Knowing she couldn't just leave it there, she turned to give him a wan but genuine smile, finding him watching her with concern flickering in his eyes. "I gained everything back and so much more by coming here." Meeting you, she didn't say, but then he smiled back and she knew he'd heard it anyway.

xXx

"I wanted to be prepared," the Doctor admitted sheepishly as they stared down at the table and counters absolutely covered in bakeware. "I've never made a pecan pie before, and I wasn't entirely certain what you needed."

"Well, I don't think we're going to need liquid nitrogen for a pie," Lyssa said dryly, eyeing a precariously balanced stack of cups a little too close to the edge for comfort. "But I appreciate the eagerness to help," she offered him a smile, trying to unobtrusively shove said cups a little further onto the table.

"Of course," he nodded seriously. "You're taking the time to teach me a pastime you enjoy. I don't want to make light of that by making a mistake."

She couldn't help a smile at that. "Baking is the most fun when there's no pressure to be perfect," she told him as she set about putting a few of the unnecessary items away and setting aside what they would need. "I have loads of memories of making a mess with my dad, and having an absolute blast while doing so. It's when everything has to be just right that it starts to lose its joy," she said quietly, moving to the sink to wash her hands so she could begin the food prep.

"Well, if you enjoy messes, then I'm certain you will enjoy me in the kitchen," the Doctor said, removing his coat and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows before moving to the sink once she was done to wash his own hands. "I've never tried baking before, this regeneration, and I don't believe much of my previous self's talent carried over."

"And that's why I picked an easy recipe," she laughed, pulling out the ingredients she'd need from a cupboard. "Something I helped my dad with when I was a little girl, so if worse comes to worst, you can still help by mixing. Or just snacking on the pecans," she reminisced fondly. "I did that a lot."

"Mm, yes, I can see why you like baking so much," he teased her, raising an eyebrow and stealing a few of said pecans. "Do you like cooking as well?"

Her smile faltered at the unintentionally loaded question. "Not really," she said as lightly as she could manage, turning away and pretending to rummage through the measuring cups. "My mother didn't like cooking, and I guess it must have been passed on to me." It had definitely been passed on to her, but not genetically. "Do anything for long enough and it gets boring, I suppose. Especially when you have to cook three meals every day." She rolled her eyes in distaste. "And I've been doing it for... what, thirteen, fourteen years now? How old am I?" she squinted, trying to do the mental math. "Twenty-two? Yeah, I think that sounds right."

"Yes, I can see how that would become distasteful," he said with a frown after a pause, clearly having done his own math and appearing to dislike the results. "But you enjoyed baking with your father?"

She couldn't help the smile at the memories. "Yeah. He was the best. In another world, I think he would have loved to be a baker full time."

"What did he do then, if not baking?" the Doctor asked curiously, glancing up from his mixing, and already wearing a smear of flour on his cheeks.

"He was in the U.S. Army," she told him. "He was almost done with his enlistment when 9/11 happened, and then he re-enlisted. Told me I was safe, there at home, but other children weren't," she remembered, her father's deep voice echoing in her memories despite the time that had passed. "Told me that some people didn't care for or protect children like they should, and that then it was the responsibility of other people to step in and stop them, to help. That being a good person meant sometimes making hard choices." She paused, drawing a deep breath. "He went to Afghanistan two weeks later."

"Is that when he..." the Doctor trailed off uncertainly, and she shook her head.

"Made it all the way through and never got more than a scratch," she smiled faintly, though it quickly flickered and faded. "Came back when he was done and gave me the tightest hug." She stared at the wall, unseeing, as the TARDIS sent her comfort through their bond. "All that danger; the weapons, the sheer hatred and disregard for human life... he faced it down and survived it all. Came back and was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver two years later. Someone who was just... having fun 'partying'," she said bitterly, blinking back sudden tears. "The other man came through completely unharmed, not even a bruise."

She sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath, hands clenching around the edge of the table. "My dad helped people, fought to defend the right of everyone to have freedom and live in safety. He never got angry, never said a harsh word no matter how much I messed up. And he died because someone decided their desire for a drink was more important than the lives of other people, that my dad's life was worth driving drunk. And it wasn't... it's not fair," her voice broke on the word, feeling something hot trickle down her cheek.

"I'm tired of people choosing drink over me. Don't - don't I matter too?" she asked uncertainly, the words she'd long thought but never meant to say slipping out. She felt a warm hand gripping her shoulder and nearly jumped, so focused on her thoughts she'd forgotten she wasn't alone.

"You always matter," the Doctor told her gently but firmly, turning her to face him with a sympathetic expression. "Everyone matters, and it is to the detriment of the universe that anyone could ever forget that. I'm sorry you ever had reason to question it." He hesitated, then resolve filled his face and he carefully pulled her into a hug.

Startled at the more intimate touch - she had become easy friends with this Doctor, yes, but they had yet to embrace in the two months she'd been with him - she still leaned gratefully into him. He still had two hearts beating the same steady rhythm across regenerations, and his arms still offered a protective warmth as they wrapped around her. She closed her eyes, tears trickling down beneath the lids despite her best efforts as she slowly raised her arms to wrap around him in turn.

"I never doubted it. Not with you," she choked out, feeling his arms tighten around her. "I never - I never said thank you, for that. For teaching me that I did. For showing me that I did."

Slowly at first, then more certain, his hands began to rub up and down her back in a soothing manner. "It's all right, Lyssa," he told her quietly, voice warm. "I knew."

He held her until she felt ready to face the world - or at least the kitchen - again, pulling away from him and rubbing sheepishly at her face. "I'm sorry," she blushed, gesturing at the damp spot on his shirt. "I made a mess."

He blinked before offering her a gentle smile. "It's all right," he said again. "I've heard things are better when they're a little messy and without the pressure to be perfect, or so a wise woman once told me."

She laughed wetly, swiping at her eyes again and looking around at their attempt at a pie. "I suppose we still need to finish this," she murmured.

"Yes, I am curious to see how much I can do," he easily followed the changed of topic. "Once I lost the ability to use a pair of chopsticks, and couldn't relearn it no matter how I tried that entire body." He pouted. "And I had a particular fondness for sushi that go around, too."

She laughed. "Well, fortunately, you can eat pecan pie with just a fork - unless you lost the use of that this regeneration," she teased.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out," he smiled, moving back to his previously abandoned station.

Lyssa relaxed further the more they got into it, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. There was no time limit, no need for perfection, and only genuine laughter from them both when the normally-graceful Doctor stumbled as the TARDIS mysteriously shuddered right as he was lifting a cup full of flour, causing it to spill all over himself.

And maybe sneaking a few of the pecans when the Doctor wasn't looking.

For old times' sake.

xXx

For all her discoveries about how the Doctor was both different and the same all at once, she forgot about one very, very big change to going back along his timeline before the Time War.

The Time Lords were still there.

And the Doctor had had a family beyond his wife - who had passed long before he first left Gallifrey with his granddaughter - and children. He almost never mentioned his parents, though she got the impression they weren't exactly the loving, involved type. She'd known he had been childhood friends with the Master before the other man hopped on the crazy psychopath train and never got off. She'd even known he'd had a brother once, long ago.

She just hadn't thought she'd ever meet him.

They'd landed on a large asteroid that looked more like a wealthy town than a hunk of rock, filled with different types of businesses, fountains, several libraries, and a museum where rare artifacts from different cultures had been collected. The only transport had been an odd contradiction of horse and carriage or transport shuttles, but they spent most of their time in the museum - a place the Doctor had apparently wanted to go for some time, only to be kept from it by various disasters each time. They'd been there for maybe an hour when they'd been approached by a slim, dark-haired man with an immaculate dress sense that the Doctor immediately recognized with an odd mix of emotions.

It had been... interesting. His brother, Braxiatel, could be best described as a politician, perhaps. Coolly polite, professional, a hint of condescension whenever he spoke. He seemed fond enough of the Doctor, if in a detached sort of way, and the Doctor had been much the same in return. He also had the iciest hands Lyssa had ever touched, and she'd involuntarily flinched in surprise before she could stop it. She was used to aliens being different temperatures and textures - had even met a species who felt like bubbles, which had been... interesting... but wasn't expecting that from a Time Lord, when the Doctor had always felt like every other human to her.

The two had exchanged an unreadable look before the conversation moved on to the Collection - which apparently belonged to Braxiatel, who had begun it in an effort to preserve rare cultural artifacts from various time periods, despite the dubious legality of it under Gallifrey law. It had been... weird, but interesting enough, watching the Doctor converse with his brother, when Lyssa had shifted just enough for her necklace to catch a gleam of light reflected from the windows. Instinctively turning to look, Braxiatel did a double take and stepped uncomfortably close to study her charms.

She leaned back warily, giving the Doctor a questioning look, and he frowned. "Brax," he warned, voice taking on a dark note and moving closer to Lyssa.

His brother stood up straight again, eyes gleaming. "Interesting," he mused, gaze flitting from Lyssa to the Doctor and back again.

She shifted uncomfortably, one hand coming up to protectively cover her charms and narrowing her eyes. She'd met one or two people in their travels who'd found her necklace fascinating, but this was borderline creepy.

"Don't even think about it," the Doctor told him in a low voice.

Braxiatel offered him a smile that was half older brother teasing and half... something she couldn't name, but didn't like, a little too close to how her mother would act. Speculative, maybe? "I didn't say anything," he spread his hands wide. "Congratulations, brother."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure you must be dreadfully busy, with your Collection and other... affairs. We'll let you get back to it," he stated firmly, resting a hand on Lyssa's back and guiding her away. His brother called an amused farewell after them and he stiffened, but made no response.

Sensing his discomfort, Lyssa didn't say anything until they were back in the privacy of the TARDIS once more, floating somewhere in the Time Vortex. "It was cool seeing all the artifacts," she offered timidly, and he grimaced, head dropping slightly.

"I apologize for my brother. As I'm sure you've surmised, we don't have the... closest of relationships. And given your surprise upon meeting him, I doubt that improves in the future." He didn't seem too grieved about that, rather resigned, as if he'd never expected any different.

She looked away, heart giving a pang. His relationship with his brother would never improve, but for an entirely different reason - and one he still viewed as his fault. "It's not your fault," she told him sympathetically. "A relationship takes two."

He sighed, resting his hands on the console in a weary manner. "I don't foresee it being an often repeated occurrence, but just in case, be cautious if you see him again. He's manipulative, incredibly so, and now he knows you're important to me." He hesitated. "I... don't believe he would deliberately try to harm you, but his care for me, such as it is, would not extend to you beyond how he believes he can use you. Whether to further manipulate me for his own ends, or for something else." There was another long pause, but she waited, sensing he had more to say, much as he likely didn't want to.

Finally, jaw working, he continued. "It would be for the best if he never knew about your connection to the Time Vortex, or indeed any of your abilities beyond you having an extended lifespan. If he knew them, he would seek to use them for his own purposes. And while he seeks to protect Gallifrey and our people..." He shook his head bitterly. "He does not care what route he takes to protect them, nor what damage his route may cause to others." He turned to look at her with a guilty expression. "I apologize."

Lyssa bit her lip, seeing the bitterness, the wariness, the defensive, protective anger... and underneath it all how he still loved his brother and wished he was a better person. She knew his future self grieved for his loss after the War, even despite what she now knew was a clearly fractured relationship, and couldn't help but be struck by how familiar it all was. "How another person acts isn't your fault," she told him firmly, reiterating something she wished she'd known when she was younger. "This isn't the first time I've met someone who would have happily used me for their own ends if they got the chance," she added, thinking of the Master, Henry Van Statten, and various others she'd come across. "And..." she hesitated, but decided it was only fair. "I have my own family member who was more than willing to manipulate me to get what they wanted," she admitted. "So I know what it's like."

She paused, trying to find a way to lighten the mood. "Plus, as I'm sure your future selves could tell you, I'm very good at not listening when I don't want to," she offered him a grin, pleased to see him laugh a little.

"This comes as a great surprise to me," he teased. "You were so skilled at not moving on Keldis IV when I told you not to."

"I had to sneeze!" she defended herself. "I'd like to see you try not to sneeze without moving a muscle," she scoffed, crossing her arms with narrowed eyes.

He hummed. "Superior Time Lord physiology, we never need to sneeze."

She rolled her eyes fondly. "You once sneezed twelve times in a row after smelling a Cordelis flower. Adorable, itty-bitty baby sneezes. Pull the other one, oh mighty Time Lord."

He sniffed haughtily. "Clearly, my immune system had been weakened by one of the few poisons Time Lords are susceptible to."

She nodded slowly. "Sure. That's what it was," she said agreeably, fighting back a grin at his unamused look. "Although, speaking of superior physiology or whatever, why was your brother's hand so cold?" she asked thoughtfully, rubbing her hands together at the memory. "Like he'd stuck his hand in the fridge right beforehand."

He gave her an odd look. "It was no colder than mine," he told her slowly. "We've always had a similar temperature. Colder than humans, yes, but surely you should be used to it by now, after several years of traveling with me."

"Wait, what?" she said, startled. "No, your hands are warm. They're the same temperature as anyone else's. Always have been."

"No," he shook his head, appearing to be equally confused. "On average we are at least ten degrees colder than humans, including you. I've had companions remark on it before, so I know it's something easily noticeable."

"But... I've literally felt it," she frowned. "Your brother was a lot colder." Knowing he would be okay with it, she reached out and took his hand, releasing it to touch her arm before touching his hand again. "They feel the exact same temperature, and I know my temperature hasn't really changed yet. Still 98.6, or whatever it is I tend to be."

He raised his eyebrows before doing the same thing, touching his own arm before gripping her hand experimentally. "Interesting. You feel the same as every other human to me, barring the times of excessive heat." He tapped his chin. "I wonder if it's to do with the energy we share," he mused. "We know it ties us together, that it seeks to be reunited, occasionally causing the flow of warmth during times of high emotions. Perhaps this is what it does when not agitated. The energy is there, warming the hands, but not so much as to be noticeable."

"I just love being the first person to experience all of these things so that we have no idea what's actually going on," she said dryly. "It's so... fun."

He laughed. "Well, as long as you're having fun."

She was definitely pushing him in the pool the next time they passed by it.

xXx

"And that's why my father always carried a pack of chalk with him," Lyssa finished her story, grinning as the Doctor laughed.

"Your father sounds like a man I would have loved to have met," he chuckled.

"Oh, you would've caused so many disasters together," she said with a wistful smile. "He would've been thrilled to see the TARDIS. Half for all the wonders she could do," she patted the ship walls fondly, "and half for the opportunity to play endless pranks."

"And what about your mother?" he asked, tilting his head to the side curiously. "Was she one for pranks?"

Her smile flickered. "Not... not after my dad died," she said, looking away. "She... changed after that, and... not for the better."

He straightened, his own smile disappearing. "I apologize, I didn't mean to bring up a painful subject. You don't have to..."

She shook her head. "No, you deserve to know the truth." She gave him a pained smile. "You know about my dad, but he's not the only one who shaped me. And it's not like you don't already know in the future." She shrugged, dropping her eyes once more. "It wasn't anything too bad. She never hit me or anything, and we always had food to eat, a place to live. It was just... as if the best version of her died when my dad did, and..." She hesitated, licking her lips nervously. "And the best version of her was the one who loved me."

He frowned, obviously wishing to speak, but remaining silent. She felt grateful for it, not sure she'd be able to get up the nerve to do this again any time soon. She drew a deep breath, feeling the TARDIS offer her encouragement, and began. It didn't take long. For all that it had been her life for almost twelve years, for all the endless misery it had felt like at the time, it was summed up easily as she told him about her mother.

About how she loved her, but how her mother never loved her back. Or how maybe she had at first, but not by the end. About the parties, the lies, the neglect. About the stealing, the drinking. But none of that was what did it, she admitted shamefully. All of that, and she had still been too weak to try and leave, too stupid to see she was never going to change, no matter what she said.

No, it had taken catching her mother driving home, drunk and alone in the car, that had finally pushed her over the edge and given her the impetus to leave. She'd withdrawn enough money to live off of for a short time from their shared account, and left the next morning.

It had been two days before her mother even noticed she was gone.

There was quiet for several minutes after she finished before the Doctor shifted, leaning forward until he could catch her eye. His expression was solemn, but she could see a dark anger burning in his eyes that only experience told her was not directed at her. "That was very brave of you," he told her quietly.

"What, finally running away because even I couldn't ignore that any longer?" she scoffed, crossing her arms. "How was that brave? She didn't even notice I was gone. Not like I had to hide it, or anything," she said bitterly.

"No," he shook his head. "You didn't run away. You stood up for yourself. You realized that what she was doing, how she was treating you, was wrong, and you didn't give in to her attempts to bring you back. You gave up your home for an uncertain path, standing up against the wrongdoing of one you instinctively felt you should listen to. That sounds like something your father would have done." He paused, reaching out to rest his warm hand atop hers, squeezing it comfortingly. "That sounds like bravery. True bravery. Not everyone could have done that. And it took more bravery to tell me about it just now. You should be proud of yourself."

"Oh." She blinked back tears. She'd never thought... "That's... I never thought about it like that," she breathed.

"Well." He offered her a faint smile. "Then let me be the one to assure you. You were very, very brave, and I don't think I've ever admired a person more."

She turned her hand to clasp his. He gripped it encouragingly, and she let his quiet offer of support carry her through the surge of emotions. She... had been brave, she realized, and with the knowledge that she had done it before, she found a bit more bravery deep inside and turned to him.

"Thank you," she started, giving him a shy smile. "For... for telling me that. For supporting me. And..." she hesitated, blushing, but using that little bit of bravery left to meet his eyes. "And for giving me a home."

He squeezed her hand. "Always."

xXx

"I am graceful as a butterfly, and I fully expect you to acknowledge that," Lyssa informed the Doctor as she wobbled her way onto the frozen river, arms thrown out exaggeratedly wide for balance. "Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying."

He nodded solemnly, gliding smoothly onto the ice. "Truly, I have no other option but to believe the evidence before my eyes. Perhaps someday I may attain your level of skill."

"That's right, dream big," she nodded emphatically, only to overbalance and nearly fall before she caught herself. Genuinely trying to be more cautious this time, she slowly made her way to the center of the river where the ice was much smoother. "Ah, yes, this is what I wanted," she grinned, letting herself relax into the familiar movement and gliding over to join him.

He laughed. "It would appear you've done this before. You have all the grace of the fairy you once claimed to be."

She grinned, hoping he would assume her reddened cheeks to be from the chill rather than the compliment. "Maybe once or twice," she conceded, tugging her mittens a little tighter around her fingers and moving in a slow circle. "I'm nowhere near that graceful, though. And this is my first time on a river, actually. I've only ever been on a lake or rink before." She tugged at her snowflake charm with a smile, remembering skating with the Doctor on the planet that led to her first gift so long ago now. "Though I've always found the outdoor scenery to be the prettiest."

His eyes followed her hand to her necklace before cutting away with a blush that definitely couldn't be due to the mild cold - she'd had enough discussions on 'superior Time Lord physiology' to know that it took a lot for them to be affected by colder temperatures.

"All right," she sighed, turning to face him fully. "My curiosity has been piqued enough. What's up with my necklace?"

"I beg your pardon?" he startled, flush only deepening. "Your necklace appears unchanged."

She shook her head. "I know it means something to you. At first, I thought it was just a way of showing affection, maybe to help keep track of where I'm at in my timeline. I thought maybe that was why you were sad when you saw the earliest versions of me without any charms. Because it meant I was still new and didn't know you very well yet. But it's more than that, isn't it?" she pressed. "You react to it, every time. Even versions of you who haven't given me my necklace or any charms yet. I've met other people who react to it. Even your brother reacted to it. So it's something bigger."

He hesitated for a long moment, nearly his whole face red by now, before giving in, unable to meet her eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. "It... is of rather large cultural significance to those of Gallifreyan descent, or those who are familiar with our culture," he started slowly, fidgeting slightly with one glove. "Different cultures have different customs for... certain types of relationships. Some are purely physical, such as rings, or other jewelry. Some are purely telepathic bonds. And some..." he trailed off, staring into the distance. "Some have both."

Lyssa swallowed hard. "And... What about Gallifrey?"

He inclined his head in some semblance of a shrug. "Depends on who you ask. My people are touch telepaths, so a bond has always been part of it. But... back before there was this great disdain for the physical, for emotions and all the ways to display them, we had both."

"Wait. Signifies a certain type of - is this an engagement ring?" Lyssa squawked, feeling her own cheeks heat up to match his.

"What? No!" he sputtered. "Gallifrey has very different customs than Eart-"

"Doctor," she cut him off, trying to quell her rising hysteria. "What does it mean?"

"Not an engagement," he huffed. "You weren't even aware of it, and informed consent is very important in both Earth and Gallifreyan culture."

"Small mercies," she muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face. She... loved... the Doctor, yes, but she was nowhere near ready for anything like that. "Okay, so... if it doesn't represent an engagement, what does it mean?"

He frowned, embarrassment fading as he focused. "It's difficult to translate the nuances into English. Perhaps it would be easiest to consider it representing more... stages in an important relationship, whether lovers or friends. How it appears may vary, from necklaces to bracelets to hair clips or yes, rings. But there are a few constants. Gifts to represent what the other means to you are given as the relationship progresses, whether or not it starts or even stays platonic."

"So... it's like a more intense friendship bracelet?" she tried to follow along. "'Cause the first charm you - er, your future self told me was to represent me being your best friend."

"Of a sort," he agreed reluctantly, though not without a grimace at the comparison. "Though much more meaningful. At its heart, it signifies a deep bond that the giver hopes will only continue to grow more so, whether platonic or romantic. The other constant is what connects them. The band, the string, the base." He nodded at the silver strand her charms connected to. "It must come first, before anything else. All following gifts are meant to be attached to it in some way, with each one representing growth in the relationship."

"So... what does my necklace mean to you?" she asked, glancing down at her charms. "And... actually, why did you react so strongly to it when you first saw it? The future Doctors knew they'd be the one to give it to me, but you couldn't have."

"Perks of being a Time Lord," he offered her a faint, sheepish smile. "My... telepathic signature, for lack of a better word, is bound into them. All versions of myself - or anyone who knows my signature, such as my brother," he added with a grimace, "would know immediately that I had been the one to give them to you. It's required, on occasion, in a culture of time travelers where you risk meeting others out of order. It's why the first few charms, such as you have, always indicate a declaration of care or protection, in case you happen to meet an earlier version who doesn't know you. In my case, your charm tells me that one day I will view you as both a close friend and someone that I am willing to protect with... everything I have." He paused, cheeks darkening. "In explaining this, I hope you know that my current self does view you as a friend, and I would strive to protect you from harm," he told her haltingly.

"I know, Doctor," she assured him with a smile. "This is just... on another level, yeah? Bigger on the inside?"

He laughed a little. "That is a good way to describe it, yes. We Time Lords are rather fond of that. It... was, is," he corrected himself, "surprising to find that I met someone about whom I will care about so deeply, after living centuries without having done so. Not on this level.

She nodded slowly. She supposed she'd have been doing lots of double takes if the situation had been reversed, and she met a stranger with physical evidence she'd come to care about them immensely. "Okay, that.. does make sense. Um, am I supposed to get you anything?" she asked uncertainly. "You didn't mention anything like this, when you gave me the charms, and I don't know if I need to reciprocate, or anything."

He shook his head. "Your charms are platonic in nature, given as gestures of affection and precaution," he gestured at her shield. "There are no conditions attached to them, no meaning beyond friendship or requirements for anything more on either side." He hesitated. "Should you be given anything of a more... serious... nature, there will, of course, be discussions first."

She paused thoughtfully, flushing at the implication but too intrigued to leave it at that. "Wait, so... how many charms can you get? Do I get more?" she asked curiously. "I know you've met my future self at least once, and we both saw that future vision-y stuff, but you probably remember more than I do."

He hummed before giving her a smirk, and she huffed, already knowing what was about to be used against her.

"Spoilers."

xXx

"Ah, Doctor?" Lyssa called, watching the familiar golden glow twine around her hands.

He poked his head around the corner, protective goggles from some experiment pushed askew to the top of his head. "Yes?" His eyes fell on her hands and he startled, shoving the goggles off entirely and dropping them to the floor as he hurried into the room. "Well, this certainly looks magical," he remarked dryly. "This... what's happening?" he asked, scanning her. "Did you See something from the Vortex again?"

She shook her head with a fond smile as the glow crept up her arms. "I'm going to jump," she explained. "This always appears when I'm about to be pulled to some other version of you. Not entirely sure why, I just know that it does."

He tilted his head to the side, eyes taking on a strangely intense look as if he were seeing through her. "Your connection to the Vortex has opened greatly," he told her, voice deeper than normal, more layered. "It's spilling out, expressing itself this way to keep from overwhelming you."

"Because I've already got enough that I'm jumping to get rid of it," she concluded and he nodded, eyes losing the strange unearthly look. "Well, I suppose it has been a while," she sighed as her legs began to shimmer and glow. "What, four months? Five?"

"Five months, three weeks, four days," he answered automatically, meeting her eyes with a frown. "How long will it be before I see you again?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know. Not too long, I don't think." She offered him a smile as her vision began to wash gold. "Don't worry, Doctor. We'll see each other again soon."

He sighed, but smiled and lifted a hand in farewell, his words following her as she vanished into Time once more. "Until next time, fairy-girl."


A/N: Welcome to the sequel to Lost in Time! To all my old readers, I'm very excited to see you again and begin this new journey with you! To any new readers, you are also very welcome. You've probably figured this out by now, but you should read Lost in Time first if you don't want to be horribly confused. But who am I to judge? I'm not your mother. (Now go wash your hands.)

I apologize in advance for any typos/thoroughly baffling areas, I got a fever right before I could finish writing/editing, and that may affect how things turn out. Please let me know of any egregious errors and I will try to fix them!

The Eighth Doctor canonically got amnesia multiple times, hence his jokes about forgetting. Time Lords typically have lower body temperatures, although they seem to have some ability to raise and lower it at will. The Eighth Doctor has been recorded at 31C/87F at least once, with other, lower temperatures being noted. So. Definitely cooler than humans.

Braxiatel is the Doctor's older brother from the comics and audios, who was very much a political renegade in his own way, albeit far less noble. He believed the ends justified the means - any means, and was more than willing to manipulate others for his own purposes. For the Sherlock fans, he gives me strong Mycroft vibes. He and the Doctor had a varied relationship throughout the series, with Braxiatel not killing him when given orders to do so to the Doctor going on adventures with Braxiatel, to considering him condescending and only caring about himself. He created an alternate timeline without Daleks during the Time War and fled there - presumably with no way nor intentions of coming back, as that seems to be where his story ends. The Doctor believes him dead.

On a more important note, it takes immense bravery to leave someone you feel tied to, whether romantically, or as a family member, or as a friend. If it takes you twenty years to reach a point where you leave someone, that still takes genuine bravery. If you're not at a point where you feel you can leave someone yet, that's okay. It doesn't mean you're wrong, or worthless, or don't deserve better. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect. Bravery comes in many different shapes and sizes, and even just acknowledging that you're not being treated the way you should be is bravery. Because not everyone can do that. And it's not their fault. That responsibility always lies with the person who is treating others that way. Always remember that you deserve to be treated with respect. That anyone would do otherwise is their failing, not your own.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :)

General Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, just Lyssa.