Here's the next chapter. No adventure here really, but Fallon needed to work on some things and it allowed me to bring in someone we all enjoy too. Hope you all like it! I'll be out of the country for the next month and a half, but I'll have time to write in the evening and on weekends. I'll try to get stuff updated for you guys!


The Doctor went rushing through the Tardis corridors as he begged the ship to move Fallon's room closer. His wish was granted as he nearly ran headfirst into a wooden door, yanking it open with a shout.

"Fallon!"

She wasn't there but he heard the tap running in the bathroom and hurried over. He jerked the door open quickly as he heard her choking coughs from inside, staring with wide eyes as she hovered over the sink with a pained grimace on her face. Blood was on her lips and the hand she was attempting to cover her mouth with. Tears were in her eyes from the sheer force she was coughing with, but when she spotted him and the bloody bandana he had, she groaned.

"I-I'm fine," she rasped, washing the blood off her hand as the coughing fit subsided.

"Blood?" He argued, taking another step into the bathroom and shoving the bandana in her face. "You're coughing up blood, Fallon! That's hardly fine!"

"I probably just tore something," she argued, taking the bandana from him and wetting it as well, ignoring the pink-tinted runoff as she used it to wipe excess blood off her face as well. "It's not that bad."

The Doctor grit his teeth before grabbing her by the arm and pulling her away. "Med bay, now."

"Hey! I already said—"

He stopped pulling her now that they were in the hall, turning and grabbing her upper arms angrily. "Do you really think that?" He snapped. "Do you really think this doesn't matter? That I don't care?"

She eyed him cautiously. "It's obvious you care," she grumbled, "or you wouldn't be hauling me around."

He bristled, giving her a hard shake. "You're coughing up blood, Fallon! You could be seriously hurt! You could have an infection, tore something, be permanently damaged, or on your way to death and you're just blowing it off!"

Fallon just stared back as though he were the one missing something, grimacing only when she had to cough. "D-Doctor, I'm immortal. So, even if any of those were true—"

"What? You'd want me to kill you?" He concluded, expression pained. "Just hit the reset button like nothing that's happening really matters?"

"I'm not saying that!"

"Then what!" He shouted angry and upset that this was how she was treating her life, that this was what she felt her life was worth. "I'm not going to ignore you getting hurt just because you think dying is okay!"

"It's not okay!" She argued, getting angry herself.

"Then, why are you blowing this off! Why are you treating this like it's nothing!"

"Because it is nothing compared to the other shit I've had to deal with!" She bellowed, shoulders bunched and showing him a pained expression he hadn't expected before falling into another coughing fit.

He let her go in mild surprise as she clenched her eyes shut and tried to calm back down and catch her breath. Blood was again on her hand and the Doctor took her wrist, startling her until he simply drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at her palm.

"I'm just worried," he muttered. "Living a long life, an everlasting life… It's—"

"Hard," Fallon sighed in return, clearing her throat with a wince. "I-I get it, really. Two thousand years is just… You stop caring about the small things." She took a breath and cringed as it was cut short by another cough, but gave him a sheepish glance. "It's been a-a while since I've been around someone who cares. Sorry."

The Doctor sighed, relieved. "Just… try to not get hurt. You've already died once under my watch."

She raised a brow. "Your watch? I do believe I'm older than you, Doctor. If anyone should be the mother here, it's me."

"You just tried to ignore a potentially very serious condition! If anything, I'm…" He stopped, realizing what he'd been about to say and flushing red as Fallon snorted and cracked a beaming grin.

"What was that?" She teased with a smirk. "You were about to admit you're a mother hen?"

"Was not," he argued with a pout. "You tricked me."

"I only tried to point out the obvious. You're a bit overbearing you know. I'm not like a normal human."

"No, you are significantly more annoying," he grumbled, nodding down the hall. "Come on. Let's get you to the med bay before you choke."


"I had the plague once, you know."

The Doctor jolted in his seat where he'd been setting up a scan, giving me a surprised look as I realized how that statement came out of nowhere. I reached up and tapped the oxygen mask over my mouth and nose.

"Sorry. Just got reminded of it, is all. The mask and the—" I cut myself short with a grimace, turning and hastily pulling the mask down to cough violently into my hand.

I felt the Doctor's hand on my back, unable to do much but soothe me until the fit subsided and my shoulders shuddered as I wheezed. I attempted to take another deep breath before rolling back over and placing a hand on my chest as he wiped the blood off the other with a worried look.

"—the chest pain," I finished. "Also familiar."

"Which plague?" The Doctor asked, just holding onto the conversation as he waited for the results of the scan.

"A few. First one was me assuming that being immortal meant not being affected by disease. Died of typhoid fever. Oops." I offered a meager chuckle that he cracked the smallest hint of a smile at, though it remained sad and sympathetic. "Second time, I figured that I wouldn't die of it either way and since no one wanted to handle the patients worse off with the risk of getting infected themselves, I'd be of some use."

"That's very kind of you."

I hummed, glancing away. "Yeah, well, it was a bit of atonement really. I had a lot of bad days. That just happened to be a good one."

The computer chimed and the Doctor slid away to check on it with a sigh.

"You've scorched the inside of your throat," he said, flipping through some images and zooming in on others. "That's part of the bloody coughs, but your lungs are inflamed and damaged too. Oxygen in your blood is lower than it should be so you'll have to stay on oxygen for the next six to eight hours at least."

"How fun," I chimed sarcastically as he moved to dig through some drawers.

"I need to give you an antibiotic to counter any toxins in the exhaust fumes that may have entered your system. Your white blood cell count is elevated. You'll also need to rest your throat. I have some cough drops somewhere and an inhaler for when you're off the oxygen. You'll need that for a few days too."

"Hm, speaking like a proper doctor, eh?" I teased as he gave me a shot of antibiotics and offered me the inhaler and a small bag of cough drops.

"I've dabbled," he replied. "You said you were a doctor too, didn't you?"

"I remember the big stuff. That medical history they drill in you at school and what surgeries I've done that were memorable. Everything else is… not gone but needs a bit of a kickstart for me to remember." I shrugged lightly. "I may be immortal but my mind is still human. Or I assume so since my memory is so shoddy. I'm almost glad it is, too. Means I don't remember most of the bad stuff, though I'm missing a good bit of the good stuff too… That stuff just hurts more though, doesn't it?"

He hummed quietly, understanding that pain.

"Sorry again," I apologized. "For before, I mean. It's been a while since I had someone around worrying. Takes some getting used to."

"How long have you been alone?" He asked softly, leaving the question hanging and not pushing me for an answer.

"Honestly? I couldn't tell you. With my memory in fragments, I only really remember large important events. It's why I started up my memoirs. That's me trying to keep track, though I only started them during the first witch trials. There's a lot of missing stuff from before then, from things I couldn't write down and forgot, things I didn't want to remember and never bothered to write down. Companions are… things I'd rather forget," I admitted. "Haven't had one recently that I can remember anyway."

"Why?" He questioned. "Even I get a bit lonely. Why would you choose to forget them?"

"A few reasons," I sighed, closing my eyes tiredly. "Some were good. Good people, good friends. Others started out that way and then changed. Either they found out what I was, I told them, or they were never true, to begin with… and some… some got too close. They all just start to hurt after a while so… forgetting them seemed to be for the best. There are very few I remember fondly; that I take the time to fully enjoy our memories together. So, sorry, if I come off a bit standoffish." I peered an eye open again with a hesitant smile. "Takes a bit of getting used to."

He nodded in understanding and let out a soft sigh as he stood. "I'll leave you be then. You need to rest and recover. I'll let Martha know and—"

"Actually, Doctor," I started, making him pause in the doorway as I watched him for a moment. "Could you drop me off back on Earth once I'm done with the oxygen?"

His expression crumbled for a moment before he shoved it away. "Why?"

"I just don't want to get in your way while I'm stuck recovering."

"You won't be in the way. You just—"

"And," I cut him off, giving him a pointed look to let me finish. "I need a bit of a break. This is a lot to take in and I need to think about going on further travels with you."

He was silent for a moment but I could see the many questions rolling around in his head, asking if it was his fault, if he'd done something or if there was some bigger reason he was missing.

I sighed, pushing myself up onto my elbows. "Doctor, I just need time to think. I've had my own thoughts and experiences already while on these trips and I need to consider them and work through a few things before I decide one way or another what my ultimate decision is."

He looked down, then turned away. "All right… I'll drop you off when you're ready."

God, it's like I kicked a puppy. I sighed and dropped back onto the bed. "You know," I said, making him pause once more. "We made a deal, didn't we? You're welcome to hunt me down and try to convince me to come back, you know."

He perked up slightly, turning to glance at me over his shoulder with a hint of hope as I smiled a little.

"Just give me a few days' notice first, all right?"

He finally cracked a grin and nodded, leaving in a better mood as I closed my eyes with another sigh.

"Damn Doctor is going to be the death of me."


Our goodbye was brief. The Doctor didn't want it to be a big deal given he was hoping he'd snatch me back and we didn't bother waking Martha up to send me off either. Still, it was bittersweet to step out of the Tardis and head off alone once more.

It wasn't that I didn't enjoy traveling with him, but those first few trips helped me realize that I had some serious issues I needed to work through before I was to travel with him again. One was a little more obvious. I needed to get my memories together. Freezing up with the witches was the least ideal and I was lucky nothing more serious had been happening at the time. Freezing up in a worse situation could mean I died again, and as much as I tried to blow off dying because I was immortal, the Doctor pointed out that that was my other flaw.

I needed to remember what it was like to live and care about living. I mean, no one wants to die, much less over and over, but I was too nonchalant about "hitting the reset button," as the Doctor said. Him being the big idiot that he is would also go back for me instead of leaving me behind if anything were to happen. I can't have other people in danger because of me. Which then brought up the third issue…

I knocked on a door and waited as someone inside called out and soon answered. The brown-haired woman blinked in surprise before smiling.

"Jenny! It's been a while!"

I cracked a hint of a smile. "Hello, Sarah Jane. How are you?"

"Oh, you know how it is. Busy looking for another scoop. Come in! Come in. Tea? Coffee?"

I groaned at the thought of coffee. "Coffee, please. Maybe with a tinge of something stronger?"

"Oh, bad day, is it?"

"More like a couple of them. Bit of fun too."

"You know I'm always interested in that, but you wouldn't have come here without a reason," she pointed out, passing me a mug of coffee with a splash of alcohol before sitting across the table from me. "So? What's going on?"

"I almost wonder if you know me too well, Sarah Jane," I murmured into my cup, remembering back to when she first found me after a rather difficult death.

It wasn't as often I died during the more modern time period, but it did happen. That time it was a death of my own making that she happened to stumble across. Drug overdose was a nasty way to go and I had died but she caught me right when I was regaining consciousness. Offered to take me to a hospital but then brought me home instead with the threat of knowing a few rather high-up people who'd cause trouble for me if I tried anything. Finding out later that she was connected to the Doctor was something I didn't really understand until now. Surely she's okay to tell… she's helped me through a lot and knows him so… Still, I hesitated and she caught onto that really quick, as usual.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"If… If you knew a secret, a secret about someone where bad things could happen to them if it got out, would you tell someone?"

"Now what kind of question is that? Of course, not!"

"Even if it was something impossible to believe? Or… Or something you might make money off of?"

She frowned, suspicious, but was quick to see where I was going and she reached out and touched my hand lightly in support. "Whatever you have to tell me will stay strictly between us, Jenny. I've got plenty of secrets myself, some that I've told you and some I haven't. I wouldn't ruin our friendship because of something like this."

I sighed, knowing I might regret this but that if anything happened I had plenty of places to escape to. "It's… a few things, actually. I bumped into the Doctor, first off."

She beamed, excited. "Did you travel with him?"

"For a bit. Told him I needed a break to really think it over."

"But you've got concerns."

I nodded, lowering my gaze to my mug. "That's part of the secret I haven't told you… Jenny isn't my real name."

"You didn't look like a Jenny anyway," she teased lightly, but her smile faltered when I didn't join in.

"…I don't remember what my original name was," I continued, closing my eyes tight. "And I'm hoping this isn't another mistake. That telling you won't bite me in the ass because I've had that happen too many times before and because you know the Doctor who also knows and respects this, I'm hoping you—"

"Hey, hey," she stopped me, making me open my eyes as she watched me in concern. "If it's that difficult, you don't have to tell me. Really."

"No… No. Some things happened while I was with the Doctor and I need someone I trust to help me work through them. I need…" I sighed. "I need a friend who can remind me how to trust people again."

Sarah Jane was silent, waiting for me to gather the courage I needed.

"Sarah Jane, I… I'm immortal."

There was a beat of silence before she turned to her own mug to think this over. It took her a minute to say anything—a minute of me mentally panicking—before she finally looked up.

"You're immortal?"

I nodded. "I can get sick, get hurt, and can technically die but I wake back up like nothing happened." I reached up and brushed my fingers along a scar on my neck. "Only scars are from things that killed me and minor stuff is healed by the time I'm awake."

"And how long have you been…"

I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Dunno. Least two millennia. Longer probably. I don't exactly count, but I popped up before humans were around. Ah, sorry if that goes against any religious beliefs," I offered sheepishly, forgetting how the whole Adam and Eve thing might get booted out the window if I mentioned I was around before humans.

She cracked a quick smile and shook her head. "No, no. No worries from me. I'm more worried about you. You don't remember your name?"

I relaxed a bit, shaking my head. "Never wrote it down. Don't remember how long I was around before humans. Before functional humans, anyway. I didn't start keeping track until…" I furrowed my brows, struggling. "…I don't even remember that. My current memoirs start in the 17th century. I'd have to check my other books for an earlier date. The name thing though is just whatever I feel like. I've bounced around the world and picked up names as I went. The, uh, the Doctor calls me Fallon though, if you'd like."

"Fallon?"

"Short for some ridiculously long name that's all scientific." I waved off. "Fallon was a shortened version with 'Fallen Angel' as my title."

"He gave you a title too?"

"It's something his species does and I figured why not." I shrugged. "He was so pleased with himself about it too. I only let him pick the name so he'd remember it for me in case I left. He made me promise he could come back and try to convince me to keep traveling with him whenever he wants."

She smiled fondly. "He gets lonely. It's why he picks up people like me. Gives him company."

"And people to show off to," I muttered, getting a chuckle from her.

"That too, yes. He doesn't like watching us get old though; doesn't like endings. So having you around is a pleasant change, I'm sure."

"Yeah…Yeah, I get that," I muttered with a sigh, drinking more coffee and relishing in the warmth it spread through me.

"You're not traveling with him now, though?"

"I… I had some issues, is all. Things I need to work through a bit before I think about going back. The problem with living a long life is dealing with all the things that come with it," I explained. "I don't remember everything but I get… flashes of memories if I get the right trigger. I had a few on the trips we went on. I'm just concerned that they could cause problems if I was in a dangerous situation and froze up because of a trigger."

"You have PTSD," she noted, earning a hum for me.

"Possibly. I haven't been diagnosed properly at all. Only diagnosis I ever got was a long time ago for telling someone I trusted what I was." I glanced at her hesitantly. "Psychiatry was less of a mental science and more of a physical one back then. They were more busy trying to draw out the crazy, rather than treat it."

"I am so sorry," she breathed. "That must've been… Oh, Fallon."

I just hummed, looking back at my drink. "It's just another memory that cropped up. We were meeting Shakespeare and had to drop by Bedlam. Easy trigger, still gave me trouble when it cropped up, even when I expected it."

"I can imagine."

"For the memories, I just need to have enough sense of myself to keep moving when they occur, since anything could be a trigger. My memories are so hazy now, that I wouldn't know what a trigger is or what memory it will pop up until it happens. It's the… other issues that I'm worried about."

I drummed my fingers on the crook of my arm, a bad habit from my previous drug use that she recognized immediately.

"Drugs? But the Doctor wouldn't—"

"I know he wouldn't allow it, but that doesn't mean that the temptation isn't there," I sighed, forcing myself to pull my hand away from my arm. "One of the trips we went on was to the future. New Earth where they had these…" I waved my hand idly at my neck. "Patch things. Moods. Nearly wiped themselves out with one but it was a drug. The thought of having a patch capable of helping me forget things or feel true joy again was… well, tempting."

"But it wouldn't be true joy, not really," she murmured. "Even after I found you, those drugs were—"

"I know. I know," I breathed, rubbing at my face. "That's how drugs work though. I've tried enough of them to know. You really think that was the first time trying them? Immortality is a long road, Sarah Jane. A long, tiring, painful road that I never wanted to deal with but one that I'm stuck with. I had bad days. Really bad days. Days that would make the nastiest criminal out there look like a child compared to me. I have things I would love to forget. Things I've done, that others have done, friends I've lost, or people who betrayed me. Drugs are something that… for a moment, I feel small again. I feel tiny, insignificant, human. I forget things that I want to forget a-and I get to finally feel like death is possible."

I had to take a moment there to collect myself, taking a shuddering breath and pressing my face into my hands. A bitter chuckle escaped me as I lifted my head and looked at her concerned gaze.

"You see? Just the thought of something like that and I'm already…" My crazed grin faltered and fell as I fought to rein myself back in again, to tie up those loose fragments of memory and throw them as far back in my mind as I could. "Sorry… Sorry, I just… This is what I mean. I can't travel with him like this. I-I came here to talk to you because I thought…"

"Talking would help," Sarah Jane finished for me, earning a small nod as she lightly took my hand and pulled it away from my face. "Have you thought about talking to a professional?"

I shook my head, pulling my hand away. "No. No, I can't."

"They're not like they were, Fallon. You know that. I'll go with you if you want. Whatever you need, but I can't help you here. Not really."

"I can't just tell someone I'm immortal. There are so many things I couldn't explain to them not to mention what I've already had to deal with," I countered, a trill of unease rolling through me at the thought of seeing a psychiatrist after my previous trauma.

"You're smart, Fallon. You can edge around some of the immortal things. Just explain that you've had drug problems, triggers that bring up bad memories, PTSD possibly. You don't have to mention dates or things that have killed you."

"I-I don't think—"

"You can save those for the Doctor," she stopped me, offering a small smile. "I might not understand that sort of pain and trauma, but I'm sure he has a better idea of it. Talking to him, even if he doesn't have any advice or anything to say about it, having someone who understands is healing by itself."

I bit my tongue, holding back anything I might say out of fear of seeing a professional and that I might not go back to travel with the Doctor. Sarah Jane adored him and would give anything to be in my place—younger, traveling with him, learning and experiencing the impossible. I was scared though, as much as I would hate to admit it. I was frightened to talk to someone who understood, to travel and find joy in life again, because joy and happiness and hope… they were all so quick to disappear and turn to heartbreak and tragedy and sadness.

"Just… think about it, please," Sarah Jane said softly, grabbing my hand briefly once more before taking my empty mug and moving to wash it. "You're welcome to stay here if you need. I've still got the guest room open."

I shook my head, getting up. "No… No, I've got somewhere and I have to check a few things out of town. Thank you, though… for everything."

She offered me a smile as I rubbed at the back of my neck sheepishly, straightening out my coat for a moment. "You're always welcome here, Fallon. I need to hear about those travels though, so you better drop by again soon."

I managed a meager smile back and nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course, and if you ever need anything—"

"I know who to call," she hummed, leading me to the door and leaning up to kiss my cheek. "Stay safe, Fallon. Say hello to the Doctor for me."

"Same to you, Sarah Jane," I said with a more honest smile, kissing her cheek in return before heading off to my next stop.


The Doctor's plans hadn't quite worked out the way he wanted. He'd offered Martha one last trip all to herself since the previous one involved her getting kidnapped and she readily agreed. She only asked about Fallon once and when he'd mentioned dropping her off somewhere she needed to be, Martha easily forgot about the other woman and attempted to enjoy her trip to the past.

Thing was, this trip wasn't so kind either. Daleks had survived the Time War, leaving the Doctor angry and frustrated and struggling to right whatever wrong they were attempting to commit in the past. Them trying to create new Dalek hybrids wasn't exactly the peaceful trip he was expecting and even when the trip was over and done with, that sense of bitterness persisted.

He planned to drop Martha off at that point. Between his past returning, putting him on edge and making him a bit more volatile, and that urge of his to hunt down Fallon, he felt it wouldn't be fair to drag Martha along with him. Her feelings toward him, not included. Yet, even that didn't quite go as planned.

A simple dropping off turned into an evening of chasing an oversized human-scorpion through a crowded party venue and a church. The trouble did not put him in the good books of Martha's family, who'd been attending said party, and after a wicked slap from her mother, the Doctor was more than happy to leave. Though Martha seemed capable enough and even if he brought Fallon back she might leave again, he decided to bring Martha along more permanently.

"Where to next?" She beamed, eager for the next bout of adventure.

"One more stop, then someplace new," he said, adjusting some things. "Two days should be long enough."

"Long enough for what?"

"Well, can't leave Fallon all on her own for too long, now can we?" He beamed, sending the ship off as Martha frowned, muttering under her breath.

"Great."


I stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and turned to stare up at the large manor-like home before me. It was old but in good shape and a glance off to the side had me lifting a hand to greet the gardener who was trimming hedges.

"Anything happen while I was away?" I asked casually.

He shook his head, lifting his sun hat and wiping sweat from his brow. "There's a bee's nest in the elm tree in the back. We left it until you could look into it, as instructed. Nothing else really significant. Might need some stepping stones replaced later but they're decent enough."

I nodded and moved up to the door, unlatching it and giving him one last look. "If you and your kids ever want a different job, I can always ask for another garden—"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. We've been serving here for generations and are proud to. What your ancestors did for us is not something to be forgotten."

I cracked a small smile, remembering the young slave boy I'd smuggled off a ship and later protected through the American Civil War until he could hold his own and do what he wanted.

"Just an offer, Clarence," I hummed. "You never know with kids. Don't let me hold any of them back from living their dreams."

"Course not," he answered with his own smile, staring back with the same chocolate brown eyes of that boy from decades back. "Have a good stay, ma'am."

He bowed his head and returned to work as I stepped into the home. The familiar smell of aged wood and books immediately felt as though tons of weight on my back was being rolled off. This was home. My true home. One built by hand and polished and cared for by my own hands every step of the way. The large halls were dark and a bit dirty after years of unuse, but a single person living in a home this size wasn't common anymore.

I closed my eyes for a moment, relishing in the past memories this home held for me. Times of ballroom dancing, political meetings disguised as parties, drinks, and gambling running wild as people laughed and took a moment to enjoy themselves. It wasn't quite like the spare home I had in the US, which held memories of the roaring 20s with their own sort of party, but similar. Tight dresses and suits, the clacking of high heels, and the smell of perfumes and cologne. I held onto this for a moment before letting out a breath and opening my eyes to reality.

A swipe of a finger on the rail of the main staircase told me they'd done as instructed. A house like this, full of age, required proper care but I didn't keep a cleaning service on hand like I did the gardener. Gardens easily became uncontrollable and wild. Dust could gather for a while with the same minimal effort to remove it as it would take doing so every week. So, there was a service I hired that would come in every so often and inspect for anything damaging. Old pipes rusting, burst plumbing, electrics, and the like. There was only one exception.

I reached a door covered in ornate, decorative carvings and took a breath before opening it. Unlike the rest of the house, the library was dust-free. Windows were cleaned, cracked to let in clear air and let out any musty air trapped within. The books were stacked, labeled, and organized without a trace of dust on the shelves or damages. Not a single binding was bent or twisted or water damaged. It was perfect, which is what I wanted. There were too many precious things in here, so it had to be regularly maintained.

A cleaner came once a week just for the library. An expert on books came once a month to check any newly arrived books for damages and any old ones for needed repairs. The only other item that got periodic checks was a painting in the library of Abe.

I stepped up to the portrait and cracked a soft smile. He'd always been a great friend and was one I'd probably always remember. While I did have a few family portraits tucked away, I kept them with a man who took good care of any art purchases I'd collected through the years. He had a space treated as a museum and allowed the art to get noticed and cared for as it deserved. Abe's portrait was the only exception to that.

"I really should stay here more," I murmured with a soft sigh, running a hand through my hair as I looked down the rows of books and moved towards one set in particular.

This section held a number of paper manuscripts, scrolls, books, and notebooks. The small gold plate on the side of the shelf labeled them as my memoirs and I trailed my hand across a shelf as I read through the dates every new shelf presented. Every so often a book would jump out at me, be it the dark color of the binding or the old blood red smudge on a corner of a sheet of paper. Books I could tell immediately were ones I'd done terrible things to in my rage or sadness. Books of dangerous memories that haunted the black holes in my mind.

It would take decades to read through them all… months or years to read through the shortened versions written up for publication. I paused and pulled out a book, then another, then a scroll, a few manuscripts, and a notepad tucked in between two tombs. I moved them all to a desk set up nearby and sat down to grab the first one.

"I best deal with what I know may come up… then go from there."

Hours or days would pass, I wasn't sure. I lost track of time and when time was spent remembering the darker sides of my past and cleaning, time tended to be the least important thing to notice. I would read and remember, then be in tears or angry and would need to step away. I would use the excess energy to clean, scrubbing away dust and dirt from the rest of the manor, as I tended to do when I visited anyway. I did a few minor repairs myself. Replacing dead bulbs, repairing and restoring an old clock from a storage room, anything that would occupy my hands and mind for a time.

Rest and food became afterthoughts as well and after nearly three days of wearing myself down mentally and physically, I gave in and stepped out of the manor to get groceries. I started with just enough for a few days, cooking soon replacing some of my cleaning urges, but as days turned to weeks with no work from the Doctor, I got more and set up meals and alarms. It was the only way to keep from starving myself to death… again.

As time went on though, the darker memories returned to blurs in the back of my mind and I ran a few tests. Alcoholism wasn't an issue. I knew when my limit was and could cut myself off easily. I found a local shooting range and dropped by there, but any PTSD lingering from the wars I'd been in wasn't really triggered by gunshots or loud noises. A park with a well-known romance spot was another step and I felt more awkward watching couples walk past than bothered. The only real persistent issues were drugs and the few memories that remained of losing close friends and family or being betrayed.

The triggers for those were many and far too random to really figure out how to deal with them properly. I wasn't about to risk having drugs nearby without someone to stop me, so they were off the table and I just had to hope things would work out well there with the ever-watchful Doctor keeping me right. Losing people was something that would just happen and continue to happen. It left me—an immortal—with a numb sense of mourning every time someone was killed or taken or lost. Early on in my life, it was devastating. Now it was a fact. Another tick to add to the list. Learning to live and enjoy life was hard when everyone around you died so much sooner.

Still, I tried and did my best to deal with things on my own. Sarah Jane's thoughts about a psychiatrist continued to rattle around in the back of my mind to the point where I'd looked someone up and very nearly called to get an appointment only to stop last minute. I'd begun to hold out hope for the Doctor's return if only to crawl back out of the hole I'd put myself in by returning here.

That was just how returning home was. Lots of good, but also lots of bad memories. Even wandering the halls brought back things I'd forgotten or not remembered for a while. Conversations with friends, risky bets with strangers, threats, love, flings. Every bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and hallway was filled to the brim and I soon had to move outside.

This was one of those days. I was overwhelmed with it all and needed a break. It wasn't quite time to make a meal and a nap out in the rare bit of sunlight seemed like a good idea as I sat on a bench and watched the bees float from their elm tree to the garden flowers. Their small, black and yellow fuzzy bodies bobbed and weaved in the gentle breeze. Their rumbling hums echoed in my ears and soon lulled me into a daze until my eyes drifted closed and I sighed, falling asleep easily.


The Tardis landed and the Doctor bounded to the doors, grabbing his coat and stepping out only to blink in surprise. He'd expected to be back in London somewhere, near some apartments, maybe a shop or two. Instead, they were out in the country somewhere in the front drive of a rather nice manor. Martha stepped out after him, looking around in equal confusion.

"Where are we?"

"Not sure. Earth, modern time," he noted, checking his watch. "I landed the day after our little party. Where exactly, I'm not sure. Just outside of town?"

"I thought we were picking up Fallon."

"As far as I know, we still are. She must be here somewh—"

The front door opened and he blinked in surprise before grinning at an exhausted-looking Fallon.

"Fallon! How have you—"

"Don't you 'Fallon' me! I told you to give me a few days' notice!" She snapped, storming closer.

"A-Ah, well, it's only been a few days—"

"A few days? It's been two months!" She countered.

"No, that can't be. It's been a few days since we dealt with Lazarus. I dropped you off the day after…" He paused, realizing he hadn't exactly checked when he dropped her off. "…I think."

"Oh, you think?" Fallon scoffed, dragging a hand through her tousled hair. "Honestly. Given I've been able to go through a good portion of the library and clean the entire manor, there's no way it's been a few days."

"Hold on," Martha popped in. "This place is yours?"

"When you live forever, it's nice to have a few places to return to," Fallon grumbled.

"Live forever?" Martha questioned, having not been told this fact until now and Fallon groaned.

"Dammit. Dammit it all, I'm too exhausted for this." She waved at the Doctor. "You explain it. I need a shower. We can leave after."

"A-Ah, wait—" The Doctor failed to stop her and hesitantly offered Martha a smile. "Ah, well… Where to start…"

"How about the fact that she's immortal and no one bothered to tell me?"

"Right… Should we go inside first?"

Martha scrolled but followed him inside as Fallon shouted from somewhere upstairs.

"Tea's in the kitchen! Door behind the stairs, turn right, all the way down the hall then take a left. Last door at the end." She poked her head out around a corner. "No snooping and don't break anything."

The Doctor rolled his eyes but followed her directions, humming idly as he went with Martha on his heels until they reached a back kitchen where he began searching for the tea.

"How long have you known?" Martha asked him then, getting their conversation going.

"Hm, before we met you. I've bumped into her a few times. Seen her die… oh, twice? Didn't know it the first time and thought she was familiar when we met the second. Didn't confirm it until she died again and reappeared in the hospital when I met you."

"So, what? She just dies and comes back? What about her injuries?"

"Healed, apparently. She hadn't told me much about the whole process. Just dies then wakes back up. Injuries are gone and the one that killed her scars. I don't know much else."

"But how?"

He shrugged, having found the tea and waiting on the kettle to boil. "Don't know. She doesn't know either. Says she just popped up and realized she couldn't die. Before humans, I think she said."

"But that's impossible."

"Well, mostly."

"What do you mean, 'mostly'?"

He hummed, folding his arms and leaning against the counter. "I know someone else who's similar. Different but close. Dies and pops back up but he's different. He ages, for one thing. Slowly but still. There's also a different feeling about him."

"A feeling?"

The kettle was starting to go off so he went to fix up their tea and tried to explain.

"Time Lords have a sense—a feeling—of time itself. With Jack, the other man I mentioned, time is distorted around him. Even being close to him is unsettling. With Fallon, it's like…" He handed her a cup as he hummed. "…like time flows right through her. Like she's not even there and is entirely unaffected. I don't get any of those off feelings. She's just another person to me, but someone who is somehow unable to die."

"Okay, so say she is immortal. Why not say anything? Why wait until now and then act like it was an accident and she didn't even want to tell me?"

"Probably because she didn't want to tell you," he said rather bluntly, earning a glare as he held up his hand and tried to explain. "Martha, you have to understand, she's older than even me. She's been through and seen a lot happen throughout the years and a part of that means getting close to people."

"So she's told people before."

"And been betrayed by them before," he clarified.

"But I wouldn't—"

"She doesn't know that. She's told people she's loved, Martha. Now imagine that happening and then having them turn around and tell someone."

"No one would believe—"

"In the Middle Ages?" He challenged. "Earlier? Even in the more modern times, people who say things like that, tell their loved ones things like that, how are they treated? Outcasts, sure, but think about it. She's lived through the witch trials, where any small rumor could get you burned at the stake. She's lived through the Great Depression, World Wars, Civil Wars. She's told people and been locked away in mental wards back when they were all like Bedlam. So, you tell me, would you give a secret like that away to someone you knew for a few days at most?"

Martha went quiet, bowing her head with a hint of understanding and the Doctor sighed.

"She wasn't doing it to be cruel or unfair. She was doing it to protect herself. She didn't want to tell me either, I just happened to be at the right place at the right time, leaving her with no choice. That's why she left. I promised she could come and go as she wanted because as much as I want her to stay all the time, she isn't comfortable and she doesn't trust me or anyone anymore. I want to change that, but it takes time."

"Okay… so, now what?" Martha asked, unsure what changed because of all this.

"Now," came a voice from the door where Fallon had appeared, buttoning the cuffs of her shirt. "We pretend this never happened and go on our way." She looked up at them both. "We have places to go, don't we?"

The Doctor smiled, glad that nothing was really changing between them and that she was willing to return to the Tardis too.

"Allons-y," he chirped, putting his glass in the sink and waving for them to head out.

Martha took the lead back to the ship while the Doctor trailed behind with Fallon who stopped him just outside the Tardis after Martha eagerly rushed in. The Doctor raised a brow at Fallon but stayed silent, seeing that she was about to say something serious.

"I haven't fixed everything yet," she said, confusing him a bit. "I still have… issues I need to work on but a friend of mine—of ours—told me that…" Fallon looked away sheepishly. "…talking about it… with you might help. I just thought I'd take her up on that and… and I can't stay here for too long with all the memories it brings up. There are just some things that I can't stop myself from doing on my own."

He nodded, understanding. "I'm always around if you need me. Though, I'm curious. Our friend?"

Fallon cracked a small smile, looking at him from over her shoulder as she stepped into the Tardis. "She talks fondly of you, that Sarah-Jane Smith."

The Doctor's face lit up and he hurried in behind her. "Oh, Sarah-Jane. It would be her, wouldn't it?"