A/N: Here's a new chapter, with references to "May It Be" by Enya (beautiful song to listen to if you haven't before) and DW episodes "Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead".
Chapter 22: Spoilers
"Rule 1: The Doctor lies."
That's one of the major things I found out about my father, and if I'm being honest, it's the stupidest rule in the universe. Here's why:
The next day, I expected Dad to take me on our next adventure, but instead he insisted on taking me back to the TARDIS med bay for more tests on my health after my three-day-long coma. In other words, he didn't fully discharge me last night like he claimed. "Seriously?" I groaned, and that was when he immediately told me about his number-one rule: The Doctor lies.
Not long after, we had a serious argument about it. He was saying that there was a reason why he lied to people like this, that reason being to keep people safe and protect them, but I disagreed…well, partially. He didn't believe that I was fully recovered and that I was still too weak to go adventuring, and he wanted to wait another day until I was fully recovered to allow me to do anything too active. This annoyed me so much to the point of me arguing that he's just lying to manipulate me into staying in the TARDIS forever, which he shouldn't have a right to do to me. I argued that he can't keep me cooped up in the TARDIS forever, no matter how dangerous he claims the universe is, and that I should have a right to decide whether or not I'm ready to leave her walls. Admittedly, I was still a bit tired, but that didn't mean I couldn't function on my own without him assisting me every second of the day. I also argued that it's one thing to lie to protect people both physically and emotionally, but it's another to lie to take advantage of people for his own gain.
These statements made me think of my situation with my guardians before I left them, and before I found out the truth of their overprotectiveness. Most normal teenagers would occasionally have the whole weekend to themselves without their parents being home, or they'd be out in public with friends without having to contact their parents every hour of the day, but for me I wasn't so lucky. Throughout the majority of my childhood, as well as my teenage life, I was rarely allowed to go out in public for more than a handful of hours. I remembered my guardians almost deciding to have me homeschooled when I was a kid, as I'd be better protected that way, and it took a hell of a lot of convincing to send me to a public school instead, where I could have at least a little bit of social interaction with people, hence how I met Hazel. Even with Hazel, I was rarely alone (if at all), and my guardians would often have me contact them whenever we went out to at least let them know I was still alive with both hearts functioning (blah, blah, blah), which was incredibly tedious. Even when I was home, I was rarely home alone, as at least one of my guardians would be home with me, or if they were both gone they wouldn't be gone for more than two hours. I never understood why I couldn't do normal teenager-y things like everyone else in my school—much less be on my own at all—and I often had fights with my guardians about it. Of course, now I understand why they've been so overprotective and rarely letting me leave the house except for school and Martial Arts lessons, and to this day I still wish I could be normal. When I left to go to London, I had hoped to find the freedom that I longed for, never knowing it was destined to be short-lived.
And now here I am, back to Square One, back to being under the roof of a freakishly overprotective parent. Typical.
Eventually, I was able to convince Dad (after several more pointless and tedious tests) to leave me alone in the TARDIS to do my own thing. Well, sort of, as he'd insisted on me 'doing my own thing' in the form of resting. Again, this greatly annoyed me, but I was no longer in the mood to argue, as I'd done that way too much with him since I first met him, so I just put up with whatever he wanted until he finally discharged me for good (and trust me, I made sure of it).
Of course, instead of resting, like he asked, I play guitar in my room, having not played since before I left for London. Of course, this isn't me being a rebellious teenager (not really); I just can't sleep, since I've been literally sitting on my ass, doing nothing but be poked and prodded by my father, for the past nine hours.
I'm in the middle of playing one of my favorite songs ("Blackbird" by The Beatles) when my father's voice startles me into almost dropping my guitar.
"Nova Susan Song!" he says sternly, having entered my bedroom without my knowledge. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Dad!" I cry, fumbling with my guitar as I set it on the bed beside me. "You scared the bejesus out of me!" Would it kill you to knock next time? I think disapprovingly in my head, not caring whether he heard me through our link or not.
"As much as I'm proud to hear you calling me 'Dad' now," he says as he walks further into my room, placing his hands on his hips, "I thought we agreed that I was going to start leaving you alone if you promised you'd get some rest on your own. And yet here you are, doing the complete opposite of our agreement! Why aren't you resting, young lady?" He sounds legitimately angry with me, almost exactly like a strict father toward his rebellious teenager who'd been caught doing something naughty, but I haven't done anything wrong.
In any case, I can't stop the words from coming out of my mouth. I say with a sigh, rolling my eyes, "Okay, 1) you're not my doctor; in fact, I've never had one and never will. 2) I am perfectly capable to taking care of myself, now that I'm a legal adult. And 3) I can't sleep! Trust me, I tried! But no matter what I do, I can't shut my mind down. It's like that feeling you get when you've had too much caffeine, and you feel like literally bouncing off the walls; only in this case there's no caffeine at all." I then pause, saying shamefully, "Okay, those first two reasons sounded harsher than I intended, but you know what I mean. It's just…I've spent my entire life under the roof of freakishly overprotective parents. Of course, I understand why they've been so overprotective—at least now I do—and I'm sure you can understand how it's made me feel in all that time, even before I found out the truth."
I never had the privilege of making my own life choices, nor being trusted to be home alone for a whole day like most normal teenagers. It was completely unfair! And now I feel like the Doctor is doing the same thing as my guardians; maybe he was the one who talked them into being as overprotective as they were all these years.
"I do understand," he says calmly as he sits beside me on my bed. "You've not had the chance to live the life of a normal teenager. I understand how hard that must've been for you, but it was for your own safety."
"I know that now," I say with a groan. "I just wish I'd known that sooner. If only I was born human…"
There is an awkward silence between us for a minute before Dad rises from my bed. "Come," he says as he holds his hand out to me. "Let's walk."
"I thought you wanted me to rest," I say with a puzzled frown.
"You clearly are in no mood for that," he says, and I'm honestly not. "Plus, I find that walking helps to clear my head, and you need it." He wiggles his fingers as a way to encourage me to take his hand, but I'm still not convinced.
"Where're we going?" I ask suspiciously. If he plans to take me back to that cursed med bay, I'm going to make him suffer for it.
"You'll see," Dad says with a smile, holding his hand out more insistently. "Come."
At this point, I feel like I don't have a choice, and I reluctantly take his hand. He squeezes my hand tightly as he pulls me away from my bed and out of my room.
"You better not be taking me back to the med bay," I say seriously as we walk, recognizing the route that which we are currently taking, "because if we are—"
"No, I'm not taking you there again," Dad says, shaking his head. "You're done there. I'm taking you somewhere much more magnificent."
"Where?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
"It's just past the med bay, through those doors at the end of the hall," he says, pointing ahead at a set of large bronze double doors.
At these words, I can't help giving him a suspicious sideways glance. "Secretive much? Seriously, why does everything have to be so mysterious with you? You and Mom both!"
"It's complicated," he chuckles as we approach the doors, "but it's also something you will learn very shortly."
"'Learn?'" I ask, puzzled. "Is this another 'training' thing; another part of the so-called 'family business?'"
"Not exactly," Dad says, shaking his head, "but it is something important for you to understand when you're older. It's time you knew."
"Knew what?" I ask with a frown, feeling uncertain of whether or not I actually want to know. Based on the grim look on his face, I'm not sure I do.
"Why there are so many secrets between your mother and myself," he admits as he places his hands on one of the doors in preparation to push it open. "Why there can be no spoilers between us."
"So, you're gonna show me your family history?" I ask with a raised eyebrow as I place my own hands on the opposite door as him. "I mean your history with Mom?"
He nods slowly. "Yes. Through telepathy."
"Telepathy?" I ask, still legitimately confused. "So, you're gonna get inside my head?" Despite my father still somewhat being a stranger to me, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with him invading my mind. Admittedly, I'm still not comfortable with the fact that he can read my thoughts anyway, through our psychic link.
"No," Dad shakes his head again. "You're going to get inside my head. I'll teach you how when we get inside." He then gestures for me to push the door open, and he does the same with his in unison.
"Wow!" I say in amazement as we enter the vast room on the other side of the doors. "This is the library, isn't it? It's beautiful!"
The room is at least four floors high, with an undetermined amount of bookshelves on each floor. There are large tables made of dark walnut wood that appear to be reminiscent of the styles of medieval and Victorian times, each topped with small stacks of books and old-fashioned lampshades. Of all the libraries I've seen, this one is by far the coolest.
"Yes," Dad smiles as he looks around, impressed. "It's one of the many places in the TARDIS I come to when I need to clear my head."
"I may have to claim this as my new bedroom," I say as I pick up a warn book from one of the tables and skim its front cover, which is titled something in a language that I can't decipher. I open its contents to find more of the undecipherable language within its pages. "It's so cozy in here, I could live in here. Can I live in here?"
"Uh…I suppose," Dad says uncertainly with a raised eyebrow.
"Great!" I say with a smile as I place the book back on the stack on the table and rush to catch up with him. "Of course, I'm actually joking about that, but I'm also not really." I continue looking around in awe as I follow him through the library's lower floor. "Wow! So many books! How many books do you have in here? I bet you have books that haven't even been published yet, at least from my time. Perhaps you've written a few yourself." From the enormity of the place, he must have books from literally every era of every planet in all of Time and Space.
"You'd be correct," he nods. "Unfortunately, I can't let you read those, nor any books from your future."
"Why not?" I ask, puzzled. I then pause with a roll of my eyes. "Wait, don't tell me… 'Spoilers,' right?"
"Right," he nods again.
"Ugh!" I groan loud enough for my voice to echo throughout the room. "Is there anything—literally anything—in your life that doesn't involve spoilers? Or anything I'm allowed to get into that won't spoil the future for me?"
"Of course!" he says in an obvious tone. "There are loads of things to get involved in! As long as it's nothing to do with your personal future."
"Why do I get the sense that this is some Time Lord rule that you're meant to follow," I say suspiciously with a raised eyebrow, "but it's one that you break almost on a daily basis?"
"It's not a rule I break on a daily basis," Dad shakes his head, "though it has happened from time to time, usually unintentionally. We talked about this before, at the ice cream shop on Contraxia."
"Yeah, I remember," I nod. Our convo suddenly makes me wonder if he is mentioned in several history books in this library, but he may have hidden them out of sheer embarrassment, aside from avoidance of spoilers (whatever that means). "So are there certain 'spoilers' you are going to show me right now?" I ask curiously as we approach a small area with a large velvet couch in front of a magnificent sixteenth-century-style fireplace.
"Yes," he says as he seats me down on the couch and sits beside me. "First off, I'm going to be teaching you a few common telepathy skills that Time Lords generally have. These are important skills to know how to do when you're older, travelling on your own. Some of these skills may save your life and maybe even someone else's life. Regretfully, I've had to do something similar to a friend of mine, but I was able to save her life by doing so."
"What happened to your friend that made you have to do what you did?" I ask curiously.
My father is silent for a minute before he explains in a shameful tone, "I ended up having to wipe her memory of me. It wasn't something I wanted to do, but it was the only way to save her; otherwise her mind would've burnt out, and she would've died. Of course, she's fine now, happily married…but without any memories of me nor our travels together. Her name was Donna Noble. She was brilliant; one of me best mates."
"So…you're gonna teach me how to delete memories from your head?" I say with a raised eyebrow. This plan sounds incredibly risky. Even if I've had prior experience with something like this (which I obviously haven't, but say I did), I wouldn't want to risk accidentally taking away an important memory, or worse all of them at once. I can't imagine what my father would be like without memories of who or what he is. I especially can't imagine him without any memories of me or my mother. Just the very thought makes both of my hearts ache.
"No," Dad shakes his head, and a wash of relief flows through me. "That's a bit too advanced for you at the moment. Today, I'm going to teach you how to get inside my head, and I'm going to share with you some personal memories of my choosing. These particular memories will give you a better understanding of why there are so many secrets between your mother and I."
"I don't really understand the whole 'spoiler' thing you've got going on with her," I admit apologetically. "Also, I get the feeling your lives aren't exactly…normal; like, you guys aren't like normal couples, where one person knows everything there is to know about the other, and vice versa. In your case, you meet her, or she meets you, and she either knows much about you or very little. In other words, your timelines aren't parallel like most couples', especially with you guys being time-travelers."
"You are absolutely right," he nods before he explains, "See, your mother and I don't meet in the right order, so every time we meet, we have to compare diaries to see where we are in our timelines, of course without giving too much info away, hence the term 'spoilers.' Most times, she lists a place she says we've been together, but I haven't actually been there with her yet; and sometimes it's vice versa with her, where I list something we've done, but she hasn't done it yet. So we must be careful not to give away too many details, otherwise we end up accidentally changing our personal futures, especially specific futures that are fixed. Too much foreknowledge can be dangerous."
"I don't understand," I frown, still legitimately confused.
"You will once I show you my memories," he assures me. "Well, there's one memory in particular that I want you to see; though I'll warn you, it may be a bit disturbing to you, but you have a right to know."
"What kind of memory is it?" I ask. "I'm not about to witness someone's death, am I?" Just the very thought makes me giddy with nervousness.
"You'll see," he sighs sadly, confirming my suspicions. "Don't be afraid. I'm going to be in there with you the whole time. You won't be alone. Once we're inside my head, just take my hand. I'll guide you."
"Um…what exactly am I going to see once I enter your mind?" I ask, my nervousness gradually increasing. "Are we gonna be entering straight into the memory, or are we gonna have to look for it ourselves? I mean, a thousand years of memory is a lot." If this is true, it's going to take a hell of a long time to find that specific memory.
"Don't worry," Dad smiles in an assuring manner, "I've spent centuries trying to organize all of my memories. Imagine a hotel with many floors and rooms, except every individual room is a specific memory that you can walk into."
"Is that what I'll be seeing in your head?" I ask curiously.
"Yes," he nods. "I'll give you the grand tour once we're inside." He then twists his body around to face me and scoots a few inches closer to me. "Place your fingertips on my temples."
"Uh…okay," I say uncertainly, feeling slightly uncomfortable with my father being this close to my face. I do as he says anyway, thinking to myself, this won't be creepy at all. "Are you sure about this?" I ask hesitantly as he reaches up to adjust my hands' positions on either side of his forehead. "What if I accidentally discover a memory I'm not allowed to see?"
"Don't worry," he says. "Most of my memories are locked behind certain doors unless I personally unlock them. This is a good defense mechanism for when someone tries to take over my mind and access certain memories to gain information from me. This is another lesson for another day, when you're stronger."
"Okay," I sigh, feeling immensely awkward at the seemingly intimate way I am touching my father's face. "What do I do now?"
"Close your eyes and imagine your consciousness entering my mind," he instructs me.
"Right," I say, nodding like I totally understand what he's talking about, even though I don't. "Uh, how do I do that?"
"It's actually not that difficult," he says in an assuring manner. "Just picture yourself being transported into my head. Use our telepathic link to help you. I'll guide you the rest of the way, but you must take the first step. Don't be afraid. Being afraid prevents you from focusing."
"Okay," I say, still feeling uncertain about this, but at this point I feel like there's no harm in trying…I hope. "I think I can do this."
"You can do this," Dad says in an encouraging tone. "Just relax." He then leans in to connect foreheads with me as a way to strengthen our telepathic link, and I take this opportunity to do what he says.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and imagine myself entering my father's mind—rather, the lobby of a hotel. In seconds, the image of a hotel lobby emerges, with my father standing right in the middle of it. He holds his arms out to catch me as I clumsily stumble into him.
"There you go; I've got you," he says as he holds me up, helping me back on my feet. "Well done. You did it. That wasn't do hard, was it?"
Once I'm able to stand properly, I look around the partially familiar space around us. "Where are we?" I ask as I hesitantly slide my foot across the tiled floor, and I'm surprised to find it solid, like we've teleported right into the real hotel's lobby; although, there are no other people in the lobby but us.
"Technically, we're still in the TARDIS library," Dad says as he releases me but keeps a firm grip of my hand, "but now you're inside my head. I designed it like the Savoy Hotel lobby in London. Brilliant place to visit, if you haven't."
"I think Haze and I walked past the hotel at one point," I admit, recognizing the name, "but we never went inside."
"That's quite alright," he assures me, "there's still time. Come over here." He then pulls me over to the reception desk (with no receptionist) and takes a brochure off the desk and hands it to me. "This is brilliant!" he grins like a child being proud of his masterpiece that he had created for his parent—or daughter, in his case.
I silently look through the brochure, and I'm surprised to discover that this isn't an ordinary brochure. This one shows a long list of things listed by number on each page. Some examples are "dates with River Song," names of different planets, etc.
Suddenly, one particular list catches my eye. "'Nova,'" I say in shock. "That's me, right; I mean, memories of me?"
"Yes," Dad says with a smile. "Would you like to see some?"
"Sure," I say uncertainly before I attempt to place the brochure back on the desk, but Dad stops me.
"Bring that with you and come with me," he says as he pulls me toward the elevators at the other end of the lobby. He pushes the 'up' button, and a second later there is a loud ding as the elevator doors open. We enter the small space as the doors close. "Push the button to the floor," he says, gesturing around the elevator's interior, showing thousands—maybe millions—of buttons covering the walls, including the ceiling.
"Whoa!" I say in shock. "So many floors! How many are there?"
"Loads," he says. "That's all I'm gonna tell you. Even I don't know how many there truly are. I lost patience by about Floor 1536."
I laugh. "Okay, so there are over fifteen-hundred floors. Good to know." Logically, I don't think such a building that tall should exist, at least on Earth. Then again, this is my father's mind, so logic doesn't apply here. I wouldn't be surprised if I see a tap-dancing antelope somewhere in here, as ridiculous as that sounds. I then say, looking at the brochure again, "Anyway, this says the memories of me are on Floor 34. This one!" I push the button that corresponds with Floor 34, which is on the top right corner to the left of the doors. The elevator then starts lifting us to the floor.
A few minutes later, we reach the floor and exit the elevator. We enter a long hallway with an undetermined number of doors that lead into guest rooms, like the floor of a typical hotel, except this floor seems to go on forever. I squint down the hall to see if I can see the end, but all I see is a white mist.
"Look at the brochure again," Dad says as the elevator doors close behind us. "What room stands out to you?"
I glance down at the brochure to find that it has suddenly changed slightly. It still lists things by number, but this time it lists specific events that had happened in my own life, the numbers representing specific 'guest rooms' instead of floors. There appear to be over fifty of them, which legitimately surprises me. Apparently my father has been to several events that I didn't even know he was there for, many of which were school concerts.
"'May It Be?'" I say, reading one of the things listed. "'May it be' what? Room 27." I walk down the hall, still gripping Dad's hand, following the room numbers to Room 27, my curiosity reaching its peak. When we get there, I suddenly hear a familiar voice—my own voice—singing on the other side, and then I remember. "Oh yeah! That was when my school orchestra played all Enya songs. They asked me to come in and sing with them. That was a really fun night; my first solo concert, actually. I used to listen to Enya all the time. Her voice inspired me to become a singer."
"Would you like to go in?" Dad asks in a tone like he already knows the answer.
"Yeah!" I say excitedly as I attempt to push the door open, but it doesn't budge at first. I frown in confusion, and then a second later the door unlocks magically.
"I told you," Dad says, "you can't just break into my memories. Only I can unlock them. My head; my rules." I roll my eyes at him before I push the door open and enter the room.
Rather, we enter the school auditorium, where we see many people sitting in the audience, but my eyes are immediately drawn to the familiar girl on stage—me—dressed in a sparkly gold dress, singing with the orchestra playing behind her. As we move closer to the stage along the side of the audience, I listen to myself singing "May It Be" by Enya, a beautiful song from my favorite trilogy, The Lord of the Rings. I hum to the tune as I listen.
'May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you.
May it be when darkness falls,
Your heart will be true.
You walk a lonely road.
Oh, how far you are from home.'
"Wow!" I say, genuinely impressed with myself. "I actually sound really good! I never realized that! I mean, people often told me that, but I never really thought much about it." Until now.
"Yes," Dad says, equally impressed. "You sang very well that night."
"I see my parents over there…" I say, pointing to the audience in the front row. "I mean my guardians." I then spot a familiar curly-haired woman sitting three rows behind my guardians, and I point again. "Wait…I think that's River there… Yes, that is her! And look, there you are next to her! I didn't know you guys were there!" Both of them are dressed formally, River in a sparkly green dress, and my father in a white tux.
"Yes," he says again with a smile. "We've attended every single concert of yours since the beginning. We've been much closer to you than you think."
His last words suddenly make me think of the Silence in the alley, but I immediately put that thought to the back of my mind. Instead, I think about how much my father's words genuinely shock me. I realize that he has way more memories of me than I originally thought. I didn't think he would have many memories of me, but he clearly does. This seems to be more proof that he has cared for me since the beginning and has never wanted to leave me.
I look back through the brochure at the other memories listed. Another catches my eye. "'Night of Adoption.' That must've been difficult for you."
"Yes, it was," he says sadly, and I suddenly catch a small tear tracing its way down his cheek as he looks up at me from up on the stage as I continue singing.
'May it be the shadow's call will fly away.
May it be your journey on to light the day.
When the night is overcome,
You may rise to find the sun.'
"That's another memory I'd like to show you," he says as he gestures for me to exit the auditorium with him, "if you don't mind."
"Okay," I nod as I let him lead me away from the stage to the back of the auditorium where we entered. I listen to myself sing the last bit of the song as we exit.
'Mornië utúlië.
Believe and you will find your way.
Mornië alantië.
A promise lives within you now.'
Once we're back in the hotel corridor, my father closes the door, and it locks with a small click. "This way," he says as he leads me back down the corridor toward the elevator.
"That song…" I ask curiously as we walk. "Why is it so special to you?"
"It's one that I deeply relate to," he answers in a somewhat sad tone.
"How so?" I ask.
I think back through the lyrics to see if I can answer my own question. When darkness falls (i.e. when there is deadly danger somewhere in the universe), the Doctor's hearts remain bright to overcome (i.e. defeat) said 'darkness.' He 'walks a lonely road' as the last surviving Time Lord, travelling far across the universe away from home—a home he will never be able to return to. Shadows (i.e. the Doctor's enemies) 'fly away' in fear at the mere sight of him, yet he 'journeys on,' trailing hope behind him.
But there is something else. Something more…
A promise.
"A promise lives within you, doesn't it?" I say. "That's the real thing that makes this song so special. What is that promise?"
Dad stops walking and sighs, shaking his head sadly. After a minute, he turns to me with tearful eyes and whispers, "To never be cruel. To never be cowardly. To never give up…and to never give in."
Wow… How do I even respond to something so deep, so profound? I can't think of a single thing to say. I am completely and utterly speechless.
"Here," he gestures to a room next to us that is labeled '3.' He approaches the door, and there is another small click as the door magically unlocks. Gripping my hand ever more tightly, he pulls me inside with him, and we enter the TARDIS library again, which confuses me instantly.
"Wait, we're back in the library again," I say, frowning. "Did we wake up or something?" I pinch myself to make sure, but strangely I feel no pain.
"No, we're still inside my head," Dad shakes his head. "This is another memory, which happens to take place in the TARDIS library. Come, the real memory is this way." He continues pulling me along, and this time I recognize where we're going.
"We went this way earlier," I point out. "This leads to where we're sitting right now." Deep down, this has been a particular memory I've wanted to see for a while, but I hadn't had the courage to ask about it until now. I suddenly pause in my tracks when I see someone sitting on the same couch as we're sitting on in real life. "Wait… Who's that, sitting over there?" The figure appears to be a man holding a small white bundle in his arms. After we approach the figure, I immediately recognize him as my own father. "Oh, that's you!" I then frown at the small bundle he is cradling. "What's that you're holding?"
"Go on and see for yourself," Dad says as he releases my hand and ushers me closer. "It may surprise you." I glance at him hesitantly. "Don't worry, you won't disrupt the memory if you get too close. He can't see us; this is just a memory. Though you may want to stay back a bit so you can see the whole picture."
"I'm alright," I shake my head as I sit beside Memory-Doctor and lean over his shoulder at the bundle in his arms. I gasp when I finally realize what is inside the bundle. "Aw, you're holding a baby. That's adorable." I then pause, realizing who the baby is. "Wait… Is this baby…?"
"Yes," Dad nods. "That baby is you."
I stare in shock at the small, sleeping infant in Memory-Doctor's arms. "Oh my god…she's me." I can't believe I am staring at myself. I never even thought this would be possible, even if this was just a memory.
"Don't worry," Dad speaks up, having sensed my thoughts, "you'll get used to it. I've run into my past selves on more than one occasion. Perhaps that'll happen to you someday, several regenerations down the line."
"Yeah, depending on how many I really have," I scoff under my breath. Even if I could regenerate properly with a different face (which, at the moment, I can't), I can imagine our meeting to be very bizarre. Having two or more mes in one place and time, coming from different places and times—how weird would that be?
Shaking away the strange image, I glance up at my memory-father's face. "You look so sad," I say with a frown when I see his eyes watery, like he's about to cry.
"I am," Dad says dolefully as he takes a small step toward his memory-self. "I mean, I was. This was the night your mother and I gave you up. Obviously we haven't given you up yet…but we're about to, very shortly."
"Where is she, anyway?" I ask, looking around curiously, surprised that she's not here. "I thought she'd be with you, especially since this is your las—"
'Sweetie…'
The unexpected sound of my mother's voice startles me almost off the couch. "Mom?" I say uncertainly as I see her emerge from around a bookshelf. I stand up, excited to see her. "Mom! You're here!" I begin running to her, but my father abruptly grabs my arm and pulls me back, a somber look in his eyes. "What?" I ask, frowning in confusion.
"That's not your real mother," he says apologetically. "She's just part of the memory. She can't see us either."
"Oh," I say disappointedly as I watch her approach my memory-father and sit down beside him. I watch their interaction in silence.
'Honey,' she says calmly as she wraps her arms around her husband and looks down on her infant daughter in his arms, 'we're almost to Stilwell. You should've brought her to the Control Room by now.'
'I know, River, I know,' Memory-Doctor sighs sadly, never taking his eyes off Baby Me. 'I'm sorry, I just…' He struggles to speak, his voice shaky as he also struggles to fight back tears. 'I would like some more time with her. Just a few more minutes with her… Alone. Please.' He cradles Baby Me closer to his chest, like nothing in the universe, not even his wife, can take me away from him. If only that were true…
'Of course, my love,' Mom smiles, which appears to be forced, as she runs her fingers lightly through his hair. She then kisses his cheek gently with a whisper, 'Meet me in the Control Room when you're ready.' She then bends over and kisses Baby Me on the top of my head before she stands up and leaves her husband, and new father, alone once more. If only he could've been a father—a proper father—for much longer…
The moment Mom is out of sight and earshot, my memory-father begins to sob uncontrollably, cradling Baby Me ever more tightly; and what's even stranger is that Baby Me starts crying too, proving our psychic link to be much more powerful than I originally thought. I'm about to be taken away from him, just like River (Melody) was taken away from Amelia Pond and Rory Williams. He doesn't know whether he'll ever see me again, much like how Amy and Rory felt about Melody. He fears he may never have any kind of social interaction with me, fearing he'd attract too much danger to us, which is why he plans for River to watch over me instead. Sure, it's not the same as properly raising her—their—child, but it's the closest that she would ever get. Unfortunately, this is the only way. The only way to keep me safe from them—the Silence. Forever.
I am suddenly overwhelmed with these emotions, and I begin sobbing as well, feeling both hearts break in two. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, struggling to force the emotions back, only to fail miserably.
"Nova?" Dad asks in a concerned tone. "Nova, are you alright?"
I suddenly flinch when I feel a hand on my cheek, urging me to open my eyes. I open them to see my father's concerned face, my hands still on his temples, squeezing hard. I pull my hands away awkwardly as I ask with a frown, "What happened?" I glance around us and see that we're still sitting on the couch in the TARDIS library, except I'm sitting where my father was sitting in the memory. I even pinch myself, and I wince when I actually feel pain this time.
"You lost focus," he explains, "therefore, you disconnected from my mind. We're back in the real TARDIS library now."
I sigh, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry," I say, burying my face in my hands.
"It's alright," he assures me. "Not bad for a first try. Come here." He then pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly, holding my head against his chest to listen to his hearts, a sound that which greatly calms me. "It's okay, Nova, you did well. Surprisingly well, in fact. Your mind is much stronger than I expected. Through our psychic link, even in the memory, I could sense that you could not only sense people's thoughts but also people's feelings, which means that you are not only a telepath but also an empath. Not many Time Lords were known to be both telepathic and empathic. Your mind in particular, Nova, is extremely rare for a Time Lord, especially one at your age."
"I must get my empathic side from Mom," I wonder aloud.
"Yes, I'd have to agree with you there," he chuckles. "Humans are known to be very empathic; with Time Lords, not so much. You are mostly Time Lord, Nova, but there is also a small percentage of human in you, which you get from your mum, what with her being half-human. You get your empathy from both your mum and grandmum."
"Amy," I say, the name suddenly popping into my memory. "Or rather Amelia."
Dad frowns. "Yes, Amelia. How did you know that name? I don't recall ever telling you about your grandparents, particularly their names."
"You were thinking about her in the memory," I explain. "You thought about what Amy and her husband, Rory, must've felt after their daughter—Mom—was stolen away from them. You remembered their fear of never seeing their baby again, and you were feeling the same about me in the memory. You were worried that you'd never be able to have any physical interaction with me ever in my life, fearing you'd attract too much danger to us. You were planning to have River watch over me instead, even though that was the closest that she would ever get to raising me."
Dad is silent for a minute as he recalls the memory. "Yes. I actually did think about that, now that I remember. It's surprising that you could sense even what my memory-self was thinking and feeling. That must've been why you lost focus."
"It scared me," I say, nodding. "I didn't know I could do something like that, just like I didn't know I could shoot energy out of my hands like Iron Man."
"Your telepathic abilities are much more mysterious than I anticipated," he admits in a way like he can't decide whether to be concerned or not.
"Is that a good thing or bad thing?" I ask, raising a worried eyebrow at him. From the tone in his voice, it gives me the disturbing impression that it could be a bad thing.
"Let's just say they'll be interesting to explore," he says in a tone like I shouldn't worry about it, even though we may have to later. "I'm anxious to find out what else you could be capable of."
"I'm not even sure I want to find out," I admit nervously. "I mean, some of the things I've already done…" Everybody knows shooting energy out of one's hands is nowhere close to normal. And then there are the so-called 'experiments' on me that the Silence mentioned, whatever those are. Perhaps the 'shooting balls of energy' thing is one of the results of those said 'experiments.'
"It's alright, Nova," Dad says, rubbing his hand up and down my arms assuringly, "we're not going to explore them all right now. In fact, I think we should call it a day. You're still weak, even after that experience in my head. You should get back to your room and rest—properly, this time."
I shake my head, pulling out of his embrace. "No, I'm alright, really. I just got a little emotional, that's all. That was only my first time. I'll do better next time. Come on, let me try again." I turn to face him and place my fingertips on his temples again. "Besides, I get the feeling that last memory wasn't the memory you originally wanted to show me. Am I right?" Something tells me the memory he originally planned to show me has to do with a dark secret that he would normally not show anyone, not even my mother, which makes me all the more anxious, but also terrified at the same time, to find out.
"I don't know, Nova," he says hesitantly. "I warned you that it may be a bit disturbing for you to see."
"But you also said that I had a right to know about it, no matter how disturbing it is to me," I argue. "You said it would help me to better understand the whole 'spoiler' thing between you and Mom. Don't worry, I can handle it. Please, show me. Let me try again."
After a minute of indecision, he finally sighs, giving in. "Alright." He then pulls my hands off his temples, saying, "If you 'get emotional' again, you won't break the connection, because I'll be the one in control this time. You just relax." He places his own hands on my temples this time. "Close your eyes and picture yourself entering my mind again. I'll pull you in the rest of the way."
"Are you sure you want to show me this memory, Dad?" I ask, sensing his nervousness through our link. "You seem a bit disturbed by the idea yourself."
"No, I'll be fine," he says, shaking his head. "I'm more worried about you."
"I'll be fine too," I smile. "Don't worry, Dad. We'll be in there together."
"Nova…" my father says, smiling back at me as he lowers one of his hands down to caress my cheek, "always so brave. My brave, beautiful baby girl." A small tear runs down his cheek.
"Not so much of a baby anymore," I chuckle as I wipe the tear away from his face. "I take after my dad…my real dad." In that moment, I suddenly sense his uncertainty as to whether I'm referring to him or the man who raised me. I clarify, chuckling, "I'm talking about you; you know that, right? You're my real dad; we're blood."
"Of course I knew you were talking about me," he says in an obvious tone, though there is still a small hint of uncertainty in there as well. "I…just wanted to make sure that you knew you were talking about me."
I frown incredulously at him. "Um…of course I was. I mean, I was thinking of my other dad as well, but you're the first. The original."
"Ha!" he chuckles loudly. After a few seconds, he says seriously, straightening his body and lifting his hand back to my temple, "You ready?"
I sigh nervously. "Not really, but I want to get this over with; so sure." I'm not remotely looking forward to seeing this memory of his, as disturbing as he says it is, but the sooner we see it, the sooner we can move on from it. Though, in the Doctor's case, this wasn't, and still isn't, something he could easily move on from. I doubt I'll have better luck with it myself.
"Alright," he nods slowly. "Just close your eyes and relax. I'll pull you in this time." He closes his eyes, and I do the same.
Like before, I imagine myself entering his mind and into the Savoy Hotel lobby again, but instead, I enter a dark place with large computer server-like structures and wires hanging everywhere from the servers and ceiling. I feel my father slide his fingers through mine and grip my hand tightly in his own.
"Where are we?" I ask, looking around the unfamiliar space. "Where's the hotel?"
"I decided to take us straight inside the memory, rather than look for it ourselves," Dad explains. "That way we can be in and out quickly. Like I said before, this isn't exactly a pleasant memory to relive, especially for me." After he says this, his grip on my hand tightens.
"Why?" I ask nervously. "What is this place?"
"This is the Library," he says with a hint of contempt in his voice, like the name haunts him. "Specifically, the core of the Library."
"The core?" I ask, puzzled. "I don't understand. Is this still part of the TARDIS library?"
"No," Dad shakes his head. "The Library is a planet. It's where your mother went on an archaeological expedition. Her last archaeological expedition."
"'Last?'" I ask with a frown. "What do you mean, 'last?'" Something tells me he's not using the form of 'last' as in 'the last trip before retirement;' rather, the other more disturbing form of 'last.'
I suddenly feel his anxiousness to leave this godforsaken place through our link, but at the same time he doesn't want to leave, knowing how important this memory is for me to know. This makes me all the more terrified to find out what I'm fated to see shortly. "You'll see," he says, gripping my hand so tightly that it hurts, but I don't let it show. "Come, it's just around this corner."
He pulls me around the corner, and I stumble on my feet as I almost step on top of a body in a blue pinstriped suit lying on the floor, strangely handcuffed to a pole. "Whoa!" I say in shock. "Who's that man? Is he dead? What happened to him? Should we help? Also, why the heck is he handcuffed?" I bend over in an attempt to help the man, but my father pulls me back again. I frown at him in the same way as I did before.
"Nova," he says in a serious tone. "Remember what I said earlier? This is just a memory. Nothing here is real. No one can see us. We can't interact with anyone or anything in a memory."
"What happened to him?" I ask, my anxiety and hearts-rate increasing. "Who is he?"
"He's me," Dad admits, staring apprehensively down on the body on the floor.
"You?" I say, frowning incredulously at him. "Um, he looks nothing like you." This guy's hair is spiky, whereas my father's hair is matted and floppy.
"He's another me," he explains with a sigh. "From a past regeneration."
"Oh," I say, mentally chastising myself for missing the painfully obvious. "I should've known." He must've been what Dad looked like previously, literally one life ago, before he donned the baby-face I know now.
"And he's fine," he assures me. "Just unconscious." He says it seemingly like there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, and I can't help but think, Dude, are you insane?!
"In what universe is 'unconscious' fine?" I say, frowning at the complete and utter lack of logic of his words. "That's terrible! What did that to you?"
"Better question is 'who did this to me?' The answer is right over there." He points to a chair about fifteen feet away from the unconscious past Doctor, and I instantly recognize the person sitting in it.
"Oh my god, it's Mom!" I say in shock. "What's she doing?" She appears to be plugging herself into one of the larger servers, surrounded by wires. There is even a voice in the background, counting down along with a timer on a nearby screen.
"Hush now, Nova," Dad says as we see his past self, whose face I now recognize as the man depicted in the photos from the folder on Clive's website's gallery labeled '10,' slowly regain consciousness. "You're about to see what happens. Pay attention; this is important." He wraps his arms around me in comfort, but it's more for himself than me.
"Okay," I say nervously as I watch the scene unfold before our eyes.
'Oh, no, no. What are you doing? That's my job!'
'Oh, and I'm not allowed to have a career, I suppose.'
'Why am I handcuffed? Why do you even have handcuffs?'
'Spoilers.' That word again.
'This is not a joke! Stop this now! This is gonna kill you! I'd have a chance; you don't have any!'
'You wouldn't have a chance, and neither do I! I'm timing it for the end of the countdown. There'll be a blip in the command flow. That should improve our chances of a clean download.'
At this point, I'm starting to get a sense of what's about to happen; rather I get the sense from my father. I feel his body shaking out of fear and anxiety, and I wrap my arms tighter around him. He wants so desperately to stop her, but he can't, and not just because this is just a memory. He can never go back and change this event, because it's already happened for him, and it's set in stone for Mom, so it can't be changed for her either. I can feel my eyes welling up with tears, the more I watch this unchangeable event.
"It's alright, Nova," Dad says, pulling me closer, "just keep watching. It's almost over." Even his voice is shaky, like he's struggling to fight back his own tears. Honestly, I don't blame him. If we're about to see what I think we're about to see…
The conversation between Mom and my father's past incarnation continues, the tension between them gradually escalating.
'River, please! No!'
'Funny thing is this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you—the real you, the future you, I mean—you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Darillium. To see the Singing Towers. What a night that was. The towers sang, and you cried. You wouldn't tell me why but I suppose you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the Library. You even gave me your screwdriver. That should have been a clue. There's nothing you can do.' She says this as the past Doctor reaches for their sonic screwdrivers. So Mom had her own screwdriver as well.
'Let me do this!'
'If you die here, it'll mean I've never met you!'
'Time can be rewritten!'
'Not those times, not one line. Don't you dare! It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me. Time and space. You watch us run!' Hearing these words from my own mother brings more tears to my eyes. I bury my face in Dad's chest as the memory concludes.
'River, you know my name. You whispered my name in my ear. There's only one way I would ever tell anyone my name. There's only one time I could.'
'Hush now. Spoilers.'
The world suddenly flashes white in that moment. I bury my face deeper in my father's chest to shield myself, as well as to hide from the disturbing sight. A few seconds later, I feel Dad release my temples. Breathless, I open my eyes to find us back in the TARDIS library. I glance to my father and see him rubbing his eyes vigorously, in tears.
"What happened?" I ask, frowning in confusion, knowing I wasn't the one who lost focus this time; rather, he did. "Dad? What happened to Mom? Where is she? What did she just do?" Did we just see her…?
No! We couldn't have! That's impossible!
He abruptly reaches out to me and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my shoulder. "I'm sorry…" he sobs in the side of my neck. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. Your mother… My love…"
I rub my hands up and down his back, uncertain as to what we just saw. "Um…I'm not exactly sure what I saw. Can you…uh…can you explain what happened back there?" After another minute of my father's uncontrollable sobbing, I say awkwardly, "Or you can tell me later, when you're…less upset."
"No," he sniffles, pulling away slightly and wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. "I'll tell you now." I attempt to pull away myself, but he wraps his arms around me, holding me tighter against him. "No, stay close to me."
"I wasn't going anywhere," I shake my head, pivoting myself where I'm more comfortable in his freakishly tight embrace. Any tighter, and he might end up cracking one of my ribs. "I was just gonna give myself more breathing room, that's all. You're squeezing me a bit too tightly."
"Sorry," he says as he gently loosens his hold on me, though it's still too tight for my comfort.
"It's okay," I say as I lean against him as he swings my legs over his where I'm almost sitting in his lap. "So…what happened?"
"What you just witnessed…" he struggles to explain. "It was… Again, I'm sorry you had to see it. I needed to show you. It was the only memory I could think of to help you understand."
"We saw Mom's death, didn't we?" I say in a disturbed tone. "That's what you're trying to tell me? That light… That was when…?" I don't even want to think about it; it's just too horrible.
"Yes," Dad sighs as another tear slides down his cheek. "She did it to save me. She did it to save many people—4022 people, to be exact."
"Oh my god…" I say in shock, not from the large number of people she saved but from the fact that she was willing to give her life to save all those people, which is something I don't think I'll ever have the courage to do.
"It should've been me," Dad says, sobbing again. "It should've been me who did it, not her."
"Dad, no!" I frown at him, reaching up to turn his face towards me and brush his cheek. "You wouldn't be here today if you had. Nor would I. It was always meant to be her." Mom gave her life to save him as well—her husband, or soon-to-be husband (as well as soon-to-be father) from the younger Doctor's point of view.
"You're right," he sighs, nodding after a minute.
"Though, what I don't understand is how I can still be here if she died," I say, suddenly frowning in confusion. If Mom died, taking Dad's place, how come I exist? Perhaps Mom appeared to have died there, and she survived somehow. How else would she still be around today, for that matter?
"That hasn't happened to her yet," Dad says, shaking his head apologetically, admitting my theory to be false. "What you saw, that was in her future. My past."
"So that's still to happen for her?" I ask, still legitimately confused.
"Yes," he nods. "It's a fixed point in Time."
"So it's something that can't be prevented or changed?"
"No. What you saw is set in stone. Nothing about the event can be changed. Not one line, like she said."
No, I think, shaking my head, I don't believe that. I can't!
"Surely there must be something we can do to prevent it," I say, not believing for one second that this will be the end for my mother. "Anything!"
"I'm sorry, Nova. There isn't. There's nothing that can be done to save her." He lays his head on top of mine, his tight hold on me increasing, like we've already lost her—his wife, my mother—and I'm the only person in the entire universe that he has left, and he'd be damned if he lost me too. I wrap my own arms tighter around him in response to show him he's not completely alone.
We remain silent for a minute before I speak up curiously. "Does she know? Does she know you've seen her death?"
"Yes and no," Dad explains. "She does know I've seen her death, but she doesn't know any details of where, when, or how it happens. You heard her say that I always knew she'd go there, how she'd die. She's known for a while, for most of the time we've known each other. But I can't tell her anything. Not one thing."
"So that's where the term comes from?" I say, finally understanding the significance of the one word I've heard so many times and will probably never stop hearing. "That event was where it all started—well, where it started for you?"
"Yes," he nods slowly, running his fingers lightly through my frizzy hair. "Now you understand why there are so many secrets between us, such as that one; why there can be no spoilers."
"I do now," I nod. In fact, I've known since the beginning. Ever since I met my parents in person, I always sensed that there was something not right about them. Obviously not 'not right' as in 'these people are child predators—or worse, Silence members—who shouldn't be trusted,' but 'not right' as in 'these people are not normal, with dark secrets that they cannot tell even each other, because of spoilers.' Their lives are back-to-front; his firsts are her lasts, and vice versa. He knows what happens in her future, and she knows what happens in his future, but they cannot tell each other about them. Not ever. Like Dad said, foreknowledge is dangerous.
I hug my father tighter, sensing his sadness and guilt. "That must've been horrible to watch." Of course it was! He'd seen his wife die, and there's nothing he can do to stop it! I'd just seen my mother die…well, a memory of it, but it still happened—happens—nonetheless!
"It was," he sniffles. "It would've hurt much more, had I known her better. It especially hurts to watch now."
"I could tell," I nod. "You were shaking the whole time." I can still feel him shaking now.
Suddenly thinking back on the memory of my mother's death, I wonder if my mother has a similar memory of her own. Perhaps she knows how, where, and when my father dies.
"I believe so," he speaks up in a whisper.
"What?" I frown, puzzled, not having expected him to respond to my personal thoughts. I keep forgetting that we're telepathically linked; therefore, he can sense every thought that pops into my head. Honestly, I wish we weren't, at least all the time.
"I believe she does know how, where, and when I will finally die, since I've seen hers," he clarifies.
"Do you believe that place you mentioned in that prophecy—Trendy Lore, or whatever it was—is where you're destined to die?" I ask curiously.
"Trenzalore," Dad corrects me. "And yes, I believe so. Apparently, they say I will fall when I answer 'the oldest question in the universe, hidden in plain sight.' I told you what the question was four says prior."
"'Doctor who?'" I nod. "Yeah, I remember. Mom said it, actually." I then pause. "Wait! Does that make you 'the Eleventh' then? How exactly are you 'the Eleventh?'"
"You already know the answer to that, Nova. You've seen my past self in the memory. He wasn't the only face I've had previously. I've had eleven other faces before this one—faces I have yet to show you images of. Well, ten others."
I don't tell him that I've already seen said images of his other faces from that website I found back in high school, and I actually still have those printed copies in my suitcase as we speak (needless to say, I still have yet to figure out who deleted all that stuff off the Internet and why they did it; not that it matters, but I'm still curious). Instead of telling him this, I say with a frown, "That wouldn't make you the eleventh. That would make you the twelfth."
"Well, there was a past incarnation of mine who didn't go by the name 'the Doctor,'" he explains. "And then there was a time when my previous self regenerated and kept the same face—long story. My point is, there are no other Doctors after me. There can only be twelve regenerations—thirteen Doctors, and no more. I am the last one. The last Doctor that there will ever be. I can no longer regenerate because I've used up all twelve regenerations; this is my thirteenth and final body. So when I die, that's it. I'll stay dead, and there's nothing to be done about it, nothing that can be done to change it."
Just like Mom, apparently, I think but do not say. From her point of view, she gave up her remaining regenerations long ago, which would explain why she just died in that chair rather than regenerate.
But for Dad, it's different. He may not be able to regenerate anymore, but surely he can still be saved. "But I saved you," I point out, remembering the pirate incident back on what was left of Contraxia. "You died, and I brought you back to life with my energy. Who says I won't be able to save you if you die again on Trendy Lore—Trenzalore? You die, I'll just use my energy on you again, no problem." Surely his fate on Trenzalore isn't a fixed point like Mom's fate at the Library planet is. That means he has a chance to be saved, right?
"I don't know, Nova," he sighs sadly. "You may not be there with me. I may end up having to go it alone."
"No, you won't," I say confidently, shaking my head. "I'll make sure to be there with you. So will Mom. Together, we'll find a way to save you. We love you too much to let you go." He's a fool to think we won't be there for him, to see him at his final resting place.
"Ah Nova…" he says with a smile, hugging me. "What did I ever do to deserve you as a daughter?" He kisses me lovingly on my forehead.
"Absolutely everything," I smile back at him. "You've always been there for me, and now I've finally seen that. And now, I'll always be there for you. You and Mom." I don't remember seeing myself in the memory—perhaps I was there, just in another part of the planet, and I wasn't quick enough to be on sight—and I make a vow to myself to change that. I'm not going to let Mom die without both her husband (even if it's one who doesn't know her) and myself there. Dad and I love her too much to let her go.
We spend a few more minutes cuddling in each other's arms on the couch in silence, listening to the crackling of the fireplace nearby. Unexpectedly, Dad decides to ruin the tranquil moment, saying sternly, "Alright. You, young lady—bed. Now. Doctor's orders. I'm not going to ask you again."
I sigh, rolling my eyes. Wow, what a buzzkill. "Or what; you'll ground me for a month?" Somehow, I doubt he actually would.
"Uh…something like that," he says with a hint of hesitancy in his voice, "or possibly something much worse. Now off you go. Don't make me force you to sleep. Believe it or not, that's another psychic ability Time Lords have, and I won't hesitate to use it on my own daughter." That last bit, I know, he's serious about; I can sense it through our psychic link. Though it honestly shocks me that that is a legit Time Lord ability—even for me—it makes me a tad nervous, regardless.
"Fine," I groan loudly. I then rise from the couch, but not before kissing Dad's cheek and saying, "'Night, Dad. Love ya!"
"I love you too," he says with a smile, giving me one last hug. "If you're good, I'll take you on another adventure, this time to the past."
"You got yourself a deal!" I say excitedly, now feeling more motivated to actually do as he says. Though at the same time, I get the sense he's going to do as he promises anyway; no doubt he'd received a distress call earlier from said time. "Maybe don't die this time, yeah? Especially if we're going to those coordinates the pirate gave us."
"We may not go there," he shakes his head, "but I may send your mother there to check the place out. If your guardians truly are at those coordinates, she'll let us know."
My mother, I think despondently; particularly, a version of her who doesn't have a clue what awaits her at the Library, which is something she can never know until the day it happens.
And I plan to be there, no matter what, even if I can't change it.
"I hope so," I nod, not wanting to think about her fate anymore. "I'm anxious to save them." I then shrug. "Anyway, I think I can find my way back on my own; or if not Idris will help me. Catch ya later, Dad!"
"Goodnight, my Nova," he calls back to me as I exit the TARDIS library.
The moment I get in bed—several minutes later, as I actually did get lost and had to have Idris help me find my way back, after all (ugh, why didn't I have Dad come back with me?)—I scroll through my photos in my phone of my guardians and Hazel. "Don't worry," I tell them through the phone screen. "Dad and I may have finally found your location, and he's gonna send Mom to find you. Once she does, we'll finally be reunited, and I'll make sure the Silence never touch you again. I'll make sure they never touch any of you again, including my bio-mom and dad. They killed him twice—once when my mom kissed him with poisonous lipstick when she was still loyal to the Silence, and the other time recently with the pirates—and I'll make sure they never do it again. They messed with the wrong family, and this'll be the last time they ever do."
I kiss the phone screen, exactly like how I would imagine kissing them in person, before I set it on my bedside table, turn off the light, and lull myself to sleep.
A/N: TO BE CONTINUED!
A little sneak-peak of what's to come in the next episode:
- The Paternoster Gang (Vastra, Strax, and Jenny Flint) will make an appearance.
- Fears/Nightmares come to life and wreak havoc in Victorian London. Doctor and Nova face and conquer their worst fears. (For those who have seen S1E10 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, this should be familiar)
- Doctor dreams of the Time War, making it come to life, which destroys parts of the city.
- Nova literally fights herself (yes, you read that correctly).
- Nova and Strax despise each other in the beginning (b/c of Nova's bad past experiences with Sontarans), but they eventually become friends at the end.