Probably should unpack what my thing is for literally sleeping together as a form of platonic intimacy at some point. That day is not today lol.

Two

It shouldn't upset him as much as it does that his spanner is out of reach. It's not even that far. If he stood up and leaned over, he could retrieve it easily

Technically speaking he shouldn't be working right now. Marion had told him to go to sleep and he had told her that he would go to his room.

Technically speaking unless a regeneration was prompted by a simple desire to change rather than irreparable cell damage (which you weren't supposed to do, but happened from time to time from younger Time Lords to eager to embrace their new abilities without considering the consequences) it was recommended that a Time Lord spend the first few hours of a new regeneration sleeping, or at the very least, with minimal exertion. It gave the mind time to process trauma and complete last-minute repairs.

The Doctor had most certainly not done that. He hadn't had the time.

That could be why he felt the way he did. He doesn't know if he has ever felt like this before. He wonders if it's a new feeling, or simply an old feeling that this new body experiences definitely. He wonders if Marion would be able to tell him.

What face was she on? And at what point had she figured out how to stop changing? And why?

The Doctor still didn't exactly know the mechanics of Marion's relationship with mortality. He doubts that he ever will. She refuses to admit to not being human. And if it weren't for the fact he's seen her say things he knew for a fact was a lie without a tell to be seen, he'd think she believes that she's human. He doesn't know the methodology behind the careful control of her artron energy output and the way she only fixes what needs to be fixed without a visible sign of change save for a decrease in melanin where there would have been mortal wounds.

He wonders if the pale skin and pale hair are parts of her next face's form peeking through.

He wonders if this tiredness he's feeling is familiar to her. It would explain why she spends as much time sleeping as a human does. Maybe she really does need it.

For him, it's an unfamiliar sort of exhaustion. It's not the same kind of tiredness that he'd felt a day ago. The feeling of his body running on its last legs and the cold knowledge that either he's going to change or he's going to die. It's an unfamiliar sort of tiredness that can only be described in the way he contrasts the almost manic energy he'd felt when he had first left the ship. It makes him wonder if he is even tired at all. It makes him wonder if his new body feels tired differently. It wouldn't be the only change. They never told him this bit. Or maybe they did but he wasn't paying attention.

When talking about regenerations, it was most common to mention faces. New faces, old faces, familiar faces. First faces, second faces, third, fourth, up to thirteen of them if you were lucky. He hoped that he could be so lucky

And yes, of course, his face had changed. He had changed so much that he hardly recognized himself at first. His hair was shorter and darker than it had ever been, even when his first face was young. He looked younger too. He didn't look like a child, if this face had been his first he would say that he looked maybe two hundred?

His face was indeed less lined, but still creased in places. His eyes were greener, but still blue.

He was shorter now.

It wasn't the first thing that he noticed when the painful haze of regeneration (and it was so painful he had been afraid that something had gone wrong. He had heard that the first regeneration hurt the most. But he hadn't expected agony.) had faded enough for him to notice things. He had been focused on the fact that it had been far too bright.

He had been on the floor. Ben and Polly had been standing a distance away from him looking down where he was on the floor with suspicion (They didn't have any way of knowing he was still who he was. He wasn't even sure who he was. He hadn't yet figured out which parts of him were him, and which parts of him were the him that he used to be). He hadn't noticed until Marion had finally helped him to his feet and went to talk to Ben and Polly and explain to him that he still was the Doctor and he looked at her height in comparison to the two of them and realized that it wasn't that she had grown, but that he had shrunk.

Marion was supposed to just barely reach past his shoulder. And now they were nearly eye to eye.

He was shorter and that was a problem because his arms had shortened too and that was a problem because he had spent decades maintaining a system of organization so that every tool and every material that he needed was within arms reach. But those decades don't matter now because his arms are too short.

He can barely brush his fingers against something that was supposed to be within grabbing distance

Kinesthesia and proprioception tell the mind where body parts are in relation to the rest of it. And neither sense has caught up yet. He feels like he's not getting places as fast as he should. He reaches out for things he's certain are within reach only to need to move closer than he thought. He has to actually look at his hands and his feet when he does things with them. He can't just assume that they'll be where he needs them.

It made sense to focus on faces because they are what other people see and so they're the first things to be commented on directly post-regeneration. But while there are some things that have changed that are harder to see from the outside and some things that remain the same.

He doesn't know if it's because of this odd sense of exhaustion, or just because of how wild his emotions have been or just the way this new face is or all of the above but it's bothering him far more than it normally would. And it's unproductive, but he slams his fist on the table.

The entrance to his workspace doesn't have a door. It's more of a doorway. But that doesn't stop Marion from rapping her knuckles on the outside of the way as if there's one there. She's wearing the same clothes that she was wearing earlier. One of her eyes is lighter than the other, but it's not orange. It's the same her.

It's quite possible that she knows the man he's become better than he does.

It's a comforting idea. The idea that he doesn't have to worry about the new man he's become being someone she hates because she knew this him before he knew this him. He doesn't have to convince her he's the same man deep down because she already knows. He doesn't know what he would do if she hated this new him.

It wasn't that he didn't care what she thought of him before. He hadn't at first, and then she had saved his life and Susan's life and she smiled and laughed and gradually, all of them had gotten closer, even if he met her wildly out of order and could never be certain if the one he met had been there for a fond memory yet. And then gradually, Susan and Ian and Barbara and Vicki and Steven came and went and Marion stayed. She was a constant. She had outlasted his older self and would probably still pop up in the TARDIS long after he was replaced by whomever came after him.

Marion raps her knuckles again against the doorframe drawing him out of his thoughts.

"You can come in."

Marion gingerly steps through the threshold. She leans against the side of his workbench and starts to speak. Picking up something and starting to fidget with it.

"I was just popping in to see if you were awake yet." That was right. He had said that he was going to go to sleep. And then he didn't. "I know regeneration can take a lot out of you. But I see you're already up and working! What's got you punching the table."

"My arms are too short."

Marion freezes. The bolt she'd been rolling between her knuckles falling to the table with a clatter. "I'm sorry. What?"

The Doctor pointedly reaches across the table, to a box of screws that he should've been able to pull to himself with his fingertips.

"I laid out this table so that I could reach everything. But, I can't now. My arms are too short."

"Oh. OH! That's what you meant."

"What did you think I meant?"

Marion waves a hand. "Ah, nevermind that." Some kind of spoiler then. "Well, you can reorganize it later. How long did you sleep before you woke back up,"

"Oh," He didn't want to admit that he hadn't slept at all. "Enough."

Marion stares at him flatly and then tilts her chin so that she's looking upward towards the ceiling. She always does that when she's talking to the ship. He doesn't quite know why, it's not as if the TARDIS consciousness is just above the ceiling. She could look in any direction to address it. But she always looks upward with her head tilted slightly to the side.

"Honey, how long did the Doctor sleep before he started working?"

The TARDIS doesn't speak to the Doctor the way it speaks to Marion. Marion describes the sensation as more of a feeling. He can certainly feel the humming and see the flickering of lights. But whatever meaning Marion seems to get out of it is lost to him.

"Doctor…" Marion trails off, "The TARDIS says that you never slept at all!"

"I'm alright! I don't feel tired at all."

"Bull- Of course, you're tired. You- you're barely out of the first fifteen hours of your new regeneration. And if you're not dead on your feet, it's because the energy you're feeling right now is fake. You're going to crash sunshine!"

That energy is already flagging.

"It was only old age!" The Doctor reminded rising to his feet, "Simply a body run thin! I'm fine and fit." He punches the table again. Marion is unaffected.

"Which is probably the reason why you're still standing. Which you shouldn't be. You're lucky you aren't seizing. Barely an hour or two and you were running around breathing in mercury fumes and getting knocked out and fighting Daleks. You should at least be lying down somewhere." As she spoke, she had casually thrown one of his arms around her shoulder and was pulling him to his feet and not quite dragging him towards the bed in a way that makes him certain that if she was as strong inside of the TARDIS as she was outside of it (Marion doesn't know why she's not and neither does he. He blames the temporal grace circuits. They've always been a bit funny) she would be physically carrying him instead of pressing herself against his side and nearly dragging him along.

And part of him wants to get back to work, but the thing is that Marion's warm. She's so very warm. The Doctor wonders how Marion got to be so warm. She feels nearly feverish, more like a human than a Time Lord. He thinks to ask, but that's another question he knows that she'll never answer because answering it would require admitting to her inhumanity.

However she does it, it's lovely. And it makes him feel more tired. Marion stumbles for a moment as he leans more heavily on her.

"Easy bud. Don't fall asleep standing up."

His hand brushes against the back of her neck and for a moment his mind is filled with the not-sound of something loud and fast and falling. He's heard it before. And he's not sure if it's because he's tired or because his new self is different or both, but it's loud.

The sound makes his mind feel quiet in a way that's much more calming than concerning. He doesn't need to think as hard and he feels like he can relax his shields because Marion's are enough for the both of them. That must be what the noise is. He wonders if it's something Marion is doing on purpose to get him to want to fall asleep.

If so, it's working and he has to focus on moving one foot after the other and he's sure he would simply fall to the ground and stay there if Marion wasn't holding him up. He's all but collapsed on the bed and suddenly he can't remember why he was so averse to lying down in the first place. He'll just have to close his eyes for a little bit and that should be enough to satisfy Marion.

When the Doctor wakes up it's six hours later and he feels better than he remembers ever feeling with Marion is sitting next to him with her back against the headboard looking at something on her phone with her left hand and he realizes that it's because he never let go of her right.

Four

They had been sitting on their laurels for far too long and there were still three pieces of the Key to Time to find and while, she of course, could likely fly to the next location and handle it on her own, that hadn't been what the White Guardian had demanded of her. She was supposed to be with the Doctor and his companion. Romana couldn't deny the value of having the Doctor and his human friend along with her, even if there were times like this where the human encouraged the Doctor's poor habits. Which is why instead of going off to wherever they're meant to go next, she searching for them.

She found the two of them in the library.

She heard the human before she saw her. The human spoke softly and evenly, clearly reading something aloud.

"At last, they made it to the floor of the conservatory. It had been turned into a forest. An artificial forest of crystalline trees. They were surrounded and could see two paths from where they landed. One of the paths led out to what had once been a pond and was now merely a big pink clearing, and at the other end, a pink crystalized garden…"

She found the two of them together, with the human leaning against the arm of the couch with a thick book in her hand flipping through the pages and the Doctor with his head in her lap, his eyes shut and his breathing even, fast asleep.

It had not missed Romana's notice how close the human was with the Doctor, but what she was seeing still managed to surprise her. The Doctor's scarf and coat had been discarded and the hand that the human was using to occasionally flip pages was fidgeting with the Doctor's hair and absentmindedly brushing it out of the man's eyes.

Was the human unaware of Time Lord touch telepathy? Had the Doctor not told her that such prolonged contact she might as well be offering the Doctor a tour of her mind? Did she not care?

At Romana's approach, the human's eyes snapped towards her. She stared at her for a moment, before nodding to herself at whatever she saw. She bookmarked her spot in the book and then carefully set it down.

"What are you doing?" Romana asked.

"Reading. A book. Out loud. I mean I've got to do something for the next hour and a half the Doctor's sleeping, don't I?"

"An hour and half!"

"Yes, Romana." The human said firmly. As if she were older than her. "Or however long his body decides he needs."

"The Key of Time-"

"Can wait however long it takes for the Doctor to be fully rested." The human says firmly, "We are in a Time Machine outside of Time and Space, Romana. A couple of hours won't make much of a difference to the Key to Time, but it will make all the difference to the Doctor. If the White Guardian takes issue with this, he's more than welcome to come and explain to me directly why he believes the Doctor being sleep-deprived is so pivotal to the preservation of the universe."

The Doctor's face seemed to twitch lightly. The human lightly brushed her fingers against the side of his temples until his expression relaxed again.

"Even if the Doctor does need to sleep, are you certain that him sleeping so close to you is a good idea?"

"Yes." the human replied. "Why wouldn't it be."

"You are aware that Time Lords are touch telepaths and that it's very possible that he could be reading your mind at this moment. Especially with your hands so close to his head."

"No he can't."

"Did the Doctor not tell you he was a touch telepath?"

The human shook her head. "No-well-yes-no,". The human drummed her fingers against the arm of the couch, "I know that Time Lords are touch telepaths, the Doctor didn't tell me, I already knew. But he can't read my mind. If he tries, all he hears is white noise. It blocks other things out and makes it easier for him to sleep. It's not a him thing. It's a me thing. My mind can't be read." she held out her hand, "Go ahead, try."

"My psychic abilities are far more advanced than the Doctors." Romana reminded the human. She doesn't reach out for the hand. That's too familiar of a touch. "Just because he's unable to doesn't mean that I wouldn't."

The human tilted her head to the side. "Are you positive about that?"

"His shields are abysmal. You're the one who asked me the moment you met me if you thought that I was capable of carrying him if they failed and he ended up unconscious. I can't imagine his ability to probe could be much better."

The human cocked her head to the side and nodded. She lowered her hand slightly so her elbow was resting on the arm of the couch once more and tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "He's much better at psychic offense than psychic defense. His psychic shields have the structural integrity of wet tissue paper, but I'm fairly certain that that's less due to a lack of skill on his part, and more due to the side effects of an incident that occurred a day or so after he regenerated that he never really got a chance to recover from." The human smiled a very thin smile that didn't reach her eyes. "In part thanks to the Time Lord council's darling habit of using the Doctor as their little errand boy. You'd think with their access to all of time and space they might perhaps pick another moment to demand him to help them clean up some mess, what with their access to all of time and space but that's just too much to ask I suppose."

"You can't blame the Council for all of the Doctor's failings."

"Romanadvoratrelundar you cannot fathom how many things I can and will blame the Time Lord council for." The human lowered her voice. She hadn't raised her voice much, which was unusual for her, but her words still sounded biting.

"What? Because of something the Doctor told you?"

"No, the Doctor doesn't talk much about Gallifrey outside of anecdotes. I just know things, and don't particularly care for much of what I know. But that's not important. What's important is that the Doctor is sleeping, will continue to sleep for however long he needs to sleep and that's that."

"Marion!"

"Romana!"

The human stared at her for a moment and then looked away.

"Look, did you need something? Something that doesn't need the Doctor waking up to get?"

"Well no-"

"Then you can listen to me read, or you can go play chess or something with K9, but the Doctor is going to sleep until he's ready to wake up,"

And then the human cracked open the book and continued to read a story about a lab full of pink crystal steadily spreading to cover the entirety of a lab floating above a lake, threatening to fall and change the whole world.

It's relaxing at least. And if nothing else, it gives Romana time to think and plan.

Nine

She loves her Thief. She always had and always will. And she loves the Beloved Timekeeper as well just as the Timekeeper loves her Thief. She loves her Thief, but she lacks a body. She has one. And there is a blurry time where she can feel that she'll be in a shell of rapidly failing flesh instead of her own, but that time and this time won't intersect no matter how much she wishes that she could make them.

She has a form. And it's a form that can offer words. But it can't offer touch. And even though the form can change and shift she hasn't found a form that works. Especially not with this. The Timekeeper's voice is comforting to her Thief, but it's not enough alone.

The Timekeeper couldn't be there during the war. They couldn't or wouldn't take her through the Time Lock and so the TARDIS did her best mimic her. Not so closely that she lied to her thief, even the sweetest of lies could turn sour, but to remind her thief that he was loved and that he was mortal and that he needed to eat.

Sleep was harder. She could use the Timekeeper's voice and face, but she couldn't use her touch and she couldn't use the joy it would bring her thief to know that she was there by his side.

She was overjoyed when the war finally ended (although her Thief could not remember how and was grief-stricken over what he could) and he could see her Timekeeper in the same timezone as she and her Thieves and she promised that she'd be with him soon enough. And then he changed after the Timekeeper had been dragged away and he was alone and so she tried to lie and mimic that she was still there so that he would get up and move and be well. And it wasn't enough and it hurt him but she needed him to get up to move to sleep to eat and lying to him was the only thing that worked because her Timekeeper still hadn't appeared and she knew that she would appear but the time frame when she wouldn't arrive until it did.

Finally, she felt the humming buzz of the Timekeeper and could sense (in as much as she could sense anything through the resting one) concern and confusion, and then her Timekeeper's head was craned up the way it was when she spoke to her directly and called out.

"Honey?" the Timekeeper's sweet name for her "Honey? Where's the Doctor?"

She made a noise to get the Timekeeper to turn her head and know where to go and shifted herself so that she can find her Thief as quickly as possible.

He's been without his Timekeeper for more than long enough. And now he has her and she's real and he can hold her and she could hold him and they do.

The Timekeeper has a form that's not a hologram but flesh that doesn't fail and she uses it to drag the Doctor to the kitchen where she cooks until her Thief smiles and if she guides her Timekeeper's hands towards what she knows will make her Thief smile that is her right.

They are in her Thief's bedroom now. It's a place the two go to often when they aren't in the Timekeeper's room or the library and they are tired. The Timekeeper hasn't let go of her Thief and her Thief is unwilling to do it himself. They toe off their shoes and collapse onto the bed and her Thief clutches the Timekeeper close to him as if she might be gone again if he let go. His head is tucked gently under her chin where his new ears can hear the sound of her heart beating and the shields around her mind rushing against his.

She couldn't do that for him no matter how much she might want to. Any form she could make was nowhere near as solid.

When she did get her thief to go to sleep and his dreams tormented him, even before that terrible war, the best that she could do was attempt to wake him up herself and try to convince him that he was alive and safe.

Not like her Timekeeper, who could feel when her thief's face began to crumble and when his breathing quickened and would pull him closer to her and hum softly, in a way that was felt more than heard and rub the back of his neck until his grip around her waist would tighten and then gradually loosen as he relaxed and returned to peaceful slumber all without ever really waking up in the first place.

Her hand is pressed against his back where she can feel his hearts beat. To the Timekeeper it's a soothing sound. The Timekeeper loves tangible proof that her Thief is alive and breathing and safe. She needs this sometimes. And she guided the Thief to the kitchen or to her room when she needs to see her dear Thief alive and whole.

She dims the lights, and the Timekeeper's eyes close, then open, and then close again, still holding her Thief close and being held by her Thief. And when her Thief does wake up, not from a nightmare, there's a moment where he thinks it was all a dream, and then realizes that the ending wasn't and that the Timekeeper is here and is embracing him even as she sleeps and he will smile, a genuine smile she hasn't seen on this new face before and will go back to sleep, not because he needs sleep, but because he needs rest.

Eleven

The TARDIS had been oddly quiet. And it took Amy and Rory a moment to realize that the reason why it was so quiet, is that they couldn't hear the Doctor. The Doctor was quiet. And he was never quiet. He was always moving and tinkering and talking and running and Marion assured them that the Doctor did in fact need sleep, although the glare in her eyes and the way that Doctor very pointedly didn't turn to meet them suggested that the Doctor's sleep patterns might not be typical of a Time Lord (which was something that the Doctor was and Marion wasn't).

And it was around the time that Amy noticed the sudden quiet she started noticing a specific doorway seeming to reappear every time she walked. The TARDIS was alive. And whatever was in this room was somewhere the ship clearly wanted them to see.

The door led to a large mostly empty room with far too high a ceiling. Not too far from the entrance of the room was a table with an ancient looking TV on top of it, a coffee table, and a couch. From the couch they heard a voice.

"Amy? Rory? Is that you, could you help me real quick?"

The couch was facing away from them. And when they went to the other side the saw Marion and after a couple moments, the Doctor.

Marion was awake with an arm stretched out towards the table. The Doctor on the other hand was clearly fast asleep and was all but wrapped around her. His face was buried in the back of her neck. One of his arms was pinned under him and the other was around Marion's middle holding her close with their legs tangled together.

Amy couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm not sure what's funny. Could you lend me a hand?"

"I'm not sure how we could get him untangled from you without waking him up."

"Without waking hi- no Amy. I'm not. I'm asking you to pass me my phone. It's on the table right there." Marion gestured lightly with the hand the Doctor didn't have grasped in his.

Amy laughed lightly. "I see you two worked it out."

"Worked what out?"

"You've stopped orbiting around each other. Did he finally admit that he likes you?"

Marion's eyes narrowed, the orange pigment in her right swirling slowly. "Did he tell you that? And did he say it like, romantically?

"It's not like either of you were ever going to bring yourselves to save it. You've been dancing around each other for what, centuries?"

"There's nothing to dance around. We're friends. Why do you insist on there being something romantic about it?" Marion asked as if the Doctor wasn't clutching onto her back like some kind of Koala.

"Look at you two! Cuddling on the couch!"

"Yes" Marion replied as if she was being the ridiculous one. "We do that. Phone, please. I don't want to be lying here doing nothing for the next however many hours he's asleep."

"I thought you said he doesn't need that much sleep," Rory remarked. He did finally hand her his phone.

"Thank you Rory this is why you're my favorite Pond," she said offhandedly, "And, normally no," Marion replied, tapping her phone screen with her thumb and pulling up a book "but his sleeping patterns are abhorrent and he apparently hasn't slept in-" she lowered the phone and glanced at them for a moment "how long ago was your wedding?"

"A month ago."

Marion nodded, "A little bit over two months then."

"Is that normal?"

"For a Time Lord? No. He's ideally supposed to do an hour a week. For him, still a bit out of the ordinary. A month isn't uncommon for him. Two is worrying but not unheard of. Three or Four is when I start getting concerned."

"He seemed alright earlier."

"Rory, you're a nurse. You should know people can go a lot longer seemingly functioning on far less sleep than they should physically need. From personal experience no less. You and I both know that there's no way you were getting in all eight every night."

Marion shifted slightly. The Doctor's grip around her waist tightened momentarily. He murmured something incomprehensible as Marion murmured something just as incomprehensible back before the Doctor went seemingly right back to sleep.

Marion was quiet for a moment.

"Marion?"

"Right, sorry," When Marion spoke again her voice was lower. "Nice thing about being a Time Lord is as long as you sleep eventually and sleep for long enough, sleep debt doesn't really catch up on you, but you do in fact need to sleep. And he hasn't been."

"Why not?" Amy asked "Is it because of all the tinkering he's been doing? Up late with some project."

"I think the tinkering was more of a symptom than a source."

"Then why."

"Apparently the void or wherever he ended up feels like falling asleep. Which isn't so bad except for if you get out, well, you still have to fall asleep."

The implication was clear.

"Of course" Marion continued, "The void doesn't have a feeling, or a smell, or a sound. And I do. No skin off my back to let him hold me for a while so he can sleep without feeling like he's back there."

She was barely looking at them as she spoke. Aimlessly scrolling down some text.

"And you too aren't-"

"He's my best friend. I'm his best friend. What are friends for if not grounding post nightmare hugs?"

Thirteen

She had changed again. Once more she was shorter than she had been. Her arms didn't stretch the way his had and his jackets were too big. But that was alright. The change hadn't been as jarring as it could have been. And it didn't matter as much. She knew to no longer depend on the sorts of systems that implied a stagnant form. She had felt ancient then. Like she knew everything. And now she was ancient and knew nothing.

She was always busy after she regenerated. There was always so much to see and do after she changed.

Marion had left a moment prior. A young Marion. One of the youngest she had ever met, and before she left Yaz, Ryan, and Graham were here to stay.

She couldn't deny it was nice to have someone in the TARDIS who she met in the right order. She wondered if the two of them's timelines would ever line up.

There was a knock on the door. There was a door to the room now.

"Come in Marion!"

It couldn't be anyone else but her.

Marion looked tired when she walked into the door. Her hair was wild around her head. Her hands shook anxiously by her sides.

At some point, the TARDIS had stopped having her workspace be the same as her lab (she was half sure Marion had something to do with it), but there was still a decently sized couch that Marion without another word lay down across, holding onto one of the throw pillows.

The Doctor stopped what she was working on properly to look at her.

"Marion, are you alright?"

The woman put her chin on the pillow. Her eyes went in and out of focus as she stared at her. She shook her head.

"Did something happen?"

"Not, recently. Just-"

"Dreams?"

"Yeah. You can go back to whatever you were working on before I came in. But could you just-talk?"

"Talk."

"Talk and make noise. Just, just so that I know you're here. Please?"

"Of course," the Doctor replies.

And so, as Marion's eyes close and her breath starts to even out in the way that showed she's not yet asleep, but she would like to be, the Doctor continues to create. She wasn't sure what it was, a clockwork animal likely. Squirrels had been on my mind. And so, she continued to make her clockwork squirrel as her dear friend slept peacefully on the couch. She looked down at her fondly after a moment, shook out a blanket tossed it over the sleeping woman, and lightly brushed a bit of hair out of her face.

And just in case, she took the tools that she needed and spread them out on the ground and sat with her back against the couch her friend was sleeping on, close enough that she could hear her friend breathing against her neck and feel the warmth that came from her human form in steady waves and she continued to describe the process of converting a radio into a clockwork squirrel to replace the one that she had at first thought had mysteriously disappeared and was now fairly certain had been stolen at some point by Clara.

Honestly, this side story was just an excuse to get out a bunch of headcanons and character studies all in one place. There's a couple of references here. The book that Marion is reading to Four is a novelization of the Adventure Zone: Balance, the Crystal Kingdom, and Clara having stolen the clockwork squirrel is a reference to the fact that Jenna Coleman stole the clockwork squirrel prop from the set.

"Why does the TARDIS call Marion 'Beloved Timekeeper'" The name Marion has a couple of meanings (many of the marine based) but one of them is "Beloved" and Horatia means "Woman of Time" or "Timekeeper".

This chapter could have probably be proofread better than I did but alas. I'll read it over in the morning I suppose. If you see something, say something.