Chapter Four: Abseiling
[Fated Pair Bedroom]
The Time Lady observes him quietly from her chair, the room silent as she waits. The Doctor remains frozen in his seat, overwhelmed, his gaze fixed on the final page of the letter. Through their connection, she senses his growing despair.
The Alchemist understands that he is on the brink of breaking and is waiting for his first move.
The stillness envelops the room for nearly half an hour until, at last, the papers tumble from his grasp, landing softly on the hardwood floor, and the sound of his sobs fills the air.
She slowly rises, ensuring he can hear her footsteps as she approaches him. She kneels to pick up the letter and places it back on the dresser. The Alchemist turns and walks back over to him before taking his hand, pulling him up from the chair, and gently guiding him to their freshly changed bed, the covers already pulled back.
He's lost in the ever-changing depths of his emotions; she can feel it. The Alchemist slides off her Bondmate's leather jacket before removing his shoes and putting them away. Her heels and short socks follow before he allows her to guide him into the bed under the covers. The Doctor reaches out for her, and she folds herself into him, tucking under his chin while his arms wrap around her tightly.
The room is heavy with silence, broken only by the Doctor's anguished sobs as he grapples with the haunting image his wife endured and remembered throughout the war; he can only imagine what she had to endure based on what he knows so far.
As his tears finally dry up, he speaks in a gravelly tone, "They're gone, Amara."
The Time Lady exhales softly, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze. She notices his eyes are red and still glistening. She wipes away some of the dampness on his cheekbone with her thumb.
"There's a patch in my mind still, blocking memories. There are eight different telepathic signatures. I've been scratching at it, trying to lift it away since you broke the programming."
"What is it?" the Doctor frowns.
"First," she swallows hard, "I need to tell you some things that I was hoping to put off, but it seems I can't... just don't interrupt, please, or I won't be able to tell you the entire thing."
The Doctor nods and nestles deeper into the bedding, playing with the rings on her hand as he listens intently.
"The dreams were the Time Vortex warning Titan and I. It was Rassilon who was the shadow. He injected me with what he called 'pure schism water.' It's what increased my connection to the Time Vortex. By doing so, I could time travel and teleport anywhere and anytime," the Alchemist smirks slightly, "I was forced to follow orders. Still, 'cause of the memories I retained, the programming never entirely took hold, so it would break down every time I was sent out.
"I needed to be reprogrammed whenever I was recalled," she pauses, "...At one point, you whispered my true name, and I heard it. It broke my programming, and I could return to base on my own. That's when I found out Rassilon's plans, and my father helped me send you the message," she frowns, "I told you to use The Moment as a weapon, and he reprogrammed me with both of you as my handlers and ordered me to go through the Untempered Schism as we planned."
"That's how..." he breathes, eyes widened.
"Yes, that's basically how. I'm sorry I made you use it, but it was the only way to stop Rassilon..."
The Doctor sighs heavily at that.
"You didn't use the device," he says, denying it.
She knows he's wrong; she made him do it. Teacher told her otherwise, as they would have had to remove the Vortex connection from her if that were true, but she doesn't; no, she can't believe it.
It occurs to her, however, that he's never going to believe it. He'll never let her take the blame. The Doctor will have a hard enough time with the idea of letting her share it. He'll still think he had a choice in the end. She can never tell him. Never. She has to lie to him for the first time, truly.
"I helped build the device and practically handed it to you," the Time Lady shakes her head, "You trusted me without even knowing who I was then, believing every word in that message. We did it together."
He closes his eyes, "It will take me a long time to believe that."
"Then I'll keep reminding you when you think otherwise," the Alchemist replies before pausing, "How old are you now?" she whispers, "How much time did I miss?"
The Doctor frowns, "I'm older than you now; I've been out of the war for 100 years."
"I was hoping I would get here sooner, but... you're not older," she informs him warily, "We're the same age, oddly enough. Teacher must have seen that as necessary. I was in the war longer than you."
"Amara, that's not possible. I went back to the beginning to join," the Doctor denies.
The Alchemist looks at him worriedly. She's already hurt him so much, but he needs to understand.
"He spent 32 years changing and torturing The Ten before he decided we were ready to send back through time into the conflicts. That's 32 after I left you. We were sent out in teams, back in time, trained especially to infiltrate the lines and go unnoticed. He sent most Elites to one conflict at a time with newly formed weapons, which would have made you correct," she sighs, "But 'cause of my connection to the Time Vortex, I was in every single one right until the end on both Gallifrey, within the Vortex itself, and off-planet. I only missed the time battles of the lesser species as he didn't deem it necessary to be there," she frowns, "The chip in my neck informed me of my next destination, and it just went on and on before my programming broke down, and they recalled me for reprogramming. I was in the war for 232 years, not 132. We're the same age."
Her Bondmate is initially silent, and she can feel his fury and concern, "He made you see every battle. Forced you to kill. You'd never killed anything before the war."
She inhales deeply, her hand moving to her neck as she gently massages it. The weight of discussing the war is overwhelming, yet she knows it's necessary to address it.
"My Vortex Connection prevents me from directly ending lives. If I do... I lose it, or I have consequences. It's all a balance. "
The Doctor blinks, "The Daleks were alive, though."
"Only some," the Alchemist corrects, "Pure Daleks are complete mutations and don't have natural living tissue; no real-time-life connection. They just exist 'cause Davros made them exist," she sighs, "By the time the war started, there was no original genetic material left of the Kaleds in most of the Daleks. Most were formed mutations that we faced until they started splicing other species into them. I removed many of them from Time as if they never existed. There's a lot of rules."
"What rules? To use your abilities?"
"To utilize Time like that, yeah," The Alchemist explains, "They're not a weapon. I couldn't stop them all at once. It wasn't possible; the Vortex would fight back if I even tried. Trust me, Rassilon demanded it of me: to destroy them all, remove them all," she frowns, "He was... always rather angry about it when he came to my cage. It was my directive order every time. To remove them from time whenever I was ordered to move. It doesn't work like that."
"He really kept you in a..."
She interrupts him, "Yes, okay. He did." She rubs her neck quickly, which he notices again but doesn't comment on, deciding to return to the topic.
"Your theory that time is life... that time itself is alive… is correct then," he breathes, genuinely surprised.
"The Truth of Time. I know it. I knew it before all of this. Yes, it's conclusive. Time is life, not death. Time is alive and sentient and has a choice themself. There are consequences to using it, and you're not always the one to face them unless you make a deal beforehand," she replies.
"This goes against almost everything we were taught at the Academy, Amara. All of Rassilon's beliefs are thrown out."
The Alchemist scoffs, "And all of true Alpha's beliefs that were only taught at the Elite level proved right. After all, it makes sense why so few Time Lords had hand preceptors. They must have gotten them from true Alpha's lineage originally. She must have known this from the start."
"Your... you mean you can sense time with your hand preceptors?" the Doctor asks, floored, "Not just chemical components?"
"What else can I analyze from a chemical breakdown when I do a read? Think about it."
He tightens his grip on her, "Genetic material."
She nods and continues, "I could sense genetic differences with my hand preceptors and now time-life connections when using the Time Vortex. I can tell if they had taken lives, had lives before, are technically alive, or would have had the potential of life."
"What about when someone is going to die?" he asks.
She shakes her head wildly against his chest, "No. Not all death is set in stone. Even for fixed events. If I know when it is, I can tell how long they have by calculation, but that's it."
The Alchemist allows him to take in this information before shifting the conversation.
"So what age are we going with now, by the way?" she asks, "We never actually tell them the truth."
"900."
"Eh, nice round number, I suppose," she mumbles, and the Doctor laughs.
"The patch, Amara?" he reminds her after a few moments of resting together.
The Time Lady is curled into him, and he gently tugs at the slight tangles in her hair as he runs his fingers through the length of it.
She hums, "What of it?"
The Time Lord chuckles lightly; she's practically purring, "What is it? I've never known you not to be able to get through a telepathic block."
The Time Lady groans and pulls back, "My father's signature isn't in it; I can tell that much. He always felt like little zips and less of a buzz or flutter. I couldn't miss it," she taps her head, "But... there are so many that they're blending, and I can't figure out who put them there. Some of it feels very familiar like I've felt them before. A lot of them are similar. Meaning they're related but not the others."
"What do you mean?" The Doctor's trying to hide his hope, but she feels it.
She quirks her lips, "I can only hope it's the children. The only theory right now that I even want to believe is conclusive. I planned to get them out, but I don't remember trying or doing it, which is very unlike me."
The Doctor is quiet momentarily, "It is, but... what if you couldn't? I received missives on all of them."
The Time Lady sighs, understanding, "Time travel? I can side-along travel with Time Lords. Only those with Regeneration energy, any connection to the Vortex protects them. Maybe I could have made a deal like how I technically haven't killed. I'm a trickster, a witch. I make deals. Like Alchemy, it's all in the name. They attack themselves, or they back off, or they get caught or die in an accident or crossfire. That's how it happened when I needed to take the reins when we started running all those years ago."
"You're not a trickster. Scratch at the patch, and we'll... we'll find out," he mumbles.
The Alchemist pulls back and looks at him sharply, ignoring the first comment, "I haven't stopped since you brought me back... but I'm still not convinced I'm here with you."
"Amara, I'm holding you, you can feel me," The Doctor reminds her and squeezes her with his arm gently.
The Time Lady sighs, "Still a moron. I need you to convince me in another way, Theta Sigma. 'Cause it has been far, far too long since I felt your skin against mine."
The Doctor smirks, "Getting it now."
"I figured you would. One... one warning? I don't have my piercings anymore. I don't want them anymore, either. Maybe it'll come back in my next body, but... Not, not now."
"You don't need bits of metal to be you. You're my wife and Bondmate," he growls.
The Alchemist raises a challenging brow, "Prove it then."
"Happily," the Doctor says, pulling her up with him before practically ripping off her dress.
[The Wardrobe]
6:37 am, finds them in the Wardrobe trying to find the Alchemist's new outfit. She's been struggling, flicking through clothing on every rack from the 1400s and up. They're in the 1800s, and she pauses, sighing heavily.
"None of this is right," she mutters.
The Alchemist spots a red dress and rubs her neck again; her Bondmate spots the move again and decides to ask finally.
"The seal?" he asks softly.
She nods, "Brand. It was a brand. Rassilon decided he'd make us not turn our backs to our enemy, only our Lord President, so that he could view his creations. The marks on us that made the Ten belong to him and not true Alpha. He thought it funny and used to go on and on for hours about how he planned this out and why. There was a chip under the brand that you would Regenerate with. Regenerate during the battle, you get recalled back to be rebranded, chip stays. I ripped mine out when I got control again. Sometimes, I scratch or touch it now to make sure it's gone."
The Alchemist can feel his disgust but knows it's against Rassilon.
"Why do you still call him that? He was a madman," he asks, confused.
She sighs and turns to look at him, "He made me call him something far worse. Just me on that. The others called him Lord President Rassilon or true Founder. It was a slight against Alpha, I suppose. According to Teacher, he has another name, and I'm waiting to find out what it is so I can refer to him as that instead, as the prophecy said."
"I don't want to ask, but I think you should tell me what it was; remove it from the pile," the Time Lord mutters and softly pulls at her hair.
She nods, still bothered by the conversation, "You're... you're right, but I've promised myself never to say it again, so I can only put it one way. He took a chosen name and made me use that instead. I think it only should belong to him now, Theta Sigma, even if I never refer to him as that."
"Never, I'll never say it again about anyone else," the Doctor swears.
She smiles and nods before tilting her head in thought.
"What's going on in that fiery head of yours?" the Time Lord asks her, tugging once more before dropping his arm.
The Alchemist looks at him and asks, "Can I have your jacket for a moment? I need to add to my theory."
He glances at her puzzled but quickly dismisses the questions and passes it to her. She puts it on, securing it snugly around herself, and takes a deep breath.
"Mmm, almost, but not quite. It needs to be more like a blanket. I'll work on that thought," the Time Lady mumbles as she hands it over.
The Doctor nods, "What else? You usually don't struggle this much."
The Alchemist sighs in frustration, "This body is wrong. All ups and downs emotionally, and it's not comfortable at all right now. I only felt remotely safe when you were holding me and, honestly, taking me as hard as you could, but you got too tired to keep going."
"I think I needed a bit of a break. We'll get back to it tomorrow, Amara," he says, rolling his eyes.
The Doctor continues, seeing her pout, "I'm not surprised, though. You've been through a lot, and I know there's a lot to still talk about."
The Time Lady agrees, "Maybe we can check the 1940s section? It's sentimental now. We found our way back to each other then. Time led us to each other, Fated Pair and all."
He grins and takes her hand, walking off to the 1940s rack further into the room. She stops perusing the dresses she's looking at and rips the qipao off the rack before throwing it on the ground. It's crimson red with a mandarin collar and full length with full sleeves. She doesn't care that it's silk, not the Aidos they wore. The thing looks nearly the same without the head wrap.
The Doctor picks it up curiously as she continues through the rack before nodding in understanding.
"It looks like the robes you wore," he softly says.
"Backward," she replies.
The Time Lord looks at her in confusion as she moves to the pants instead, "Backward? You wore it... backward?"
"Neckline," all the Alchemist mutters as she pulls out a pair of taupe, high-waisted pleated pants and holds them up at her waist.
He looks at it and nods in realization; the cut in the neck would show the seal.
"True Warriors dripped in red. Never to hide but never seen. Face only the enemy. Marked neck by curse, you may meet, the final sighting. The seal of the warrior; the truth of Rassilon's Army," she quotes as she puts the pants over one arm and walks over to the blouses.
The Doctor drops the qipao back to the ground and approaches her carefully, "It was told as a ghost story at meals."
"It was a poem. Rassilon wrote it himself in front of me. Called it a love volta, 'cause there's nothing to resolve like a sonnet. You'd be dead by that point," the Time Lady explains, flipping through blouses before pausing again, "It wasn't red; you could see it as red if we were spotted by one of our allies or a non-threat; the fabric was tech. We were invisible to the Daleks and anyone who sided with them when we wore it. Daleks couldn't process red at first, remember?" she glances at him, and he nods, "The fabric adjusted to their sight systems. They're called Aidos and must have been made by Illusio. They were in the three to four thousand ranks and were good with that sort of thing," she explains further before taking a deep breath through her nose.
"Sage... why do you smell like sage? Amber, leather, aspen, pine, vanillin... and now sage," she asks, turning to him.
He can't suppress the turmoil within him. Rassilon wrote a love poem about turning the greatest Time Lords of their society into weapons and making them invisible to the enemy.
"I, uh, I use your soap bar with mine now," The Doctor explains once he gathers himself again.
The Alchemist nods, "Hopefully, I can still use my soap; I might need to get a lighter potency. If I can't handle it, I'll get something scentless, and you'll use it still, hm? I like that idea. Sage…" she sighs, "You shouldn't be so shocked. It's not a later pile, Theta Sigma."
"Then what is it?" he asks, following her to the long-sleeved blouses.
"It's a Later Mountain. We're only on the summit still," the Time Lady explains, looking him directly in his blue eyes.
"Looks like we're going abseiling, then," the Doctor informs her with a sad smile.
She laughs lightly, the first time he's heard her laugh since he first broke her programming. It's a soft, joyful sound that fills the air. He'll make sure she keeps laughing then. If not just for her but for him. He loves her laugh.
"I like that, abseiling. We used to do that, remember? Still have the gear, I bet. Might need it for this," she comments lightly as she pulls out a few soft light green shaded blouses.
He hums as he watches her. She hangs each of them off other hangers on the rack before stepping back to look at them. There are four altogether.
"Which one looks more like sage green to you?" the Alchemist's eyes narrow in confusion, "I... I don't care. Is that...? that's odd for me. I always cared. I just want to be comfortable. I was trapped and... I want to feel safe again."
She knows he can feel her, but her emotions are chaotic. She has to explain for the first time.
The Doctor nods in understanding, "Your side of the empathic Bond is a mess; I want you to feel safe too; I'll pick, alright?"
The Time Lady sighs in relief and steps back, watching.
They're all shades of sage green, various materials, but all soft—silk or cotton. They all have actual collars, but one. Two are traditional collared blouses with buttons; one has a soft bow at the top, and the last has a high cowl neckline. If she wore that one, she'd have trouble rubbing or scratching her nape.
The Doctor picks up the last sage green matte silk blouse and hands it to her.
"This one, I prefer this one," he tells her, and she nods, adding it to the pile on her arm.
The Alchemist looks over everything she has before she hands the hanging pieces to her husband, who holds his hands out to carry them and walks towards the 60s section.
"Looking for a coat?" the Time Lord asks.
"Not yet, I think... I want white boots. I remember buying a pair of ankle-height white go-go boots before I had to leave. I want those."
The Doctor realizes she's trying to find herself again and connect to everything she had before. This is a very, very good sign. His wife went trapped for that long, knowing nothing of herself. She wants to remember what it felt like to be how she was before.
The Doctor nods with a grin, "Good idea."
"Mhm!" she hums and picks them up.
They're just as she remembered, with a stitch down the front and a squared-off toe. Her Bondmate snaps them up, holding them under one arm with a pleased grin.
"What else?" he asks as she rolls her eyes.
"Coat, I need a leather coat; men's side though and 1930s this time," she explains, and they head off to their next destination.
She finds the coat instantly. It's a warm black leather A-2 styled bomber coat; the sherling inside is thick and warm, not that temperature matters for Time Lords in the first place. They got a pair when they snuck onto an American base to fly one of their planes before the Second World War.
The Time Lady slips it on and sees that her hands still show beneath the sleeves with her long arms. It's still a little large, though, and she can wrap it around herself.
The Doctor frowns at it, "Mine? Why not yours? They should fit the same."
"Yours is black; I got a brown one. I remember that very well. You wanted us to match, but we couldn't agree on a color, so we agreed to disagree," she reminds her husband.
"Is that it then?" he asks her after he nods at the reminder.
She shakes her head, "I need a hat... and I know just which one, come on."
The Alchemist heads to the back rack where their previous outfits are and stops at the hat stand.
"You don't want your..." he asks before trailing off when she picks up the brown hat he wore in his Fourth body and places it neatly on her ginger head.
She smiles brightly, "This one. This is the hat I want. Your hat. Black leather and your old hat. It just wasn't cozy enough. Needed to feel like a blanket."
The Doctor can't do anything but feel a surge of love for her again; he's missed her so much, and she's missed him. Every one of him just as he felt while she was gone.
"Perfect," he breathes and caresses her cheek with a smile.
"I uh... I don't think I'll be looking at the color red the same way again for a long time," she mumbles as they head out of the Wardrobe.
The Doctor nods, "I couldn't either."
The Alchemist twists her lips then in thought, "I need to double-check with a scan, but I think I'm the same size I was when I was in my eighth body. If that's the case, I won't have to go lingerie shopping again," she shrugs, "Most of what I had was pretty new. Can I use your sonic? I need to ask Bluette to make me one still. Unless she has, sometimes she does that, doesn't she?"
He pulls it from his pocket for her and she adjusts it quickly before stopping to scan herself and nods after reading the results.
"Same size, I was right. We need to go back to our room to shower and change now," the Alchemist tells him, closing the door behind them.
[Corridor]
"It's most likely waiting in the console if she did. Definitely, if you want one... I never understood why you didn't just get the TARDIS to use a size adjuster on the lot," he mutters.
The Time Ladyshakes her head and rolls her eyes, "'Cause it wasn't worth the effort, and there's lots out there to try. I don't like wearing the same matching set every day. It was really uncomfortable during the war and while I was with Jack. Also, not forest green. That's stuck forever, not that either of us will complain."
"No, but I'm still not getting it," the Doctor frowns, "Time Lords usually prefer to wear the same thing or at least similar. I know it takes something monumental for me to need to change. Always has, even for you in terms of regular outfits. Dressing up for our date night is one thing. Sometimes, I'll throw on something to fit in better, but the only thing I really switch out is my shirt color in this body."
She can feel his confusion.
"It's not just for me... it's for you. That's how it started, anyway. I realized it the night after our Bonding. I wore one of the other sets I bought, which made you happy. I just haven't stopped since. Now, it's ingrained in me to do it. You're happy, I'm happy."
He stops short a few feet behind her as she opens the door to their bedroom and waits for him, giving him a confused look. She feels that same sense of happiness come to her when he sees them, the relief he's still feeling, his love, and some yearning nostalgia beyond the darker emotions that they both share now.
"I've missed you," the Doctor tells her and dips to kiss her forehead.
She smiles and walks into the room with her husband close to her tail.
[Fated Pair Bedroom]
"'Cause you're one of the reasons I was the only one ever to break down their programming. I think it's quite obvious that I've missed you too," the Time Lady reminds him, and they walk up the steps into their morning nook.
The Doctor grins at that. They hang everything she picked out in the now-empty blue TARDIS-like wardrobe and pop the hat and shoes inside.
"Bluette, our beautiful old girl, can you please duplicate everything as you deem necessary? You'll know how many I need to not wear 'em out. Also, can you send the unscented regeneration Shampoo, Conditioner, and bar to the shower?" the Alchemist asks their TARDIS, and they hear a low hum.
"She's missed you too, Amara," her Bondmate reminds her.
The Time Lady nods in agreement as they move into the bathroom to get cleaned up for the day.
"I know, and I've missed her as well. I hope you know that my sexy Bluette!" she says, steadily raising her voice to the TARDIS.
The Alchemist smiles as it echoes in their cavern-styled bathroom.
The rain shower head starts up in response. They can hear it from where they're getting undressed. It's been a long night.
[Morning Nook]
The Alchemist, dressed now, looks through the window into their forest.
"Are they still around? Did they... make it? I know I set up the place so they could forage on their own, but now that I remember them, I feel bad. I missed so many of them," she whispers as he holds her in his lap on their large window seat.
He kisses the back of her head, "They did. Still around the same amount at that. Fifty-eight at my last count. It's not spring for them yet, though, so we'll see what happens then," he smiles, "Same with the koi and the little shiners. Plants and trees are obviously going strong, so the buggers are good. You did a great job with that Peacock Forest for me. I spent a lot of time there when it was over. They're all still chatty."
"That's 'cause you're a peacock. Of course, they're chatty. So are you," she reminds him and laughs.
"And you're my little Mystical Forest-making Time Lady with Galaxies in her eyes," The Doctor chuckles.
The Time Lady can't help but laugh heartily at that for a few moments.
She feels him sigh against her back.
"Acceptance in your life... that's what they mean, remember? So that good fortune comes to you," the Alchemist reminds him quietly.
He smiles, "I guess I've got some good fortune then if you're back in my life."
"That makes two of us. What are their names now?" she asks.
The Doctor tells her everything about their ostentation of Peacocks, their names, and what they enjoy eating now.
"They're better at naming their babies than I ever was," she mumbles.
The Doctor laughs; she's not wrong.
The Alchemist tilts her head back, "It's 9:32 in the morning. Do you think the humans are up? I think it's time we eat. I also need you to run some diagnostics today. It's been a full month without supplements. I'm surprised I'm even functioning."
He squeezes her waist at that thought; honestly, he's worried about what he'll find.
"Just don't check my hearing range," she informs him.
"Why not?" her Bondmate asks, concerned.
The Time Lady frowns, "My nerves feel a bit fried in there from last night. It was a bigger attack on London than they'd done before, so it's going to take the rest of today for them to re-settle."
"Can you remove this from the mountain? How far is your range?" the Doctor asks warily.
"At this moment, I can't tell since we're in the TARDIS and our room has soundproofing. I can hear them in the forest, though. They're in a meeting discussing lunch and snack plans for the day. Some intend to stay by Peacock Creek to get fish, and others plan to go for berries and bugs. Most of them are hoping they'll find leafrollers. I guess it's a good thing I put those in if they like them that much," she mumbles.
"That's about a quarter of a mile..." he mumbles.
She shrugs, "We used earplugs during the war that negated certain sounds so we could focus. My clear range is around a mile; I know that much. It was the same for everyone. I can tune it in and out, though. It's kind of like mentally adjusting sound waves. It depends on the hertz. If something is loud, it does damage my eardrums when I'm too close."
She can feel his horror and worry.
"Summit," she reminds him, "You'll have to get past this, Theta Sigma, just like I am. We'll work at it together."
The Alchemist springs off his lap using one heel off the wood, flipping in the air and landing in a bowed crouch before the window seat.
"Summit, besides... this part? I kinda like," she snarkily tells him with a smirk.
He rolls his eyes at her before he gets up with a groan, and they head out of their bedroom, shared once more, into the Corridor.
[Corridor]
"They're talking in the Console room about breakfast," the Time Lady informs him as they walk through the hall.
He nods, still wary of these unnatural abilities, and asks, "In the mood for anything? I don't much care what they want to eat."
"Uh... chocolate. Dark chocolate... in some bready thing. And a milkshake. I'm still trying to get used to eating real food, so I should keep it small. Although I don't know if that's very small. I'd like to space it out.
He stops her at that, "What do you mean?"
"The first food I had after the war was an apple that Jack gave me. We were given nourishment pills only," she explains, scuffing her feet.
"He..." the Doctor can't say it.
"Didn't give us food. That's the gentle way of putting it. I needed to start small when I was on the ship with Jack; he realized it after bringing me back a full meal. I was sick afterward. It's better now, but I'm not there yet. I still can't always tell when I need to eat."
He pulls her close, inhaling deeply, grateful she's here with him, back by his side. She survived everything Rassilon put her through, and his Bondmate returned to him.
The Alchemist pulls back and steps on her tiptoes to kiss him as his emotions flood her. He returns it with enthusiasm, wrapping her hair around his fingers and tipping her head back with a grumbled moan. Moments later, he releases her and she hums, smiling gently up at him while he grins.
"What kind of milkshake?" the Doctor asks.
She laughs at him and tugs him back down the maze of their ship. They keep their bedroom far away from companions so they don't constantly get bothered when they need time alone.
"Mint? No. Lavender and mint. Lavender Peppermint plus more Lavender. Need less mint and more Lavender plus honey," she explains as she pulls her mask up, hiding her sharp eyes.
He grimaces the moment he sees it.
'Still hate when you do it,' the Doctor tells her.
She shrugs. Many grow apprehensive when they catch her natural stare. She imagines it's colder than before, shaped by everything she endured during the Time War. The Great House she was born to had a reputation for their piercing gazes, a trait that served her well on Gallifrey, helping to quell doubts about her skills as First Elite among the Time Lords. However, they discovered in their travels that her intelligent eyes don't always benefit them. She has no desire to instill fear or place anyone at risk, so she's learned to mask it.
[Console Room]
"...And where are we going to find a Lavender mint with extra Lavender milkshake made with honey, Ally?" the Doctor drawls, rolling his eyes.
Their companions pause in their discussion and look toward the two Time Lords who've entered the room.
"Japan? Japan. Ah... the 25th century, probably. Kyoto? Haven't been there in a while. I'll settle for some sort of pastry with dark chocolate in it right now. My need for vitamins, especially calcium, is probably coming through. I also desperately want a massive surge of Potassium right now."
"You good there, Ally?" Rose asks, recalling how the ginger woman was last night.
The Alchemist realizes that this is going to be complicated. She's not the same person—not with what she remembers. Now, she feels more guarded and less trusting and has a shadow of darkness.
She nods, "I suppose I should reintroduce myself, although I'm still similar. I'm the Alchemist, but call me Ally. It's what I prefer unless I don't like you. The Doctor broke the programming I was under, so I have my memories back now. Including many bad ones, I'm afraid," she turns to Jack, "Smelly Jack, I may come off a little meaner. Probably a lot, I'm not sure. I hope you don't view me differently 'cause I still see you as my very close friend."
Jack grins, "Can I hug you now without you throwing me across the room and breaking me?"
The Alchemist twists her lips, "Well, I wouldn't be opposed to a hug, but I can still break you if you ask nicely."
They all laugh, and Jack swoops in, picking her up and spinning her around.
"You're light as a feather and... What's that phrase? It's ancient," he asks, putting her back down next to her frowning Bondmate.
The Alchemist pats her hat back down. An old hat pin holds it in place but still shifts slightly.
"Light as a butterfly, sting like a bee!" Rose calls out, laughing.
Jack nods, "Yeah, yeah, that's it!"
The Time Lords glance at each other, both have their arms crossed.
The Doctor laughs, "They're not wrong."
"Eh, I suppose not," the Alchemist admits.
Jack rocks back on his heels and looks them over, noting their similar countenance, "How long have you two been married?"
"800 years," they answer.
Shocked, Rose and Jack stare at each other before turning to the pair again.
Rose asks, "That long? Why didn't you mention anything?"
Gritting his teeth, the Doctor replies, "Maybe 'cause I thought she was dead? Could be."
The Alchemist scoffs, "No kidding. I'd do the same. It's hard enough knowing that someone you love is gone… to mention it to anyone at all... Awful."
Rose looks down, upset with herself for thinking what she had with him was anything. And the fact that he didn't tell her means he doesn't trust her.
The Time Lady smells a waft of jealousy, sadness, and regret from the girl and stops herself from rolling her eyes. This is going to be annoying. Smelling human emotions is annoying.
The Time Lady frowns before rounding on her Bondmate, "Tell me you didn't do it without me."
He scratches his head and steps back.
"Do what?" Rose asks, still shocked that they've been married so long.
"You even said it, didn't you!?" she growls, "I was supposed to be the one to say it, and then we were going to have a sandwich on that thing. What the hell, Doctor?"
He pouts and tries, "I did it in your honor?"
Jack laughs, "What did he do?"
"You ever watch that old movie Titanic, Smelly?" she grounds out, glaring fiercely at her Bondmate, who clearly wants to run.
He thinks back, "Heard of it… maybe? Really, really old. I know more about the actual thing, I'd say."
The Alchemist scoffs, "It was all wrong, honestly. The movie, that is. The only true thing is the hit and some of the characters were named after people on the ship. But there's a particular line that this one here promised to let me say on one of my birthdays, and he said it instead," she turns to her husband, "'I'm on top of the world,' huh? Huh, Doctor? That was supposed to be my line! I suggested the damn thing to that arsehole James Cameron. I'm the whole reason he went with a redhead!"
"You should probably run, Doc. She looks like she's gonna flip you by choice," Jack laughs.
"The Doctor mentioned he was there, something about holding on to an iceberg. Can you do it again?" Rose suggests, blinking widely, "You weren't there. Also, Rose, the movie Rose... was based on you?"
The Alchemist frowns, "We were supposed to sit on that Iceberg together and have a picnic," she shakes her head, "And, no, it would mess with our timelines. If he runs into me separately before now... he'll know I was alive before he knew I was alive. We used to keep a device running on our planet for it to work, but... It would be a whole mess of Reapers out there, and I'm not up for that, thanks," she rolls her eyes, "Also, sort of? Just my hair, really... Actually, no…" she frowns, "Personality too, but he gave me that awful mother and arranged a betrothal on top of everything else... gross. Although maybe her mother was better, I don't know."
"Oh, yeah, those reaper things are awful," the young woman comments, and the Doctor grimaces.
The Alchemist looks at her warily, "See, it makes sense for me to know about Time Reapers. Jack even. Not you, though. You're human from the early 2000s. Wouldn't have been taught about it meaning something happened. Care to explain, then?"
Rose blushes, remembering how badly she messed up. The Doctor's lips are in a tight line when she looks his way. He's expecting her to explain.
"Uhm, I asked the Doctor if he could bring me to see my Dad. He died when I was little. Hit and run, and he didn't have anyone there with him when he went, uh, so I wanted to be there for him."
The Time Lord chooses to remain silent. He can feel his Bondmate's constant anger spiking, meaning she's catching on.
The Alchemist nods, "Very kind thought of you. Honestly, I would do the same. Doesn't explain the Reapers, though."
"Right," Rose nods, "I couldn't do it the first time, so we went back and tried again, but... I couldn't stop myself and saved him. Then they came after us all after that. I spent some time talking with him but... He uh," she smiles slightly, "He chose to go himself then, and I got to sit with him and hold his hand."
"Well... that was stupid of you," the Time Lady informs her.
The companion glares at her, "Excuse me? He was my Dad!"
"Obviously," the Alchemist scoffs, "But you didn't think about the possibilities of what would happen—just dove right in without knowing the consequences. Didn't even care, clearly. Your dad's very smart. I bet he put it together even," she huffs, "I will explain 'cause I'm sure this one was wary about doing it after. You'd have had only one set of memories if it worked if you were lucky. Which you wouldn't have been if it worked," she looks Rose over and shakes her head, "And you don't know if it would've been good or not. When you got home to your time, you'd have two strangers as parents, and you might not even like them but remember liking them, and one wouldn't have been there your whole life from your perspective 'cause you're a time traveler now."
"True. Time Agents are also taught not to meet themselves, so we track where we go. We can still be at the same time and location but not at the same spot. I still do it. You gotta move around," Jack says in agreement.
"One more question before I decide to return to the situation at hand. Does your mother mention your father?" she asks kindly.
Rose shakes her head, still blindsided, "She takes out some of his things and talks now and then when she's had a bit... that's all, really."
The Alchemist closes her eyes and takes a calming breath, "And you questioned why someone who's been married for over 800 years never mentioned his believed-to-be-dead wife to a girl he barely knows?"
Rose stares in disbelief, her mouth agape, while Jack and the Doctor wince.
The Time Lady shrugs, opens her eyes again, unconcerned with the human girl's feelings, and turns to the Doctor again.
"Did you eat the sandwich, too?" she asks him.
The Doctor grimaces; she's really in a mood, "I uh... dropped it."
She snorts, "You dropped the heart-shaped sandwich into the ocean? You dropped the heart into the ocean? Two heart sandwiches we planned to eat on the iceberg 'cause that ending sucked, and you still managed to drop the heart into the ocean. Now I'm disappointed as well as mad."
Jack gasps in laughter at this. She's still funny. Ally has a darker sense of humor, does not hold back, and has a definite harsh attitude, but she is still funny.
The Doctor pouts, "If I get you a plate of toasted chocolate croissants, will you forgive me?"
The human companions both laugh now, one albeit tensely, as the Alchemist seems to be considering this, tapping her finger to her chin.
"Yes, fine, whatever. Bake me some of that French food, I guess," she grumbles, and her husband groans at the reminder, "That's how that line should have gone. Cameron. Is. Gross."
Rose laughs harder now, knowing that the character is based on the woman in front of her. She's right, and he also seemed to get the wrong idea about her personality.
"19th century Paris. Specifically 1840s. I'd prefer 1841 if we could. He'll probably have perfected them by then," The Alchemist comments as the Time Lords head to the console.
"Perfected what? Who?" Rose asks.
The Doctor shrugs, "French baker, probably. Ally's obsessed with French food. Always has been."
"Boulangerie Viennoise opened in 1839," the Alchemist grins, "August Zang developed a new variation of the Austrian kipfel, which became known as the French Croissant. Schokoladencroissants are chocolate croissants. Copied everywhere after that, but he's the originator… kinda," she nods, "Always wanted to meet the gent. He hated being a baker, but I bet he has great recipes. Might snag some copies if he has them written down," frowning, she crosses her arms, "Although I don't know if I can bake anymore, we'll see."
"You've forgotten how to bake?" Rose asks, confused.
The Alchemist rolls her eyes, "I don't know. It's been a few centuries, kid."
Rose frowns at being called a 'kid.' So far, she's not a fan of the Alchemist at all. She feels like the woman is an entirely different person compared to yesterday. She can't quite understand how the couple even makes it work. The Time Lady is incredibly harsh.
"If we're heading to the 1840s, shouldn't we change? Fit in more?" Jack asks.
The Time Lords shrug, and the Doctor replies, "If you'd like. Just walk around like you own the place, and no one will question it."
"Especially in France," the Alchemist quips with a smirk.
"I'm going to get dressed up! I'll be in the Wardrobe!" Rose announces and skips out of the room.
"This is an 'I'm supposed to be hungry hour.' How long does she usually take? 'Cause triple that with a damned corset."
Jack and the Doctor laugh at this heartily.
"We'll have enough time to run some diagnostics, let's head to the med-bay," the Doctor nods.
"Jack can come. He's decent with tech and medical. Had some good training in the Agency," the Alchemist suggests.
The Time Lord pouts but nods and leads them out, ignoring the high-five from the Alchemist and Jack.
[Med-bay]
The Alchemist is sitting on one of the modern cushioned med tables, waiting as the Time Lord sets up the scanner.
"It's not going to explode, right?" Jack asks warily.
She shakes her head, "It shouldn't now. The nanochemical will be in shutdown mode with the programming broken. Is my scent back, Doctor?"
"Yeah, it's back," he mutters as he plugs in the correct data collection points.
"Then it's off. It's the same blocker. Not sure if we can remove that; we'll have to experiment a bit."
The Doctor sighs and runs the diagnostic, Jack standing behind him and watching as the numbers process.
"You're right," the Time Lord frowns, scratching his head, "Your nutrient levels are way below what they should be for a regular Time Lord with your needs," he scrolls down on the holo screen, "I'll have to develop a new vitamin and mineral pill for you to deal with the adjustments to your sensory network and increase your daily intake astronomically until it settles to normal, then. We'll have to play it carefully to make sure we don't set your liver and hearts function off, though."
Jack nods, looking at the required doses beforehand, "Your levels have dropped by nearly two-thirds. No wonder you've got circles under your eyes. You're completely depleted, Allycat. Calcium is extremely out of whack, as is Vitamin D," his eyes widen, "You should see your Potassium, I didn't know someone could need that much and survive on so little. Iron, Vitamin C, Creatine, Protein in general, the whole list... must be the muscle enhancements you have there too. Bone density doesn't match up for them, though, does it, Doctor?"
He shakes his head in agreement. With the enhancements she has, her bone density should be off the charts.
The Alchemist informs them, "It wouldn't. He didn't increase our bone density to deal with our muscle advancements. He completely skipped it."
The Doctor sighs in frustration, grabs two jars from a cabinet, and hands them to her.
"These should help; previously, your usual dosage was one daily and two Mind Matrix. Triple it—three daily and six Mind Matrix until I can adjust it to the right formulation. You'll still be missing some correct vitamin and mineral numbers, but this is close enough for now. Give me a few days until we see where your levels rise, and I'll formulate them."
Jack grabs a cup of water from the sink and hands it to her, so she pops them quickly with the whole glass.
"Anything else unusual?" she asks knowingly.
"Jack, can you step outside while I speak with my wife?" the Doctor frowns, looking at his Bondmate seriously.
The sudden change in mood puts him on edge; he has always been cautious when she's sure of something. It's one thing when she's processing a theory, but the surge of certainty, despair, and fury that suddenly flows into him is deeply unsettling.
He nods, "I'll wait in the Console Room."
The Doctor takes a deep breath and moves to the alerts on the screen to check what happened.
"Your Minalgidi has no scar tissue but I can see the increase of your nerve endings. Their webbing has quadrupled within your body, layering and reconnecting to each other. Your hand preceptors alone have a widened field. You held your hands about two feet away from the bodies, is that how far?"
She nods, silent, and waves him on to the subsequent readings.
"Everything else looks normal for that enhancement. Your telepathic field is... " the Doctor frowns, double-checking, "It looks like it may be growing. We'll have to watch out for that. Keep your walls sustained and strong. I'll keep doing scans of it to confirm it. There's another alert, though," he mutters and switches to the next screen.
The Doctor's hearts drop from his chest, and his breathing constricts. He conducts the diagnostic test repeatedly, casting worried glances at his quiet, motionless wife and silently pleading with Omega for a mistake.
"It was one of the first things he ordered, Theta," she admits quietly, "It's permanent. He completely dissolved my ovaries. No cycle, nothing. He claimed it was 'cause he didn't want to deal with Time Lady's blood cycles, but I doubt that was the only reason. He's the cause for the damned looms in the first place, after all. We can't have children ever again."
The Doctor lifts her gently from the table and settles down with her on the floor, leaning against the cabinets. They remain quiet, wrapped in each other's embrace, sharing in their grief. They have run out of tears, given everything they've gone through in the past day.
The TARDIS hums around them in the room, clearly mourning for her pilots as well.
Taking a deep breath a short while later, the Alchemist stands up from his lap and helps her husband up.
"We'll be alright, Theta, we'll be alright. It's hard, I know. But... this is what it is now," she reminds him.
"We will. Now, let's get some breakfast," he replies with a sad smile, and they head out.
[Console Room]
Jack is sitting on the jump seat, waiting. He feels that whatever they need to discuss is serious, but it's not his place. If Ally wants to talk about it with him, she will. He doesn't think the Doctor talks much about personal things.
Rose is waiting as well, slightly bothered by Jack's sudden quietness. He's clearly thinking about something.
"Are you alright?" she asks him.
Jack nods, "Just worried about Allycat is all. She's been through a lot more than I realized. I don't think she'll talk about everything with the Doctor for a long time."
She frowns, "What about you?"
"What about me?" he asks in kind, "She's my friend, yeah, practically my sister after only a month, but that's her husband of 800 years. She'll talk to me if she wants to talk about some of it, but she needs to speak with him, and that alone is gonna take some time."
"Do you think that voice in her head is real?" Rose asks him after a beat.
He's about to say, 'I know it is,' when the Time Lords walk in.
The Alchemist freezes at the doorway the moment she spots Rose. She's wearing a crimson-red evening gown. Crimson. Red.
"Change," she orders the girl, stepping closer to her.
Rose gasps before glaring at her, "Excuse me? You don't get to order me around!"
"My ship, too, so yes, I do. Change," the Time Lady's eyes narrow, "You're wearing an evening gown. There's a French walking dress in the same section. It's bronze and pink stripes with a touch of emerald green. Wear that instead. Now go and change."
Rose scoffs but leaves to do so.
Once she's gone, the Alchemist sags in relief, rubbing her neck. After a few moments of tense silence, Jack decides to ask the one thing that's bothering him the least.
"It's just the color, isn't it? Not the evening gown. That's the same shade you were wearing when I found you," Jack recalls softly.
The Time Lords look at him and nod.
"They were called Aidos," she informs him, "They looked red if you weren't an enemy. It's why I kept asking if you weren't a threat. You could see me and I was confirming that. You shouldn't have been able to otherwise. I would have been invisible. Aidos is shortened from Haidos for the Greek god Hades. He is the god of death and invisibility. Aidos is also the Greek goddess of shame, modesty, respect, and humility. I hate that color."
He's about to respond when Rose stomps back in the room, glaring harshly at the Time Lady.
The Alchemist barely spares her a glance. She's wearing a silver Afternoon dress instead. It's modest, pretty, and British. She's sure it's a copy of the gold one she wore to save her Little Queen. She can't be bothered to care, though.
"Paris Boulangerie Viennoise in May 1841," The Doctor announces as he types in the coordinates.
"We can head over to the Tuileries Garden after," the Alchemist suggests, "It's a nice spot, right on the Seine, and everything should be in bloom for the spring since we're stopping in spring."
The Doctor smiles with his Bondmate as they move about the console, flying their ship together again.
The TARDIS begins to shudder and buck wildly as it passes through the Vortex. The Alchemist laughs and grabs her Husband before he crashes to the ground. Her balance is near perfect now. Rose holds herself up by the railing near her, and Jack holds tight to the jumpseat to stay steady.
"That was smoother! Way more than usual," Rose comments.
"An extra set of hands helps, kid," the Alchemist says with a smirk.
The Time Lady ignores her rolling eyes, quickly runs to a spot behind the Console, and touches her device, thinking, 'Smellikids.'
'You reconnected! I should too,' the Doctor announces in her mind, and he takes it next.
"What's that?" Jack asks as they put it down.
The Alchemist pulls out her new sonic from the console with a grin. It has a very narrowed metal tip with the sonic light at the end; part of the encasing is clear acrylic, revealing some sonic parallels. It's blue. The handle is made of brass and steel.
She tries out the button, and her grin brightens. It's telepathic in nature; she needs to think about the setting to use it, and she'll get results right in her mind. Lovely. She hadn't used those blueprints and variables yet.
"An old invention of mine, just needed to check on it is all," she replies mysteriously as she pockets her device, and they head for the doors.
The Doctor opens one and peaks outside, "Going to rain later."
"No matter, I'll grab some umbrellas," the Alchemist comments, pulling a few from the stand by the doors.
Rose looks at it confusedly, "That wasn't there earlier."
She shrugs, "Our TARDIS loves me. Probably put it there."
The humans exchange puzzled glances but accept their umbrellas as they walk out.
[Outside TARDIS]
The Alchemist grins as she walks out of the TARDIS until it falls flat.
"This isn't May 5th, 1841, at 10 am... Doctor," she grumbles.
He turns, wary, "You sure 'cause I'm positive I put the..."
"It's April 10th, 1912, at 10 am," she grumbles and heads off to the line for Boulangerie Viennoise, formerly Zale's.
Jack laughs at the Doctor's crestfallen face, "What's the problem with that Doc?"
"It's uh... is that the date that the Titanic...?" Rose whispers, alarmed.
The Time Lord shakes his head, "That's the time and date it sets sail. I may have, uh, put in the wrong time coordinates. Right place, though?"
The humans chuckle at his nearly victorious moment before they trail behind the Time Lady, who is patiently standing in line outside the boulangerie.