The sleepover at Rory and Amy's had been Amy's idea, it wasn't exactly a far trip, seeing as they lived barely twenty minutes from Hally's house, but Alina had encouraged the sleepover as a good change of pace. Hally had found it fun in a way she hadn't expected. They played games with Lily until the little girl had worn herself out, finally falling asleep in the makeshift cot Rory had set up in the guestroom. Then, with Lily tucked in, Rory had brought out the wine, and they'd spent the rest of the night laughing and chatting.
Now, with the sun barely risen, Hally was jolted awake by the sound of Lily crying. She blinked sleepily, adjusting to the light as she sighed softly to herself. It was a tired, familiar cry, one she instinctively knew meant Lily had lost her blanket or teddy. With a groan, Hally dragged herself out of bed.
As she reached Lily's cot, she frowned. Her daughter was sitting up, her fists flailing angrily as she tossed something hard against the edge of the cot with a clatter. A black box, perfectly symmetrical, bounced and rolled to a stop by Hally's foot.
Hally picked it up, her brow furrowing. That certainly hadn't been in there when she'd come to bed and checked on Lily. She turned the small cube over in her hands, inspecting it carefully. Cold, smooth, and completely unfamiliar. Where had it come from?
Lily sniffled, staring at Hally expectantly, her little face crumpling in a way that suggested another round of wailing was imminent. "Okay, okay," Hally murmured, bending down to scoop her up. "What on Earth is this?" She shot another glance at the cube, puzzled.
As she stepped onto the landing, the odd sight made her stop short. Another cube. Identical to the one Lily had thrown, sat unassuming and unapologetic on the windowsill above the staircase. Hally was almost sure she hadn't seen them before. Hally's heart rates picked up a little as she tiptoed down the stairs, not wanting to wake Amy and Rory so early, all the while balancing Lily on her hip.
By the time she reached the living room, she'd spotted at least six more cubes, dotted around randomly. Cubes were perched on tables, shelves, even balanced on the arm of the couch. She placed Lily in her bouncer in the living room, still clutching the black box, and opened the front door.
The sight outside was even more bizarre, and certainly more alarming. Cubes were everywhere. Littering the lawn, scattered across the street, they had materialized overnight. She moved back inside, placing Lily in her bouncer, gave Lily a kiss on the forehead and quickly ascended the stairs to grab her phone. As she did, the doorbell rang. She dipped into her bedroom, checked her phone for any missed calls and was about to head back downstairs to Lily when she heard Amy and Rory talking in their room. They seemed to be shouting something down to the person outside. Whoever had rung their doorbell.
Their bedroom door opened and the trio stared at one another. All in their pyjamas, both Hally and Rory holding cubes up in confusion.
"Yeah…" Hally muttered.
There was an insistent knock on the door downstairs and Rory gave her a smile. "Sorry, it's my Dad." He squeezed past her to head to the front door, closely followed by Amy. While the three of them headed outside to investigate, Hally stayed upstairs a moment longer, pulling on a sweater and some jeans, anticipating a call from Kate any minute. She could hear voices downstairs, it sounded like Rory, Amy and Rory's Dad had come back inside.
She heard Amy's voice, slightly muffled by the distance as she moved out onto the landing. "Oh… uh… no, she's not ours."
Hally descended the stairs, tossing and catching one of the cubes absentmindedly. "It's strange," she remarked, making her voice loud enough for the humans congregated in the lounge to hear her. "The cubes didn't just appear randomly. They've materialized with purpose—on tables, shelves, not morphing through walls or embedded in the floors." She moved into the lounge. "If it were a random phenomenon, you'd expect them to be scattered without care. I think they're conscious."
Her eyes fell on him, and for a second, they just stared at each other.
Right.
Yes.
The Doctor's gaze flicked from Hally to the wriggling toddler he had in his hands, holding her, arms outstretched with intrigue, before his eyes shifted back to Hally.
Lily's face began to scrunch up, her hands reaching toward Hally. "Mummy…" she whined, her voice on the verge of tears.
The Doctor stared at her. "Swap?" he offered, breathlessly, head motioning down towards the cube she'd been carrying. Lily wriggled uncomfortably in his hold.
Hally blinked and after a moment stepped forward to take Lily from him, tossing the cube toward him for him to catch. He dropped it awkwardly, his attention not able to shift from his daughter and granddaughter in front of him.
The silence in the room was thick. No one quite knew what to say, the air heavy with unsaid words. The Doctor shifted awkwardly, eyes flickering from Hally to Lily, then back again. He looked down, ashamed, for a brief moment before his gaze rose again, this time lingering on Lily. A small, almost tender smile crept onto his face.
"She's…"
But Hally cut him off before he could finish. "Hungry. She's hungry. So if you'll excuse me." Her voice was curt, leaving no room for further conversation. She moved away from the small group gathered in the lounge, making her way into the kitchen. The Doctor, Amy, Rory, and Rory's father exchanged a few words about the cubes before The Doctor led them into the TARDIS.
In the kitchen, Hally grabbed a pot of baby food from the fridge, her hands moving automatically while her hearts pounded in her chest. She sat down at the table, settling Lily in her lap, spoon-feeding her as though it were a completely normal morning.
The Doctor was here, acting like nothing had changed, pretending everything was fine. He was always good at that—at pretending. And maybe, just maybe, it was easier. She could also play pretend. She didn't want to dive into dealing with him today. No, she decided firmly. She didn't want to delve into anything with him.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. Kate. Of course.
"Hi. Uh… yes, cubes," Hally said, her voice steadier than she felt. She held the phone between her shoulder and ear as she spooned more food into Lily's waiting mouth.
Kate sounded brusque but not quite stressed on the other end. "Yes. We're bringing samples in now to test them. Where are you at the minute?"
A glance to her left had her eyes landing on the blue box standing in Amy and Rory's front room, its doors closed as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "I'm at Amy and Rory's house," she said after a pause. "The Doctor is here."
There was a moment of silence on the other end before Kate responded. "Right. Good. Great. I'll head over. Get his opinion."
"Mmhmm," Hally replied, still feeding Lily.
"Would you like me to bring Harkness?" Kate's tone was calm, but Hally knew what Kate was actually saying. 'Would you like emotional backup.'
Hally glanced down at Lily's face, slightly scrunched with concentration and let out a quiet breath. "No. All good. See you soon." She hung up, pocketing her phone.
Just… a normal day, she told herself. UNIT would arrive, they'd run tests on the cubes. She'd head into the office, drop Lily off at the crèche, carry on with her work. It was just like any other normal day—except her father was here. Involved.
But that didn't matter. It didn't change anything, did it? She had zero expectations. Just him, here to help them save the world from a bunch of mysterious cubes. She would carry on as normal.
The Doctor emerged from the TARDIS, rambling as usual. Hally sat facing the opposite direction, zeroing her focus on just feeding her daughter, but she could hear the familiar voices and movements of those in the room.
"Right," The Doctor announced as he stepped into the room. "I need to use your kitchen as a lab. Cook up some cubes. See what happens."
Rory hummed. "Right, I'm due at work."
The disbelief in The Doctor's voice was accompanied by a scoff. "What? You've got a job?"
Rory paused before he rebuffed, "Of course, I've got a job. What do you think we do when we're not with you?"
"I imagined mostly kissing."
Amy chimed in. "I write travel articles for magazines, and Rory heals the sick."
Rory let out a soft sigh. "My shift starts in an hour. You don't know where my scrubs are?"
Amy gestured casually toward the lounge. "In the lounge, where you left them."
The Doctor, now focused on sonicking a device together, muttered under his breath, "All the Ponds, with their house and their jobs and their everyday lives. The journalist and the nurse. Long way from Leadworth."
Amy watched him for a moment before speaking up, her voice thoughtful. "We think it's been ten years. Not for you or Earth, but for us. Ten years older. Ten years of you, on and off."
The Doctor paused briefly, glancing up at her with a softer expression. "Look at you now. All grown up."
Suddenly, the front door was smashed open with a deafening crash. Hally didn't flinch—she knew exactly what was going on. It was just UNIT, doing what UNIT did best.
"Clear! Trap one, kitchen secured!" a soldier called out.
"Trap three, back garden secured," another voice followed.
Rory, marched in by armed soldiers while still in his boxers, looked absolutely bewildered. "There are soldiers all over my house, and I'm in my pants."
Amy, standing beside him, let out a mock exasperated sigh. "My whole life, I've dreamed of saying that, and I miss it by being someone else."
Just behind the squad of soldiers, Kate Stewart entered with a slight smile, trying to soften the military intrusion. "All these muscles, and they still don't know how to knock. Sorry about the raucous entrance. Spike in Artron energy readings at this address. In light of the last twenty-four hours, we had to check it out, and the dogs do love a run out."
Kate turned to The Doctor with a polite nod. "Hello. Kate Stewart, head of scientific research at UNIT." She extended her hand. "Doctor. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The Doctor shook her hand. "Tell me, since when did science run the military, Kate?"
Kate didn't miss a beat, a glimmer of pride in her voice. "Since me. UNIT's been adapting. Well, I dragged them along, kicking and screaming, which made it sound like more fun than it actually was."
The Doctor's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "What do we know about these cubes?"
Kate folded her arms, her expression turning serious. "Far less than we need to. We've been freighting them in from around the world for testing. So far, we've subjected them to temperatures of plus and minus two hundred Celsius, simulated a water depth of five miles, dropped one out of a helicopter at ten thousand feet, and rolled our best tank over it. Always intact."
The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, though the news didn't seem to ease his concerns. "That's impressive. I don't want them to be impressive. I want them vulnerable with a nice Achilles heel."
In the background, Hally cleaned up Lily, sighing softly as she forced herself to get to her feet. With Lily settled against her hip, she picked up one of the cubes and made her way into the lounge where the conversation was taking place. Kate shot her a brief smile as she entered.
"We don't know how they got here, what they're made of, or why they're here," Kate continued.
The Doctor scratched his chin, pacing slightly. "And all around the world, people are picking them up and taking them home."
"Like iPads have dropped out of the sky," Kate added. "Taking them to work, taking pictures, making films, posting them on Flickr and YouTube. Within three hours, the cubes had a thousand separate Twitter accounts."
The Doctor raised a brow. "Twitter…"
Kate nodded. "I've recommended we treat this as a hostile incursion. Gather them all up and lock them in a secure facility. But that would take massive international agreement and co-operation."
"We need evidence," The Doctor said, his voice carrying more gravity now. "The cubes arrived in plain sight, in vast quantities, as the sun rose. So, what does that tell us?"
Hally wasn't going to get involved in this discussion, she'd wait until she was actually at work to start spitballing ideas. Preferably nowhere near her father.
Amy, leaning against the doorframe, looked thoughtful. "Maybe they wanted to be seen. Noticed."
"Or more than that," The Doctor added, his voice quickening with enthusiasm. "They want to be observed. So we observe them. Stay with them round the clock. Watch the cubes, day and night. Record absolutely everything about them." He grinned, eyes sparkling with the idea. "Team cube, in it together."
The Doctor announced his plan to stay at Amy and Rory's to watch the cubes. There was a moment of awkward silence as the others began making their moves, each dealing with the odd situation in their own way. Kate Stewart, standing near the door, turned to Hally.
"I can give you a lift if you'd like," Kate offered casually, as she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
Hally paused, considering it for a moment before nodding. "Yes, please." She gathered her things, balancing Lily in one arm.
As Hally moved to the door, The Doctor, still lingering in the hallway with a sonic in hand, glanced up. "Oh, you're... going with Kate?" His tone carried a hint of something—surprise, maybe even disappointment.
"Yeah." Hally shrugged nonchalantly. "Why wouldn't I? She's my boss." Without waiting for a response, she stepped outside, leaving him behind.
Hally and Osgood sat side by side in the office, scrolling through data on the strange cubes. Three days had passed, and nothing had changed—no new movements, no odd behaviours, just endless rows of unresponsive cubes. The room hummed with the quiet efficiency of the UNIT team around them. She kept a safe distance between the cubes and herself at all times, making sure none were near her, Lily, or their home. Every day she moved them farther away from her office and the crèche. Better safe than sorry.
Of course, upon hearing the news, Jack had actively encouraged her to have a chat with Alina. It wasn't a long one—just enough for her to tick the box of 'emotional responsibility', as Jack liked to call it. Alina's office was always a comfortable space, but Hally wasn't in the mood for a heart-to-heart.
Still, she went.
"I'm fine," Hally said quickly, her tone firm. "This is just work, Alina. He just happens to be involved." She folded her arms across her chest, staring ahead as if she could will the conversation to be over.
Alina leaned back in her chair, watching her carefully. "Hally, it's okay for you to be angry." Her voice was calm but probing. "If you feel like you want to confront him, you can."
Hally let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "I can't be bothered."
Alina hummed, her scepticism evident. She didn't push, but the look in her eyes said it all—she didn't believe Hally for a second. But for now, she'd let it slide.
On the third day, Hally received a phone call from Amy. The weariness in Amy's voice palpable.
"Please help," Amy begged. "He's doing my head in."
Hally couldn't help but smile a little, even as she sighed. "I'm afraid I can't change his personality, Amy. He's just... annoying."
"I know, but if you come, it'll diffuse it."
"I really don't think me being anywhere near him would diffuse anything," Hally muttered, her tone dry.
"Okay, fine," Amy said, a note of desperation creeping in. "Bring Lily then. They're about the same mental age."
Hally huffed but couldn't suppress the snort of agreement. "Fine."
When she arrived, Rory was already on his way out the door for work. He gave her a grateful nod as he passed. "Thank you," he whispered, glancing back toward the house where The Doctor could be heard rummaging around.
She stepped inside, moving through to the lounge, The Doctor made his way over noticing her, and after a moment of contemplation, he leant forward attempting a hug. Hally put up a hand, stopping him mid-motion.
"I don't really want a hug, Dad." The word "Dad" tasted strange as it left her lips, but she moved past it. "I'm here to sit on Amy's living room floor and play with my daughter, simply because Amy wants a break from you. So, you're welcome to join us," she continued, her voice even, "but I'd prefer it if you didn't pretend to be happy to see me."
The Doctor's arms fell back to his sides, the smile fading from his face. He watched her as she lowered herself to the floor, laying out Lily's toys, already absorbed in the simple act of being with her daughter. After a moment, he followed suit, sitting down a few feet away, unusually silent.
For a while, they played in relative quiet. It took Lily a while—perhaps she could sense her mother's apprehension—but eventually, her curiosity got the better of her, and she waddled over to The Doctor. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, offering a toy.
The Doctor smiled, his whole demeanour softening as he accepted the toy. "Oh, wow. Thank you Lily." Lily babbled, poking at his face, giggling when he made funny noises in response.
"I am happy to see you," he said quietly, not looking up from the toy he was now bouncing around in front of Lily.
"Okay," Hally replied, keeping her focus on the blocks in front of her.
"I'm happy to see you doing so well."
"Mmhmm."
"She's so beautiful."
"I know she is."
"So clever."
"I know."
"She loves you."
"Of course, she does."
He hesitated, then added, "You've done so wonderfully. Raising her."
Hally's jaw tightened, but she didn't look up. "Yes. Well. I had a really good example of what not to do."
The words hung in the air like a lead weight, and The Doctor fell silent. For a moment, the only sound was Lily's innocent babbling as she moved between them, happily unaware of or ignoring the tension simmering between the both of them.
"I missed her being born," The Doctor said eventually, his voice quieter now. "I'm sorry."
Hally's hands stilled, but she kept her eyes on the toy in her lap. "You've missed quite a lot more than that."
"Yes."
"And you didn't actually," she said, after a beat.
The Doctor looked at her, confused. "Hm?"
"You didn't miss the birth."
"I didn't?"
"No. You were just late."
His brow furrowed, but he didn't respond, the confusion evident in his eyes. Before he could say anything more, Hally continued.
"But you did miss her birthday. Christmas. Father's Day. Mother's Day. The first time she walked. The first time she talked. Her first tantrum. Her first laugh." She paused, finally looking up at him. "But then again, why break the habit of a lifetime?"
The Doctor flinched at her words, but his face remained passive, hiding whatever emotions were brewing beneath the surface.
"I wanted to keep you safe..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper.
Hally cut him off sharply, her tone carrying the weight of too many unspoken arguments. "Don't start. Please. Not right now."
She looked over at Lily, happily occupied with her toys.
"I can't start this with you right now because I'll get angry," Hally continued, her voice wavering slightly. "And I don't want to do that in front of her. So please... don't start."
The Doctor, for once, didn't push. He simply nodded. "Okay."
On the fourth day, Hally's phone buzzed with a text from Amy.
Amy: "The Doctor's gone off for a bit. Says the cubes aren't doing anything."
Hally sighed with a sense of relief she hadn't realised she'd been holding onto. She glanced over at Lily, happily playing with her toys, her hands clutching at blocks as she babbled to herself.
Life resumed in its usual rhythm.
Autumn settled in with a slow, golden grace, the leaves turning crisp beneath their feet as Hally guided Lily through the park. Her daughter, bundled in a cosy little coat, toddled alongside her, curiosity bright in her wide, bright blue eyes. Hally had started to teach her a few Gallifreyan words here and there—small, simple ones. She wasn't sure how much Lily understood yet, but the little girl always listened with rapt attention, as if somehow, she sensed that these words were different, important.
They continued through the park, the breeze tugging at Hally's hair, leaves crunching underfoot. Armitage and Hart were with them, both men walked a few paces behind, keeping a respectful distance, though every now and then Hally could hear Hart's jovial tone, often accompanied by a grunt of a response from Armitage.
She'd made it part of their routine, Sunday morning walks. It gave Lily a chance to explore things outside of their house or UNIT, to meet other children in the park, to learn how to interact with them.
Hally felt him before she saw him. The space around her shifted, pulled just slightly, in that familiar way.
She turned her head, her breath catching just a little. There, not far behind them, stood The Doctor. He hadn't made a big entrance—there had been no grand materialisation of the TARDIS, no fanfare. He was just… there, hands in his pockets, watching from a distance.
Hally's first instinct was to keep walking, to pretend he wasn't there. But Lily, unaware of the thoughts swirling around her mother, caught sight of him and let out a delighted squeal.
Hally glanced down at her daughter, then back at The Doctor. He met her gaze with a hesitant smile, his usual boundless energy seeming quieter, more subdued.
Without saying a word, he walked over.
They didn't speak much as they continued their walk. The Doctor stayed on the other side of Lily, not encroaching anywhere near her space, and Hally let him. She didn't need him to explain why he was there, didn't want to ask. The silence between them wasn't heavy with the unsaid—it was just… there. He wasn't pushing, and for that, she was slightly grateful.
When they reached the small park playground, Hally lifted Lily into one of the small swings. Her daughter's legs kicked happily, her laughter filling the air. Hally stood behind her, gently pushing the swing forward, watching as Lily's delighted giggles grew with each swing.
The Doctor, who had been lingering, stepped forward. "I can…" he offered, motioning toward the swing, his voice soft. "If that's alright."
Hally hesitated for a second, then nodded, stepping aside.
He took her place behind the swing, pushing Lily with a gentle, steady hand. Each time Lily swung forward, she let out a high-pitched squeal of joy, her little hands clutching the chains, feet kicking with excitement.
Hally sat down on a nearby bench, watching them. It felt strange, seeing him here like this, so ordinary. He wasn't saving the world, wasn't running or shouting or showing off. He was just… there, pushing his granddaughter on a swing, his face softening with every giggle that escaped from Lily.
It was impossible not to smile at the pure joy written all over her daughter's face.
The quiet stretched on between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was almost peaceful, the sound of the breeze through the trees and Lily's laughter filling the space.
When the swing came to a gentle stop, Lily squirmed excitedly in The Doctor's arms, pointing toward the rest of the playground with wide, curious eyes.
"Slide?" Hally asked, her lips quirking up into a smile as Lily's little face lit up at the suggestion. She could already tell what the answer was, just by the gleam in her daughter's eyes.
"Slide!" Lily squealed, kicking her legs in the air.
The Doctor looked to Hally, offering to take Lily over, but Hally waved him off. "I'll go with her," she said, already stepping forward. "It's kind of our thing."
Hally lifted Lily up, the toddler's little hands grabbing at her mother's coat as they made their way to the top of the slide. It was small, perfect for young children, but that didn't dampen Lily's excitement. At the top, Hally sat down, placing her daughter in her lap. "Ready?" she asked, holding her tight.
Lily's high-pitched giggles were all the answers she needed.
They slid down together, the wind catching in Hally's hair as Lily squealed with delight. At the bottom, her daughter's laughter rang out, infectious and pure. Hally felt her own smile widen, a soft warmth spreading through her chest as she kissed the top of Lily's head.
"Again?" Hally asked, already knowing the answer.
"Again!" Lily's arms reached up toward the top of the slide, her eyes bright with excitement.
The Doctor had wandered over to the wooden castle-like structure, climbing up to tackle the rope bridge, eyeing it as though it were a puzzle to solve rather than a simple playground structure. He hesitated, one hand gripping the side of the bridge before stepping onto the shaky ropes. He took a cautious step forward, then another, his face scrunched in concentration.
Lily noticed him first, pointing. "Uh oh!" she called out.
Hally turned just in time to see The Doctor taking an awkward step forward, his foot slipping slightly between the ropes. He wobbled, flailing his arms to keep his balance, and then... got stuck. Halfway across, the ropes had twisted in such a way that one of his feet wouldn't budge. His arms flailed, eyes wide with panic, and for a moment, he was just... hanging there.
Hally tried to hold back a laugh, but it bubbled up despite herself.
"Help!" the Doctor called out, his voice strained as he tried to wriggle free.
Hally shook her head, stifling another laugh. "It's a playground for five-year-olds, you can manage," she teased, her voice light.
The Doctor gave her a helpless look, still squirming in the tangled ropes. Lily, standing beside Hally, giggled at the sight of him, her little hands clapping together in delight.
With a soft chuckle, Hally made her way over to the rope bridge. "You're ridiculous," she said, but there was no edge to her words, just amusement.
"I didn't realise the structural integrity of children's playgrounds was so... complicated…" The Doctor replied, a wry grin creeping onto his face despite his predicament.
Hally reached up and untangled his foot, giving him a little shove as he stumbled forward onto solid wooden slats. He stood up straight, brushing himself off with a hint of embarrassment, before descending back to the ground.
Lily clapped her hands, delighted by the whole spectacle. Hally scooped her up, kissing her cheek. "You see, Lily? Even Grandad falls down sometimes."
The Doctor brushed off his coat with exaggerated dignity. "Only when the traps are this devious."
Hally couldn't help but chuckle to herself. "If only the Daleks had known," she teased, "they could defeat you with a rope bridge."
A moment hung between them, filled with shared smiles and a comfortable silence. The Doctor's playful grin softened into something more reflective.
Hally cleared her throat. "We're going to head back."
The Doctor nodded, not pushing for more. He walked beside them as they made their way back through the park. He was just there. Not trying to make up for lost time, not trying to be anything other than what he was in that moment.
And maybe, just for today, that was alright.
The soft morning light filtered through the frosted windows, casting a gentle glow over the living room. The Christmas tree stood adorned with twinkling lights and colourful ornaments, a tangle of garland weaving its way through the branches. Beneath it, a jumble of brightly wrapped presents created a mound of festive chaos.
Hally sat on the floor with Lily nestled in her lap, both of them wrapped in cosy blankets. Lily's eyes sparkled with the excitement of Christmas morning, her tiny hands eagerly tearing into the colourful paper of the gifts stacked under the tree.
"Look, Mummy!" Lily squealed, pulling free a toy from one of the boxes, her face lighting up with joy. Hally smiled, her chest swelling with affection as she watched her daughter rip through paper in untampered excitement. Christmas morning was just for them, just the two of them. Before the semi-chaos of visitors and food.
As Lily continued to unwrap presents, Hally noticed two gifts that weren't unfamiliar. And seeing as Hally had meticulously arranged all the presents the night before, they should have been familiar. While Lily was distracted with opening a new teddy from Jack, Hally picked both presents out of the pile, flipping the gift tag over.
"To Lily, from Grandad."
She turned over the label of the second gift, slightly smaller although just as meticulously wrapped, already knowing now who it would be from.
"Hally, love from, Dad."
Lily was wiggling around the living room, her tiny feet moving in time with the music playing through the radio. Jack danced with her, twirling her around dramatically, making her laugh in that loud, uncontrollable way she loved.
Hally sat on the sofa, phone in hand, her attention split between the adorable scene unfolding in front of her and the five voicemails she had saved but hadn't yet listened to. The Doctor had taken to sending her voicemails. She hesitated for a moment before pressing play on the first one.
"Hey! Just... saying hi. Say hi to Lily for me. Amy says the cubes are still all boring, but... well. Anyway, you can call if you're free? I know you're busy. Just, if you fancy a chat."
His voice trailed off, awkward but familiar. She didn't delete the messages, but she equally didn't return his calls.
The song changed, and as the first few bars played, Jack's face scrunched up in distaste. He groaned loudly, as if the sound physically pained him. "I hate this song."
Hally was about to ask why when the familiar lyrics hit her.
Baby, baby, baby
You are my voodoo child, my voodoo child
A soft laugh escaped her as Jack scowled dramatically. Meanwhile, Lily, completely unbothered by his dislike, continued to jump up and down, wiggling energetically.
Jack put his hands on his hips, pouting down at her. "Nope. I refuse to dance to this one, Princess."
Lily giggled, clapping her hands as she wiggled to the song, entirely determined to dance whether Jack liked it or not.
You're like voodoo, honey
All silver and gold
Why don't you tell me my future?
Why don't I sell you my soul?
With exaggerated flair, Jack clamped his hands over his ears. "Nope!"
Hally couldn't help it; she burst into laughter at the sight of him, so dramatically over the top in his protest. Pushing herself off the sofa, she turned up the volume, shooting him a playful smirk. She bent down, taking Lily's hands in hers as the little girl's eyes lit up, her giggles turning into full-on shrieks of joy.
So here it comes, the sound of drums
Here come the drums, here come the drums
The pair of them twisted and danced, Hally singing along at the top of her lungs.
Hally stepped through the front door, shrugging off her coat and helping Lily take her shoes off. She dropped her keys on the hall table, moving through into the kitchen to grab them both a snack, Hally's stomach was grumbling and Lily… was just grumbling.
A stunning bouquet of flowers—lilies, roses, and daisies—sat on the countertop in a vase she didn't recognise. They were vibrant, she took another step towards them, eyebrow cocked. Tucked between the stems was a small note, folded in half.
She reached for it, curiosity piqued. Unfolding the note, she read the familiar handwriting:
Happy Mother's Day. Lots of love, Dad.
She let out a soft sigh, neither happy nor sad. Just a sigh.
The tantrum had started small, as they usually did. A whine here, a furrowed brow there. Lily had been fussy all day, but Hally had managed to keep her distracted with toys and silly games. But now, as bedtime neared and the house grew quiet, the storm was breaking.
It started with the refusal to eat dinner. Hally had prepared Lily's favourite—pasta shaped like little animals, drizzled in a mild sauce. But the moment the plate touched the high chair, Lily pushed it away, sending it clattering to the floor.
"Lily, no," Hally said firmly, but her voice remained calm, as if calmness alone could settle her daughter. She bent down to pick up the mess, her patience already thinning, and placed the plate back in front of her. "Try a little bit, sweetheart. I know you're hungry."
But Lily just let out a sharp cry, her tiny fists banging on the high chair tray. "No! Da-da!"
Hally sighed, her hearts sinking.
The one thing Lily wanted—the one thing she couldn't have.
Hally had tried all the usual distractions. Food, teddies, toys, music, videos of her father. Nothing was working. Hally found herself pacing the kitchen with her wailing daughter clutched tightly in her arms. Lily's screams echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls, the high-pitched cries almost unbearable.
Hally rocked her, patting her back in a rhythmic motion. "Shh, baby, shh. It's okay... Mummy's here."
But Lily's cries only grew louder, her small body arching against Hally's chest. She pushed away from her mother, her face bright red with fury, tears streaming down her cheeks in thick, wet trails. Her little voice was raw and desperate, the sobs hiccuping in her throat.
"Da-da!" she screamed, her little fists beating against Hally's arms. "Want Da-da!"
Hally's hearts clenched painfully. She knew Jack and Ianto could probably hear everything from the other side of the wall.
With a shaky breath, she set Lily down on the kitchen floor, her hands trembling as she did so. Lily immediately rolled onto her back, kicking and screaming, her tiny legs flailing as though she could somehow summon her father through sheer force of will.
"I know, sweetheart... I know," Hally said quietly, crouching beside her daughter, her own tears finally spilling over. She wiped them quickly, trying to keep herself composed, but it was no use. "I'm sorry. Daddy isn't here."
"Da-da!" Lily screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking as she thrashed on the floor. Her face was now a deep shade of red, her mouth open in a wail that seemed to fill the entire room.
Hally reached out for her again, gently offering her arms, hoping to soothe her with a hug. But Lily kicked out at her with her feet, her face scrunched in anger. "No! Want Da-da!"
Hally flinched at the rejection, the sting of it making her step back, watching as her daughter's meltdown continued.
"Lily, please... stop," Hally whispered, her voice cracking, vision blurring with tears. "Daddy isn't here... He's not..."
As if in answer, Lily screamed louder, her tiny fists pounding against the floor in fury. "Want Da-da!"
Hally's entire body shook as she knelt on the floor, exhausted.
She heard the front door open and close, knowing without looking that it would Jack. Sure enough, a few seconds later he appeared in the kitchen doorway, his eyes quickly taking in the scene before him—Lily's thrashing form, Hally's tear-streaked face.
"Need a hand?" he asked softly, already shrugging off his coat and tossing it across the kitchen island.
Hally let out a shaky breath, wiping at her face. "I don't think it'll help."
But Jack wasn't deterred. He crouched down beside Lily, his voice gentle as he tried to coax her into his arms. "Hey, kiddo. What's all this, huh? What's with the screaming?"
But Lily only screamed louder, her little fists pounding at Jack's chest as he tried to lift her. "No! Da-da! No, no, no!" she cried, wriggling furiously in his grip.
Jack quickly set her back down, his hands raised in surrender. "Alright, alright. I get it."
Hally let out a bitter laugh through her tears. "Sorry about the noise."
Jack sat back on his heels, looking at the sobbing child in front of him. "Don't worry about it." He shifted over to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, giving her a squeeze as they watched Lily continue her meltdown.
"I've tried everything…" Hally muttered softly, letting out a dejected exhale.
"Let's just put her to bed," he suggested softly, glancing up at Hally. "She'll exhaust herself eventually."
Hally nodded, too tired to come up with any other solutions. Jack took the brunt of it, gently carrying Lily upstairs to her bedroom while she kicked and screamed at him. He laid her down in the cot, her little body still writhing with the remnants of her tantrum.
With a heavy exhale, Hally sat down on the floor next to the cot, reaching for her daughter's hand. Initially, she ignored it, far too caught up with screaming as loudly as possible, but as the long minutes went by and the screaming quietened to sobs and finally to soft whimpers, Lily's hand moved to clutch at hers tightly, her fingers wrapping around Hally's.
Jack sat beside Hally, they watched together as Lily's breathing evened out, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep.
Jack reached over, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "Don't overthink it," he whispered, his voice gentle and reassuring. "She's a toddler, tantrums are their thing."
"This wasn't just a tantrum though… was it?" Her eyes met his.
He offered her a reassuring smile. "It's going to be ok."
Lily's second birthday was even better than her first. It was a small gathering, just like the first one—the whole team. This time, though, Lily was more aware, more excited by everyone being there just for her, toddling around the room, grinning as she unwrapped her presents with her tiny hands, squealing with joy at the surprises inside. Certainly spoiling her daughter a little.
Hally rolled her lip between her teeth, taking a quiet moment to scoop Lily into her arms, clearing her throat, the room quietened slightly, everyone turning their attention to her, sensing she wanted to say something. Holding Lily close, Hally took a breath.
"I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you," she began, her voice steady but soft, her gaze moving over the familiar faces, Jack, Ianto, Alina, Martha, the rest of the Torchwood and UNIT team. "Properly. For so many things." She looked down at Lily, who was fiddling with the edge of Hally's sleeve, her big eyes wide.
"For being here today," Hally continued, her voice catching a little. "And for everything you've done for me over the past two years. I'm really not sure how I ended up surrounded by so many amazing, patient, kind people, but... thank you." Her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed through, a small laugh escaping as she held back the emotion welling up inside her. "None of this would have been possible without you, and I just want you all to know how much I appreciate it. I love all of you. Me and Lily couldn't have asked for a better family."
Lily babbled something, her small voice muffled as her arms wrapped tightly around Hally's neck.
It was just beginning to get dark outside, when there was a final knock on the door. Their guests had all gone home and Hally was taking her time to tidy up. Setting down the dishtowel, Hally walked to the door and opened it. The Doctor stood on the other side of her front door, a small, wrapped present in his hand. His expression was a mix of uncertainty and warmth, as if he wasn't quite sure if he was welcome but hoped he would be.
"Sorry to drop by unannounced," The Doctor said quickly, his voice a little rushed. "I didn't want to intrude, but I thought I'd... bring something for Lily. For her birthday."
Hally looked back at him. She considered taking the gift, thanking him and closing the door in his face. She definitely could have done, but something stopped her. Instead, she offered a half-hearted assurance "You're not intruding," and she stepped stepping aside, gesturing for him to come in.
The Doctor hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod, stepping inside with the present still in his hands. Hally led him into the living room, where Lily was sitting on the floor, distracted by a new musical toy set brought by Owen. When she saw The Doctor, her face lit up, and she babbled excitedly, toddling over to him on wobbly legs.
"Happy birthday, Lily," The Doctor said softly, a wide smile across his face as he crouched down to her level, holding out the present. "This is for you."
Lily, more than happy to receive another gift reached out, grabbing the present with both hands, and immediately set to work tearing off the wrapping paper. Hally watched from the side, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched her daughter mercilessly rip open the paper that had seconds before been perfectly wrapped around the gift.
The Doctor gave her a grateful smile, his eyes briefly flickering with an emotion she couldn't quite place before he turned his attention back to Lily.
It was June, Hally had already sent Amy and Rory a large bouquet of flowers ahead of their wedding anniversary and her apologies for not being able to attend. Alina had called her out on it, indicating that Hally was only not going because she thought The Doctor might turn up.
"Yes. Probably. But that's just where I'm at right now."
That evening, the evening of Amy and Rory's party, her phone buzzed. She picked it up. "Hey, Hal."
The Doctor's voice came through, a hesitant edge to it. "I'm staying with Rory and Amy for a bit. On Earth," he said, almost like an afterthought. "Thought I might stick around."
"Okay," Hally replied, the conversation brief but not uncomfortable.
"Thought I might pop round some time," he added.
"Go for it," she responded, her tone neutral.
"Okay," The Doctor said.
"Okay," she echoed, and they left it at that.
Alina had seen her fair share of surprising visitors over the years, but when she'd looked up at the sound of the door, she'd not expected to witness The Doctor walking into her office. He didn't sit, of course. His posture was all unease and restless energy, hands fidgeting with the edges of his jacket, eyes darting around the room as if searching for an answer before he even asked his question.
"Can I help you…" Alina started for him, considering that he might endlessly pace if she didn't.
The Doctor hummed. "Yes." He ran a hand through his hair. "I need to talk to my daughter?"
Alina immediately knew what he'd actually meant to say, but she wasn't going to offer him any advice until she'd heard him ask properly. "Alright. I believe she's in her office."
"Uh…" Uncertainty vibrated in the back of his throat. He shoved his hands inside his pockets. "No… I mean… I need to know…. How… how do I talk to my daughter?"
Alina leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap and studying him for a moment. "Well," she said slowly, "have you tried?"
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Tried?"
"Mmhmm." She hummed gently.
"I have tried." He started to pace again.
"Okay." She watched him. "Have you sat down long enough with her to ask her a serious question?"
"Well…" His voice trailed off, a non-committal hum coming from his throat.
"No." Alina answered for him, her tone firm yet gentle enough to not appear to be berating him.
"Have you asked her how she's feeling?"
She took his pause as enough of a response.
"No." Again she spoke for him.
He paused his pacing, instead finding something interesting down on his shoes.
"So, we might actually come to the conclusion that perhaps you haven't tried as hard as you may think." She offered him. "Although, in this instance, I would suggest you let her come to you."
The Doctor shook his head. "She won't."
Alina cut across him. "Just because she hasn't, doesn't mean she won't. If you continue to actually be present, she will eventually talk to her. Let her do it on her own terms and when she does, listen."
The Doctor tilted his head slightly, his expression a mix of intrigue and defensiveness. "I listen."
Alina leaned forward slightly, her tone growing more direct. "You go into conversations with her with an expectation. Whether that be for her to open up to you, for her to forgive you, or listen to you. When she doesn't meet that expectation, you leave."
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, but remained silent.
"In order for her to actually come to you, you need to enter into interactions with her with no expectation, no ulterior agenda. Your daughter is hurt," Alina continued. "She's come to anticipate feeling some sort of inadequacy when you re-enter her life, so she's protecting herself. If you want her to change her behaviour toward you, Doctor, you need to meet her halfway and change yours."
The knock on the door came just as Hally was cleaning up from dinner. She wasn't all that surprised to find The Doctor standing there, holding a bag of takeout containers, his expression somewhere between hopeful and awkward.
"We... already ate," she said, leaning against the doorframe.
"Oh. Right." His face fell, just slightly, as if he'd forgotten that not everyone lived on a schedule as erratic as his.
She rolled her eyes, stepping aside. "Bring it in anyway."
He followed her to the kitchen, setting the food down on the counter. Hally picked at a few pieces absently as they ate, not really hungry. Lily was in her high chair, babbling happily between spoonfuls of pudding. After dinner, they moved to the lounge, and it wasn't long before Lily was rolling around on the floor, her infectious laughter filling the room as The Doctor entertained her, enthusiastically creating characters for every one of her toys splayed on the carpet.
Hally relaxed slightly, noting The Doctor seemed content to just play with his granddaughter. She made them both tea and sat nearby.
It was creeping close to darkness when Lily looked up at her. "Daddy?" she asked, her eyes wide, expectant.
Hally froze, her hearts skipping a beat. "Not tonight, Lily."
But Lily wasn't having it. She was insistent, her small voice rising. "Daddy. Now."
"No, Lily," Hally said, more firmly this time, feeling the knot of irritation rise in her chest. Not at her daughter. She just… really didn't want The Doctor to witness her pathetic attempt at keeping The Master present in their lives. "It's time for bed."
Lily pouted, her face scrunching up in frustration, the very beginnings of a lip wobble started and Hally let out a long sigh. "Fine," she muttered, getting up to grab the TV remote. Better The Doctor witness this than a full toddler tantrum.
"This is emotional manipulation, Lilya," she muttered under her breath as she reluctantly put on one of Lily's favourite videos of 'Harold Saxon'.
They sat in silence, The Doctor on the floor, Hally on the sofa, as the video played and Lily's irritable energy slowly ebbed away. Hally watched her daughter, feeling the tension simmer in the quiet room. The Doctor didn't say a word, just watching, although she swore she could see a flicker of pity behind his eyes. It made her want to scream, to throw something, but she didn't. Instead, she just sat there, waiting for her daughter to start yawning so she could put her to bed.
As Lily began to tire, her eyelids drooping, Hally moved to pick her up. "Can I?" The Doctor asked softly, rising to his feet.
Hally hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
The Doctor gently took Lily from her arms, heading upstairs. She listened to his footsteps ascend the stairs and head into Lily's bedroom before she slumped back onto the sofa, staring at the book on the coffee table, but not really seeing it. She didn't want to cry. She didn't even know why she felt like she was about to. She picked up the book, trying to lose herself in the words, but nothing stuck.
Around half an hour later, The Doctor came back down. "She's asleep," he said softly.
"Good," Hally replied, her voice flat. "Thanks."
"She likes that story," The Doctor continued, sitting on the chair by the window. "I did the voices. That was fun."
"Ok." She didn't look up from her book.
He didn't say anything else, just sat there, watching the quiet night unfold outside the window. Hally read, or at least tried to, the room filled with the soft sound of turning pages. After a while, she glanced at the clock. It was getting late.
"Shouldn't you be getting back?" she asked, not unkindly, but with an edge of exhaustion in her voice.
"I thought I might stay," The Doctor replied, his voice gentle. "If that would be ok?"
"Sure." She nodded. "There's a sofa bed in the office."
"Great."
She stood up, setting her book aside. "Night."
"Goodnight, Hal."
Later that night, when Lily's cries echoed through the house, Hally was halfway to her daughter's room when she saw The Doctor already there, his figure outlined in the soft glow of the hallway light.
"I've got it," he whispered. "You can go back to sleep, if you want."
Hally hesitated, but sleep was calling her back. "Hm. Ok."
She returned to her bed, pulling the covers over herself. Water fell from her eyes. Quiet, confused tears that she couldn't quite explain. She wasn't sure why she was crying, only that it took far too long to stop.
The next morning, the sound of Lily's laughter drifted up towards her bedroom as Hally got dressed. She came downstairs to find Jack standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching The Doctor feed Lily breakfast, a bemused expression on his face.
"Morning," Hally muttered towards Jack, brushing past him to find herself something to eat.
Jack smiled softly, his gaze shifting to The Doctor, as though equally unsure how to take his presence.
"He… stayed over." Hally offered Jack in meagre explanation.
Jack nodded slowly, looking back towards The Doctor before his eyes settled on her once more. "I see." Outwardly, Jack appeared normal but Hally could read the etch of concern across his face, silently asking her, 'Do you want me to get him to leave?'
She gave him a knowing smile, shaking her head.
The Doctor finished feeding Lily, wiping her mouth with a bib, which she quickly pulled off, giggling as she wriggled in her high chair. He stood slowly, hands lingering on the edge of the table for a moment as if steadying himself. Then, with an almost too deliberate movement, he straightened up, turning toward Jack. His expression shifted—awkward yet resolute, the weight of what he wanted to say clear in his eyes.
"Jack," The Doctor began, voice uncharacteristically soft, "thank you." He glanced at Hally briefly before focusing on Jack again. "For… everything. For looking after Hally. For being there for Lily."
Jack blinked, taken slightly aback by the sudden sincerity. He unfolded his arms but remained silent, letting The Doctor continue.
The Doctor added, his tone growing even quieter, "I just wanted to say... Thank you."
Jack regarded him for a moment, his face thoughtful, before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I didn't do it for you, Doc."
The Doctor nodded slowly, as if he had expected that response, but there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes all the same. He shifted his weight slightly, his fingers twitching by his sides.
Jack glanced over at Hally, who was watching the exchange from the counter, and his smile grew a little wider, more genuine. "But you're welcome."
The sterile, white walls of the Zero Room hummed softly as Hally worked, methodically inspecting the nearest cube, the routine tests they'd been performing monthly since their arrival. Her focus narrowed on the data before her, eyes flicking over the readings as her hands moved with practised precision. For some reason, The Doctor had shown up at UNIT, had insisted on 'assisting' her with the measurements. He wasn't doing much by way of assisting, he was currently trying to see how many he could juggle. His presence wasn't exactly helpful; in fact, it was beginning to grate on her nerves.
"Do you mind?" Hally muttered without looking up, her frustration clear in her voice.
"Right. Yes. Sorry," he replied, wincing slightly as he put the cube down. He shifted awkwardly, aware of her irritation but unable to stop himself from fidgeting.
Another minute passed in silence, punctuated by his occasional disruptions, each one poking at her like a needle. Finally, Hally's composure cracked. She didn't scream as she'd wanted to but instead sighed, pushing the cube out of the way, crossing one leg over the other as she sat back into her chair. She stared at him.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her tone pointed.
He blinked, thrown by the question. "What… what do you mean? We're… cubes." He gestured vaguely at the objects in front of them, the words stumbling out clumsily.
"Not 'here', you idiot," Hally cut him off sharply. "I mean here. Why are you following me around? This is routine. We've done it once a month for almost a year. Why are you in this room with me?"
"I… we're just, spending time together."
"Are we?" Her voice was cold, pushing back his flimsy explanation.
"Yes…"
"Why?" She pressed further, the simple question hanging in the air like a weight.
"Well. Because I want to spend time with you."
"Oh, you do?" she shot back, scepticism etched into every word.
"Yes."
"Right." Hally's eyes narrowed. "And what about the past two years?"
The Doctor hesitated, his gaze darting away. "I… I wanted to."
"You wanted to?" Her disbelief was palpable. "So why didn't you? You didn't try. You didn't reach out. Zero contact for a year and a half, and now you want me to believe you want to spend time with me?"
He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. "I thought you'd reach out."
"You thought I'd reach out?" she repeated, slowly, incredulous.
"Yes… I… I didn't want to come until you wanted me to."
Hally's face tightened, the hurt surfacing through her words. "No. No, Doctor. You walked out on me. I was never going to reach out to you. I wasn't going to come crawling back, asking you if you'd perhaps be interested in getting to know your granddaughter. That was on you. You left me. It was your job to come to me."
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, glancing out through the glass where UNIT scientists were quietly observing the exchange. His voice lowered, unsure. "Are you… we shouldn't do this now…"
"Maybe I want to do this now," Hally cut him off, her voice rising. "I'm in the mood to do this now. Sit down."
He swallowed hard, his defiance gone, and slowly sat across from her. The silence that followed was thick, tension crackling in the air between them.
"You do understand why I'm angry, don't you?" she asked, her voice quieter now but no less sharp.
"Yes," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Explain it to me."
"What?"
"Explain it to me," Hally repeated firmly. "Why do you think I'm angry? I want to make sure we're on the same page."
The Doctor looked down at his hands, rubbing his palms together as he gathered the words. "Uh… well, because I left."
"Right."
"And I didn't…" He cleared his throat, looking up to meet her eyes. "I left when I shouldn't have, and I didn't come back."
"Mmhmm." She didn't break eye contact, forcing him to continue.
"Because I was a coward," he admitted, his voice strained. "I left. I left you after I'd… because I promised I would keep you and your daughter safe. I promised I would find him for you, and I didn't. I broke that promise. I more than broke it. I ripped it up into tiny little pieces and set fire to it. When you needed me most… I cast you out."
Hally sat silently, her expression unreadable as he continued.
"I did… want you to be safe. I just… I didn't do it right. I shouldn't have done it like that. You, on the TARDIS, it couldn't work. You are safer here. I knew that. I should have spoken to you about it. I shouldn't have done it like I did, but I panicked. I was so scared. I lost myself."
Her silence hung heavily in the room.
"There are so many things I would do differently," he confessed, his voice breaking slightly. "So many. I have hurt you so many times, and each time I look back on it, I promise myself I'm going to be better. I promise I'm going to change, but something in me just… short circuits. There is this part of me… this dark… desperate part that will do anything to keep you safe. Even if it means hurting you. I don't know how to describe it."
"You don't have to," Hally said quietly. "I know the feeling."
The Doctor's eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded slightly. "The way it happened, at Demon's Run… it shouldn't have… I shouldn't have—"
"Just admit you were angry. Admit that you wanted it to hurt," Hally interrupted, her voice steady.
"Yes," he admitted, his voice dropping. "I did. You're right. I did. I was angry. And I blamed you partially for what happened."
Hally nodded slowly, her expression softening. The truth sat between them.
"If I could go back, Hal," the Doctor whispered, his voice breaking. "I would change so much."
She sighed.
The room felt impossibly quiet, the weight of unsaid things pressing down on both of them. Hally sat still, arms crossed as she stared at her father, The Doctor, her expression unreadable. He fidgeted under her gaze, running a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath.
"I mean it," he began, his voice low but steady. "Gallifrey. I should have been there. I should have made sure my younger self knew you were important. I should have told him what to expect. I should have been there… at your naming ceremony. I should have been there on visiting days. I should have been there when you first noticed you were different. I should have told you about Rose, the second we knew. I should have told you all of it. Explained all of it."
The words spilt from him like a confession.
"I should have trusted you with The Master. I should have told you why I wanted to make the biodampener. I should have explained. I should have helped you bring him back. I should have stopped him from sacrificing himself. I should have done it for him. I should have put you first. I should have brought you to Earth myself. I should have helped, set you up. I should have been there… Birthdays, Christmases, all of it."
Hally sat there, unflinching. His voice wavered as he continued, his voice cracking. "You have every right to be angry. You should be angry."
There were a few moments of quiet. "Thank you for acknowledging it." Her voice was cool, steady, but there was something simmering beneath the surface.
The Doctor swallowed, sensing the weight behind her calm demeanour.
"What is it you want from this?"
He frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "What do I want?"
"Yes," Hally pressed. "If all of this went how you wanted. What would happen?"
He paused, searching for the answer. "Well, we would… we would fix this. You and me."
Hally wasn't convinced. "What does that look like to you? I'm not being difficult. I'm asking because I genuinely want to know."
He shook his head, an admission of his uncertainty. "I don't know. Truthfully, I don't. Because the truth is, you don't need me. You never have. Quite rightfully. I missed all that. I gave all that up. You're over four hundred years old. You don't need your Dad." His voice softened as he looked at her, his words filled with both admiration and sorrow. "Look at you. You're smart and beautiful and wonderful, and people love you. You don't need me."
He hesitated before continuing. "Perhaps, in another universe, we're your typical father and daughter… whatever that is. But here… I just want you to be my daughter. I want to be involved in your life, whatever your life looks like. I want us to call. I want you to be embarrassed by my dad jokes. I want you to be able to trust me. To depend on me."
Hally listened carefully, her expression still guarded but softer now. "Just because I don't need you, doesn't mean I don't want you around," she said, her tone more gentle. "It doesn't mean I don't want a parent I can go to. Ask for advice or just chat. Talk about home. Ask you how to explain regeneration to a child. I still want you. Want your help. Want you to be a part of my life. Of Lily's life."
He nodded, his eyes brightening with hope. "I do… want that. I do."
Hally's eyes narrowed slightly and after a moment, she nodded.
He let out a small exhale. "I expected you to shout."
"Oh, I still might," She quipped back, her words barbed.
"I am sorry," The Doctor added softly.
Hally's expression hardened again. "I don't want 'sorry,' Dad. Sorry is just a word, and it means fuck all."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I know. I'm trying. Tell me, tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it."
She sighed, softer this time. "I need you to just be a father. I need you to be dependable. I need communication. I don't mind that your life isn't here on Earth, I don't expect it to be. But I need open and honest communication. Let me know where you are, when you can. That you're safe. When you're leaving, when you're coming back. I don't want to hear from Rory and Amy that you've been hanging out with Robin Hood for six months. I want you to tell me."
The Doctor's face was solemn as he listened.
"I need you to show up," Hally continued. "Birthdays. Christmases. I need to know that if I call, you'll be here. I need normal and boring and communication. I need RSVPs and being on time and bringing presents she'll actually like. I need safe and dependable because that's what I need for her. Not just popping by in between chaos. I need planned. And if you can provide that, great. We can work on… this."
She paused, her tone hardening slightly. "But if you can't… I can't put her through what you did to me. I would rather we didn't try if you don't think you can give me those things."
The Doctor's eyes widened, sincere and earnest. "I can. I really can. I will show you, I will prove to you that I can."
Hally crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a long sigh. "Fine."
His face split into a relieved smile, but she frowned at him, her gaze still sharp.
"But this is step one. Step one of many, many steps, and I am definitely still going to get angry at you. And maybe I'll scream at you. Say awful things because I'm still angry, it still hurts. And I'm not always a great person, so sometimes I might take that anger out on you."
The Doctor nodded, solemn once again. "I know. And there are probably going to be times when I get it wrong. When I disappoint you."
"Certainly. We're just going to have to try and deal with them differently. If I understand why you're doing something before you do it, it might help."
The Doctor nodded slowly. "And if I understand why something I've done hurt you… that will help me."
"Mmhmm," she hummed.
Without warning, she tossed a cube at him. Not too hard, but hard enough that it smacked him square on the forehead.
"Ow!" The Doctor groaned, rubbing his head. "That really hurt!"
"Whoops," she said with an innocent smile, the hint of a playful glint in her eyes.
"You did well talking to him," Alina said, her tone gentle but approving.
Hally raised a brow, surprised. "Oh, you heard."
"Mmhmm," Alina replied, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Jack texted me."
Hally scoffed lightly, shaking her head. "Of course he did." She shifted in her seat, glancing briefly at the window.
"You also chose to do it in a room being watched by half the team..."
Hally chuckled. "Seemed the safest environment in case I decided to murder him."
Alina's eyes glittered with amusement. "But you didn't."
"No, I didn't…"
A quiet moment passed before Alina leaned forward slightly, her voice softer. "How are you feeling about it?"
Hally exhaled, her brow furrowing as she considered the question. "I'm not really sure," she admitted. "We'll have to see how it goes. See how long it lasts this time."
Alina nodded, her gaze steady and calm. "You're trying to communicate."
"Yes," Hally said, her voice carrying both hope and hesitation. "We are." She paused for a beat, her eyes searching Alina's face. "I just… don't want to get my hopes up."
Alina gave her a reassuring smile. "That's understandable. But the fact that you're both trying—that's something."
"Yeah," Hally replied softly,
It was July, and the cubes had suddenly sprung to life.
Hally had come straight from home as quickly as she could. Kate had texted her, notifying her that The Doctor was already en route. Before she'd left she'd barked towards Armitage. "Stay inside with Lily. Don't go near the cubes. Keep away from them."
The Tower's main control hub was buzzing with activity as reports flooded in from across the globe. Kate, her expression focused and grim, approached Hally with a tablet in hand.
"There are fifty being monitored, and more coming in all the time," Kate explained, scrolling through the incoming data. "I don't know how useful it is. Every cube is behaving individually. There's no meaningful pattern. Some respond to proximity. Some create mood swings." She paused, looking up with a frown. "Systems breaches at the Pentagon, China, every African nation, the Middle East."
Hally exhaled, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Has The Doctor arrived yet?"
"He popped outside with Amy—"
Before Kate could finish, the door swung open, and The Doctor entered, his face etched with determination. "Kate?" He walked swiftly to her side. "Before they shut down, the cubes scanned everything—from your medical limits to your military response patterns. They've made a complete assessment of Planet Earth and its inhabitants. That's what the surge of activity was."
Suddenly, the lights flickered, then went out, plunging the room into darkness.
"Problem with the power?" The Doctor asked, turning to Kate.
"Not possible. We've got back-ups," she replied, glancing at the techs scrambling around them.
"Hmm," the Doctor muttered, eyes darting around the room.
"Doctor?" Amy called, her voice laced with concern. "Look."
"What?" he asked, moving closer.
Kate's gaze swept the room, her expression troubled. "Why do they all say seven?"
Hally glanced at the screens. Every cube displayed the same number.
"Seven?" The Doctor echoed, his mind already racing. "Seven, seven... what's important about seven? Seven wonders of the world, seven streams of the River Ota, seven sides of a cube."
Amy raised a brow. "A cube has six sides."
"Not if you count the inside," The Doctor replied, absently.
Before Hally could react to his logic, a faint beep sounded from the patch on the back of her neck. Her hand instinctively flew to the spot as a frown creased her forehead. Kate noticed immediately, concern flashing in her eyes.
The beep came again, and Hally's vision blurred. The room around her swayed as everything went black.
The Doctor lunged forward, catching her before she hit the ground. "What's wrong with her?!"
Kate knelt beside them, quickly checking the patch on Hally's neck. "It's the Temporal Management Patch. They've activated it. It knocks her out."
The Doctor's face twisted in fury and confusion. "Why the hell is she wearing that?"
"She agreed to it," Kate replied quietly.
The Doctor looked down at his unconscious daughter, a wave of comprehension and pain crossing his features. "They've taken her out…"
Amy glanced over at the cubes. "Doctor, they say six."
The Doctor's jaw clenched, his eyes still on Hally.
"Why would they take her out and not you?"
"Because I'm not wearing a big stupid patch filled with sedative saying 'knock me out,'" he snapped, still checking her pulse. His movements were quick, almost frantic, though he managed to maintain some semblance of calm. Kate scanned her with a handheld device.
"She's fine. She's stable. Just asleep," Kate confirmed, trying to reassure him.
The Doctor rose to his feet, anger simmering beneath the surface. "Can't we take it off?" Amy asked, her voice tense.
Kate shook her head. "Not while the power is down…"
The Doctor turned his focus back to the cubes, his expression dark. "It has to be a countdown."
Kate followed his gaze. "Not in minutes."
"Why would it be minutes?" he replied sharply, pacing the room. "Kate, we have to get humanity away from those cubes. God knows what they'll do if they hit zero. Get the information out any way you can. News channels, websites, radio, text messages—people have to know that the cubes are dangerous."
Amy's eyes widened. "Okay, but why is this starting now? I mean, the cubes arrived months ago. Why wait this long?"
The Doctor stopped, his mind already racing ahead. "Because they're clever. Allow people enough time to collect them, take them into their homes, their lives. Humans, the great early adopters. And then—wham! Profile every inch of Earth's existence."
"Discover how best to attack us," Kate muttered, her own gears turning.
"Get that information out any way you can," The Doctor ordered, his voice firm. "Go!"
Hally stirred, groaning softly as a hand gently pressed against her cheek.
"Hey… there she is…" a familiar voice murmured.
Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the faces hovering above her. The Doctor was leaning over her, his expression tight with worry, while Jack stood just behind him. "You're alright," The Doctor assured her, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Everything's alright."
Still groggy, Hally pushed herself up, realizing she was no longer at UNIT but back in her own bed. Her brow furrowed as she blinked away the haze. "Where's Lily?"
Jack's voice was soft but reassuring. "Downstairs. She's fine." He gave her a knowing smile. "Everyone's fine."
The Doctor swallowed, his voice quieter now. "We sorted it. No more cubes."
Hally nodded slowly, her hand instinctively reaching to the patch at the back of her neck. Her fingers traced the edge, feeling the familiar device. "What happened?"
"One of the cubes overloaded the circuit," Jack explained. "Set it off."
"Huh…" Hally muttered, rubbing her neck. "Yeah, definitely a design flaw."
Jack chuckled softly. "Osgood is working on it now. She should be able to swap something over tomorrow."
The Doctor's frown deepened, irritation flickering across his face. "Or you could just take it off."
Hally met his gaze, her tone firm. "I don't want to take it off, Dad."
"Don't be silly," he shot back, his frustration evident.
"I'm not being silly."
Jack glanced between them, sensing the tension rising. He cleared his throat. "I'm going to go downstairs… We're having dinner. When you're both ready." He gave her a smile before quietly leaving the room.
The Doctor's eyes never left Hally as he sat beside her on the bed. "I don't understand why you'd want to keep it on. They used it against you. Someone else could do the same."
Hally sighed softly. "I know… but Osgood is going to update it. We'll make sure it can't happen again."
"You don't need it."
She pressed her lips together, choosing her words carefully. "It's not about whether I need it or not. I agreed to wear it. It's… one of the terms I agreed to. It keeps people safe."
"Apart from you," The Doctor muttered bitterly, his eyes clouding with something darker.
"I'm fine."
"You might not have been," he countered, his gaze sharp. It was a look she recognized—the same one she gave Lily when she feared for her daughter's safety. That flicker of fear, of world-ending dread. She sighed, softening, and pulled him into a hug.
"This is one of those moments where we're not going to agree," she said gently, holding him close. "So I'm going to try really hard to explain, without referring to you as a hypocrite."
She felt him stiffen, then practically heard his frown. "I think you just did…"
"Mmhmm," she teased, still hugging him. "I want to wear it. Yes, what happened today wasn't great, but we'll get it fixed. I trust these people. I trust them with the most important part of my life, and I know they have my best interests at heart. I killed sixty thousand people, and we walked away. I'm here because I want to create a life for my daughter that's safe. Part of that means making sacrifices to ensure I don't hurt anyone again. It's not forever. It's a process, and I'm trusting it. And it would mean a lot to me if you could trust it too."
The Doctor let out a weak laugh, though there was pain beneath it.
"Your turn."
He hummed, reluctant. "Fine…" he grumbled. "I watched you collapse, and it terrified me. I wondered if you'd wake up, and if it would be my fault if you didn't. I left you here. And yes, it is hypocritical of me to worry about you when I did… leave you here. I'm a coward. I just didn't want to watch you get hurt. But I trust you to make your own decisions. I think you're smart and selfless, and I'm proud of you. I have no right to be, but I am. So I'll try my best to support you, on your terms."
He let out a long breath, eyes scanning her face.
Hally released him, giving him a warm smile. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"
The Doctor pulled a face, half-nodding. "No, it was horrible. Terrible. I'm starving now and need to eat my feelings." He stood, extending a hand toward her. "Dinner?"
She nodded, the pair of them making their way downstairs. Her kitchen was rather busy. Jack, Ianto, Amy, Rory, Rory's dad, and Lily were all gathered around the table, the air filled with chatter and the scent of Chinese takeaway.
"Mummy!" Lily called, her face lighting up.
Hally bent down to give her daughter a kiss before sitting. Rory and Brian were already serving food. "Why Mummy sleeping?" Lily asked, her little face curious.
Hally kissed her again, pulling her onto her lap. "Mummy was a little bit tired, but I'm feeling much better now."
Lily pouted but soon nodded in acceptance.
"Can I have a cuddle?" Hally asked, watching as Lily pretended to think about it before nodding and wrapping her tiny arms around her. Hally smiled, holding her daughter close as Lily babbled happily in her ear, occasionally poking her cheek.
"She says you give the best cuddles," The Doctor chimed in, his tone light and teasing.
Hally shot him a playful look. "Does she now?"
Lily grinned mischievously, using the momentary distraction to tug on her mother's hair. Hally gave her a knowing look. "We've talked about this."
Lily giggled, her words a jumble of nonsense but filled with insistence.
"…and that you need a haircut," The Doctor translated with a smirk.
"I speak baby."
Hally glared at him, playful but with a hint of real menace. "No, you don't."
"I do," he repeated, more emphatically.
Amy chuckled, rolling her eyes. "You always say that."
"Well, I do."
Across the table, Jack gave Lily a wave. "Can Uncle Jack have a cuddle too?" he asked with a grin.
Lily pouted dramatically, then broke into a mischievous smile. "No."
Jack feigned offence, clutching his heart as if wounded, which only made Lily laugh louder.
Later, as The Doctor prepared to leave with Rory and Amy, he handed Hally her phone. "There. Mobile and direct line to the TARDIS. Call. Whenever."
"You can call too, you know," she reminded him with a small smile.
"I know. I will." He returned her smile, softer this time.
"And I was thinking, next Sunday, 2 p.m.? Family dinner? Smaller, this time. I'll bring food."
Hally smiled, nodding. "That sounds good. Don't be late."
He chuckled. "I won't." He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. "Weekend after, I thought we could take her to the zoo?"
Hally nodded slowly, considering. "Okay. We can plan at dinner."
The Doctor smiled, pulling her gently into a hug.
She hugged him back.