I litteraly forgot to post the chapter here, sorry. I think about continuing to post only on ao3, but I don't, because I know I have readers on other platforms.
EDIT: for the ones who want to read it on ao3, sorry if you couldn't find it on google (or whatever search browser), it was clicked restricted to only registered account, so bots couldn't copy my work and IA wouldn't use it to improve. So, here it is : /works/46889032
It was like a dream. It felt like a dream. Bursts of plasma erupted on either side of her, elegantly curling around the Tardis. It was such a breathtaking sight, almost unreal and yet. Right in the middle of the storm that was raging in the Horsehead Nebula, Alvia was in pure awe. It was such an overwhelming vision of how beautifully and chaotically space could be.
"What's fascinating about the Nebula is that the so-called Horsehead, from which it gets its name, is in fact just a massive cluster of interstellar dust and gases. Made of comet dust, meteorite grains, just as thin as the thinnest sand on Earth," explained the Doctor softly, as if he didn't wish to break the peaceful mood with a louder tone.
His explanations, delivered in a gentle voice, were meant only for her ears. At first, Rose was filled with excitement, but over time, her interest waned, and she turned away from the open doors of the TARDIS. Carrying her bag of clothes, she aimlessly wandered down the corridor, seeking a place to settle in.
Tendrils of glowing red plasma burst into existence before her eyes, swirling and dancing like an endless fireworks display. The mesmerizing sight was so close that she could almost feel the tingling warmth on her fingertips, prompting her to instinctively raise her hand. Before she could fully immerse herself in the spectacle, an arm wrapped around her, pulling her back and bringing her back against a firm chest.
Reluctantly tearing her gaze away from the captivating plasma storm, Alvia locked eyes with the Doctor, silently acknowledging his presence.
"Don't take another step, the TARDIS field stops at the doors. If you were to fall off the TARDIS, I wouldn't be able to catch you," he said, devoid of any reprimand in his tone.
Alvia felt a tinge of embarrassment for her momentary lapse in attention but nodded, understanding the importance of his warning. However, her focus quickly returned to the storm outside, and she couldn't help but indulge in dreaming and wondering.
"I wonder…" she mused aloud, "I wonder if my home world ever witnessed anything as awe-inspiring as this."
A pang of sadness gripped her heart, and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.
"All those wonders waiting to be discovered back home, things I will never have the chance to see..." Alvia's voice quivered with a mix of longing and sorrow.
The Doctor's grip tightened; his heart heavy with the knowledge that he couldn't help her return to her world. Her home existed beyond the boundaries of the universe, concealed in an inaccessible realm alongside countless other universes and the Void. The rift that had brought her to this place had closed immediately, severing any possibility of her return. She was forever trapped here. He knew it, he had looked for it with his TARDIS.
"I've always known that there were marvels I would never witness, as humanity was only at the cusp of uncovering the beauty of our world. I understood that future generations would embrace sights I could only dream of. But now, I can only mourn for the future that was taken from me, stolen away before it could become my reality," Alvia's voice quivered with a mixture of grief and resignation.
"I can always show you the marvels of humanity, the discoveries that lie within the vast expanse of diverse galaxies. We can witness first-hand how the future of you species unfolds before our eyes," the Doctor offered, a glimmer of hope in his voice.
Alvia turned to face him, a bittersweet smile on her lips as she leaned her head against his chest. "The future won't be the same. These people, they are not my people, not of my kind. Everything is different, and I can feel it… deep within me. It's tearing me apart," she confessed, her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and acceptance. She looked up at him once more, gratitude shining in her eyes. "But I genuinely appreciate the offer, Doctor. I truly do."
The Doctor felt that there was much more to her words than she was letting on.
"However, I have no desire to be reminded of what I have lost. You, of all people, understand that sentiment better than anyone," Alvia expressed, her gaze locked on the Doctor, her words brimming with intense passion and curiosity, "Instead, I yearn to explore the unknown, to experience the world with the wide-eyed wonder of a child, embracing the boundless possibilities that lie before me. I want to feel minuscule in the face of the vast universe, overwhelmed by its magnificence."
Her voice resonated with determination as she continued, "I yearn to behold planets that defy imagination, to encounter tastes and sensations beyond the grasp of my senses. I crave the beauty of melodies and conversations in languages foreign to my understanding, amidst atmospheres and gravitational forces unlike anything on Earth. I hunger for more than what humanity and the Earth can provide. I long to behold the stars and venture beyond their realms. I wish to experience the searing heat of a supergiant's transformation into a hypernova and the chilling cold of a distant star. I crave everything the universe has to offer. That, Doctor, is what I truly desire."
"You are asking for a lot. One might think that you are greedy," he remarked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he acknowledged her fervent desires.
"Ah, but you'll soon discover that I'm more than just greedy, Doctor," she countered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as her fingers glided along the supple leather of his jacket. "And can you really blame me? All I want is to immerse myself in the unknown, to encounter fresh experiences. I've already witnessed a great deal of it alongside you – even if you were unaware of it. That's the inherent challenge with knowledge. So… consider it a challenge, Doctor— amaze me."
The Doctor took her words more seriously than expected. She often found the Doctor indecisive about their next destination, struggling to choose from various locations. Nevertheless, she loved every place the Doctor had taken her, even if chaos ensued and they had to run for their lives with Rose to save the day.
From a planet of giant, multi-coloured birds to the birth of galaxies nine trillion light years away from Earth, and the coronation of a queen with sharp features and surrealistic beauty, Alvia felt like she was living in a dream world. However, reality and life's injustices would bring her back to her feet, especially when they arrived too late to help. It broke Alvia's heart to realise that many lives could have been saved if they hadn't lingered too long in the TARDIS or in front of the strange yet beautiful scenery of a distant planet. It pained her even more to see the Doctor blaming himself for every death he couldn't prevent.
Rose was keenly aware of the Doctor's deteriorating mood with each death he witnessed. With deep empathy, she tried to uplift him by suggesting visits to new planets in the future or trips back in time to meet influential figures from human history. However, these efforts often fell short. The Doctor would dismiss her assistance with a half-hearted "I'm fine" and retreat into brooding while repairing the TARDIS.
But Alvia saw through this facade; she knew that his "I'm fine" was merely a lie. During those moments when the Doctor would huddle under the console, fixing TARDIS circuits with the sonic screwdriver in his mouth, Alvia felt the urge to divert him from his dark thoughts. She would share anecdotes from her own world, highlighting historical differences, particularly those of the twentieth and twenty-first century.
Living with the Doctor and Rose proves challenging for Alvia, as they have contrasting preferences when it comes to relaxation, fun, and entertainment. Rose finds tranquillity in spending a peaceful day on a warm sandy beach, with clear water and delightful sunny weather. However, for Alvia, whose skin tone and hair color evoke thoughts of the Irish, basking under a hot sun is the opposite of relaxation. Additionally, the Doctor has an unwavering stance against removing his leather jacket outside the TARDIS.
The three of them have distinct ideas of what constitutes fun. While one is an adrenaline junkie – despite their reluctance to admit it, another prefers to immerse themselves in hours of contemplation amid a starry landscape, and the third takes pleasure in exploring lively new destinations.
Finding common ground, especially between Alvia and Rose, initially proved complicated. However, Alvia swiftly matured beyond the age of petty disputes and particularly against Rose. Besides, the Doctor loathed domestic , especially in his TARDIS. To simplify matters, they established a straightforward and effective system. Each person could make one request, and if Alvia or Rose were still up for another adventure, the Doctor would eagerly send the TARDIS, with a wide grin and gleaming eyes, hurtling through the Time Vortex to a random destination where they were needed.
Of course, this was when they weren't already being drawn to a peculiar signal or when they hadn't accidentally collided with a spaceship in space or even when the Doctor seemed in the mood to show off and impress his two humans by showing them worlds and wonders beyond their imagination.. There were also occasions when the elongated appendages of a colossal squid residing within the Time Vortex struck them, forcefully ejecting them into an unexpected location.
But in the end, they quickly found their way, their habits, their rhythm – especially Alvia's and Rose's. Bringing life, laughter, and joy back into the TARDIS. Leading the Doctor to move on.
In due course, they effortlessly fell into step, synchronizing their habits and finding their unique harmony, particularly Alvia and Rose.
Their presence breathed life, laughter, and boundless joy into the TARDIS, reigniting its vibrant spirit. As a result, the Doctor felt compelled to move forward, embracing the new chapter that was unfolding before him.
Rare was the time when everyone preferred to stay inside the TARDIS. In the infinite comfort and warmth that this magnificent sentient time machine offered. But it did happen. Generally, the three inhabitants living in the bowels of the TARDIS lived their own little lives, seeing each other only through meals or crossing paths in a particular room like the library or the cinema.
But there were times when two of them were minding their own business in the same room.
Once, Alvia embraced the opportunity for a leisurely day within the cosy confines of the TARDIS. Relishing the chance to delve into the sequel of Good Omens, a book she had purchased months prior to meeting the Doctor and that didn't exist in her own world—a literary venture left incomplete. After a thrilling yet freezing adventure mere hours ago, Alvia yearned to nestle in a warm cocoon of comfort, cosiness, and serenity. To ensure this moment of blissful reprieve, Alvia made her way to the TARDIS library, claiming one of the reading armchairs positioned near the crackling fireplace she had thoughtfully kindled for this occasion. She then retreated to her room, she changed into a more comfortable outfit, and gathering the desired book and her glasses. Simultaneously, she brewed a pot of tea from her selection, readily available for such occasions.
Returning to the library, Alvia's excitement swelled as she discovered a low table adorned with a pair of delicate glass teacups placed next to her chosen armchair. A soft cushion and a snug blanket awaited her, presumably arranged alongside the small table to enhance her reading experience.
Noticing the absence of anyone else in the library, Alvia glanced up and directed her inquiry towards the TARDIS itself, seeking confirmation if it was responsible for the cosy arrangements. She interpreted the gentle humming emanating from the TARDIS as a positive response. With a warm smile and a word of gratitude, Alvia settled into the plush armchair, draping the blanket over her crossed legs, and placing a pre-prepared cup of tea within easy reach. Putting on her glasses, Alvia activated one of her favourite music playlists on her phone, creating a melodic backdrop for her reading session. Turning to the first page of the opening chapter, she immersed herself in the world of the book.
Time seemed to pass effortlessly as Alvia savoured the blissful solitude in the library. She journeyed through at least two dozen songs, completing four chapters of her book, and replenishing her cup of tea until Alvia was no longer alone. The Doctor, stripped of his trademark leather jacket, was drawn to a melody that reached his ears. Pausing in his tracks, he beheld the scene before him, captivated by the sight.
It felt peculiar to witness someone settling in so comfortably within his TARDIS, his home. Yet, the sensation was far from unpleasant. In fact, he found it was rather pleasing and appreciated. For many of his former companions, the TARDIS served primarily as a means of transportation with a solitary sleeping quarter. Yet, there were exceptions among them—individuals like Susan, oh dear Susan, or Sarah Jane and Romana —who had transformed the TARDIS into a sanctuary, a second home. The mere thought of his granddaughter and Romana, lost forever in the merciless inferno of the Time War, as well as his former companion and dear friend whom he had left in Croydon with his faithful dog and hadn't dared to encounter since, stirred a profound ache within his two hearts.
Shaking off the waves of melancholy, the Doctor ventured closer, drawn by the captivating music that had resonated through the TARDIS corridors. It originated from here, emanating from Alvia's phone. The device bore an updated design that had yet to come into existence, at least not for another decade as far as the Doctor could discern. It dawned upon him that Alvia had never divulged the specific year she hailed from until this very moment, leaving him intrigued and eager to learn more.
As the initial arpeggiated notes of the 'The Last of Us' theme resonated, the Doctor's attention fixated on the tea set, with particular focus on the second teacup eagerly awaiting to be filled. Curiosity piqued, he gently raised the lid of the teapot and inclined himself slightly to catch a whiff of the aromatic tea nestled within.
"Green tea?" he guesses, attempting to discern the remaining elements composing the tea.
"And flowers, mainly roses." Alvia added, turning a page before she drew her attention away from her book. "Wanna give a try?"
"Were you expecting me?" the Doctor inquired, pulling another armchair closer to the small table.
"No, I was fine on my own," Alvia responded candidly, delicately pouring the still-warm tea into the awaiting cup. "I didn't sweeten the tea, by the way."
"Thanks," acknowledged the Doctor, interjecting before she could pour more tea. "Then why the second cup?"
"Must be the TARDIS. When I returned here with the tea and my book, there were two cups," Alvia shrugged nonchalantly.
The Doctor's eyebrows arched, displaying a slight surprise at the TARDIS's action, yet he remained silent, opting instead to drink the tea that had been served to him.
He added two lumps of sugar and then, delicately, he sipped the warm liquid from his cup, allowing the tea's floral and fruity aroma to fill his nose. As the refined and sweet tea caressed his palate, it became evident that it was indeed a green tea. Its taste was candid, while the hint of rose on his tongue proved to be more understated and velvety than he had anticipated. Undoubtedly, it was a fine tea, exuding a sense of quality. However, it failed to suit his personal preferences—too light and lacking the enduring essence he sought.
Placing the cup back on the surface, a frown of frustration marred his countenance, as though something crucial was absent.
"Not to your liking?" inquired Alvia, her voice tinged with curiosity.
"It's just..." began the Doctor, his expression thoughtful.
"Not strong enough? You appear—well, this incarnation appears to have a preference for simplicity and boldness. Maybe black tea would align better with your palate. Of course, that's merely my assumption; I could be wrong," Alvia interjected, gracefully sliding a bookmark into her book.
"No, you're right. I've drunk black tea before; it's more up my alley," the Doctor admitted.
"Ah, well, I shall keep that in mind for the future," Alvia replied, a gentle smile gracing her lips.
"The future?" questioned the Doctor, a hint of intrigue in his voice.
"I have an affinity for tea, in all its forms, and I enjoy exploring new blends. It's a cherished moment for me, accompanied by a book and music. You're more than welcome to join me for a cup in the future."
A wave of unexpected embarrassment washed over the Doctor, leaving him momentarily flustered. Alvia remained oblivious to the cause, her curiosity yet be piqued.
"Well... um, thank you," he responded, his throat clearing as he drained the last remnants from his cup.
Observing the Doctor's evident embarrassment, Alvia felt compelled to offer an apology.
"Oh, sorry, I'm very passionate about tea. I can't help myself and share it. And it must be too domestic for you." Alvia remarked, mustering a slight chuckle to alleviate the tension
"Oh no, it's fine!" he reassured her. "I wasn't expecting it. It's just... I haven't experienced such a heartfelt connection with one of my companions in quite some time."
Alvia couldn't suppress the gentle swell of warmth and joy blossoming within her chest. Even though it was a subtle acknowledgement, the Doctor regarded her as one of his companions. However, as swiftly as the joy had arrived, it dissipated, giving way to a mix of sadness and empathy.
Putting aside her cup of tea and her book and the blanket on her legs, Alvia stretched over the arm of the armchair to take his hand, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand to comfort him.
The Doctor remained transfixed, his gaze locked onto their bound hands, enveloped in a profound silence. The ethereal voice of soprano Melanie Pappenheim permeated the room, intertwining with the delicate notes of the piano and resonating bass. The library was steeped in a bittersweet atmosphere, as the flickering flames from the fireplace bestowed an enchanting play of light upon their countenances and elongated their still forms into dancing silhouettes across the floor.
Alvia, intimately familiar with this song, knew its melody by heart, having listened to it countless times. Yet, even after all this time, its haunting melody retained its powerful grip on her soul. A shiver cascaded up her spine, accompanied by the emergence of goosebumps that adorned her forearms. Her heart constricted, mirroring the tightness in her throat, and a single and solitary tear traced its path down her face.
As the piano's final notes resonated through the library, he Doctor's attention was drawn to the solitary tear gliding down Alvia's cheek.
"Alvia?" he said, his voice laced with concern.
The sight seemed to jolt Alvia out of her reverie. Meeting his worried gaze, she finally acknowledged the moisture on her cheek.
"Oh," she murmured softly, releasing her hold on the Doctor's hand, causing him to miss the warmth he hadn't realised he had been yearning for. She gently wiped away the tear, allowing a fleeting moment of vulnerability to pass between them. "I'm alright. Music always has an effect on me," she reassures gently, reaching for her phone to turn off the music, "Especially this song."
"Has it any meaning for you?"
Alvia's gaze drifted towards the crackling fire, her eyes seemingly fixed on a distant realm beyond the dancing flames. Moments passed before her attention returned to the Doctor. Though she offered no verbal response, the poignant smile etched upon her lips and the anguish reflecting in her eyes conveyed a depth of emotion far surpassing any words that could have been spoken.
With a swift yet graceful motion, Alvia concluded her tea and rose from the armchair, gathering her belongings. Placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder, she offered a tender squeeze while softly informing him of her intention to retire for the night.
Silently, Alvia departed the library, leaving the Doctor to contemplate the vacant space where she had recently occupied. He would remain in the library for countless hours, eventually finding solace within the pages of a Charles Dickens novel, his original purpose forgotten as he was captivated by the allure of her music.
Pain, chill, overheating, and blurred vision were the initial sensations she experienced upon awakening this time. It was a familiar sensation, but not a pleasant one. These symptoms were her body's defense mechanism against the illness that had taken hold of her. Alvia was unwell, and her body was making it evident. She knew there was nothing to be done in her current condition except to rest and take care of herself.
However, her body refused to comply. No matter how fatigued, depleted, and achy she felt, she couldn't achieve a proper sleep; instead, she drifted in and out of slumber. What an exasperating situation. Her lungs were ablaze, and she couldn't suppress the urge to cough. She despised coughing. It caused her pain, leaving her even more drained than before. It was agonizing. When she fell ill and her lungs were affected—already weakened and delicate—they remained in a constant state of dull agony until she fully recovered.
She contemplated taking a shower—whether hot or cold didn't matter—as long as it brought relief, when she heard her mother's voice echoing her thought.
"Ama?"
But there was no response from her mother. She wasn't there. It was merely a figment of her imagination, a mirage conjured by the illness and sorrow that resided within her heart and mind. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She yearned for the comforting sound of her mother's voice and her reassuring presence, longing for her mother's love and attention. The absence weighed heavily on her. Mourning the loss of her family, trembling beneath the covers, coughing until her lungs threatened to give way, and slipping into a state of confusion, Alvia couldn't ascertain how long it took until she was no longer alone.
A cool hand gently pressed against her forehead, its fingers tenderly massaging her clammy skin, accompanied by a soothing hum that resonated in her ears.
"I wish you'd told me sooner, old girl," the Doctor murmured with concern, "She shouldn't be this sick."
The Doctor had been pulled away from repairing the temporal signal detector when the TARDIS nudged him to check on Alvia. Her intense bout of coughing had sounded particularly alarming. Guided by the TARDIS, he made his way to Alvia's room and discovered the condition of his companion, deepening his worries upon hearing one of her harsh coughs.
The sonic screwdriver proved unhelpful. It couldn't provide a precise diagnosis of her condition, beyond confirming the obvious fact that she was unwell. A more thorough analysis was required, one that could be conducted in his medical bay. Setting aside his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor gently uncovered her body, preparing to lift her into his arms. His eyes traced the invisible scar resting against her throat before shifting to the intricate lines and colourful patterns adorning her pale skin. The artwork on her body could have captivated him for hours, each piece with its own significance, if it weren't for her alarming state.
Setting aside his curiosity, he carried Alvia to the medical bay and carefully settled her onto one of the beds. He proceeded to conduct a comprehensive examination. Every possible test that came to mind was employed – physical and psychological evaluations, blood tests, monitoring her heart, and conducting various X-rays. Some tests had to be omitted, deemed too invasive for her current condition. Nevertheless, with his advanced technology and the data gathered from his tests, he acquired a near-perfect understanding of her medical history. From her childhood bout of double ear infection to the exhaustive list of medications she had taken throughout her life.
He went to great lengths to ensure she hadn't contracted any non-terrestrial diseases during their visits to alien planets. However, upon entering the TARDIS, his spaceship would have safeguarded against any such threats, making them incapable of surviving inside.
The test results were unequivocal: she was in perfect health, aside from a slight iron deficiency and a marginally elevated sugar level, which posed no cause for concern. Yet, observing her frail form trembling to the point of potential bone breakage, uttering incomprehensible words in various languages, including her native tongue, it was difficult to reconcile with the test results. However, there it was, displayed in black and white on the screen beside him: Alvia, a perfectly healthy human from 21st century Earth. Just from a different universe – Oh. A different universe.
He hadn't accounted for that, how foolish of him. That particular aspect turned out to be the most significant. She hailed from a distinct universe, and of course, this one held enough dissimilarities to make her unwell.
With further analysis and examination he finally discovered exactly what was wrong with Alvia. His assumption that her immune system mirrored that of a human from this universe had been a grave oversight, as had her microbiota. In reality, she was akin to a new-born, utterly defenceless against the diseases of this particular universe. How long had she resided here? It was fortunate that she fell ill with him at her side and not earlier, and even more fortunate that her affliction was something as easily treatable as the common cold. Although more potent due to her distinct immune system and microbiota, it posed no fatal threat, and with the appropriate treatment, she'd be back on her feet in no time.
"Docteur?"Alvia murmured in her mother tongue, casting a weary gaze at him.
"You're gonna be okay," the Doctor reassured, running a hand through her red hair. "I'll make sure of it."
"Qu'est-ce que j'ai?"
"Just the Common Cold."
"Doesn't feel like it," sniffed Alvia, responding in English with a distinct French accent.
"You're like a baby. Vulnerable to everything," The doctor said. "You'll have to get your shots, though sorry. It won't be a fun time."
"Can't be worse than the COVID vaccine…" She mutters.
"Covid ?" he frowned at the unfamiliar name.
Alvia made no reply, instead focusing on the screen displaying the complex concentric circles of the Time Lords' language.
"I should have known better; I should have checked you when you joined the TARDIS."
"How could you have known I'd be so sick? While it may seem logic, it's only a possibility."
"No. During my time at the Academy, studying parallel universes when interdimensional travel was still possible. My people always emphasized the importance of thorough decontamination before returning to the home universe. It was to prevent the introduction of potential diseases."
"Well, when you put it that way. We were kind of busy with the Slitheens when we first met. Then the Ataraxians, and then Justicia - Terrible place, never going back there again!"
"Yeah, we were," the Doctor let out a laugh, his lips stretching upwards in a faint smile.
With a slightly lifted atmosphere in the room, the Doctor proceeded to outline Alvia's upcoming days. She would need to remain in bed for a minimum of several days. First, he would take care of her common cold, providing the necessary treatment. Following that, he would administer a series of vaccinations, including those essential for humans to safeguard against diseases like smallpox and tetanus, along with a selection of others that he deemed crucial for her overall health and safety.
Over the next few days, Alvia endured a rather unpleasant state of being, feeling absolutely wretched, but gradually regaining her strength. The relief came as she noticed her lungs no longer burned, a positive sign. However, her respite was short-lived as the Doctor proceeded with the administration of various vaccines. While undergoing the vaccinations, Alvia took the opportunity to provide comprehensive details for her medical records. She mentioned her allergy to a penicillin-derived antibiotic, her occasional episodes of ophthalmic migraines, and her requirement for a specific painkiller during her menstrual periods, which occurred solely on the first day.
The Doctor attentively recorded all the information Alvia shared, displaying no visible reaction to the mention of her menstrual cycle.
"Anything else I should add?"
"Does depression count?" Alvia responded in a playful tone, yet her eyes... her eyes conveyed an entirely different story.
Within them, he could discern the presence of darkness and anguish, remnants of a much greater monster. Even her smile betrayed hints of weariness. But it wasn't mere weakness; it was exhaustion. An exhaustion that emerged only after a prolonged battle, an incessant war that ravaged everything in its wake and its surroundings. She was both a victim and a warrior in her own mind, embroiled in a relentless internal conflict.
"Yes. It does," he says. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Alvia let out a weary sigh. Then she leaned back against the back of her chair and removed her glasses and pulled them over her hair like a headband. She gave the impression that she was being forced to tell the same story over and over again. But this was a story that only a handful of people knew, and only she was in control of telling.
And so, she began to divulge her tale. She recounted how the world had succumbed to the grip of a global pandemic, a plague that had baffled scientists, leaving them uncertain of its origin. It was a disease that brought forth severe health complications and an unfathomable amount of death. She described the virus's relentless mutations, giving rise to numerous variants across various nations. She spoke of governments grappling to manage the crisis and the diverse reactions of the populace. The vaccines, hailed by some and denounced by others, played a pivotal role in the narrative.
Then came the lockdown.
It was during the confinement, within those darkened walls, that her own darkness thrived, nourished by her despair, anxiety, and isolation. The darkness touched her. It preyed upon her every ounce of resolve, rendering her voiceless. The darkness does not bargain. It does not reason. It is rot. And now it has taken hold, it will spread towards her head, the seat of the soul, until there is nothing left of her. She ran from it but brough it nearer. Led it to her.
Her cries for help echoed, but the demon lurking within recoiled at the outstretched helping hands. She believed she had emerged victorious, but the beast had not been vanquished. It lay dormant in the recesses of her mind, licking its wounds and biding its time, only to resurface later. This calamity, this vile predator, resumed its hunt with murmurs and whispers deep within her consciousness. It clouded her rationality, contorting and perverting her thoughts, distorting her perception and emotions towards the world.
The world turned grey once more, as her will gradually diminished. Its decline was so subtle that she scarcely noticed. Tears once again traced their path down her cheeks, when the sun shone high in the sky and when the moon became her sole companion during the lonely hours of the night.
Then, it happened. She reached her lowest point, her vulnerability laid bare. The beast within seized control, rendering her powerless to resist. Grasping a knife, a cherished gift from her father bestowed many years ago—a blade of exquisite beauty but seldom used—she met the creature's gaze head-on. With unwavering determination, she locked eyes with the monstrous presence. She believed that everything would come to an end, that things would improve if only the beast perished, its lifeblood staining the floor of her bedroom.
In this waking nightmare. Where all dreams come true, she searched for control. A way to pull through.
With determination, she launched out to kill the beast.
Plunging the blade into the phantom form of the beast, only to witness the beast vanishing into thin air, taunting her with a mocking laughter in her troubled mind. Leaving her bereft of any sensation.
But then, the pain ensued.
Why should she experience pain when it was the beast that felt the sting of her knife ?
But, there was never a beast, nor a monster, nor a calamity.
There was only her, alone in her bedroom with her mind shattered and distorted. Her with the darkness.
This realisation shattered her further, plunging her into depths of despair, and once again she cried out for help, yearning for someone to hear her and offer solace in her darkest hour.
Family, friends, and dedicated professionals united in their efforts to help her rebuild the fragments of her fractured mind, working tirelessly to mend and restore her. Slowly but surely, she crafted a renewed resolve within her, one that surpassed its predecessor in strength and resilience. Yet, the battle against the beast within would not be swift. It demanded time and patience, as she diligently worked towards its ultimate defeat.
The beast could not be slain outright; its nature defied complete annihilation. It could only be weakened, silenced, and constrained, akin to the mythical Fenrir of Norse legends. Bound and banished, it lingered, never forgotten, patiently waiting for an opportunity to once again engulf her existence. Yet, with each passing day, she grew stronger, gaining the power to restrain the beast and prevent its consuming grasp.
Yet, she stood resolute, armed with newfound strength and resilience. With every resurgence, she would confront and subdue the beast, chaining it once again. And as time passed, the beast's appearances would dwindle until it faded entirely, vanishing from her consciousness, never to torment her again. With every defeat, the dark rot will grow and soon it will take her soul. But, for now at least, she still has control of her mind.
Depression was a terrible beast. A foe that would be fought in many a battle. And Alvia had all the weapons to fight it, and she was determined to never let it triumph again. The intricate design of a dark serpent skeleton, etched upon her forearm, stood as a poignant symbol of her resilience, concealing a wound that had faded into memory.
"For now, I am fine," she concluded, tracing with her fingertips the long spine of the reptile wrapped around her forearm. "But I know I won't always be."
"I'll be there for you, if you want me to."
The Doctor's hand gently glided along the intricate contours of the snake tattoo, his fingers entwining with the inked patterns upon her skin. Alvia's gaze remained fixed on him, her lips curving into a grateful smile. In that moment, time seemed to stretch, allowing her to bask in the comforting presence of the Doctor's touch.
Minutes stretched on, as Alvia surrendered herself to the tender warmth radiating from the Doctor's hand upon her arm. The delicate sensation of his thumb caressing the tattooed skin brought forth a subtle ripple of pleasure. Gratitude welled up within her, and she expressed it with a tender kiss upon the back of his hand, followed by an embracing gesture.
Nestling her face against the curve of his neck, she found solace in the protective shelter of his embrace. His arms enveloped her, their embrace offering both physical and emotional reassurance, creating a haven where she could find solace with him and respite from the battles she had faced.
"And I'll be there for you as well."