Chapter Ten: Mickey's Night In
[With Mickey]
Mickey has been traveling with them for a day now. He and Rose have just gone to their separate rooms for the night after staying up to watch The Fifth Element —an amusing choice given that they've just come from a spaceship. The Time Lords organize a movie night every week, and the Alchemist seems especially fond of the opera scene. She hummed along with it, and Mickey even caught her smiling.
Now, though, sleep is evading him. He's been tossing and turning for over an hour, and the persistent hum of the TARDIS isn't helping. Finally, he gives up, deciding a cup of tea might settle him. He heads to "Kitchen One," where he finds the warm kettle. He shrugs it off, too tired to think much of it, and prepares his tea—chamomile, just like his grandmother used to make on restless nights.
As he walks back through the corridor, he pauses. A soft, ethereal melody comes from the room to his left—the same song from The Fifth Element . Intrigued, Mickey approaches quietly and opens the door slightly. The music stops abruptly, and he finds the Alchemist sitting on a TARDIS blue velvet sofa, her expression one of surprise.
[TARDIS Library]
It was her singing, not a recording, he realizes.
"Mickey, what are you doing up?" she asks, concerned.
He steps into the library, closing the door behind him. He's been meaning to talk to her for a while now—might as well take the chance.
"I couldn't sleep, and then the TARDIS started humming, so I made some tea," he mumbles.
She winces slightly, then gestures to the sofa, offering him a seat. He joins her, setting his untouched cup of chamomile tea on a trivet. He notices her own cup nearby, an elegant teacup in contrast to his blue mug.
"Sorry about that," she sighs, "The humming is probably my fault. The TARDIS hums when I sing sometimes. I didn't realize it was loud enough to bother you."
"Yeah, it was pretty loud," Mickey says, leaning back, "I've heard it hum before, but it's fine. I was already awake."
There's a brief silence before she rolls her eyes, "Seems like the TARDIS doesn't want me to be alone right now. Guess she decided to bug you instead of the Doctor, who's holed up in his workshop."
"Are you alright?" he asks gently.
She hesitates, then offers a small, reluctant smile, "Honestly, I'm never really great, but tonight's been harder than I expected."
Mickey offers gently, "You don't have to talk about it, but I'll listen if you want to."
She smiles at that, "Yeah, might as well. I have to tell him later anyway; tonight's going to be rough, I'm sure," she pauses, then continues, "It's kind of... an anniversary for me. You know how I can always tell the exact time and day?"
Mickey nods, listening intently.
"I can do that anywhere, even across history. Today's the anniversary of meeting my best friend on Gallifrey. Not the exact time yet, but the date. The Gallifreyan clock rolled over just before movie night. That's why I chose The Fifth Element. It was his favorite," she explains, her voice softening with the memory.
Mickey frowns sympathetically, "He's gone, and you miss him a lot. So you're trying to remember him in your own way."
The Alchemist sighs, nodding, "Yeah. He was... brilliant. More brilliant than me, honestly. He was really into comics and sci-fi from all over the universe, obsessed with superheroes. He used to call me his 'Captain Alchemist,' saying I'd be like Captain Marvel one day with my Vortex abilities. Guess he wasn't that far off in the end."
Mickey smiles, trying to lighten the mood, "I love Marvel. When you dropped that Silver Surfer reference during the Slitheen thing, I almost lost it. And the 'Mister Freeze' line—classic."
She grins, "Yeah, I picked up comics just to keep up with him. I'm not as deep into them as he was, but I still read them for him. I can't say I was really into it all, but I do have a favorite character."
Mickey grins, crossing his arms excitedly, "Yeah? I'm more of a Marvel guy myself. The Hulk and Iron Man are the best if you ask me."
He rarely gets to talk about his love for comics, mostly with a few of the guys at work who dabble in reading but are more into video games.
The Alchemist laughs, "Yes! They're both fantastic. I love She-Hulk, though. Did you know some people think she can actually beat the Hulk? When Jen exercises as She-Hulk, she increases her strength and agility. It's wild!"
Mickey's eyes widen, "Wait, seriously? I didn't know that! I've only read her origin story. Guess I need to dive deeper into her comics."
The Time Lady shrugs, "You can. Just check the tablet in your room. It's all on there—every comic from Earth up to your timeline is in the library app. No future stuff, though, or books from off-world."
Mickey nods, "I'll do that. So, I take it She-Hulk's your favorite?"
"Her, and anyone out of Wakanda," she says thoughtfully, "That city is incredible. It reminds me a bit of what home should have been."
Mickey smirks, "No love for the time travelers, huh?"
She laughs, "I have this theory that the Two-Gun Kid might be the Doctor. You know, minus the guns... and it hasn't happened yet."
Mickey's jaw drops, "Wait, seriously? Why?"
"Just a feeling," she says with a knowing smile, "I get them sometimes because of my Vortex connection. I usually don't tell anyone, so consider yourself lucky. And honestly, it just sort of fits. Besides, most other comic time travelers are villains."
Mickey chuckles, nodding, "Yeah, that makes sense. So... have you always been able to sing?"
"Oh, uh, no," she admits, blushing slightly, "Most of my previous bodies could barely hold a tune. But this one—according to the TARDIS, I'm a coloratura soprano. That means I can sing high, light, and fast. Lately, I've been doing a lot of opera metal and arias."
He blinks, "Wait—opera metal? What's that?"
The Time Lady grins, "Exactly what it sounds like. I'll send some bands to your tablet later so you can check it out."
"Do you sing for the Doctor too? Or just when you're alone?" Mickey asks.
She shrugs casually, "Sometimes. Mostly, I just hum or whisper-sing for him. He's into punk these days, so I don't go all out. But I did manage to sing 'Dreams' by The Cranberries for him once. It's more pop-punk, I think? I had to look it up afterward."
"You two, you have a really nice relationship. It's like you just get each other on a whole other level," Mickey comments.
The Alchemist raises a brow, "That's because we do, Mickey. We're telepathic and empathic. The Doctor and I share a bond—a telepathic and empathic connection. We can talk in each other's minds and constantly feel each other's emotions, including pain."
Mickey's eyes widen, "Wait, seriously?"
She sighs, nodding, "Yep. It's why we sometimes give each other those funny looks—it's not just a look; it's a conversation. Rose... doesn't fully grasp just how deep that connection goes still. I even nearly threatened to throw her into a supernova if she didn't back off," She pauses, then adds, "Time Lords don't just marry in the way humans do. We're Bonded Soulmates or Bondmates. It's a physical, mental, and emotional connection."
Mickey frowns, "So... you fall in love once, and that's it?"
"Exactly," she explains, "Happens when we meet each other's eyes for the first time. It's called Meeting Eyes. Once we bond, there's no separation—ever. No such thing as divorce for us because it's not necessary. We're literally made for each other. And we don't see gender the way humans do. Time Lords are essentially non-binary; our pronouns reflect our current form, male or female. But it doesn't change how we feel. No matter how we regenerate, we'll always love each other."
Mickey hums in thought, nodding as if it's all starting to click. But, admittedly, he's still unsure what "non-binary" means.
"I get most of that," Mickey says, "but I'm still confused about the non-binary part."
The Alchemist nods understandingly, "Yeah, it's not as widely known in your time yet. But it's getting there. Right now, singular gender pronouns are common, but in about three years, you'll start hearing more about people using they/them/their pronouns. There are a lot of different ones, honestly. There's more to it than just male and female—many ways people express their gender. You can already read up on it if you're curious."
Mickey nods, "A friend of mine is trans. He's mentioned there's a lot out there about different LGBTQ identities."
"It's actually going to expand soon into LGBTQIA. There are so many identities when it comes to gender and sexuality, more than what can fit into one acronym. So it keeps growing."
Mickey raises his brows, "They should just call it 'plus' and not leave anyone out."
The Alchemist grins, "That's a good idea! Who knows, recommend it, and maybe it'll influence your world's future. Time's always in flux, which would be a positive change."
"What do you think I might be? I'm only into women, I identify as male, and I want, uh, a solid, exclusive relationship," the man says.
The Alchemist stretches her arms and exhales a long sigh, "Honestly, Mickey, it'd be better if you looked it up yourself. This is something you need to figure out—not rely on someone else's answer. Be true to yourself, you know?"
Mickey shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"What?" she asks.
"You're something else, Ally. Thanks for always sticking up for me," he says.
The Time Lady rolls her eyes, "I shouldn't have to. My idiot of a Bondmate tends to either not think or not think before speaking. He's also rude."
"Rose seems to ignore it," he can't help but comment.
"Rose is also foolish and has no issue with having committed genocide. I'm trying to get along with her. I am. But a lot of things bother me about her," she mutters.
Mickey frowns slightly, "You really think she didn't care?"
The Time Lady gazes into the fire momentarily, a thoughtful look crossing her face. She taps her nose three times, her expression distant.
"I could smell it, Mickey. She didn't fully understand at the time. She was angry, and she blamed me for the Doctor's Regeneration. She feared the Daleks, yes, but it was more about her own fear than anything else. Later on, sure, she came to terms with it... but at that moment, I don't think she realized the weight of what had happened."
Mickey bites his lip, "I'm sorry, Ally."
The Alchemist shakes her head gently, "You don't need to be sorry for me. It's something she'll need to figure out herself," she lets out a long, slow breath, then leans back, her gaze turning to the stars above in the vaulted ceiling, "I just hope she comes to understand one day. I don't hate her, Mickey. It's complicated. She's impulsive, stubborn, and maybe a little too human for my taste sometimes... but I don't hate her."
Mickey watches her quietly, uncertain of what to say.
After a moment, he murmurs, "You're much more patient than I'd be."
The Alchemist chuckles softly, "Patience isn't always a choice when you're as old as I am. It becomes a way of life. Besides, we're all just trying to make our way through this chaotic mess of existence, aren't we?"
Mickey nods, "Yeah... and sometimes, it's a lot easier when someone like you has got your back."
"That's what I'm here for, Mickey. You've got my back, too, right?"
"Always," he replies without hesitation.
She nods, satisfied, and turns her attention to him.
"Where do you want to go tomorrow, Mickey?" she asks, her tone light and inviting.
"I get to choose?" he asks, his face lighting up with excitement as he turns toward her.
The Time Lady frowns slightly, tilting her head. "Of course you can. Anywhere and anywhen."
"Can we go meet Stan Lee? You know, back when he was really writing comics and stuff?" Mickey asks hopefully,
"I don't see why not! We haven't met him yet. Hmm..." she mutters, pulling a sleek, futuristic tablet from her side.
Mickey's jaw drops as a hologram springs to life from the device, projecting vibrant, shifting screens into the air. His own tablet they gave him feels like a prehistoric relic by comparison.
"Yeah, the Doctor and I have more advanced versions," she explains casually.
The hologram adjusts and morphs as she navigates it deftly, quickly scanning through historical data.
"Looks like he was living in Manhattan with his family from time to time between '75 and '80, but working in the city every day then. We should go in '80," she says, her voice gaining a spark of excitement. "Ooh! We could catch the Ramones with AC/DC headlining at CBGB's. They played April 1st, 2nd, and 3rd that year. How about April 1st? It's a Thursday—Stan will definitely be in his office, and it's April Fools. Perfect timing," the Time Lady concludes, practically buzzing with enthusiasm.
"CBGB's, too? You need to plan more trips," Mickey laughs, his grin wide and genuine.
She shrugs nonchalantly, "I do, but I usually let the Doctor explain them. He gets so hyped up about where we're going. I like to see him bounce around like an excited puppy."
The Alchemist's eyes widen, and she gasps in delight. Without hesitation, she dives back into her tablet, her fingers flying across the holographic interface as she mutters to herself.
"Wait, wait, wait! Oh, yes. This is going to be good. I just need to call him to grab a flight—or maybe we'll just pick him up," she mumbles, her tone brimming with mischief and excitement.
Mickey yawns, asking, "Call who?"
The Alchemist doesn't immediately answer, too absorbed in her plans. Then, with a sly grin, she glances at him, "You'll see. Let's just say this trip might get even more interesting than you imagined."
Mickey groans, half amused and resigned, "You're always up to something, Ally. I just hope I survive it."
"You will," she says with a wink, "But surviving isn't the same as not being surprised, Mickey. Remember that."
The door to the library swings open, and the Doctor strides in, grinning ear to ear. It closes softly behind him with a faint hiss.
"You've got an idea, and it's a good one, apparently!" he exclaims as he bounces into the chair by the fireplace, practically radiating energy.
The Time Lady grins, her eyes sparkling, "Mickey, you explain, and then go back to bed so I can tell the Doctor the surprise."
Mickey chuckles, rubbing his eyes sleepily, "Well, Ally asked what I wanted to do tomorrow, so I said we should go see Stan Lee. She picked 1980, found the perfect day, and everything. And after that, we're going to CBGB's for the Ramones and AC/DC on April Fools' Day."
The Doctor claps his hands and punches the air in delight, "Amazing idea! Both of you! I love it. Now, I need to know the rest because she's way too excited for it to be just that."
Mickey smirks at the Doctor's enthusiasm, "You two really do feel each other's... feelings, huh?"
The Doctor and the Alchemist nod in unison.
"Yeah, it's tough at times," the Time Lord admits, scratching the back of his neck, "But otherwise, it's wonderful."
"More wonderful than tough," the Alchemist adds softly, her gaze warm as it flickers to the Doctor.
Mickey shakes his head with a tired laugh, "You two are something else. Anyway, goodnight. Try not to wake me up again unless it's world-ending. Or galaxy-ending."
"Goodnight, Mickey," the Alchemist says with a grin, while her Bondmate waves at him as he trudges toward the doors.
[With Mickey]
Mickey returns to his room, his steps heavy but content. He's out like a light when his head hits the pillows, breathing deep and steady. He doesn't even realize the cup of his Grandma's secret recipe chamomile tea still sitting untouched in the library.
[TARDIS Library]
"Mickey's a good guy," the Alchemist comments as soon as she hears his footsteps fade down the corridor.
The Doctor stands, moving to the couch and settling beside his wife, draping an arm around her shoulders now that they're alone.
"Starting to see that, yeah," he says with a small smile. "And it is a great idea. But you were sad earlier—what's going on?"
She hesitates, leaning into his side, her voice soft when she finally answers, "It's August 21st for Gallifrey."
The Doctor's expression shifts, his eyes filled with understanding. He presses a gentle kiss to her hair.
"I know," he murmurs, "He'd be so proud of you, Amara. The Achiever would be so, so proud."
The Alchemist nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, "Mickey and I were talking about comics. It helped push the pain away a bit. That's how we ended up with the idea of seeing Stan Lee. We never did meet him, you know."
The Doctor hums thoughtfully, resting his chin against her head, "That's a brilliant way to celebrate the Achiever, too—creative, inspiring, and just enough chaos."
She lets out a small laugh, tinged with sadness, "He'd probably spend the whole time pitching his own ideas to Stan."
"And Stan would've loved it," the Doctor replies, his grin softening. "He'd laugh, listen, and probably steal one of his ideas for the next big thing."
The Alchemist smiles faintly, her gaze fixed on the flickering firelight, "It's strange, you know? Some days, it feels like it's been forever, and others, like it was just yesterday."
The Doctor squeezes her hand gently, "Grief's like that. It doesn't disappear—not entirely. I've been out of the war longer than you, and I can tell you, it comes and goes."
She turns to look at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, "I know, Theta. He's still here, though, isn't he? In the little things. In me. He was my best friend—he always had a way of leaving a mark on people, didn't he?"
"On you, me, and anyone lucky enough to know him."
They sit in silence, letting the warmth of the fire and their shared understanding fill the room. The Alchemist breathes deeply, trying to push back the sadness and recall that she's celebrating his life, not his loss.
Eventually, the Doctor breaks the quietude.
"So," he begins, "How do you think Stan Lee would react to a trio of time travelers showing up unannounced in his office?"
The Alchemist snorts, a genuine laugh breaking through her sadness, "He'd probably turn us into comic book characters. 'The Mad Doctor and the Magical Alchemist,' zipping around saving timelines and battling absurd villains in technicolor costumes. Ridiculous."
"And wildly successful," the Doctor grins, "We'd be everyone's favorite."
She chuckles, shaking her head. "He'd probably make the Achiever the main character, though. The dashing Time Traveler with impossible ideas."
"And the Achiever would've loved every second of it," the Doctor agrees, his eyes alight with curiosity, "All right, Amara, spill it. What's got you so excited?"
The Time Lady grins mischievously, leaning close, "You'll love this..."
"Yes, yes, what is it?" he asks eagerly, practically bouncing in his seat.
"Let's see if David is available," she replies, her excitement bubbling, "He's clean now and in Switzerland."
The Doctor's grin widens, "Brilliant idea! We'll call him and see if he's free—and how he'd like to join us if he can make it."
"It also means David and I are going to have another fashion-off," she adds, "This time at CBGB's. It's the perfect excuse for us to blend in, and with the right look, we'll waltz right into Stan Lee's office and even backstage at the show. We'll be an entourage."
The Doctor chuckles at her enthusiasm, leaning over to kiss her lips quickly.
His expression softens slightly in concern, "Why didn't you call me earlier? I would've checked on you sooner."
She shrugs, leaning back against the sofa, "The TARDIS had other plans. She wouldn't let Mickey sleep, humming loudly to keep him up. I think she wanted him to talk to me. I was planning to call you in eventually, but then—well, in you ran."
The Doctor smiles, resting his head briefly against hers, "I'm glad you talked to him. You calmed down pretty quickly after. Did I miss anything important?"
The Time Lady shakes her head, "Not really. He was a little surprised by Rose's reaction—or rather, her lack of reaction—to killing the Daleks. We touched on that briefly, but he mostly complimented our relationship and asked about it. We also ended up chatting about comics for a while."
He hums thoughtfully, "We still need to push Rose on that more. But I'm glad Mickey's in the loop about us. No issues there?"
"None," she confirms with a small laugh, "If anything, I think I wore him out with all the talking. He didn't even drink his tea."
The Doctor glances toward the untouched mug on the table and points at it, "Speaking of which—what is that, anyway?"
The Alchemist sniffs, her expression curious, "Chamomile, honey, milk, and turmeric. Not a bad combination for rest... but it's a bit burnt."
The Doctor wrinkles his nose slightly, "Poor Mickey."
"Agreed, burnt tea? Not my cuppa," the Alchemist winks.
The Doctor rolls his eyes and leans back, folding his arms with a grin, "You know I'm not dressing up for this, right? Punk glam isn't exactly my style."
The Alchemist huffs, "Ugh, you never dress up. You're no fun sometimes, you know that? A studded leather jacket and maybe some eyeliner wouldn't kill you."
"It's not about fun; it's about practicality," he retorts, waving a hand dismissively, "I'm not blending in if I'm tripping over ripped jeans or suffocating under some studded monstrosity. I'll just be... me. Timeless and charming."
She groans, smiling slightly, "Fine. You're lucky you can get away with 'timeless and charming.' But don't come complaining to me when the bouncers don't buy it."
The Doctor smirks, "Oh, they'll buy it. They always do."
The Alchemist shakes her head, settling back into the couch, though her playful demeanor dims slightly. Her fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on the armrest as her thoughts drift.
"What is it?" the Doctor asks, immediately picking up on her change in mood.
She hesitates, then sighs, "It's Rose. I can't shake the feeling she's still trying to... you know, get your attention. In that way."
"You think so? I thought she'd moved past all that."
"Not entirely," the Alchemist says quietly. "It's not just how she looks at you—it's how she behaves when I'm around. The little digs, the way she avoids me unless it's unavoidable. She's still holding onto something, Theta, and it's not just resentment over the Daleks or the Regeneration."
The Doctor exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair, "Maybe we need to sit her down again."
"Maybe, I don't know," she says softly, "But I do know how persistent she can be when she wants something. She's not warming to me, and it's like she's stuck in this loop of wanting things to go back to how they were."
"She'll have to face reality eventually," the Time Lord replies, "She needs to find her own path instead of trying to cling to mine."
The Alchemist nods but doesn't look entirely reassured, "I just don't want this tension to explode at the wrong moment. And with us taking Mickey on... she might see it as another slight, another reason to blame me for whatever's going wrong in her head."
The Doctor reaches over, taking her hand, "Then we handle it together like always. We'll listen if she wants to have a proper conversation about it. But we're not letting her issues ruin this trip or anything else we have planned. Agreed?"
"Agreed," she says, though her voice still carries a hint of worry.
"Good," the Time Lord replies, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, "Now, let's focus on the fun ahead. And if Rose has something to say, we'll deal with it when the time comes... or we'll make her deal with it and see what she says then."
The Alchemist nods, "You're right. We'll deal with it then. In the meantime, we've got to keep going. We've got an adventure to New York ahead of us, a fashion face-off with David, and the Ramones with AC/DC. You and I... We've always been a team, and nothing will change that."
The Doctor smiles, "Right you are. And besides, there's something uniquely satisfying about having a bit of chaos on the horizon. Keeps things interesting."
"Always does," she laughs, sitting up a little more, her tone lightening, "I've got to admit, I'm looking forward to seeing David again. We've got a lot of catching up to do."
The Doctor shifts slightly, glancing at the crackling fire, "It's been a while since we've had a proper, easy adventure like this. CBGB's, the Ramones, AC/DC..."
"Definitely. I've been itching for something that isn't so... serious. A bit of chaos, music, and fun—it's exactly what we need," the Alchemist smiles.
The Doctor nods, his grin returning. "And a bit of fashion. Can't forget the fashion face-off with David."
"Oh, it's on. He won't know what hit him."
"I'm sure he's been preparing," the Doctor teases, his fingers tapping on the armrest, "But I'm more interested in seeing you two go head-to-head. Will it be glamorous? Punk? Or just... pure madness?"
"Maybe all three," the Alchemist smirks, "But it's all in good fun. No matter what happens, we'll be making memories."
[Fated Pair Bedroom]
Their bedroom is warm and intimate, the fire in the hearth casting a soft, golden glow over the forest green and slate grey room. The gilded bindings of the thousands of books lining the walls glinting.
The Doctor and the Alchemist are seated in their respective chairs. In the Doctor's hands is a signed record sleeve, the iconic lightning bolt of Aladdin Sane catching the flickering light.
"You've been staring at that for ages," the Alchemist teases, "What's going on in that clever mind of yours?"
The Doctor tilts the sleeve thoughtfully, "Just thinking about Beckenham. About Bowie. About how Star Lady became Starman. "
The Alchemist chuckles, her gaze distant momentarily, "That was lifetimes ago, in our Fourth bodies... but it still feels like yesterday. Sitting under that tent with his guitar, he looked at me like my eyes held the whole universe."
"Well, they do," the Doctor says with a cheeky grin, "Can you blame the man? You've got stars in your eyes—literally. Of course, he was going to write a song about you."
She rolls her eyes with a laugh, "You're impossible. But he was something else, wasn't he? The way he could see people—not just who they were, but who they could be. That night, it was like he didn't just look at me; he saw right through me, into the stars themselves."
The Doctor leans forward, smiling tenderly, "And then he picked up his guitar, strummed the first few chords, and there it was. Right there. Like he'd been waiting his whole life for inspiration to sit across from him with galaxies in her eyes."
"He was so dramatic about it, too. 'Those aren't eyes,' he said, 'those are windows to the cosmos.' And you—oh, you—nearly spat your tea all over the place," the Alchemist laughs.
"I was caught off guard!" the Doctor protests, grinning, "I mean, really, here I was, trying to discuss Vortex manipulation and quantum physics, and suddenly I'm upstaged by David Bowie discovering his muse. "
"Jealous, were you?"
"Only a smidge," he admits, holding up his fingers in mock demonstration, "But mostly, I was proud. It was like he was catching a glimpse of the universe and turning it into something everyone could see."
The Alchemist's smile softens, "It was a beautiful moment. That first version of Star Lady was just him and his guitar. But it became something much bigger when he shared it with the world as Starman. Something infinite."
The Time Lord runs a hand through his hair, a quiet laugh escaping him, "It's about someone who can never truly settle, someone who is always searching for something, someone who connects with others because they understand what it means to be alone."
The Alchemist nods, her voice growing soft, "Yes, it started as something written for me, but it became so much more. It became about the three of us—about us always feeling a little out of sync with the world around us. And that's why it resonates with so many people. It's not just about one person, not about David, or even just about you, or just about me. It's about anyone who's ever felt like they didn't fit in, no matter who they are."
"And in the end, we all find our place, even if it's not where we expected."
The Time Lady chuckles lightly, "Exactly. The song became a song for everyone who's ever felt lost. But I'll always think of it as ours, you know? It's our story. We're both the Starman —always searching, never quite fitting in, but always moving forward... together."
The Doctor gives her a warm smile, his voice quiet but sincere, "You're right. It is our story. And I'm glad we were both there for it. For each other, and for everyone else who needed it."
The Alchemist leans in slightly, her voice almost a whisper, "And I think we always will be, Doctor. Two Starmen, wandering through time and space, trying to find a place to belong."
The Doctor smiles, "Well, maybe we've already found it, haven't we? Together."
"Maybe we haven't found all of it, though," she softly adds.
The Doctor's gaze drifts to the fire, his smile fading, "We're all looking for something... lost in the stars, waiting to be found."
The Alchemist's eyes narrow slightly, sensing the shift in her husband's tone and emotions.
She leans closer, quiet and serious, "The children."
The Doctor's fingers tighten around the record sleeve, "Our home. Our children. They're... gone, Amara. I know it. I've been trying to hold on to the hope that maybe they survived, but deep down, I don't think they did."
The Alchemist's hearts ache at the pain in his voice. She reaches for his hand, gentle fingers brushing against his.
"You don't know that," she says, her voice steady but warm, "The psychic signatures..."
"They're just traces," he murmurs, his voice thick with quiet sorrow, "Remnants of what was left. But it's not them. That patch could be anything. Gallifrey's gone, Amara. Everything we loved about it is gone, and I... I don't think I can believe they made it through."
The Alchemist swallows hard, her throat tight. She knows the depth of his grief, the weight of the loss he carries, and the certainty with which he speaks. But she can't give in to it. Not yet.
"But... but we did everything we could, didn't we? We gave them love. A home. A future. And if they're out there..."
"They're not," the Doctor interrupts, his voice gentle but firm, "I saw it, Amara. The destruction. It wasn't something they could survive. Gallifrey burned. Our children burned with it. And I... I wasn't there when they needed me most."
The Alchemist leans forward, "You were there. You gave them everything. We gave them everything. And I believe they're out there. Somewhere. We have to keep looking. I would never leave them there, you know that!"
The Doctor's gaze drops to the floor, "I do, and I wish I could believe that. I wish I could hold onto that hope. But I'm not sure anymore. I don't know if they made it."
The Alchemist approaches him and kneels before his chair. She reaches out, her hand resting gently on his cheek, her touch warm and grounding.
"We don't know, Theta. But we can keep looking. And if they're out there, we'll find them. We're not alone. And neither are they."
For a long moment, the Doctor says nothing. His eyes close briefly, the weight of the uncertainty heavy on his shoulders.
"I want to believe you," he breathes, "I do. But sometimes... sometimes, I think they're gone. And I don't know if I can keep searching if they're really lost."
The Alchemist's hand stays on his cheek, her thumb brushing gently over his skin.
"You don't have to do it alone," she tells him softly, "We'll find them together. And if they're not out there, we'll still have each other. We'll keep moving forward because that's what we do—together."
He nods slowly, reaching up to take her hand and pressing a gentle kiss to her pulse point.
"Maybe," he says softly, "Maybe that's enough. For now."
The Doctor sighs, looking into the eyes of his Star Lady, the quiet crackle of the fire and the soft melody of Starman filling the room.