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Chapter Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞
𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥
𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙍𝙄𝙎 𝙅𝘼𝘿𝙀

Once upon a time, an unloved little girl lived her life in a broken reality. A universe on the brink of collapse, with planets bleeding into one another and existence itself unraveling. Her world was scorched by its sun, ravaged by war, and torn apart by famine and fire. But for the first seven years of her life, the little girl lived a simple and happy existence on Earth. She had her mother, a kind and resilient woman who shielded her daughter from the horrors outside their small bubble of normalcy.

That all ended the day they came.

The scientists, desperate and ruthless, found her. To them, she wasn't a little girl; she was a solution. A half-breed of human and Titan blood, stronger than any human could hope to be, she was perfect. When her mother tried to stop them, they killed her.

The little girl was dragged away from everything she had ever known.

They ripped away her name. They stole her life.

The girl grew up in a cold laboratory as their unwilling subject. Her unique DNA—a flawless blend of human adaptability and Titan resilience—made her the centerpiece of Project Egress, a desperate effort to escape their dying universe.

Her body could withstand what no one else could: infusion with aureum, the golden essence taken from the fractured threads of reality itself. It rewrote her DNA, transforming her into something beyond human, someone who could manipulate the very fabric of existence.

But aureum alone was unstable. To make her survive long-term, they subjected her to tenebris, the destructive counterpart. Where aureum created, tenebris destroyed.

And together, these opposing forces churned within her, balancing each other and making her a living key to the multiverse—a bridge to everything there was.

She was their creation, their tool, their Polaris Jade.

Their plans for her, however, came to an abrupt end when a traveler from beyond stepped through their portal. He wasn't a savior. He was a destroyer—a wanderer who had crossed countless realities and left many in ruin. He had heard about the wonder child with pure existence flowing through her being. The Destroyer wanted her for himself.

He slaughtered the entire lab.

Only The Polaris Jade was left alive.

The Destroyer extended a hand to her.

"Come with me," he said, "and together, we will accomplish wonders."

He was a monster, a villain. But still, she took his hand.

As they stepped through the portal, he unleashed one final act of destruction upon the already broken reality. Pushed it just a little further—right off the edge.

Her fragile, broken universe collapsed completely, erased in an instant. Everything she had ever known—her mother, her home, her world—ceased to exist.

She didn't flinch. She didn't cry. She didn't care.

The Polaris Jade was no longer the key to humanity's salvation. She was something else entirely—a weapon, a survivor, and a companion to the Destroyer who carried her across the multiverse.

Within her churned the forces of aureum and tenebris—creation and destruction, bound together in a child who had lost everything but gained the force of an unimaginable power.

The portal closed behind them with a shuddering hum, leaving the ruins of her universe as nothing more than a fading memory. The Polaris Jade stood silently, the weight of what she had just witnessed pressing down on her small frame.

The Destroyer glanced at her, his sharp eyes glinting with something between amusement and curiosity. "You're quiet, little one," he said, his voice smooth but edged like a blade.

She didn't respond. Words felt useless.

He crouched down to her level, tilting his head as if studying her. "I've seen your kind before. Beacons, weapons, living enigmas. But you're different; you have use, and you have a purpose."

Still, she said nothing.

A flicker of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "There's something about you. You don't just burn—you consume. You are like me. You're fire, girl. A star burning out the night." He leaned closer, his voice lowering, almost reverent in its mockery. "You're my little Starfire."

The name hit her like a spark. It wasn't kind, but it wasn't cruel. It was... true.

For the first time, she looked up at him, her hollow eyes meeting his. And though she said nothing, the faintest flicker of light danced within her irises—a star, still burning.

The Destroyer smiled.

Yes, useful, indeed.

His Polaris Jade... his Starfire.

"I think you will be good at the game," he decided.

"What game?" she whispered, speaking for the first time.

Chapter Text

SHE INCINERATED THEM ALL. ALL THE THREATS TO HER PRECIOUS DOCTOR. HER LOVE.

The BAD WOLF is omnipotent, a force of unfiltered power. The power of all continuum.

The entity took her name and scattered it throughout all of this universe: time and space. A looped and unbreakable ontological paradox that would always lead her here.

To save her Doctor.

"Rose, you've done it!" The Doctor, in his ninth generation, called from his place on the floor. "Now stop, please!"

He looked at her terrified. The girl who was once human—the funny and pretty blonde he had saved from a simple human retail store. The little human he had made the mistake of loving.

She was anything but human in this moment, glowing a bright gold with the Time Vortex burning in her eyes and through her entire being.

"Just let go!" He pleaded.

No human could withstand this type of power—no one in existence could. It was burning through Rose Tyler at incomprehensible speeds. If she did not let go then she would soon burn herself out of existence.

Rose was barely hanging onto herself for she was now the BAD WOLF. She always had been and she always would be. And the BAD WOLF was everything in this universe.

"How can I let go of this?" She asked out loud. And while physically she stood between the Doctor and his TARDIS, her soul was everywhere in the universe, everywhere in time and space. "I bring life..." She muttered almost emotionally, and with a simple thought, she brought her dear friend Jack Harkness back to life.

Across all of time and space.

Nothing would ever be able to hurt him again. She made sure that he was invincible—he would never die.

"This is wrong, you can't control life and death!" The Doctor cried in a frustrated manner, staring at the entity before him with great awe but with even greater fear.

He jumped as her golden eyes suddenly snapped and locked onto his own. She furrowed her brows as though truly perplexed by his statement.

"But I can..." She said it simply, putting it as plain as she could for it was the truth. "Life and death. It's like the sun and the moon. The day and night. Yin and Yang. Push and Pull. Creation and Destruction. It is balance—a balance that I can see, that I can control. But why—why does it all hurt?" She could not understand why it hurt, why does the balance of life and death hurt so much?

Life is a fight—always fighting to survive. But death—death is peace.

The Doctor looked away, ashamed and horrified at what she had become. And it was all his fault. His dear Rose was going to die because of him.

"That power is going to kill you and it's my fault..." He lamented.

But the BAD WOLF was barely paying him any mind, not when the wonders of existence—reality itself were right in front of her. Presenting itself to her so humbly and absolute.

"I can see everything. All there is—all there was—all there ever could be..." She smiled lightly, almost in disbelief.

The Doctor's eyes lit up as he jumped to a standing position. "That's what I see..." He breathed, staring at his beloved Rose.

His brilliant and clever mind worked to find a solution that would save her life.

But for once, a very rare occurrence, the Doctor did not understand. But the BAD WOLF did. She saw beyond everything, beyond time and space. Beyond eternity itself. She saw beyond what had happened in this universe, beyond what was locked away here: there was everything in existence.

The BAD WOLF ascended to a nearly unattainable level of consciousness. Something that few and far between had ever become. Raw power that hummed in tune with the universe.

The entity became aware of it all.

So many delicate threads of reality wove in and out and created a pattern of intricate fabrics of existences all across. Universes that died, that collapsed, that collided, and those that had thrived. Pain and suffering. Hope and wonder.

All of it was happening simultaneously—in the past, present, and future. Time was irrelevant to such things as the multiverse.

The universes beyond her own.

And in that moment, the BAD WOLF could see it.

A being like herself—of creation and destruction. Except for the key differences between them.

The other entity had a mortal form that was powerful, unlike the BAD WOLF, it was a humanized version of raw and sustained cosmic energy.

While that entity can destroy stars and consume galaxies, it came from a destroyed universe. Nothing was holding it to reality other than a powerful connection to the fabric of the multiversal.

The BAD WOLF could see her own limitations—limitations the other entity did not have. The BAD WOLF is tied to Rose Tyler's human form, and no human, nothing in this universe could sustain her. She will burn out.

But the other cosmic entity that had caught the attention of the BAD WOLF, what was it?

The answer became apparent: THE POLARIS JADE.

Humanized enough to sustain herself and operate like a mortal. Behave like a typical lifeform. But hiding underneath was the truth. What ran in the being of Polaris Jade was fire made flesh. Power incarnate. Creation and destruction.

The BAD WOLF would not always be around. Rose Tyler would not always be around. She and the Doctor were fleeting. Forever connected but brief in the long run.

One day this universe would know another power like the BAD WOLF, except that power would not be so fleeting. That power would remain constant, and that power would eventually be with the last TimeLord when the BAD WOLF could not.

An acceptable replacement. An acceptable form of protection—better than what even the BAD WOLF itself could have created.

The BAD WOLF could look no more for it could feel itself fizzling out, burning through its own existence and killing Rose Tyler in the process.

"Doesn't it drive you mad?" The Doctor asked as Rose Tyler managed to break through the consciousness of the BAD WOLF.

It was too much for her. What was she? Who was she? The BAD WOLF or Rose Tyler. Both—it seemed.

"My head," Rose managed to cry out. "It's killing me..."

It hurt, it was like fire running through her soul. She was only human, she was not capable of being fire made flesh. Her mortal form was not strong enough to wield the eternal power. She was not like the titan halfbreed, she was not THE POLARIS JADE.

"Come here," The Doctor stepped to her, grabbing her face delicately. He would save the universe once again. And he would save her like he always would. His Rose. "I think you need a doctor..." He muttered before leaning down and capturing her lips with his own.

Despite it all, he could not help but cherish and find joy in the kiss. He certainly did love Rose Tyler, even if it was bound to end in heartbreak. It always did for the TimeLord.

He pressed himself into her further—doing his best to absorb all the power from her and into himself. He was taking her pain—he was stealing the BAD WOLF from her.

And just as they pulled away, eternal golden energy connecting them, the BAD WOLF said its last words.

"She'll arrive when our universe needs her. When you need her the most. She will imbue us all with the greater good... and you will choose to devote yourself to her and she to you. You will love her like you love the innocence of the BAD WOLF..." She said surely, the golden light suddenly sparking out of Rose Tyler completely.

The Doctor watched her in confusion—his brows furrowed with concern.

Who was 'she'?

Devote himself? The Doctor devoted himself to nothing. Not even Gallifrey.

He could not ask the question for Rose collapsed with a gasp.

The Doctor caught her, holding her tight to him and staring down at her worriedly.

Slowly, he lowered them both to the ground, gazing sadly at her lovely face and delicately running a hand over her cheek.

But she was not dead—his perfect Rose was breathing steadily. And that was all that mattered to him at the moment. Whatever the future would throw his way could be dealt with then, but for now, it was Rose Tyler and the Time Vortex circulating his veins that needed his attention.

Chapter Text

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐨
𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

I stared long and hard at the big blue police box that sat ideally across the busy street. Chicago, despite the harsh cold and icy roads that winter brought, was busier than ever this fine afternoon.

Even with the many cars whizzing past, my gaze remained locked on the box, which was anything but subtle. A few people gave it a curious glance as they walked past it but nothing further.

My lips pursed as my head tilted. I knew better than to believe it was just some relic on the street made for decoration.

A police box was a public telephone kiosk that allowed the public to contact the police and for police officers to communicate with their station. And they only existed in London, not Chicago.

Oh yeah, and the police box went out of use sometime in the 70s due to radio and telephone lines.

Anyone familiar with the history of Earth should know such a thing. Then again, it's 2025, and most people barely give enough of a fuck to care about the present issues, let alone the past or future.

How long had I been stuck in the 2020s? About five years now... it's been five years since my Time Vortex Manipulator broke.

Piece of shit.

And with current technology, I was still about five years away from being able to fix it myself. Nothing that I needed to fix it had been invented yet leaving me to make everything from scratch.

Not being able to hop through time for so long was risky and it left me slightly exposed and very much in danger. I was basically a sitting duck the longer I stayed in one place.

However, the police box across the street was promising. Mostly because I am not an idiot and I recognize that the "police box" across the street is not actually a police box. It's only some of the most advanced technology ever created—a time machine crossed over with a spaceship.

Its cloaking tech must be broken; however, considering that it was in no way blending in with the public as being a damn police box.

A TARDIS, I believe is the correct phrase for the time machine. Technology created by the Time Lords of Gallifrey and lost along with the rest of the Gallifreyans after the Time War wiped them out a few hundred years ago.

So what the fuck was one doing on the city streets of Chicago? The answer was not hard to grasp, it seemed an alien that I had heard much about finally crossed paths with me.

Fucking finally—I had only been looking and waiting since my Vortex Manipulator broke five years ago. Then again, as a half-breed who was practically immortal and unaffected by the passage of time, five years was nothing more than a blink of an eye.

Not when I was teetering at the edge of age 393 in actuality. However, physically, it seemed that 25 was my 'good luck charm'. Forever youthful but not a child. And not old.

Thank fuck.

And a better perk—I keep the same face. Unlike the sorta 'immortal' TimeLords who had to regenerate to stay alive. But if the legends are correct then they were capped at 12 regenerations... and after regeneration 12 then they kick the bucket.

I think?

This was all information and histories I had learned by word of mouth from various people throughout my travels. Before that piece of shit Vortex Manipulator broke and left me stranded, at least.

My mind flicked as I considered everything that had been left in my apartment. Nothing important. My broken Vortex Manipulator was wrapped around my wrist as it always remained. A Chicago Cubs baseball cap (America's favorite past time) was sat low on my head—and my backpack was filled with everything I would need.

After all, I never knew when I might need to make a hasty escape, therefore, keeping my backpack filled with everything I needed seriously came in clutch.

My view of the TARDIS was interrupted as the 1 o'clock bus pulled in front of me. I had been sitting at the bus stop waiting for it.

The people around me quickly shuffled aboard. And while I too stood up, rather than hop on the bus, I pulled my newly purchased energy drink from the confines of the backpack's water bottle holder.

Toward the end of last year (which was only a few weeks ago seeing as it's mid-January) this Austrian energy drink company called Red Bull came out with my all-time favorite energy drink flavor.

Not that I needed a pick-me-up seeing as I am a hoppy person as is, but damn, the Winter Edition Red Bull always seemed to hit the fucking spot.

Opening the can that I bought literally minutes before I sat at the bus stop, I sipped on it before practically flying across the busy street. Cars, of course, honked at me and I might have caused the tiniest crash, but it was the fastest way across the road.

Flurries started to fall from the sky catching my attention. There was supposed to be a big snowstorm tonight.

Beautiful planet Earth—got to love her.

Although I do hate the cold. Chicago hadn't been my first choice but after bouncing around all the warm parts of America for the last five years—I finally ran out of places to go.

Miami had been the last warm city I lived in right before I came here.

Finally, my attention snapped back to the blue machine that I now stood in front of.

Glorious.

Immediately I felt her presence. It was something no average human would ever be able to feel. The telepathic connection this gorgeous machine had was addicting.

I slowly walked around her, tracing the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding the Red Bull over her wood.

Or at least, the material that was made to appear and feel like wood but in actuality was not. I wondered what the true visage of this TARDIS was. As in what she would look like if she was not constantly disguised as a Police Box.

Walking around the TARDIS did not take long and soon I was back to the front of it. My hand fell to my side as I made my official decision.

"Do you care if I live here now?" I shamelessly questioned the spacecraft before taking another sip. A loud belch left me afterward—ugh, the fizz always hits right. "I'll be a good roommate, pinky promise!"

Thankfully, the people who lived in Chicago were both too busy and were used to crazy people to give a damn about me talking to what they perceived as an inanimate object.

I just looked like another crackhead.

To my surprise, the TARDIS lock clicked open, and the door was suddenly ajar.

I can't believe that actually worked! Especially considering I like totally burped at it.

Grinning, I wasted no time in stepping inside happily.

"Why, thank you, ma'am...!" I chirped, closing the door right behind me.

My footsteps echoed as I stepped past the metal grating. The sight that greeted me was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

I was greeted with perhaps one of the most remarkable console rooms I had ever seen. An amazing albeit empty console room—it would appear that the pilot was not home. No wonder the TARDIS doors were previously locked.

Unsurprisingly, it was much bigger on the inside

The TARDIS console room stretched before me, a mixture of golden-orange light cascading from the towering glass column in the center of the room. Strange, pulsating hums filled the air as if the ship itself were alive and breathing.

She was nothing like any other spacecraft in existence.

The console, an eclectic mix of levers, buttons, and odd trinkets, seemed to be cobbled together from the most disparate of parts—some ancient, others impossibly advanced. It sat on a raised platform, surrounded by a maze of walkways and staircases that led to other unseen parts of the ship. Above, the ceiling curved high into a domed structure, ribbed with glowing arches that pulsed faintly, as if syncing with the heartbeat of the universe.

"I think I'm going to love it here..." I muttered to myself.

After five years and much planning, it finally came together. And completely by chance at that. To think that I bought a one-way ticket to London and I was meant to leave in a few weeks all in the hope that it would be easier to find the Doctor—the last of the TimeLords there. According to those who knew of him, that was the place he frequented when he was on this planet. It was also the place that practically all of his companions hailed from.

Hopefully the TimeLord didn't have anything against American women.

Nevertheless, it seemed I would not need to use that airline ticket, after all. Thank the universe for that, I hated traveling by such archaic methods.

My mind worked quickly and like a clock. Everything had to be perfect, my lies had to be seamless. Assuming the Doctor was everything and more that people had spoken of, he would be able to sniff out lies quickly.

He was one of the most intelligent creatures in this universe.

But I had been preparing myself for this for a long time—the fate of the universe, no literal reality, rested on my shoulders.

A fucked situation for sure. It was a miracle that the Doctor himself was somehow still blind to the situation, and that we had somehow not crossed paths before.

But now it all came down to my ability to lie and on the hope that traveling with the Doctor as his companion will shield and hide me from the true threats.

The sad truth of the matter was that I could trust practically no one, and that included the Doctor. Because if he knew the truth then I can't imagine what he would do, but it was certainly nothing good.

For me, at least, according to most he was generically a good person. Like uber good. Like save the cosmos time and time again good.

Which was good. Great even.

If this was anything else then I probably would be able to trust him. More than just trust, actually, I could completely dump the problem (it was like WAY more than just a 'problem') on him, leaving him to deal with it and call it a day.

Wipe my hands clean and live out the rest of my long damned eternity in peace.

But sometimes for things to work you had to play between the rules. Sometimes you had to stop caring how you get things done and just get it done.

Sometimes... very rarely... but sometimes it was the 'bad guy' who could see the greater good.

It was all for the greater good. And in this case, most might consider me the 'bad guy'.

The Doctor would no doubt view me as such as well. And even if he could understand, he wouldn't agree and he would ultimately stop me.

This was the only way. To use him for a greater purpose.

Trust nobody.

Living by that rule has saved me plenty of times—it's why I'm still alive.

Then again, breaking into his ship was definitely only proving that I myself could not be trusted either. Nor was it the best way to introduce myself to this old savior alien. But it was also his ship that welcomed me inside, so... whatcha gon' do?

Humming, I quickly took off my winter jacket and placed it on one of the seats around the console. It was rather warm in here, a nice contrast to the harsh cold outside.

Upon my winter jacket coming off, the ugly Christmas sweater that I wore underneath was on full display. Not only was it ugly, but most would even consider it inappropriate.

Alright, who am I kidding? Everyone would consider it inappropriate. I personally thought it was funny.

Especially because it's January, but I s̶t̶o̶l̶e̶ bought this and will stay wearing it until it proves to be too hot.

The sweater was quite simple, a holly-jolly green with bold white letters printed on it.

It read: I'M SO GOOD SANTA CAME TWICE.

Hilarious, as soon as I saw it I had to have it. Especially seeing as I definitely hooked up with a suspiciously good-looking old man who had been dressed up as Santa Claus in a mall.

His name was John, and he was way too fit and far hotter than should be legal for a 50-something-year-old man.

Oh yeah, and he was Scottish.

Talk about daddy vibes.

It was a fun night and I certainly don't remember most of it after he agreed to go with me to a bar downtown.

12 drinks will do that to you.

But John was well-off and retired. He was only playing Santa Claus because he enjoyed it.

"For the kids," He had claimed, very Scottishly at that.

Is that a word? Scottishly? Oh well, it is now!

It was a miracle that he didn't give me a kid of my own that night. But then again—even if I didn't look it—we were both much too old to deal with a baby.

Also fuck kids, they kinda suck.

Not to mention getting knocked up from a one-night-stand by a human about to push into his elderly years would be something I could never live down.

We never saw each other again. John was pretty proud and sorta flustered when he woke up next to me the following morning.

Proud because, fuck yeah, he still had it well into his 50s. And exasperated because, in his words; "I can't believe you did this to me..." whatever the fuck that meant, but he sounded more bemused than angry.

It was probably because of my age. He looked double my age. Hot but double my physical age.

I did not bother to tell him my actual age. Average humans who were otherwise unaware of space and all things between would not be able to wrap their minds around a woman who looked and acted 25 actually being 393.

Back to the point though!

Considering I had no clue what the Doctor looked like or where the hell the alien currently was—I decided to explore more of the place. Readjusting my backpack, I hopped away from the console and toward the corridor nearest to me.

The TARDIS hummed beneath my feet, the sound reminiscent of a heartbeat. The corridor seemed endless—infinite.

The first room I stumbled upon seemed innocuous at first: a library. But then I noticed the ceiling stretched higher than a cathedral, the shelves spiraling endlessly upward. Books hovered mid-air, flipping pages of their own accord, as if eager to share their secrets. One floated past me, its title written in a language I couldn't comprehend, yet it resonated as though I already knew its story.

Further down the corridor, I found a swimming pool—though calling it a "pool" felt like an understatement. The water shimmered unnaturally, catching light from nowhere, and the surrounding walls seemed to flicker with projections of alien oceans and starry skies. The air was cool, and the ozone smelled faintly.

Then, there was the wardrobe room. My breath caught at the sheer magnitude of it. Racks upon racks of clothing stretched into infinity—Victorian ball gowns next to spacesuits, feathered cloaks, and something that looked suspiciously like armor made of light. I couldn't resist running my fingers over a crimson velvet coat.

A gleaming sword caught my attention, and humming I swung it around for a small while. Interestingly enough, it fit my figure and its weight was perfect.

But the most intriguing of all was a room that defied all logic. The moment I stepped inside, I was weightless. Miniature yet astonishingly detailed planets orbited lazily around my head. I reached out to touch one—a gas giant with swirling purple storms—and it responded, emitting a low hum that felt like a greeting. The room seemed alive, a tiny galaxy contained within four walls.

As I wandered, I truly understood that the TARDIS really wasn't just a machine—it was a universe unto itself, each room a fragment of its infinite soul. And I had barely scratched the surface.

There was a kitchen that I came across, but it was very strange. It did not appear as most kitchens on a spaceship did. Rather, it looked straight out of a 60s home magazine. Light green walls, pastel appliances, and a large fridge filled with various leftovers.

I sat around snacking on Poptarts that I found in the cupboard for a short while before continuing on.

A few rooms stood out as I walked. Doors that had a name and had painted wood instead of steel. They were spread out from one another.

Their knobs were round brass and when you went to touch it, there was a whisper of warmth. As if someone just held it before me. It was fucking creepy.

"Martha" had grooves and was painted beige.

"Donna" was a light blue with some flourish on the door knob.

"Rose", as the name suggests, was a dusted pink with small, colorful flowers.

"Song of the River" was made of pure gold with intricate carvings, this door was much further down—located on a corner wall of its own. Very easy to miss, unless you're nosy like me.

I wondered what "Song of the River" meant; a name of a person? A music room, perhaps?

My curiosity could not be quenched, my questions about what was behind the doors going unanswered. Each of them was locked shut, so tightly in fact, that the door knob didn't wiggle no matter how much force was put in them.

And I was pretty strong.

Old companions were the likely answer. The entire reason that I found myself looking for the last TimeLord in the first place. His protection under the guise of being just another one of his "companions".

To him and nearly everyone else, I would be nothing more than another stray he picked up off the streets of some city. At least, that's what rumor has it he does.

British lady strays, at least. Hopefully an 'American' didn't change that.

However, it would appear that it was time to put the rumor as well my lying skills to the test. The TARDIS seemed to have rounded me back toward the console room, no doubt for the reason of the pilot himself having just returned.

My hearing picked up on the door opening as well as excited voices. Two to be precise—a man and a woman. The man was British and the woman Scottish.

Perfect, so it looked like it didn't only need to be British lady companions.

Although, I can speak any Earth language and turn my voice to any accent.

I briefly considered going British but that would not make much sense seeing as I was supposedly coming from Chicago.

It would make the Doctor more suspicious.

"I've always wanted to try Chicago pizza, I think I like it more than New York!" The Scottish woman was laughing.

The British man replied. "I offer you any point in all of time and space and you still choose to come here! But I do suppose Chicago has some of the best pizza in existence during this time, Pond..." The man sounded exuberant, indeed.

I knew without a doubt that this was the voice of the infamous Doctor. The one they call 'the Oncoming Storm'.

Hopefully, he is as kind as some claim. Then again, I was probably stretching his kindness seeing as I am about to reveal myself as having broken into his home.

I took another swing of my Redbull at that thought.

"Doctor, whose coat is this?" The woman asked just as I turned the corner and could see into the console room.

She was a beautiful and tall young woman. Flaming red framing a round face and even rounder brown eyes. Her skin was very pale. The woman adorned a low-riding skirt with cowboy boots and a brown leather jacket.

Interesting.

Peak outfit from the very early 2010s if I had to guess.

She was holding my puffy jacket with her face twisted in confusion.

The Doctor was not what I expected. Then again, I was not exactly sure what to expect. When you hear so much about a powerful immortal creature who is the last of his species—it definitely causes some imaginative pictures.

I, for one, envisioned a dude with golden skin... while I didn't think he'd look old I imagined at least middle-age appearing... maybe an all-powerful telekinetic stone stuck in the middle of his head... he might even have Gallifreyan runes tattooed all over him. Like a gladiator.

None of this was the case.

The Doctor, or who I presume is the Doctor, at least, was staring at the jacket in his companion's grasp with the utmost confusion.

The man before me—if "man" is even the right word—stood with an air of barely restrained energy, like he might leap into motion at any moment. He was tall and lean, his movements sharp yet strangely fluid, like a bowstring held taut. His face was young, but there was something in his eyes—a deep, ancient knowing that didn't belong in someone who couldn't have been much older than 27. That was the first hint that he wasn't like anyone I'd ever met.

That's saying something considering I was nearing 400 years of age myself.

And then there was his outfit. A tweed jacket that looked like it had been borrowed from a bygone era, elbow patches and all. A bowtie, too—not the ironic kind people wore to make a statement, but one he wore with unapologetic sincerity, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Suspenders peeked out when he moved, and his trousers were slightly too short, exposing boots that were well-worn but clearly chosen with care. It was like someone had rifled through a history book and picked out their favorite pieces, then slapped them together without a second thought.

Yet somehow, it worked.

His hair was the opposite of his clothes—messy, unruly like it was in the middle of a fight against gravity. A single errant strand drooped onto his forehead, adding to the air of boyishness that was so at odds with his eyes.

Those eyes. They were old, impossibly so, but bright with curiosity and mischief.

He looked entirely human. And yet, if one studied him close enough then it became apparent that he wasn't. There was something about him—a slightly too quick tilt of his head, a gaze that seemed to measure the weight of a moment far beyond what most could see. It wasn't threatening, though. Just... odd. In a fascinating way.

And, if I'm being honest, in a way that was handsome. Not conventionally so—his features were a bit too sharp, his movements a touch too restless—but in his own right. There was a charisma in the way he carried himself, a kind of charm that wasn't really about how he looked, but about him.

Handsome, I decided. Strange, but undeniably handsome.

But who was I to judge knowing that I was more than strange myself?

I stood quietly in the archway that connected one of the corridors to the console room, watching the exchange.

"I'm not sure, Amy," His voice took on a more serious tone than he had previously been speaking with. "Bring it over here, please..."

Amy walked over to the Doctor, meeting him by the controls as the Doctor took the jacket from her and proceeded to take a long whiff of it. He quickly leaned away from it, staring at the article of clothing with huge eyes.

I wondered if my jacket stank? When was the last time I washed it?

Yikes...

"Ugh, Doctor, gross—! What are you doing?" She scowled at his weirdness.

He turned it every which direction, almost as though looking for something about to jump out at him.

Unfortunately, he would find no such thing. It was just a simple puffer that I thrifted from a random Goodwill last year.

Nothing special about it.

Nevertheless, the Doctor looked at the jacket as though it was the most interesting thing in the universe.

He did not answer for a while, only staring at the jacket for a very long moment until his gaze lifted to the woman he called Amy.

"It's January! We're in Chicago and it's January!" He was suddenly exhilarated, grabbing Amy by the shoulders and shaking her excitedly with his words.

Amy yelped before speaking. "And? What's that supposed to mean, Doctor?"

"It means it's time—oh, yes, it's definitely time! How could I let this slip my mind, I've only been waiting for..." He released Amy, pulling up the sleeve of his jacket to look at his wristwatch. "2 years... 7 months... 8 days... 11 hours... and 56 seconds!"

"You're waiting for something? What're you waiting for? What's supposed to happen today?" Amy's Scottish accent got thicker as she too became excited.

The Doctor continues to flounder around in a funny kind of manner. I tilted my head at the scene now utterly confused. It was my puffer jacket that Amy found, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I just couldn't help myself. Something in me became eager; his excitement was contagious, and I was a victim of it.

"Does it have something to with me?" My mouth was running before I could stop myself, my hold on the Redbull becoming just the slightest bit tighter.

Amy jumped snapping her head to look at me as the Doctor whirled around at the sound.

Our eyes met for the first time. His gaze spoke a million things, so many words and emotions that I could not even hope to decipher. But he looked so happy and relieved. Even as I had never met him, it was like basking in the presence of a familiar friend.

His smile faltered for just a moment. There was a weight in him, something unspoken.

"Hello, dearest," He said softly, rubbing his hands together almost nervously.

"What the hell—who're you?!" Amy finally questioned. "Doctor, do you know her?"

The Doctor and I broke eye contact as he turned to the redhead.

"Why, yes, of course, I do!" He happily said at the same time I answered a simple 'no'. "Although you did fail to mention that you break on board my TARDIS, dear," He turned, still excited, but his voice had dipped into a playful scolding that had me furrowing my brows.

Alright, so apparently this was a bit more complicated than I thought.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

I was thoroughly confused. I expected a lot of reaction out of the Doctor catching me parading around his TARDIS—primarily anger and suspicion.

Not whatever the fuck this was... is he happy? He looks fucking happy!

"What?" I raised a single brow, my face twisted in confusion.

The Doctor rubbed his hands together, but he was so excited that his words came out in chopped syllables. "You—I—We... 2 years, 7 months, 8 days, 11 hours, and 2 minutes 45 seconds!"

"What are you? A clock?" I could not stop the snide remark from leaving my mouth.

Thankfully, the Doctor did not seem offended and rather grinned.

"A TimeLord is more adequate! Clocks and time don't apply to me!"

I was officially at a loss for words.

What the fuck is happening?

Maybe I wasn't as prepared to handle this as I thought.

Time to swivel back to square one and just run with what I have, I guess.

I took a deep break before speaking.

"So, back to the point, I heard you do space adventures. I'm looking for a journey through the great beyond of the cosmos, time, and the multiverse!" I said dramatically, bringing out the hand that was not holding the Red Bull while pretending to make a rainbow with it. It was silent for a few moments as I stared off at an imaginary picture before snapping my head back to face the Doctor with raised brows. "You're hiring, right?"

Amy was still standing by the console gaping in a confused manner. The Doctor also gaped at my speech but more in a bemused way.

He rubbed his hands together before speaking, flapping them everywhere with each word. He sure did like to speak with his hands. "Well, I certainly don't travel the multiverse, while it is very fun and sounds fantastic to travel on the regular, it is incredibly dangerous..." He rambled only for Amy to cut him.

"You can travel the multiverse? It's real?" Amy asked.

The Doctor looked at her with gleaming eyes, although there was the smallest twinge of sadness in them as he spoke of it. "Of course, I can, Pond. I'm the Doctor! But it's very dangerous, incredibly hard, and rare to do. That's not even mentioning that there's a 75% chance of dying while trying to cross or the 62.5% chance of one of the universes collapsing..." He explained. "It's really only reasonable to do on the rare instance of a multiversal tear appearing... but those typically sew itself up soon after it appears..."

I did not bother listening to him spit facts that I already knew. Not to mention, some of his 'facts' were wrong, but I definitely did not bother to correct him lest I want questions that I could not answer thrown at me.

Instead, my curiosity got the better of me at the sight of an opening leading to the corridor that I had not gone down. I wondered what was down that way.

As soon as I started making my way toward it, my movement seemed to catch the Doctor's attention for he stopped rambling about the dangers of the multiverse and instead leaped over the console railing.

"Oi! Where do you think you're going?!"

"To explore your ship! A moving pocket dimension that takes the form of a ship? Incredible!" I could not stop myself from geeking over this amazing technology out loud.

The Doctor was suddenly in front of me. Closer than he had been to me this entire time, the man not even hesitating to get up close and personal as he brought out a sonic screwdriver and started to sonic me.

"How do you already know that? I was looking forward to 'it's bigger on the inside' I always look forward to that bit! What version of this is you? Is this not our first time meeting? Our timestreams don't crisscross that much—we should mostly be flowing in the same direction!" He was talking as he brought the screwdriver between my eyes.

The thing started to give me a headache and made me feel... odd.

"Ouch! Don't sonic me!"

"Deary, first of all, stop being dramatic, this doesn't hurt! Second, you broke into my TARDIS! I haven't seen you in over 2 years—"

"Back up, buddy, we have never ever met. Now, I don't know just how many bitches you have, but I assume you have me mixed up with one of them—"

"PJ!" The Doctor gasped, suddenly stretching forward and covering my mouth with his hand while holding my body close to his own. "That is quite enough, you know I don't like swearing."

How the fuck did he know my name?!

I yelled, but his hand caused it to sound muffled.

Everything he was saying suddenly caught up to me.

You've got to be kidding me! Nothing could be easy anymore, could it? Everything just had to be so complicated!

For fuck's sake, our timestreams crossed already? That meant, based on his reaction, that while this was my first time meeting him, it was definitely not his first time meeting me.

What else had he said?

Our timestreams are mostly moving in the same direction. If I'm lucky that meant that this was the only thing that was criss-crossed and backward. My first time meeting him was not his first time meeting me and vice versa.

But holy fuck this made it ten times harder.

I have no clue what the "future" version of myself had disclosed to the guy!

I had no clue what he did and didn't already know! Was it even worth it to try and lie to him at this point?

My mind screamed and my vision briefly filled with blood as memories surged through.

Trust nobody!

No—he can't be trusted. No one can.

His grip was surprisingly strong, much stronger than a human's. It was an easy reminder that while he looked human, he most definitely was not.

I did not bother trying to get out of his grip. I wanted him to think that I was a normal human, so I needed to display the strength of a normal human.

"Release me, you spaceman!" My words were extremely muffled but just barely discernible.

The Doctor did not acknowledge me, simply keeping me pinned to him as he covered my mouth. It was almost like an odd hug, in a fucked up sorta way.

"Doctor? What's happening, who is she?" Amy questioned, running down the steps of the console and looking at the Doctor expectantly.

She was smart; however, and kept her distance. I was still thrashing around in the Doctor's hold.

"She..." The Doctor huffed out, his breath right next to my ear causing me to scrunch my brows in disgust. "...Is a very long and complicated story, Pond. In simple terms, she's a companion!"

Long and complicated story?

No, there is no way that he knows! Absolutely no way I would ever divulge such information!

"What's the complicated version then, Doctor? I really think you should elaborate!" Amy said right back, and I agreed with her.

The Doctor groaned but answered. "I've already said the majority of it—she's a companion, but our meetings are backward. My first time meeting her was over three years ago, we traveled together for a few months before she ultimately had to leave to join up with a future version of me so that our timestreams could put themselves back in the correct order! But my first time meeting her was not her first time meeting me, at the time she had already been traveling with a future version of myself—which is now me!" He finally released me and I stumbled away from him. "Therefore this is her first time meeting me! How fun—I finally get to teach her the ropes! My lovely little strange American space human, PJ!"

Was that meant to be offensive? What the fuck did the future version of myself tell him?

Okay, first and foremost, according to his words, the dude believes that I'm actually American and fully human, so that's a good sign.

Technically speaking, with the oddities and lenient rules of time travel in this universe, rather than linear everything is mostly a ball of shit.

The future version of me would only copy whatever I choose to say and divulge now. Essentially whatever I choose to say now is fine. It'll always be correct because in the future I'll make sure to say exactly as I said now.

Timey-wimey mumbo jumbo, in a nutshell, whatever I say (as long as it's not the truth) will be fine. It's hard to break the past.

My racing heart relaxed just slightly, and as I went to take a sip of my drink, I noticed that my Red Bull was missing. Turning to the Doctor—it was in his grasp, he was examining it with wide green eyes curiously.

"Give me that back!" I cried out with a gasp.

"Winter Edition? Do you know how bad this stuff is for you, PJ?" He scolded before proceeding to take the biggest drink of it I had ever seen. His practically hairless eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Actually, this flavor is quite good! Much better than that pink one you always used to drink!"

"It's mine!" I marched back up to him, tugging it out of his hands. "Do you know how hard it's been to get ahold of this? It's sold out everywhere!"

"With a taste like that, no wonder! But it doesn't stop it from causing heart issues!" The Doctor put his hands on his hips, staring down at me while clicking his tongue.

We are face-to-face in a short stand off. I looked at him almost offended while he stared back with a smile and annoying twinkle in his eye.

Seriously, fuck this guy. Who did he think he was to be able to scold me for drinking a Red Bull? This English alien-dude with virtually no eyebrows.

And this is why I will not be telling him any part of the truth! A perfect reason, if you ask me!

Amy was blinking in bafflement while watching the scene.

"What is happening?" She muttered to herself while shaking her head.

I tilted my head toward her, but never took my eyes off the Doctor. He was smirking at me in a weird and coy all-knowing manner... it was fucking annoying.

"I'd like to know the same thing," I lazily called.

Sadly—I did not realize that comment would open the flood gates for the Doctor.

"Me as well... how did you get into my TARDIS?" The Doctor suddenly scowled. "I can't believe you did this—I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, this is so typical of you!" He complained, rubbing a hand down his face in a stressed-out manner. "American Redbull space woman! Always stressing me out, I swear!" He then proceeded to point at me, waggling a finger in my face. My mouth fell open at his audacity, eyes crossing. The Doctor continued rambling. "And wasn't I supposed to come find you? From your perspective, we've never met before, so why did you break into my TARDIS?!" He worked himself up toward the end, his words coming faster and more jumbled as his mind worked quicker than his mouth. "I was waiting to go find you! But you came to me instead?! You were very explicit in me needing to wait 2 years, 7 months, 8 days, and 11 hours! I didn't realize you meant that's when you apparently break into my home! That would've been a good head's up, deary!"

It seemed his previous excitement over seeing me was starting to wane, now there was a suspicious glance in his eye. Suspicion I was more familiar with, I could work with that.

Although, a small part of me wished he had just stayed happy and excited and didn't question my new presence.

That was not realistic whatsoever though, especially not for someone like the Doctor.

He had started asking hard-hitting questions, he was recognizing that something was not quite right about this whole situation. Even though had apparently met me before.

According to his words of me "traveling with him for a few months", it stands to reason that he had become decently close to the future version of me.

Bitch, think fast!

My left hand—the hand that was not holding the Red Bull—flew upward and stopped centimeters from the Doctor's face. My head turned away from him and I almost snobbishly stuck my nose in the air.

It was now his turn to go cross-eyed, he scowled at the hand that was stuck in his face. My lips were tilted downward in a pout.

Irritatingly, he was taller than me. Like a six-inches taller.

I am not a short person either, average height for a woman. Well, for a human woman, I guess. Incredibly small for the half of me that was not human though.

"First of all, whatever future me does or says isn't my problem yet. Secondly, don't wag your finger at me, TimeLord..." I sniffed.

"Oi, how do you—?"

I cut him off by swinging my backpack around, ripping it open, and haphazardly snatching a single paper out of it. In the next moment, my backpack was back in its rightful place and I was shoving the paper to the Doctor.

He took it in confusion.

Amy was watching the exchange silently.

"Is this a resume?" He sounded highly amused. "And your only experience is being a bartender in Miami?"

Crossing my arms, I stuck out a hip. "My only experience on Earth..." I deadpanned. "But off-world I've been a bartender on Nyxis, Raveron 9, Zyntarion, Stellaria, and Fluxphere. I told you, I'm here applying for a job. You tend to hear things as a bartender around the cosmos, you happen to be kind of famous." He perked up at me calling him 'famous'. "I figured why the hell not give being your companion a try? Heard you frequent Earth, so I came back to my homelands with the hope of running into you... looks like I succeeded. Although I feel as though I may be too overqualified for this position now..."

He scoffed, his entire persona suddenly becoming serious. Almost dark. "Overqualifed? Maybe the version of you that left two years ago, but you right now? I don't think so..." The Doctor spoke the words factually, but hidden deep within his voice... it almost sounded like sadness. "Now, out of all of time and space and you came here thinking you would just 'run into me'? No, I don't buy it. It's too convenient—now, tell me the truth. And don't lie to me, don't ever ever think you're capable. Especially when I already know bits and pieces of the truth from our previous travels. But now you don't have the excuse of 'spoilers' or potentially causing a 'paradox' as you used to say—or will say. So out with it now, deary, the truth and nothing but. You did promise it to me last time I saw you, after all..."

He wasn't necessarily mad or mean when he said it, the guy just sounded fed-up and called it how it was.

But, oh. He was good. Like really damn good.

Using the; my future, his past card too? Extremely good.

But I expected nothing else. This was the legendary Doctor, after all.

The real question was who the hell he was though. Doctor fucking Who?

My mind was reeling after his entire speech. And, of course, my future self just had to promise some bullshit truth. Like hell I was giving that away—this guy would need to pry verity from my cold dead lips.

Like hell I wasn't capable of lying, this guy had no clue who he was dealing with.

And I have no doubt that if he did one of two things would happen.

He'd either kick me out or lock me up.

Amy was sitting on the sides, but after many moments of silence, it seemed that she could no longer keep her questions to herself.

"Space? But you're human, how can you have traveled the cosmos?" She questioned, eyes wide with untapped curiosity.

I looked away from the Doctor, meeting her gaze. As I opened my mouth to speak, the Doctor surged forward and grabbed my hand lifting it for Amy to see. In his grasp was my wrist, my wrist with the broken Time Vortex Manipulator.

"Time Vortex Manipulator, Pond." The Doctor begins, still holding up my wrist for Amy to see. His grip was tight. "Time travel and teleportation device from the future. Cheap and nasty compared to the TARDIS, but it does the job. Think of it as a wristwatch that cheats. Dangerous if you're not careful—and downright illegal in most places—but clever little humans do love to tinker, don't they?" He shoots me a pointed look, half amused, half something else I could not discern. "You never told me where you got this? So I'll take my explanation for that as well."

The future version of me really just chose to keep the timeline and continuously screw me over. At least I have that to look forward to.

"Whatever," I ripped my wrist out of hand. "If you're so suspicious then why did you choose to travel with me in the first place if I am such a shady and untrustworthy person?"

The Doctor opened his mouth but closed it in the next second. It seemed I had him at a loss for words finally. But there was something far off in his gaze—I must've triggered a memory.

It was my opening, the shot I had to take. Luck and lies, be on my side.

"I told you the truth." I spat out. "I have been a bartender around the cosmos for the past few years. But before that, I was a Ravager."

In this universe, the Ravagers are an interstellar criminal syndicate that specializes in thievery, trafficking, and piracy. There were hundreds of factions and no real way to track who was a part of it or the histories of it. The Doctor was no doubt familiar with them.

But not familiar enough to prove that I wasn't part of it.

They weren't a huge threat. Criminals; yes, but not the kind of criminals that destroy planets.

Not big enough to catch the attention of the Doctor unless he was somehow directly involved.

Which to my knowledge, he really has never had to deal with them. They were the kind of pesky criminals that he left the interstellar police to deal with.

Besides—it wasn't a complete lie. When I first came to this reality, I had joined them for a few years.

It was fun!

"They kidnapped me when I was a kid, from the cornfields of Kentucky, raised me alongside them in space. This came in the stolen booty one day," I waved my wrist around, showing I meant the Vortex Manipulator. "I took it, put it on, and left when I was sixteen. Never batted an eyelash and never looked back—I've traveled around and been on my own ever since..."

That was like so far from the whole story. And, the part about being kidnapped as a kid and leaving when I was sixteen was an outright fib.

In actuality, when I first got to this universe 70 or 80 something years ago; for me it's been that long, but when you're constantly bouncing around time, the calendar doesn't really have purpose. But I first arrived by slamming straight through the multiversal wall and into the 51st century.

After fixing the accidental hole I caused by coming in so roughly, the first thing I did was run around the streets and learn all the dirty secrets I could about this universe. The ins and outs—its histories.

People who I had to watch out for. The Doctor used to be on that list, but look at me now!

That led me to joining the Time Agency where I acquired this nifty little device.

I worked and did missions with them for some years before eventually hacking the Vortex Manipulator and going AWOL.

In the Time Agency systems, I was dead. Killed in action (considering I faked my death because I didn't need them on my tail too).

I ran around time and space by myself for another decade before I got bored and chose to join the Ravagers.

From 1989 until 2015 I was fucking shit up as a Ravager. A long 26 years indeed, and despite everything, despite the bad rep that Ravagers had—I was never cruel. Not unfairly cruel, at least.

Just kind of... naughty.

And then, once the other Ravagers started harassing me on always looking 20-something-years-old despite supposedly being in my 50s, I figured my time with them was up.

Cue deciding to have a fun time and hopping around party planet to party planet bartending and doing everything in between.

And then one trip to Miami in 2020 turns out to be my fun little Vortex Manipulator's last hurrah and I'm stranded.

That's when I figured that my time in this universe was soon to be finished anyway—the greater good is on the horizon.

But I'm not about to be caught in my final stretch of running... and that's what waiting it out on Earth in the 2020s would ultimately lead to.

So bam, I think about all the bullshit I've heard about the legend and savior of this universe over the years.

Doctor fucking Who?

As it would turn out, he's a TimeLord who goes by that title. No one knows his real name.

The TimeLord in the TARDIS who travels all of time and space and saves this universe time and time again.

So hey—he seems like good fun and great protection. After all, it's the Time Vortex that provides me the ultimate hiding spot.

It's much harder to track down someone running through time.

And I'm decently old myself, not as old as him, but old enough; certainly smart enough, and a good damn teller of tall tales.

I'm near the final stretch too? The Doctor and his TARDIS seemed like the best option to end my time here with a bang.

Literally.

But I didn't bother saying that part.

I told him like... 2% of the truth? Okay, I'll be generous, I told him like 4%. That seems good enough.

Twisted truths.

It was the way the Doctor's eyes softened around the edges and he relaxed. The gleam of sympathy and gentleness that he wordlessly expressed.

I almost felt guilty.

But I fucking got him! He believes me.

"So after hearing countless stories from the people I served on various planets; all stories about a space and time-traveling hippie TimeLord who takes human women with him on his journeys, I figured why the fuck not? I think I am a great candidate!" I finished, puffing my chest out at the end. "I'm technically from Earth, and I'm a woman! Just cause I'm not British doesn't mean I can't keep up!"

The Doctor cringed while Amy guffawed.

"Oh, oh, Doctor... that sounds so bad—is that actually what you're known for?" She was giggling, now leaning against the console railings. "A time-traveling, space-hopping hippie who takes human women?"

He turned to her almost embarrassed. "What? No, absolutely not! You've seen enough of me to know that's not the case, Pond!" He cried furiously. "A ridiculous and horrible misconstruction of me! God, how many beings have heard of me that way? I don't even want to know!"

With that, he turned back to me. My resume was still in his grasp.

Okay, yep, I just did that. I definitely just lied straight to the face of the last TimeLord in existence. This is totally going to be fine—it'll all be good!

There was a long moment of silence.

"Did you ever go home?" He finally asked, his voice softer than before.

I tilted my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You said you ran away from the Ravagers at sixteen, did you go home, afterward?"

Oh.

"No," I stated, looking to the ground. "They might have kidnapped me, but they didn't take me away from anything important, anyone who cared. I was an orphan—I just happened to be sneaking out and exploring the cornfields that night. I wasn't important, I wasn't loved, and the Ravagers did me a favor by taking me with them. At least I got to see the stars..." My voice was far away, and so was my mind.

It may have not been the truth, but it felt too real and brought back an onslaught of memories. Horrible memories that I wished to forget. Memories of a little unloved girl.

A little unloved girl who was stolen multiple times from the second she was born.

"That's sad..." I vaguely heard Amy whisper to herself. "That's properly heartbreaking..."

I almost wanted to laugh at her quiet words. As I looked up, ready to turn to her with eyes full of amusement—two hands suddenly gripped the sides of my face.

The Doctor's hands were firm yet surprisingly gentle as they cradled my face, tilting it upward so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. They were burning with intensity, and filled with a depth of sadness that caught me off guard. For a moment, the weight of the universe itself seemed to settle in those deep, stormy irises.

"In over 900 years of traveling through time and space," he said, his voice soft but carrying a gravity that made it feel like the most significant fact in the universe, "I have never—never—met anyone who wasn't important." His gaze bore into me as if daring me to contradict him. "And you, my dear, are no exception."

I froze under his stare, the words sinking into my chest like stones dropped into deep water. My usual defenses—the ones I'd used for so long to protect myself from memories I wanted to forget—cracked under the weight of his conviction.

What the fuck?

"I don't know what you've been told," he continued, his thumbs lightly brushing my cheeks as though he could wipe away something far deeper than tears. "But you are important. So important. And while it might be hard to understand right now, you are especially important to me. Don't you dare let anyone—including yourself—convince you otherwise."

"Doctor..." Amy's voice broke the tension, soft and uncertain, as though she wasn't quite sure if she should interrupt.

The Doctor pulled his hands away, but his eyes remained locked on mine for another heartbeat before he finally stepped back, his usual manic energy already returning as if the moment had never happened. "Right then!" he said, clapping his hands together. "I guess I finally got my answers—I've never employed someone before though! I guess you'll be the first employee companion of mine! Now that's something spectacular, indeed! Working for the Doctor in the TARDIS!" He laughed, whirling around and racing up the steps to the console.

He was spinning around, pushing and pulling levers like nothing I had ever seen before. "Let's see—it's Tuesday afternoon for us... what should we do for the rest of the day? Your first trip in the TARDIS! I have been waiting for this moment for what's felt like forever!" The Doctor was rambling to himself again.

My eyes widened as the place shook and the sound of wheezing overcame everything. Was it supposed to make that noise?

Amy stepped closer suddenly, offering me a small, tentative smile. "He's right, you know," she said like she wanted to make sure I really believed it. "He always is, annoyingly enough."

"I bet..." My voice cracked.

What have I got myself into? What have I just done?

I looked away, not trusting my voice any further, and instead focused on the whirring sounds of the TARDIS as she hummed in the background. Somehow, amid all that noise, a seed of warmth settled in my chest—a warmth I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

And it fucking scared me.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

Guilt—like real proper guilt—ate away at my soul for the first time in a long time. I stayed put, watching the Doctor and Amy speak quietly to themselves near the controls of the console.

The Doctor piloted the TARDIS to float around in the Time Vortex. At least that's what I had picked up from his muttering rambles.

Amy left my side seconds ago, giving me one last genuine smile before scampering to stand near the Doctor. It was not long until they fell into hushed whispers. But my mind was otherwise occupied—I was not trying to focus or listen in on what they were saying.

The most amusing thing of all... is that despite the lies that had run from my mouth like honey... the truth was so much worse.

I wish I could say the truth of my past was being an average orphaned human from Kentucky. An average human who had been kidnapped and raised in space by Ravagers. An average human who found a Time Vortex Manipulator and started exploring time and space at the ripe age of sixteen.

But that was not even close to what actually happened.

I was far from an average human. So far that sometimes I wondered, despite my physical appearance, if there was any part of me left that was still human.

"Alright," The Doctor clapped, catching my attention. He pointed to me and Amy with a smile. "Winston Churchill! 1941! I think it's high time that we finally visit him!"

Winston Churchill.

Winston Churchill was an inspirational statesman, writer, orator, and leader who led Britain to victory in the Second World War. He served as Prime Minister twice, from 1940 to 1945.

That was the quick history book definition of him, at least.

Yikes, we're going to World War 2? Not good, indeed.

Amy nodded. "Yeah, he did call over a day ago now... we've certainly been taking our time to get to him. It sounded important."

"Time doesn't apply to us, Pond. We'll arrive seconds after he hangs up with us on the phone!" The Doctor smiled brightly, leaping down the console steps and circling me like a golden retriever.

"Alright, my new employee—consider this like an internship! Your payment is food and a place to live. The TARDIS provides clothing, I can't help but notice you packed a bit light! Also, if you want something on our journeys, then I get it for you! Simple as that!"

So an unpaid internship?

My lips pursed and I crossed my arms as he finally stopped circling me, freezing to stand in front of me. Once again, we were in a standoff, our eyes locked and tension surging between us. He wore a smug grin as he looked at me.

"This sounds more like I'm being employed as a sugar baby. Are you suggesting yourself to be a sugar daddy?"

The Doctor gasped, losing his smile and flushing. He floundered, stuttering for a few seconds before finding his words.

"PJ!" The Doctor gawked at me, his hands flailing as if physically pushing the idea out of the air. "PJ! That is not what this is! I am not—absolutely not!"

Amy choked on a laugh behind him. "Oh, I like her. I really like you, PJ." She snorted. "And you're so old too, Doctor! It's kind of true!"

The Doctor spun around, pointing a finger at her. "Don't encourage this, Pond!" Then, back to me, his face still tinted pink. "And you, no more of that... that insinuation! You're a traveler aboard the TARDIS, not some ridiculous—ugh!"

I smirked, shifting my weight casually. "I'm just saying, Doctor, the arrangement you described sounded pretty close. Food, clothing, accommodations, things bought for me on request..." I let the thought dangle, arching a brow for effect. "And all you want is company in return? Companions?"

He threw his hands up and marched toward the console, muttering, "Humans. Why do I let humans aboard? Always twisting everything."

Amy snorted. "Because we make it interesting. And because you'd be bored without us." She sang at the end.

The Doctor shot her a glare. "I am never bored!"

Amy tilted her head, feigning sympathy. "Sure you're not. That's why you keep picking up strays like me and PJ, yeah? Admit it—you like the chaos of people."

He pointedly ignored her, flipping switches and pulling levers with more force than necessary. I caught Amy's eye, and we shared a grin. It was too easy to wind him up.

The engines groaned, and the TARDIS shifted slightly under our feet. The Doctor grinned again, clearly regaining his enthusiasm as he declared, "Right! Churchill, 1941! Allons-y!"

I blinked. "What did you just say?"

He paused, momentarily thrown off. "What?"

"You said... Allons-y. French for 'let's go.' You speak French now?"

He gave me an odd look. "I've always spoken French. I speak over 5 billion languages, thank you very much, and French is hardly the most impressive one."

"That's not the point," I said, squinting at him. "You said it like it's your catchphrase or something."

Amy leaned against the railing, smirking. "Maybe it's just something he says when he's excited. Like a verbal tic."

"It's not a tic! I don't have any tics! And I'll have you know—that's not my catchphrase anymore, I was just being nostalgic!" He threw his hands up again, spinning back to the console and slamming a big green button. "This is my new catchphrase—geronimo!"

I blinked at him, eyebrows raised. "Uhm?"

He froze mid-step, turning to me with an innocent expression. "Yes? More snappy comments to make, dearest?"

"You said, geronimo. Like... like... the battle cry?"

You know what, I actually really like this guy already. But I'll never let him know that.

"Yes! Brilliant word, isn't it?" He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "It's energetic, bold—has a certain flair, y'know? And perfectly fitting, don't you think?"

No words came from me. I didn't have a response to that.

Amy leaned against the railing, smirking. "For what? Your tendency to jump headfirst into trouble?"

The Doctor ignored her, brushing imaginary dust off his tweed jacket. "It's my phrase! Everyone needs a good phrase."

I tilted my head, crossing my arms. "A catchphrase is a bit cheesy, don't you think?"

He looked genuinely offended. "Cheesy? Cheesy?! It's a carefully curated expression of—"

The TARDIS groaned loudly beneath our feet, cutting him off.

Before either of us could tease him further, the TARDIS gave a violent shudder, throwing me sideways into the railing.

"What was that?" Amy gasped, gripping the edge of the console.

The Doctor's expression flickered from amusement to confusion. "That... was... uhm...?" He glanced at the controls, his brows furrowing as the ship lurched again, harder this time.

The TARDIS pitched violently to one side, and I nearly lost my grip on the railing. Sparks shot out from the console, the golden glow of the room flickering like a dying lightbulb. Somewhere in the chaos, the Doctor was shouting, though I couldn't decide if he sounded panicked or thrilled—or both. Probably both.

"This is normal!" He hollered, dashing around the console like a madman, his bow tie askew and hair sticking up more than it was a few seconds ago. "Perfectly normal!"

Okay, Doc Brown.

I clung tighter to the railing as the floor tilted again, my stomach lurching. "Normal?" I yelled back. "This feels like we're about to crash into a supernova!"

"Nonsense! Supernovae are much more dramatic. This is just... a bit of turbulence!"

Turbulence. Right. Because the words "just turbulence" totally explained why the TARDIS was practically trying to tear itself apart. Even jumping the multiverse was smoother.

...Most of the time.

"Doctor!" Amy's voice cut through the chaos from across the console. She was clutching a strut like her life depended on it. "What's going on? Where are we going?"

"Like I said, still to Winston Churchill!" The Doctor answered with manic glee, flipping switches and slamming buttons like it was the most fun he'd had in centuries."1940s, World War II! Lovely time, the forties. War, rationing, brilliant hats—"

The TARDIS bucked hard, throwing me off balance. I smacked into the railing with an ungraceful grunt, but at least I managed to keep my footing. "And we're going to die before we get there!"

"No, no, no!" The Doctor shouted, as if sheer willpower could stop the ship from shaking itself apart. "Hold on—just a hiccup! Hiccups are perfectly natural!"

Sparks exploded from the console again, and I ducked instinctively. "Your time machine is hiccuping?" I shot back. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? This is not how time machines are supposed to work!"

The Doctor clambered back to his feet, adjusting his bow tie with a look of indignant pride. "Says the expert on time machines. Have you built one? No? Then sit tight and enjoy the ride! Hiccups mean that she is sexy and alive!"

"Sexy?" I muttered, glaring up at the ceiling. "I don't know if I should laugh or be concerned that you call your ship sexy."

Amy was still clinging to her strut. "Doctor! Are we actually landing, or are we just going into oblivion?"

"Landing!" He insisted though the TARDIS gave another violent shudder that didn't exactly inspire confidence.

Oh great and sexy TARDIS! If you can hear my mind then please for my sanity—please, please land us!

And then, just like that, the chaos stopped. The room went still, and the steady hum of the TARDIS engine filled the silence.

Were my thoughts heard?

I straightened slowly, brushing my hair out of my face and fixing the baseball cap. "Is it over? Are we alive?"

"Alive and exactly where we're meant to be!" The Doctor announced cheerfully, bounding over to the monitor like nothing had just happened.

Amy gave him a skeptical look. "Where's that, then? Churchill? The 1940s?"

He hesitated. Not a good sign.

"Doctor..." I said, crossing my arms. "What decade are we in?"

"Well, it's not the forties," He admitted, scratching the back of his head like a kid caught sneaking sweets.

Amy groaned. "Of course, it's not."

"It's fine!" He said quickly, his grin widening. "Think of it as a pit stop. We're in—" He squinted at the screen. "Ah! Australia! Lovely place. 2016. Gorgeous year! February 29? A leap day! Very fun!"

"2016?" I repeated, stepping closer. "You missed your mark by seventy years and half a planet. How does that even happen?"

"The TARDIS has her reasons," He replied cryptically, his eyes narrowing at the screen as he off-handedly bopped me on the nose. I went cross eyed with a scowl. "And I think she's brought us here for a good one."

"Why? Because it's a leap day?"

"No, a leap day is just another day!" He exclaimed happily.

Amy sighed, rubbing her temples. "Why does this feel like the start of another Prisoner Zero problem?"

I was confused. "Prisoner Zero?!"

The Doctor clapped his hands together, his grin bright as ever. "Well, let's not stand around waiting! Come along, you two—let's see what's out there!"

He strode toward the doors, throwing them open with a flourish. Sunshine poured in, and the scent of saltwater drifted through the air. We were on a beach—like a super beachy sunny beach.

"Wow, this is way better than World War II..." I smiled, strolling out of the TARDIS.

It was immediately too hot—way too warm to be wearing a sweater, jeans, and snow boots.

"Should you maybe change your shirt?" Amy asked me with a small laugh.

The Doctor who was standing feet away with his hands on his hips whirled around. It seemed both he and Amy finally took notice of the inappropriate Christmas sweater I was wearing.

"Blimey, what are you wearing?!" The Doctor cried out. "Take that off!" He desperately looked around as though people were staring at it.

Nobody was around—the beach empty.

I rolled my eyes, sliding my backpack off and setting it by my feet. "Only because it's hot, not because you told me to!" I said before pulling the sweater over my head.

I heard two sharp intakes of breath. It seemed the Doctor and Amy thought I was giving them a free strip show and view of my titties. Unfortunately for them, I was wearing a tank top underneath.

"Wow, you're very fit—like, bloody hell, you have nice arms..." Amy complimented with a single huff. "Is a six-pack hiding under that tank top as well?"

What can I say? My body is very toned from a lifetime of running and fighting. Not to mention I am half Celestial Titan. I was like the ultimate athlete.

Now, I am not huge in the way that I am buff, but I certainly have a lot of toning and definition that can be seen in my muscles. And my ass and thighs? They were harder than rocks.

Not to slap my own ass or toot my horn or however that saying goes, but like... if Avatar Korra was a real person I would embody her in mind, body, and soul.

She was probably real somewhere in the infinite multiverse, but in the ones I had been to, she sadly remained exclusively on the television.

One day I'll meet her... and then I'll kiss her or something.

The Doctor said "yes" at the same time I said, "Of course there is! I like to work out is all...!" I tried to play it cool, but it was obvious by the tone of my voice that I was more than a little perky at being complimented. "What did you just say, Doctor?"

The Doctor was staring at me a bit too hard. However, when he realized that I caught him staring, he awkwardly coughed and hastily looked away.

"Nothing! I didn't say anything at all!" He quickly said.

I gave him a suspicious glance. How the fuck did he know I had a six-pack hiding under my shirt.

The answer seems like something I don't really want to know yet, so I'm going to just ignore it.

"Maybe you should catch a workout with me, Doctor...!" I playfully called instead.

He snorted, now over his previous fluster. "Trust that I can outrun you any day, deary! We've already had many races, all of which I have won. So you have that to look forward to!"

"I feel like you're lying..." I narrowed my eyes.

He shrugged. "Mmm, you'll need to find out for yourself,"

Rolling my eyes, I tossed the Christmas sweater back into the TARDIS along with the Chicago Cubs baseball cap. Closing the door after I threw both articles of clothing inside, I was quick to pull my messy hair in a low ponytail and hike my backpack around on my shoulders.

"You can put your backpack inside too!" The Doctor told me, standing casually with his hands in his pockets.

"I'd like to keep it with me!" I grinned.

He raised a brow at me, eyeing me for a second more before shrugging. He turned and motioned to the beach.

"I present to you both—Australia!"

Me and Amy fell to either side of him. He stood slightly in front of us with his arms outstretched. It was a very pretty view, especially if you are a fan of warmth and beaches.

However, Amy admittedly looked much more impressed than I. "Australia, and in the future? PJ, was right. I think this is better than World War II..." She spun in a circle happily. "Honestly, just feel that warm sun! And the air smells so good. Way better than rainy ole' Leadworth!"

This was the future for Amy? What year was she coming from?

"What year are you coming from?" I questioned her.

Amy turned to me with a smile, still basking in the sunlight. "2010 and you?"

"With this, I was all over the place..." I motioned to the Vortex Manipulator still strapped to my wrist. "But I've been in the 2020s for a while..."

The Doctor was half-listening to us with a smile, the other half of his attention on everything around.

"Ah—yeah... that makes sense," She nodded, once again looking around proudly. "I've been waiting fourteen years for this!"

"What?" I was shocked, looking at her. "What do you mean fourteen years?"

The Doctor, of course, cut in as the conversation changed. "Yes! A small mistake on my part! See I met Amelia three days ago—for my internal clock, at least. Regenerated three days ago too!" He explained to me.

I was surprised, he seemed rather well-rounded for this apparently being a brand new incarnation of himself.

"Crash landed in her backyard when she was seven—" He was cut off by Amelia herself.

"Yeah, he crash lands in my backyard! I'm nice enough to bring him inside, and I make him tons of food only to find that he only likes fish fingers and custard—" She was cut off by the Doctor.

"Oi, new face, new taste buds! They're still sensitive, it'll even itself out within the next few weeks! Besides I really liked the pizza we had earlier!" He defended only for Amy to wave him off and continue her speech.

"Anyway, as it would turn out there was this crack in my wall—!"

"A crack of time and space, two parts of reality that should never have touched!" The Doctor added.

That caught my attention. A crack in time and space? Two parts of reality that should not have touched? How have I not noticed that?

Panic ate away at me: had I been found and did not even know it? Had they found me?

The slightest bit of cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

My nerves were put at ease by Amy's next words.

"Anyway, the Doctor pulls out his sonic-thingy and fixed it. Then something happened with the TARDIS and he runs off so I followed—" She was cut off by him again.

If the Doctor could fix the time and space crack with his sonic then it wasn't anything I had to worry about.

No multiversal crack or anything that is detrimental to my purpose here.

"It's called a sonic screwdriver. And the TARDIS engines were phasing, she was burning and needed a trip through the Time Vortex to cool, I already explained this, Pond—" The Doctor groaned.

Amy put a hand in his face and he huffed at it.

"Anyway, so he tells little cute seven-year-old me he'll be back in five minutes... you know when he came back though?"

The Doctor groaned and turned away with a hand on his face as though embarrassed.

I raised a brow. "When?"

"12 years later!" She cried.

I gasped out a chortle. "What? Oh my gosh—that's so messed up! And you were seven?"

"Seven! He lied to a little seven-year-old!"

"Talk about lifetime trust issues..." I said.

"Talk about lifetime issues in general—!" Amy said back.

The Doctor having enough, put himself back into the conversation. "I didn't lie! The TARDIS was going through some stuff, she's been a little more temperamental since my regeneration and her change. She'll stabilize soon enough... but it makes her travels more... unpredictable..."

"As can be seen," I motioned around us to Australia in 2016.

Again, not necessarily something to complain about.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and poked me in the middle of my forehead. "Enough from the peanut gallery!"

"The peanut gallery—?" I screeched, my voice going high pitched.

Amy put herself in the middle of us to stop another one of our fun little spats. Was I meant to be arguing with my boss this much?

"Anyway! So he comes back 12 years later..."

"Again, barely five minutes for me!" He explained.

"12 years later..." She threw him a side-eye. "And then this alien race called the Atraxi came! He said they were following him—"

"They were following me!" He piped in dramatic defense. "I didn't know that until I got back!"

Amy gave the Doctor a sharp glare, the kind that could cut through steel. "Right. So anyway, the Atraxi showed up, and they basically threatened to fry the entire planet because one escaped prisoner was hiding on Earth. In my house!"

The Doctor threw up his hands in frustration. "Oh, come on! I handled it! Gave them a proper talking-to, sent them running—sorted the whole thing out!"

"After getting dressed in a stolen outfit!" Amy smirked. "With the bowtie."

"It was borrowed, Pond!" He shot back indignantly, adjusting his bowtie. "Very dashing look, too, if I do say so myself."

The bowtie is kind of hot, but I'm definitely not saying that out loud.

I crossed my arms, arching a brow. "So let me get this straight: you crashed into her backyard, ate a bunch of her food, left for over a decade, and then proceeded to drag killer aliens back to Earth? All in a matter minutes, by your account, of course? That's... impressive."

It's also kinda screaming extra-terrestrial scrub behavior.

The Doctor whirled on me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I—No! That's not—You're twisting it!"

Amy burst into laughter, clapping her hands. "She's got you there, Doctor."

"Thank you," I said with a satisfied nod. "Honestly, I'm starting to see a pattern with you. What's next? Setting fire to a library?"

"That was one time!" the Doctor snapped, pointing a finger at me, his face a mixture of exasperation and slight.. what was that? Amusement... fondness? "And it was your fault that it happened in the first place!"

Amy blinked, her mouth falling open. "Wait—wait a second. You actually burned down a library? Both of you?"

I held my arms up. "Anything that future me does is not my problem!"

"Spoilers!" The Doctor said quickly, his voice rising in panic. "And you two are ganging up on me! This is highly unfit behavior for companions! This is why I typically only have one at a time!"

"Companions?" I teased. "I thought I was your intern slash sugar baby?"

Amy snorted, bring up a hand to cover her mouth. The Doctor let out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would somehow dull our combined wit.

"Right," he muttered. "This is what I get for taking humans on board. Never again. You two will definitely be my last."

I smirked, tilting my head. "That's a lie, and we both know it."

The Doctor shot me a sideways look but said nothing, his lips twitching ever so slightly. Amy, recovering from her laughter, placed a hand on her hip and turned to me.

"Sooo..." She dragged while grinning, "Long story short, the Doctor and I stopped the Atraxi together, and he invited me to come along."

I gave her an impressed look. "Sounds like quite the introduction. I mean, apart from the childhood trauma."

Amy shook her head. "Honestly, it was worth it."

The Doctor straightened, his face lighting up with his trademark enthusiasm. "See? Amy gets it! Adventure, danger, wonder—it's the best life in the universe!"

"Hmm," I hummed skeptically, shading my eyes from the sun as I looked out over the ocean. "I guess we'll see if it lives up to the hype. So far, all I've experienced is turbulence and your inability to land where you're supposed to."

The Doctor huffed, throwing his arms up in mock exasperation. "Oh, for—fine! Let's see what this town has to offer, shall we? Maybe then you'll start appreciating my brilliance."

Amy gave me a knowing grin as we followed him toward the beachside road. "Don't worry. You'll get used to his ego, too."

"Doubtful," I replied, smirking.

Behind us, the Doctor muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "peanut gallery," and I couldn't help but laugh.

Amy grinned, leaning toward me. "Oh, and I forgot the best part—he had to break in the TARDIS afterward."

I blinked. "Wait, what? Break in the TARDIS? How do you even manage to get locked out of your own spaceship?"

The Doctor spun around, his coat flaring dramatically as he waved his hands. "You mean break-in like you did less than an hour ago? Also, I wasn't locked out! It was just... recalibrating after my regeneration. Completely normal!"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he had to jump to the moon and back just to reset it."

I stared at him. "Why the moon? There is literally nothing on it other than the American flag... and you're both British..."

"Scottish," Amy corrected. "1000% a proud Scot!"

We were nearing the beachside road. Somehow, through all of this, the Redbull had still remained in my grasp. I finished it off, noticing we were approaching a trashcan that sat at the edge.

I chucked it in, my aim and shot were perfect as the can clinked on the trash and fell inside. The Doctor raised both his brows and Amy whistled in an impressed tone.

The Doctor cleared his throat, brushing imaginary dust off his lapel. "And I'm not British either, a TimeLord. I just talk in this accent while speaking human English because I like Great Britain the best. And I just needed a quick hop, skip, and jump across space. The moon is the easiest and fastest place to go."

Amy snorted. "He says that, but then it took him two years to come back."

"Two years?" I choked out a laugh, looking between them. "You seriously left for two more years after all of that? Holy shit, fourteen years?! That is sooo fucked!"

"Language, PJ!" The Doctor threw up his hands. "And it was the TARDIS! She was still warming up, adjusting after the—" He paused, making a large gesture to himself. "—changes. Perfectly reasonable delay."

Amy crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. "Fourteen years, Doctor! Fourteen years!"

"Which is practically a blink in time travel terms!" The Doctor protested. "And I did come back, didn't I? Fourteen years for you but overall only about four hours for me! Cut me some slack!"

Amy turned to me, ignoring him entirely. "Two years later, and he shows up in the middle of the night like no time has passed."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Wow, you're really building a case for Most Reliable Time Traveler of the Year."

The Doctor looked utterly scandalized. "Oh, come on! It's not like I planned any of this! The TARDIS had—"

"Weren't you just hating on the Vortex Manipulator for being, as you put it, cheap and nasty?" I questioned.

"Which it is! Don't even try to make a comparison between my TARDIS and the rubbish on your wrist!" He cried with fury.

I waved a hand between the two of them, still laughing. "Wait, wait—so you're telling me that in the span of four hours for him, you aged fourteen years, had a crack in your wall that turned out to be a tear in time and space, and had to deal with killer aliens chasing after him?"

Amy nodded solemnly. "Pretty much."

I let out a low whistle. "And here I was thinking my life was insane."

Amy smirked. "And, right before the Doctor took me to Chicago to try authentic deep-dish pizza, we were in the 29th century on a spacecraft carrying the whole of Britain!"

I vaguely remembered the conversation they were having when they first boarded the TARDIS an hour ago and found me on board. It seemed the Doctor had taken Amy to Chicago for the sole purpose of pizza.

"Yes, Pond, as we agreed: lunch before Winston Churchill. Although it seems we'll need to wait before getting to him for even longer." The Doctor groaned, rubbing his temples. "You two are going to be impossible together, aren't you?"

I grinned. "Oh, absolutely."

Amy threw an arm around my shoulders, her grin matching mine. "Get used to it, Doctor. You're stuck with us."

Amelia Pond really is a cool person.

With a dramatic sigh, the Doctor pointed ahead. "Fine! Enough storytelling. Let's see what kind of beach town we've come to!"

"But we still need to tell her about the Star Whale from yesterday!" She said.

"Later, Pond!" He called, all of us coming to a stop.

We stopped behind him—at that moment, my stomach gave a loud and angry sound. The Doctor and Amy turned to me with wide eyes.

"Blimey, was that your stomach?" The Doctor gasped, looking to my abdomen as though a monster was popping out of it.

Against my will an angry fluster took over my face. While I could not die from starvation—I still had to eat to be able to function properly. Not to mention, not eating was still entirely uncomfortable.

"Uhm," I brought a hand behind my head and rubbed the back of it. "Yeah, do you mind if we actually stop somewhere to eat, I'm pretty hungry..."

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚
𝐟𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

We were in Australia, but America was singing about a horse with no name from the speakers above.

The small beachside cafe was not busy by any means. We sat near the side, a large window panning next to us giving a beautiful view of the beach. My eyes scoured the menu hungrily, everything on it looked good.

However, considering this was a beachside cafe, the seafood truly caught my attention.

"Yep, I don't care that I just ate, this is too good to pass up. I'm eating again." Amy announced after minutes of reading through the menu. "What're you guys going to get?"

She sat next to the Doctor across from me. The booth was big enough to fit maybe five comfortably.

"I'm leaning toward the coconut shrimp and fries," I said honestly, putting the menu down and looking at Amy.

She waggled her brows. "It's funny to hear you call them fries and not chips. I'm eyeing the burger myself. How about you, Doctor?"

We both turned to him; however, to my confusion, he was staring at me seemingly not paying attention. His mind was far away, his lips tilted into an almost dopey smile.

The fuck? My eyebrows furrowed.

Amy proceeded to wave a hand in his face to catch his attention, something that worked as he jumped and looked at her.

"Sorry, what was that? Wait, don't answer that! First, PJ, what's your name?" He questioned.

I blinked staring at him as if he was stupid. "What? You know my name! You quite literally just said it!"

"PJ has to stand for something, and you never told me before. Spoilers, is the word I recall you throwing at me every time I asked!" He clapped, staring at me expectantly.

I cackled. "Well, then I'm glad to know that I will be messing with you in my future because my name is PJ. Not short for anything, it doesn't stand for nothing—it's just PJ."

"What? Come on!" The Doctor threw his arms in the air and sat back in his seat like a pouting toddler. "Are you serious?"

"What do you expect me to say? My name is Potty Jane? Or Peanut Butter and Jelly?" I sarcastically quipped. Amy snickered and even the Doctor cracked a small grin. "The Ravagers weren't the most creative in what they called me—it's just PJ, Doctor!" I sighed, but the Doctor quickly leaned forward again snapping his fingers.

"There it is—PJ is what the Ravagers called you. But what's your actual name, the name you were born to on Earth? In that big ole state of Kentucky..."

My lips pursed, but my expression gave nothing away. There is no way I am telling him what PJ stands for. Practically nobody called me Polaris Jade in this universe.

I much preferred PJ, there were fewer expectations with that name. Not so much blood or fire or power associated with it.

And well—my birth name—my actual name that my mother named me before the scientists stole me... even fewer called me by that name.

"What's your name?" I turned the question around on him.

He was fast to try and answer. "The Doctor—"

"No," I cut him off. "Your birth name, the name you were given on Gallifrey."

Amy looked incredibly interested, staring at him curiously.

The Doctor's expression shifted more serious, his eyes sharp. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

"No answer? Why? Because you don't go by it anymore, right? It's the same for me—my name is just PJ, and I would like for it to stay that way. PJ is a fine name." I explained, the last part coming out softly.

The Doctor sighed, but he knew he could not argue with me on that point. "Very well, you're right. PJ is a lovely name—PJ, PJ, PJ... what am I going to do with you...?" He was lost in thought before he looked at Amy again. "Pond, what was your question from before?"

It seemed he was off my back about it. Hopefully it stayed that way.

"I asked what you're getting?" She said simply.

He waved her off. "Oh—I'm not really hungry..."

She scoffed. "Oh, come on! You have to get something—we're on the beach in Australia!"

He smiled. "And we'll be on the beach in Australia many more times, one of which I'm sure I'll be hungry enough to eat. But as of now..." The Doctor groaned slightly, patting his stomach dramatically. "I'm still stuffed from that pizza."

Amy snorted. "Yeah, you did eat an entire everything deep dish pizza on your own. And American portions are anything but small."

"Oi! I was just enjoying Chicago pizza, Pond!" He defended himself hotly. "How was I supposed to know we'd be coming here afterward?"

I snipped a sarcastic. "Because you're the pilot?"

He glared at me in response as Amy held her hands up and cut back in.

"I wasn't judging, and I don't blame you! It was good!" She said right back with a smile. "It's just a shame that now you're too full to eat delicious Australian seafood."

He rolled his eyes but did appear disappointed. However, he waved it off and pointed to me.

"I'll steal some of PJ's chips!" He piped.

Considering I am coming straight from the year 2025, the most instinctual saying left my lips at his comment. With all the deadpan in the world, the word came out against my will.

"Bruh."

The Doctor blinked in surprise while Amy tilted her head in confusion.

"Well, haven't heard that one in a while," He finally snickered before abruptly changing the subject. "Are we going to do the thing once the server gets back?"

"What thing?" I frowned.

"You know the thing." He stressed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

He proceeded to use his right hand to motion between the two of us. I arched an unimpressed brow.

A salty breeze drifted in from outside.

"No, I really don't know what you're talking about..." I was more than confused. "What thing?"

He sighed as though explaining what he meant took all the energy in the world.

"I guess it is future you and past me that do it—but the accents! You're great at accents, and so am I... we sometimes do the accent of the place we're at on Earth. You know, when we're not running for our lives..." He explained happily, staring at me positively thrilled.

Oh shit. Future me showed him different accents? Talk about annoying.

Of course, I can do accents—I am 393 years old and a multiverse traveler. However, popping out with different accents did not seem smart considering I wanted to stay on the down low with the Doctor. Seeing as he already knows it was not something I can change.

Might as well roll with it.

"In that case," I said before drastically changing my entire dialect of speech. "So I think I'm gonna order some shrimp with chips, mate. What'dya think about that?"

The English and Australian accent is very similar in many ways. However, the Australian accent was much more nasally. Australians tend to pronounce vowels differently than the English, and often drop the "r" sound when it comes after a vowel. For example, Australians pronounce "car" as "Caah" and "better" as "Beddah". They also speak about 10 words faster per minute than Americans, but slower still than the British.

The Doctor leaned so far forward that he was practically in my face, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "Alright then, mate," he said in an over-the-top Australian accent that was, annoyingly, spot on. "Let's give this a whirl, shall we?"

Amy choked on the air. "That's ridiculous. You sound like a knockoff Steve Irwin. Both of you do!"

"Oi, rude!" I shot back, keeping up my own exaggerated Aussie twang, eyes still locked with the Doctor's. That chin is really something, damn. "That's just how it sounds, innit? We're fit to blend right in, ain't we, mate?"

The Doctor nodded earnestly, his faux accent now cranked up to eleven. "Too right, PJ. We'll be locals before you can say 'shrimp on the barbie.'"

Amy was shaking her head with a grin. "No! You both sound like characters in a bad tourist ad! Nobody talks like that."

"Jealousy, Pond," The Doctor said smugly. "You wish you could join this elite club of accent connoisseurs."

It was a fake club.

Before Amy could retort, the waitress arrived at our table, balancing a small notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. She smiled warmly. "G'day! You ready to order?"

The radio was still playing in the background.

"I've been through the desert
On a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain,"

I liked the song a lot. The Doctor seemed to as well based on the way he was subtly bopping his head.

The waitress was somewhere in her thirties—her face was extremely pretty. Her blonde hair was knotted up in a bun.

Without skipping a beat, the Doctor turned to her, his Australian accent suddenly toned down to something far more believable. "G'day! I'll just have a tea, black, thanks!" He smiled.

The waitress jotted down his order and turned to me. Time to commit. "I'll get the coconut shrimp and chips, please. And maybe a lemonade to go with it?"

"Righto," She said with a nod, then turned to Amy.

Amy cleared her throat, still grinning. "I'll take the burger, medium, and some chips. Oh, and a cola."

"Scottish, eh?" The waitress said, raising an eyebrow. "You just visiting then?"

Amy's grin widened. "Yeah, visiting my friends." She motioned to me and the Doctor. "They live in Sydney, but we decided to visit the beach..." She trailed off thoughtfully. "What was the name of the town again?"

The blonde-haired waitress froze suddenly, her eyes giving a glassy look. She seemed to snap out of in the next second, humming a small chuckle.

"Oh, I don't know..." She said in a wispy manner while scribbling down the order. "It'll be right out!" With that, she left us to ourselves.

I watched her leave with my mouth slightly open and a look of bewilderment on my face. "What the fuck was that? Who forgets the name of the town they work in?" I questioned out loud, slipping right back into the American accent I had been speaking in for too many years to count.

The Doctor was standing in the next second causing me and Amy to look at him in surprise.

"A town without a name?"

"No, nobody forgets the name of the town they live in," He licked his lips, pulling out his sonic. He was curious, like an ecstatic puppy. "You two finish eating up then meet me back on the beach when you're done. I'm going to investigate." He said, preparing to run off.

I stopped him. "And what are we supposed to pay with? You said you'd take care of everything..."

Amy nodded her head in agreeance.

The Doctor suddenly reached into the front pockets of the trousers and pulled out a blank black card. It was thrown at my face.

A yelp escaped as it hit me in the eye and bounced onto the table. The Doctor paid no mind as he proceeded to run out of the restaurant.

Me and Amy were suddenly staring at the simple black card in front of us with wide eyes.

"It's an infinite space card!" I said excitedly, picking it up and examining it closely.

It was smooth—very smooth. Upon touching it, joy shot straight to my heart and tingles raced down my spine. It literally smelled of infinity.

"What's an infinite space card?" Amy asked, staring at the card. "Can I touch it?"

I nodded, handing it over to her to examine. She ran her fingers over the card and shivered.

"An infinite space card is a limitless card that can be used anywhere in the cosmos! It basically means the Doctor is loaded!" I laughed. "No wonder he said he'd paid for anything we want!"

"Wow..." She sighed while dreamily holding the card.

"Wow, indeed..." I nodded.

At that moment, we were joined by the waitress who held both our plates in her grasp.

"Thank you!" I piped after she set my plate down in front of me.

It looked mouth-watering.

The waitress gave me a confused look. "I thought you were Australian?"

Welp. This is awkward.

"Uhm...? Nah, I think you're just remembering things wrong."

At that moment, the song on the radio ended.

"You see I've been through the desert
On a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain,"

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

Amy and I stumbled to the beach arm-in-arm where we found the Doctor. He was standing on the shoreline with his sonic screwdriver pointed toward the water. His shoes were becoming soaked as he was standing with the ocean water up to his ankles.

He did not seem to care, his eyes focused on the sonic and tongue poking out from between his lips. The Doctor's hair fluttered lightly in the breeze, its floppiness apparent as he kept needing to blow it out of his eyes.

I could not stop myself from smiling at the funny sight of him. Just barely scratching three hours of meeting him and he already caused a feeling of giddiness and wonder to erupt from inside me. It seemed the stories of him were true.

Amy grinned at me, no doubt feeling the same thing as we ran over to greet him. His infinite black card sat snugly in my pocket.

The various items inside my backpack clattered as we ran. The snow boots were beginning to become uncomfortable in both the sun and sand, but I soldiered on.

The TARDIS was once again in sight, but we passed her by in our pursuit of the Doctor.

"Doctor!" Amy called out causing him to look up with wide eyes. "Have you found anything?" She panted lightly as we finally stopped just beyond the shore.

He turned to us happily, leaping out of the water. The bottoms of his pants were soaked but he did not seem to mind.

I wordlessly handed him his card back, he happily took it.

"Yeah—this town doesn't have a name! Every time I ask someone, they go all wanky and forget what we're talking about! Strange speech patterns. They repeat themselves and seem unable to recall recent events... ugh think, think, think!" He hit himself on the head with his sonic screwdriver repeatedly, pacing in a circle. "The water is giving me an odd signal—the sonic isn't picking up on what's wrong with it though, it's too much...!"

Amy furrowed her brows. "The water? Too much as in...?"

"As in whatever is going on with the water must go on for miles if the sonic can't identify exactly what's wrong with it." He said in a frustrated manner.

"Shouldn't it be the opposite?" I questioned curiously.

The Doctor pointed his sonic at me dramatically. "As one might naturally think, but in large bodies of water especially, when a compound becomes too stretched that it is nearly everywhere in said area, it blends in so well that it becomes practically invisible!"

"Ah," I clicked my tongue while nodding my head.

The Doctor turned back toward the shoreline, pacing with his sonic screwdriver held high like a baton, muttering to himself. The cuffed bottoms of his trousers dripped water with each step. Amy stepped closer, her head tilting as she tried to follow his rambling train of thought.

"It's a chemical, I'm sure of it. Something leeching into the water," The Doctor began, spinning on his heel and nearly toppling into Amy. "But not just any chemical! No, no, no—something that interacts with neural pathways. Think about it! Strange speech patterns, memory lapses... what if it's suppressing—oh, I don't know—everything!"

"Suppressing everything?" Amy echoed, her brows furrowing. "In everyone...?"

"Yes! Thoughts, memories, the ability to even name this place!" He gestured wildly toward the town. "The locals could be drowning in a sea of biochemical shush! It's brilliant—horrifying—but brilliant! Still, the question is—" He paused, staring at the sonic with frustration. "—what exactly is it? Obviously, it only affects humans as I am fine after standing in it!"

I tuned out their chatter, more focused on the heat radiating off the sun and the distinct squelch of my snow boots in the sand.

Time to investigate and be a helpful intern.

I dropped my backpack to the ground with a soft thud, kicking off the boots and tugging at the folds of my jeans.

The Doctor's back was turned when Amy's question broke through their theorizing.

"Oi, PJ, what are you doing?" She asked, her tone amused.

The Doctor whipped around just in time to see me pulling off my jeans, standing in just my tank top and panties. They were the cute half-lacey ones too. His jaw dropped, his expression bouncing somewhere between flustered and scandalized.

"Wha—what're you doing?!" He stammered, his hands flailing as if trying to shield his face but unable to stop staring.

I shrugged, unbothered. "I'm going to figure out what's wrong with the water. You're welcome."

Before either of them could respond, I jogged toward the ocean and dove cleanly into the surf.

"PJ!" The Doctor yelled after me, his voice tinged with panic.

The water was cool, and it was refreshing as it protected me from the sun. Although the ocean tasted... off. Still salty. Still plenty of sealife piss and shit in it. But there was something extra... it tasted almost of gasoline.

I popped my head back up from the water a moment later, grinning as I brushed wet hair out of my eyes. "The water's nice! Could've told you that from shore, though."

The Doctor stared at me incredulously, his sonic dangling in his grip. "Are you completely mad?!" He sounded upset.

"Oh, relax," I said with a wave, then inhaled deeply, letting my other senses take over as I focused on the composition of the water. A faint, metallic tang clung to the back of my throat, a sensation I finally recognized. "It's an alien chemical! Telythium."

The Doctor's expression shifted immediately, intrigue replacing his flustered worry. "Telythium?" He repeated, striding closer to the shoreline. "Of course! Telythium... harmless to humans in small doses, but in high concentrations—"

"—It scrambles your memory like an overheated circuit board," I finished, paddling lazily in the water.

Amy glanced between us. "Wait, so it's not deadly?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, not deadly—well, not directly. But prolonged exposure could lead to complete cognitive collapse. Forgetfulness, loss of identity—like wiping a hard drive clean!" He spun to face me, his expression morphing back to concern. "Which begs the question—what are you doing still swimming in it?"

"Relax, Doc," I said smoothly, keeping my tone light. "Radiation exposure's part of life when you're raised on spaceships. Got enough residual immunity to deal with chemicals like this."

Liar, liar. But a probable one.

The Doctor didn't look convinced, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Still, I'm not taking any chances!"

At first, I thought he meant he did not believe me.

Before I could argue, he took off his tweed jacket, pulled off his suspenders, stepped out of his boots, and handed them all to Amy. "Be a dear and hold these, will you?"

She wordlessly took them from him.

He then marched straight into the water, his trousers soaking up to his knees. "Right, out you come! Let's go!"

And then I realized that he believed my excuse but was worried and still not willing to take any chances. What a sweetheart.

Instead of complying, I grinned mischievously and flicked a handful of water at him.

"Oi!" He yelped, flailing as the splash hit his face.

He isn't at risk from telythium.

Amy cackled from the shore. "Oh, this is funny! Get her, Doctor!"

"Oh, I will!" He lunged toward me, but I ducked under the water, resurfacing a few feet away with a triumphant laugh.

He huffed angrily, tossing his screwdriver back on the shore before diving completely in and chasing after me.

What began as a lecture quickly dissolved into a childish splash fight, water flying everywhere as Amy watched silently from the sand. The Doctor, despite his earlier demeanor, was trying to hide his grin.

"Oh—gosh, this tastes horrible! Yes, you're definitely right, someone dumped a bunch of telythium in here!" The Doctor gagged, choosing to swim in one place momentarily as he stuck his tongue and used his hands to try and wipe it off.

He had passed his pursuit of me.

"You're so weird..." I commented while swimming over to him.

His hair was soaked, basically lying all over his face. His bowtie was downturned from how much water was in it.

"And you're even weirder," He sniffed, but it sounded strange as he was still holding his tongue while speaking. "Also, gotcha!"

I yelped as he suddenly jerked toward me, grabbing me around the waist tightly. He then started swimming toward the shore while clicking his tongue.

"Naughty, naughty, naughty..." He was mumbling, his grip not loosening as he pulled me from the water.

"Hey—I figured out what the chemical is though!" I defended myself.

"Rather recklessly, but then again, that is practically your middle name..." He groaned, managing to pull the both of us up on the beach.

As we walked through the waves—he situated himself behind me, moving his hands to my shoulders as he lightly pushed me forward. Amy was standing, whistling as we walked up.

"Looks like you two had fun," She grinned, handing the Doctor his things back.

My head longingly tilted back toward the ocean. It had been rather fun—too bad I didn't have a surfboard.

"Don't even think about it..." The Doctor eyed me suspiciously. "I'll take you surfing another day. We'll go to Hasolon instead..."

"How do you know what I was thinking? Better yet, how do you know my favorite place to surf?" I crossed my arms.

The Doctor stood upright, fixing his bowtie with a happy grin.

"Spoilers, dear!"

Now, I was beginning to hate that word.

"Yeah, so, anyway... who the fuck poisoned the water? You think it was the government?" I asked while pulling my jeans back on which proved a lot harder with the water sticking to my skin. "What if we're in a government-testing town? You know maybe these people are being used as guinea pigs or something!" I whirled around to look at the Doctor and Amy who were already staring at me.

He cleared his throat—face changing from whatever previous emotion he'd been wearing to bemusement.

"While I appreciate the enthusiasm... no..." He snapped his fingers. "The townspeople are in too good of condition, they are no doubt mostly living normally. There is just something that doesn't want this town spotted... but what?" He was pacing again, sand flying as he went.

The evening was falling quickly, and right away, I noticed the unnatural glow that seemed to shake throughout the sky. Very pretty‚ but not of natural Earth.

Amy noticed it too, pointing to the sky. "What is that?!"

The Doctor looked up, pointing his sonic screwdriver at it. It made familiar odd beeping noises as the Doctor looked at it.

"Hmph," Is all he said.

"Hmph? What does hmph mean?" Amy scoffed while I looked at the Doctor curiously.

My backpack was now back on my shoulders.

"It means..." The Doctor practically sang, grabbing both mine and Amy's hands. "We are going in this direction!" He said, beginning to lead us along the shoreline.

The Doctor's grip on both mine and Amy's hands was firm as he practically dragged us along the sandy shore. His long legs made quick work of the distance, forcing me to jog to keep up with him and Amy.

"Care to explain where we're going, Doctor?" I asked, my backpack bouncing with every hurried step.

"Oh, you'll see! I love a good lighthouse!" He grinned, glancing back at me with the kind of manic glee that was both contagious and mildly concerning. "They're wonderfully dramatic, aren't they? Towering over the sea, holding secrets, guiding lost souls—"

"Guiding us to what, exactly?" Amy interjected, stumbling slightly as we reached the edge of the beach where rocky cliffs jutted out sharply.

"The truth!" The Doctor declared.

"I hate the truth." I muttered.

The Doctor proceeded to poke my head in response to the unneeded snark.

The lighthouse loomed ahead, its paint peeling and windows darkened. It looked like it hadn't been used in years, maybe decades. Wooden boards crisscrossed the doorway, a faded "KEEP OUT" sign hanging crookedly.

"Oh yeah, this doesn't look ominous at all," Amy said dryly, crossing her arms at the same time I let loose a simple, "Bruh."

The Doctor snorted from where he stood in the middle of us.

I craned my neck to take in the height of the structure. "Definitely has 'alien shenanigans' written all over it."

"Exactly!" The Doctor agreed cheerfully, already whipping out his sonic screwdriver and aiming it at the boarded-up door. The device whirred and buzzed, the boards creaking before popping off one by one.

"I thought those things don't work on wood?" I questioned.

"Because it's not wood!" He said as the wooden planks suddenly transformed into metal planks.

What the fuck.

Now it was seriously starting to feel like I was back in the Time Agency. Just less terminating people. Interesting change, perhaps the Doctor was actually onto something in the way he chose to do things.

The Doctor winked at me before pushing the door open with a flourish.

Inside, the air was damp and stale, the faint smell of saltwater mingling with something metallic and burnt. Dust motes floated in the fading light from the cracked windows. The sun was officially setting over the horizon.

"Looks cozy," Amy muttered, her voice echoing in the empty space.

"Cozy is overrated," The Doctor said, already bounding toward a rusted spiral staircase that led downward.

"Down?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't lighthouses supposed to go up?"

"Not when they're hiding secrets," He replied, his voice carrying as he disappeared below.

Amy and I exchanged a look before following him down the narrow staircase.

The air grew cooler the deeper we descended, and the faint hum of machinery began to vibrate through the walls. At the bottom, we stepped into a cavernous room lit by the eerie glow of alien technology. Panels of blinking lights and swirling symbols lined the walls, with thick cables snaking across the floor and disappearing into a large, cylindrical device in the center of the room.

The Doctor whistled, spinning in place as he took it all in. "Oh, now this is interesting. Neural dampening tech—advanced, but also a bit... scrappy. Very scrappy—this work sucks! Someone's been improvising."

"Neural dampening?" Amy repeated, stepping closer to the central device. "You mean this is what's making everyone forget stuff?"

"Precisely! Well, sorta, it's the water that's doing it but this little beauty is emitting the telythium into the ocean! And that's scrambling the townsfolk's memories, suppressing their ability to think too hard about the past—or even their own town's name. Clever, isn't it?"

"Clever and creepy," I muttered, eyeing the glowing panels.

"Hang on." Amy pointed to the glowing sky visible through a crack in the wall. "What about that weird light outside? Is it connected to this?"

The Doctor nodded, crouching to examine a leak in one of the cables. A faint, glowing liquid trickled out, pooling on the floor. "There's our culprit!" He said, dipping a finger into the liquid and sniffing it.

"Telythium?" I guessed.

"Correct! Someone's been using this tech to stay hidden, but the leak is causing the chemical to seep into the water supply—and it's reacting with the tech to create that glow in the sky. A beacon, of sorts, making this place reflective to... oh, anyone out there who might be looking."

"Okay, so..." Amy said slowly, crossing her arms. "Who's behind all this? And why go through so much trouble to hide a tiny, random beach town?"

"Great questions, Pond!" The Doctor said, leaping to his feet. "And ones I fully intend to answer!"

He spun to face me, his expression alight with excitement. "PJ, how good are you with mystery tech?"

I smirked. "Better than you'd think."

"Brilliant! I already knew the answer, I just wanted to hear you say it. Now, let's stop this spillage of telythium, shall we?"

As he spoke, the hum of the machinery seemed to grow louder, as if the lighthouse itself was waking up. Amy glanced nervously at the glowing panels.

"Uh, is it supposed to do that?"

"Probably not," I said, already stepping toward the central device with the Doctor close behind.

The air was thick with tension—I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. This guy was a whole ton of fun to be around, and I'd only been with him for a few hours!

"Let's see—Vahegar, Muslito, Darwin's Erring? Nope, not any of those... there it is, Spaniold paneling, meaning I am working with..." My thoughts that were being spoken out loud were interrupted by the Doctor himself.

"Malongo Technology!" He piped with a radiant smile from over my right shoulder.

Amy was standing peeking over my left.

"Exactly!" I proceeded to knock on the paneling three times causing a series of keyboards to erupt from within and screens to appear before me.

With that, I was off—fingers moving as fast as possible as I decoded whatever the hell this was. Apparently, it was a Malongo that was behind this if the technology was anything to go by.

The Doctor chittered behind me excitedly, clapping his hands. "Oh—oh, I have missed you, PJ! Look at you go, need to admit, almost as good as me!"

I snickered under my breath. "Whatever, it's only because I have the skill to do it by hand. You cheat using the sonic screwdriver..."

The Doctor gasped. "I do not cheat! It's a scientific instrument, it's not cheating!"

"Cheating...!" I sang. "You probably don't even remember how to hack or decode by hand anymore!"

Amy looked to Doctor. "Is that true? Cause if that's the case then that would actually mean that she's better than you."

The Doctor grumbled, stepping to my side. He placed his sonic screwdriver back in his pocket.

"Forgot how to do it by hand? Better than me? No one is better than me! I'll show you two..." He was saying before his hands were on the paneling moving just as fast, maybe even faster than mine. "The sonic is just faster than manually doing it..." He was muttering, his eyes moving and following the coding running down the screens.

My competitive nature kicked in, and I forced myself to move faster. Which caused him to move faster and so forth. In seconds, we were both growling and attempting to bump the other out of the way with our hips.

Amy was watching us with an unimpressed look.

"Almost... got it..." I huffed.

"No—I have it!" The Doctor cried, both our hands moving and pressing the button at the same time which effectively stopped the machine from spilling any more telythium in the ocean.

The thing about telythium is that when it is placed in an unnatural environment, it'll typically fizzle away on its own. By stopping the machine from continuously dumping it in the ocean, the ocean will eventually eat away at the telythium. It'll probably be gone within the week.

The people affected by it, so long as they are no longer exposed, should go back to normal as well.

"I did that...!" The Doctor smiled. "Saved the day once again!"

"No, bitch, I did that!" I argued, hands on my hips while turning to the Doctor.

"Oi, you may have started it but you never would have finished without my help. And stop swearing!"

"That is not true and you know it!" I paused for dramatic effect. "Bitch."

The Doctor and I were now bickering, our faces flushing as we pointed to one another almost accusingly.

This fucking guy!

"Uhm, guys..." Amy interrupted our bickering. "We have company... who're you?" She demanded.

Me and the Doctor quickly stopped, turning to look at the newcomer. A bright orange dude who looked like a cross between a human and a reptile stepped out of the shadows.

And he seemed pissed.

The reptilian figure stepped further into the dim alien light, his scaled skin glinting faintly in the glow of the tech. His bright orange hue reminded me of a sunset, but the stern look on his face was anything but serene. His eyes—yellow and slit-pupiled—narrowed as he took us in.

"You've made a mess of things," He said, his voice low and guttural. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Amy instinctively took a step back, while the Doctor moved in front of us, a blend of curiosity and charm at the ready.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor, and you are...?" He gestured broadly, his tone disarmingly cheerful.

"I am Epeazer," The alien replied, his gaze flicking between us warily. "And you've just interfered in something far bigger than you realize."

The fuck? I don't have time or the want for this.

"Lovely to meet you, Epeazer," The Doctor said, stepping closer with that bright, goofy grin of his. "Care to explain why you've got a neural dampening field hiding an entire town and poisoning its water supply? Not very neighborly, is it?"

Epeazer hissed, his lipless mouth curling into something like a sneer. "The dampening field is necessary. It keeps me hidden. Without it, I'd be found, captured, or worse."

Okay, let's cut to the chase.

"Found by who?" I asked, stepping around the Doctor. My tone was more skeptical than welcoming. "You running from something?"

I know a runner when I saw one.

"Someone," Epeazer corrected, turning his attention to me. "The Galactic Confederation. They branded me a criminal for daring to oppose them."

The Doctor tilted his head, his grin fading. "Oppose them how exactly?"

Epeazer's yellow eyes narrowed. "By exposing their corruption. Their so-called justice system is a farce. They silence dissent, and I refuse to be silenced. So they hunted me down and drove me to the edges of the galaxy. This town—this nameless little nowhere on the dirtball planet—is the only place I've been able to hide."

Amy crossed her arms, frowning. "And the people here? You're fine with messing with their memories and lives just to save your skin?"

Epeazer's scaly brow furrowed. "They're unharmed! The dampening field doesn't hurt them—it just keeps them from asking too many questions, from noticing me. I've lived among them. I'm not a monster."

"But you are in trouble," The Doctor said, his voice softening. "Your equipment's failing. That chemical in the water—telythium, yes? It's leaking elsewhere and creating a beacon. Do you know what that means?"

Epeazer stiffened but said nothing.

This part I had not realized, I looked up at the Doctor curiously.

"It means," The Doctor continued, stepping closer, "you're not as hidden as you think. That glow in the sky? It's practically screaming 'Come and find me!' to anyone nearby. And trust me, the Confederation will notice. And they won't come for you peacefully—this entire town, the planet, will be at risk..."

Epeazer's tail flicked anxiously behind him. "I... I didn't realize it had gotten that bad."

"Yeah, it's bad," I said, crossing my arms. "You've got to shut it down. Like, yesterday. Thankfully we did it for you."

Epeazer growled low in his throat. "Turn it back on... I'll fix the leakage and the glow will stop emitting in the sky..."

"What? No!" I stepped forward. "Go hide somewhere else, bitch! Leave Australia and it's delicious shrimp alone!"

"Alright," The Doctor placed himself between us nervously. "This is getting much more temperamental than it needs to... let's discuss this peacefully... please..."

Epeazer's growl deepened as he stepped closer, his tail lashing against the floor. Every instinct I had screamed at me to get ready to move—or shoot.

Shooting seemed like the better option.

"I'm not going anywhere," He hissed, his voice low and threatening. "This is my refuge, and I'll do what I must to protect it."

The Doctor raised his hands. "No one's saying you don't deserve safety, Epeazer. We're just saying this method isn't working anymore. The field is broken, faulty, kaput—continuing to rely on it will only make things worse."

I snorted under my breath. The Doctor wasn't wrong, but I didn't feel like having a therapy session.

Epeazer sneered, his clawed fingers flying over the control panel behind him. "You don't understand. If I turn it off, they'll find me. If they find me, I'm dead. And if you get in my way—"

The hum started before I could react, a low, ominous vibration that grew with every second. The panels around us lit up like Christmas, and I didn't need a manual to know that wasn't good.

The Doctor's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh no. Oh, no-no-no, don't touch that! You're reactivating the dampening field!"

"Exactly," Epeazer said, his claws moving faster. "I won't let you ruin my only chance at survival."

"You fool! Reactivating it so fast could vaporize us!" I shouted angrily, noticing the way he was doing it was much too fast, he might overloaded the entire this way.

And Epeazer had the audacity to shrug.

The Doctor was still playing Mr. Nice-Guy and attempting to talk the dude out of this. Whether it was actually working or not was beyond me, although the Doctor did seem to cause a flicker of hesitance in Epeazer's movements.

However, the unfamiliar alien's eyes quickly hardened again and he shook away his hesitation.

Yeah, that was enough for me. I reached into my backpack, pulled out my laser pistol, and leveled it at Epeazer.

"Step away from the panel, bitch, or I'll shoot."

"What?! PJ!" The Doctor's voice cracked like a whip, and I barely glanced his way. He was already spinning toward me, eyes burning angrily. "Put that down!"

"Not a chance!" I shot back, keeping my aim steady. "We don't have time for your moral lectures! He's about to vaporize us!"

"And if you shoot him," The Doctor said, exasperated, "we'll definitely be vaporized! Do you know how many systems in this room could go critical with a single blast? Now is not the time for guns—there rarely ever is, so I will tell you again. Put. It. Down."

I hesitated, my grip tightening on the weapon. "You're kidding me, right? Look at him—he's not going to stop!"

Before the Doctor could answer, Epeazer snarled, his claws hovering over what looked suspiciously like a big red button. "Enough of this!"

"Stop!" The Doctor shouted, lunging toward the panel. "Epeazer, don't do this! We can find another way—"

"No time for that," I growled, my patience officially at zero.

In the name of Australia!

I bolted forward, ignoring the Doctor's protests, and smashed the butt of my pistol into the biggest, most important-looking glowing cylinder on the side of the panel. Sparks flew everywhere, and the hum cut off with a sputter.

Epeazer roared like I'd just stepped on his tail. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

"Saving Australia, that's what!" I shot back, dodging his swing and rolling to my feet in one smooth move. I was practically glowing with self-satisfaction.

Behind me, the Doctor groaned, the sound carrying a mix of irritation and resignation. "Oh, for crying out loud—couldn't you have smashed anything else?! That was the power regulator!"

"Yeah, well, it worked, didn't it?" I replied, brushing dust and bits of glowing debris off my pants. "The field's down again, no chance of being brought back up. You're welcome."

The equipment sparked and groaned in protest, the lights flickering wildly as if the entire room was on the verge of exploding. Epeazer collapsed to his knees, his face buried in his hands. "You've doomed me," He muttered, his voice shaking.

I opened my mouth to snap back, but the Doctor crouched beside him first, his tone suddenly soft and patient. "No, Epeazer. We've given you a chance—a real chance. You can't hide forever, not like this. But I promise, I'll help you. We'll find somewhere safe for you, somewhere better than this."

The alien looked up, his glare uncertain now, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to fight or cry. I sighed and crossed my arms, glancing at the Doctor. "You always have to fix everything the hard way, don't you?"

"Always," He said with finality, throwing me a glare before gesturing at the sparking console. "Now, unless we want this whole place to go up in flames, let's focus on shutting the rest of this down properly. Shall we?"

A large part of me admired his kindness.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

By the time we fixed everything and made it back to the TARDIS with Epeazer, it was well past midnight. The waves crashed against the sand calmly as we entered the ship.

Unsurprisingly, the Doctor had been rather cold toward me for the rest of the night. We disassembled everything in near silence.

He still spoke to Amy though.

Guns really aren't his thing—I'm getting that now, okay!

He liked doing things the long way, the proper way, and the kind way. Admirable.

Thankfully, Amy was not upset with me, more just confused about how I managed to pull the pistol out of my backpack so fast.

Me and Epeazer did not so much as glance at one another the whole time.

The short trip to somewhere in the Andromeda galaxy, an area protected by the Shadow Proclamation was not nearly as interesting as the trip to Australia had been.

The Doctor escorted Epeazer out of the TARDIS, asking Amy to head to her room for the night and telling me to wait in the console room for his return. Amy gave me a pitiful look and a silent wave as she left through the corridors.

Even she knew the words the Doctor would have for me would be anything but friendly.

While we had been working at disassembling the lighthouse paneling, she was quietly murmuring to me the story of the Star Whale.

It was the first trip the Doctor took her on, and it was literally yesterday for them. The moral of the story was that the Doctor was disgusted by what humanity had done to this innocent space creature, and it had left him with a choice to either kill everyone on the ship, leave the Star Whale flying in essential torture for another few hundred years, or basically make it brain dead so it could keep flying without pain and the starship wouldn't disintegrate.

Amy had kinda messed up somehow and in the Doctor's anger he basically told her that he would be taking her home. Amy; however, proved herself and ended up saving the day by releasing the Star Whale from its captivity and showing everyone the Whale was flying them by choice.

That no one needed to harm it or anything.

Honestly—I really don't know. To be frank, it was an extremely long and confusing story, and I'm pretty sure I'm missing like 75% of the details.

Whatever the case, all I really learned is the Doctor gets scary when he's upset and he doesn't fuck around with unnecessary violence.

So basically—I'm screwed. Especially considering that 'no violence' isn't typically the way I roll.

I groaned while waiting for his return on one of the springy console seats.

I wondered if he would kick me out. Fire me as his intern/companion/sugar baby.

However, I doubted it. It didn't seem possible considering my future is his past. Couldn't that cause like a paradox?

The Doctor had been waiting for me for almost three years, there's no way he would kick me out hours later.

But who knows?

Fuck—I really was not in the mood to be lectured. Perhaps that's why I straight up chose to ignore his words and invited myself to explore the corridors again.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

The corridor that I chose to wander winded in a separate direction from the one I had initially explored.

The corridors of the TARDIS felt alive in a way that walls usually did not. It was her telepathy that seemed to nudge me forward, wrapping around my being with comfort. The subtle hum beneath my feet guided me as I wandered farther from the console room, my fingers brushing the cool, curved walls. Shadows danced along the rounded surfaces, broken by occasional bursts of light from glowing panels.

The Doctor told me to wait.

The thought made me snort. Like that was going to happen. Unlike Amy—and no offense girl—but I don't wait.

Especially knowing that the Doctor probably had some epic rant lined up about morality and restraint, how he would shame and scold me. But he'd left me sitting there alone, a ticking time bomb of nerves and anticipation. Waiting wasn't my style.

My boots scuffed against the floor as I turned another corner, the dim lighting making the space feel even more cavernous. Door after door passed me, each one a mystery I itched to uncover. A few were locked—probably for good reason—but that didn't stop my curiosity from flaring each time I passed one.

There were a few that were not locked, more rooms of randomness. One of them even held an entire forest within, I did not dare go inside for fear of becoming lost. It was truly amazing though, in all of my years and travels I had never encountered a place quite as impressive as the TARDIS.

The knowledge of it being its own pocket dimension in this universe still did not cease to amaze me.

Eventually, I found yet another that caught my attention.

A massive wooden door, its surface carved with Gallifreyan script that seemed to ripple if I looked at it from the wrong angle. The wood was dark, rich, and unnervingly sturdy—nothing like the sleek metal and coral of the rest of the ship. My chest tightened as I approached it, almost like the door itself exuded some invisible pressure. The markings seemed to glow faintly, and I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob.

It didn't budge. Of course, it didn't.

Even when I put in a bit more strength than I should have—too much strength for a normal human. The door successfully protected whatever was on the other. My shoulders slumped and I found myself tracing over the markings with gentle fingers.

Everything in me really wanted to see what lurked on the other side of this door. My subconscious screamed at me to figure it out.

Slowly, begrudgingly, I stepped back, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Something about that door shrieked important. The kind of importance that came with secrets I wasn't meant to know—at least not yet.

I would find it out one way or another. And sooner or later I would find a way to get into that room. No other room on the TARDIS held my curiosity captive as this one did.

"Fine, keep your secrets," I muttered under my breath, giving it one last glance before turning away. The corridor stretched endlessly, and I trudged on, shaking off the strange weight that door had left in my chest.

A little farther down, another door caught my eye. This one was different—a swirl of gold and deep red, like molten metal frozen mid-flow. It was oddly warm, and the sight of it sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

The colors reminded me of the strange energy burning within me, the aureum and tenebris I barely understood. Immediately memories surged to the forefront of my mind.

Screams that had once ripped through my throat—blood, so much blood. Fire and ash. Creation and destruction. Birth... and death.

I blinked, a large intake of breath, and with a shake of my head, the unwanted thoughts were far away. It was something that I was good at: not thinking of things that brought pain.

For a moment, I felt like the door was watching me, daring me to turn back.

My lips curled into a sneer: challenge accepted.

The knob was incredibly warm as I twisted it with far more strength than was needed.

To my surprise, unlike the other few doors, it swung inward with ease, revealing a room that stopped me in my tracks.

I could not be sure how I knew, but I did. The second I made eye contact with it all such a feeling came over me, screamed straight in my face, and I just knew.

This room... it was... mine.

God fuck—it was mine!

The room wasn't extravagant, but it definitely wasn't simple either. A bizarre blend of cozy and futuristic, the kind of space that felt alive and lived-in. A sleek, curved desk sat against one wall, its surface cluttered with quirky gadgets and half-finished projects. There was a collection of vials glowing faintly with alien hues, their labels scrawled in messy handwriting that I recognized as my own.

Nebulite Serum, Plasmatica Resin, Erythralium Vapor, Silaris Extract, Xytherium Gas, Luminexis Dust... those were just a few of the vials that were haphazardly sitting in a small chemical kit.

I smiled so big at the sight that I thought my face might just crack. Messing with chemicals, and creating different things was a hobby that I found concerning pleasure in doing.

Photos were pinned to a corkboard above the desk, and my breath caught as I stepped closer to study them.

One showed me standing beside a man with wild brown hair, a pinstriped suit, and sneakers; both of us were grinning like we'd just pulled off the heist of the century. Another had me laughing alongside a red-haired woman whose vibrant smile was matched only by the sparkle in her eyes. A third featured a sneak snapshot taken of the wild brown-haired man knocked out on the TARDIS panel, something about the photo made my chest ache with fondness.

Eh, disgusting.

My eyes drifted back to the man in the pinstriped suit. He was handsome and tall, around as tall as the Doctor.

The Doctor...

There was no doubt in my mind that this man was the Doctor. His previous incarnation.

I was staring at pictures that I had not taken yet: pictures of my future. Even by my standards, it was an insane concept to stare at standstill photos of the future.

Photos were meant to serve as snapshots of the past: memories.

What I was looking at is in no way the past nor was it a memory. Not yet, at least.

I bit my lip staring straight into the brown eyes of the Doctor from the photo. It was almost like he was staring right back at me.

So many pictures of both of us were pinned to this board. It was weird because I am not really a picture person—I can't imagine having taken so many photos and yet the proof was right in front of me.

Proof that came in the form of silly selfies, photos taken when neither of us was looking, and everything in between.

In the corner, near the top, one of the many portraits caught my attention. Me and the Doctor were standing chest-to-chest, staring at each other harshly. And yet, in both our gazes—even mine—was such a mess of emotions that it had me swallowing nervously.

It was obvious neither of us knew we were being photographed.

Forcing myself to look away, I allowed my gaze to befall on a few other pictures. I looked mostly the same in them unsurprisingly. I don't age. I stopped aging when I was somewhere between 24 to 28.

Same figure, same blue eyes, same face. Same hair—kinda—it was shorter and darker in some of the photos. Not a huge change considering I had rocked some pretty outlandish colors and hairstyles before.

At the moment, my hair was long—a natural light brown. Rather boring but I was not inspired enough to change it.

My attention shifted.

On the back of the desk chair hung a leather jacket, perfectly broken in and unmistakably my size. I picked it up with my right hand, holding it high and examining it.

Cool... super cool.

Looks like I found my newest jacket. Thank you, future me.

The bed was tucked against the far wall, its navy blue blankets haphazardly strewn as if someone had just rolled out of it. And by the foot of was... is that?

A package of Red Bull!

Yes! Thank you future me!

A model of some kind of starship floated in a display case, slowly spinning as if caught in an eternal zero-gravity dance. Next to it, a pile of books—some worn and human, others sleek and alien—teetered precariously.

I turned in a slow circle, my fingers brushing over the back of the desk chair, the edge of the bookshelf, the faint ridges of the photos pinned to the corkboard. Everything about the room was so perfect, from the mix of chaos and curiosity to the slight mess that it was. It was overwhelming.

And yet... it was comforting.

I dropped into a red sitting chair in the corner, its cushions soft against my back. My hands rested on the armrests, and for a moment, I just sat there, staring at the room like it might vanish if I blinked.

Exhaustion slowly was clawing its way through me.

By all means, I should have more energy than the average person, and I did. I could stay awake for days if I wanted. However, as pure energy consistently burned throughout me—even if it was locked away at this moment in time—it tended to tire me out.

I chose to sleep as often as I could for that reason. That and because... sleep was easy... sleep was peaceful.

The room seemed to encourage such exhaustion, the bed was calling to me.

How was this possible? How could a room I'd never seen feel more like home than anywhere else I'd ever been?

A lump rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard, refusing to let it take hold. I wasn't the sentimental type—never had been. But something about this space broke through the walls I'd spent years building.

And that terrified me.

It terrified me because, as much as I did not want to acknowledge it—this place was on the Doctor's ship and therefore belonged to the Doctor. This was his doing.

Stupid fucking Space Lord—or TimeLord—whatever he is.

I leaned back, closing my eyes and letting out a shaky breath. I didn't know what the Doctor would say when he found out I'd been poking around and ignored him. I did not know what he would say when he realized that I was lounging in a room holding my future, a room that was both mine and not.

Not yet, technically.

But for now, I let myself sink into the moment, the faint hum of the TARDIS wrapping around me like a blanket. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt... safe.

There was a bathroom door left ajar, and finally the feeling of my still-damp tanktop and sand rubbing in places it shouldn't was too much.

The snow boots filled with sand were considerably uncomfortable as well.

Sighing, I stood up.

At least let me get a shower in before the Doctor potentially kicks me out.

The closet was just as impressive as the room—not as impressive as the costume room I had found, but remarkable enough. Clothing of different planets and different time periods greeted.

There was a particular red dress that seemed straight out of the Victorian era which caught my eye. Even I had to admit it was rather beautiful, I wondered when I would wear it.

As much as I wanted to dig through every article of clothing in this vast closet just to get a sliver of what my future might hold—I settled for a large shirt and comfy-looking shorts. Sleeping in actual pajamas in an actual bed in a place that is not either falling apart, is not in the middle of a war zone, or a prison of sorts is all I could ever ask for.

And the TARDIS, well she was one of the safest places in this universe. Just a few years ago I never would have imagined myself as being a passenger on board this craft... look at me now.

Wandering toward the bathroom, the light turned on the second I stepped inside.

The bathroom was larger than it had any right to be, but this is the TARDIS. The walls were a smooth mix of black marble shot through with streaks of glowing gold—like someone had frozen a galaxy mid-explosion and plastered it all over the place.

The floor was made of glossy tiles, each one a unique shade of deep blue that looked like they belonged to the deepest parts of the ocean. As I walked, they shifted slightly in color, like waves ebbing and flowing underfoot.

On the right, a vanity stretched the length of the wall. The mirror above it wasn't just a mirror—it displayed what I could only assume were alien constellations, softly glowing and shifting every few seconds. The countertop was cluttered in the most familiar way: a jar of bobby pins, a half-empty container of moisturizer, and a toothbrush that looked far too advanced for anything from Earth. There was even a tray of mismatched rings and bracelets.

Is that...? Yep, it definitely is.

A prison bracelet was sitting on the tray.

The shower dominated the left side of the room, a glass cubicle with no discernible nozzle. Instead, soft rain seemed to materialize mid-air when I waved my hand over the panel beside it.

No time was wasted in stripping my clothing off, nose scrunching as sand fell everywhere.

The water was a perfect temperature right away—like the TARDIS already knew what I wanted.

Inside the shower, the controls allowed for something far beyond average. I could set it to "replicate the gentle rains of the Venusian cloud forests" or "simulate the rejuvenating mineral baths of Clytum V." I settled for a "Hydro-Vapor Therapy Cycle" because why not?

The water cascaded over me like liquid silk, washing away every bit of grime from the day. A soft, warm mist filled the space, carrying a faint scent of citrus and something floral I couldn't quite place. The tension in my shoulders melted away almost instantly. It was one of those rare, blissful moments where everything felt okay.

By the time I finished, I felt like a completely new person. My hair was damp but clean, wrapped in a fluffy white towel that had been conveniently waiting for me on a heated rack. Another towel was draped around me as I walked back into the bedroom in my pajamas.

And then I froze.

The Doctor was sitting on my bed.

Not just sitting. Lounging, actually, his back against the headboard like he owned the place. He was tossing some odd little contraption into the air, catching it effortlessly as it spun and clicked.

"Nice shower?" He asked, not even looking at me as he flipped the thing into the air again.

I crossed my arms, heart racing but determined not to let it show. "You couldn't wait until I was done?"

He grinned, finally meeting my eyes. "What can I say? I'm impatient. Like you, considering that you were exploring when I specifically told you to stay in the console room. Thought I'd repay the favor."

I narrowed my eyes, but my lips betrayed me with the smallest twitch of a smirk. "I had sand in places there should never be sand, Doctor..."

"I'm sure! Me as well seeing as I had to chase you around chemically-induced ocean water!" He said cheerily, catching the device one last time before setting it down on my bedside table. "We need to talk, dear."

He said that and I frowned seeing as he was sitting on the bed. As though sensing my thoughts, he sat up straighter with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't worry, I changed..." He spoke matter-of-factually.

It was then I noticed his clothing was different. Still the same style, but different. The bowtie was a new color: blue. And his trousers were a lighter wash than the previous ones. His hair also seemed fluffier—shiny.

How he had already taken a shower and fully changed? Existence may never know.

Then again, I suppose I had been examining my room for a long while before I chose to hop in the shower.

"Good!" I cheered right back, spinning and falling dramatically in the comfy red sitting chair. I already loved this chair. "Now, what did you want to tell me?"

"AH—yes!" He stood up from the bed with a flare. "You're going to need to stop pulling moves like that... and I am being serious..." He said as he stalked closer to my form.

I made it a point to not look at him, staring off to the side with a stubborn glare.

"You're not the boss of me," I huffed.

"While you're aboard my TARDIS, I am." He hummed in a way that was so delightful it was scary. The Doctor then leaned down, his hands holding either side of the chair I sat on, his body bent over until we were nearly nose-to-nose. "Look at me, PJ." He demanded.

I ignored him, continuing to stare off the side.

"I said look at me." A hand came up, gripped my chin, and forced me to stare into his eyes.

Sharp green eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets and wonders of this universe.

"I am the boss while you are in my care. While you are my companion, my intern, my employee... whatever you want to call yourself, but when you travel with me, when you follow me—you listen to me. And we..." I could not stop the tremble that shot through me as he moved forward an inch and rested his head against my own. "...We do not use violence unless necessary. Unless I give you the go-ahead. For my safety, for Amy's safety, for everyone's safety. And most importantly, for your own bloody safety." He breathed against me, eyes still locked onto my own even with how close we were. "When we travel together... when you are in my care that makes me responsible for you. Despite what many think, I do my best to make sure my companions are well taken care of and safe..."

His words were spoken like a promise. But there was so much more to them—emotions that I could not understand. Intense emotions passed through his eyes as he regarded me.

I nudged my head back against him.

"You can't control me like you do the others... and you certainly don't frighten me, not like you frighten the rest of the universe. I heard your enemies call you the Oncoming Storm... well, Doctor, I thrive in storms... I dance in them..."

To my surprise, he chuckled, eyes intense as he looked. "Oh, trust me, I know, dearest. I would hope that my companion isn't scared of me. I don't intend to control you, but I do expect to receive respect from you as I will do my part in respecting you."

Why did he need to sound so... British? The tone he was using did not sit right, it was not a proper lecture or warning sort-of tone. It was too... flirtatious... playful and serious at the same time.

He was enjoying this.

I purposely ignored the suspicious tingle that the realization sent spiraling through me.

"Now, I love a bad girl—always so fun. We did have a lot of great times together..." He smiled, and his eyes seemed to disappear in the past for just a moment before darting to the board with so many pictures pinned on it. The majority of the pictures are of us. Well, of future me and his past reincarnation. "But we still need to establish trust and respect. I recognize that you are not the version of yourself I knew in the past, but you're still the same person, just a tad younger..."

Bitch.

My mouth moved on its own accord.

"And you're a lot older, I'm sure..." It came as pure and utter snark, a vicious smirk found its way onto my mouth right after.

The Doctor leaned his head down, breaking eye contact and shaking his head. "Really testing my patience here, dearest..." He said with a breathless laugh.

It was almost weird to see the man who had been so easy to rile up earlier—so easily flustered—loom over me as he was. With so much poise.

But I suspect it is much easier when it's only the two of us and the Doctor is essentially dealing with a stubborn and borderline dangerous woman.

"What do you want me to say?" I sighed, suddenly moving under his arms and standing from the chair. "That's how I roll, Doctor. Violence needs to be used sometimes..."

He was quick to step up to me, staring down at me hard but patiently.

"Yes, sometimes, and I am at fault for choosing violence myself on many occasions." He stressed before his eyes went dark. "I've done horrible downright atrocious things—I am not innocent. But there is almost always another way, and that is the path that I do my best to choose when available. And that is the path that you will follow while with me. I am not saying don't defend yourself if the time comes—I'm not even asking you to give up your weapon! But I am telling you that we are never the ones to shoot first, and we are never the ones to incite brutality without warrant." There was something else in his tone, more than conviction—a level of pleading. Like he was pleading for me to understand.

But that is not how the game is played. And he would never understand such a thing.

Unreasonable anger flared up within me. Anger at being told off, at being lectured like a child.

"Then maybe this isn't the place for me!" I hissed, my mouth was moving on its own before I turned my back to him in an upset fit and enraged sneer painted over my face.

It was silent for a long few moments, a deep sullen silence. I could sense the Doctor slowly coming closer, stopping when he was just behind me.

He finally spoke, his voice quiet and holding every ounce of patience and sympathy. Although under it all, he sounded sad.

It was so unlike the version of himself that he normally wore. The bubbly character I had got to know over the last few hours.

"Maybe it's not..." He started, tone low. "But I think it is. And I would like for you to stay, but I am absolutely not holding you hostage. You are free to leave as you please." He paused, voice still calm and sincere. "Is that what you want? To leave?"

Did I want to leave?

I mean, it would not be smart to leave. He provided everything, even a protection that he had not realized. Not to mention, my Vortex Manipulator was still broken.

However, despite knowing that it was not wise to leave, there was something else holding me here.

I had fun today. A lot of fun.

I may have been throwing a temper tantrum at the moment, but I genuinely liked the Doctor. And I really liked Amy Pond too. I loved the TARDIS, she was safe. And I love this room... it was just so peaceful here.

The realization was startling as it hit me. Hard.

I don't want to leave, and not just out of necessity. I actually wanted to stay here—I truly wanted to travel time and space with the Doctor. I was curious about his ways... I was curious about him.

It did not help that there was an entire board of portraits dedicated to adventures and more with this man. With other companions as well.

"No," I whispered quietly, shoulders slumping in defeat and face falling. "I don't..." My voice cracked. "It's strange, I've never met someone who actually practices what they preach..."

The Doctor walked around me, standing in front of me and placing himself centimeters away. He tilted my head to look at him—and in his eyes was, again, so many emotions. So many unspoken things that he dared not say out loud.

He licked his lips, cupping my face gently and staring at me with all the compassion and care in the world.

"Then stay..." His voice was almost pleading. "Stay until you somehow find your way into my past... and then when you're finished there... you can return and our timelines will flow correctly. But for now, stay."

I slowly nodded my head, but stubbornness claws its way back. "I'll stay, I guess... but I'm making it clear now... if it comes down to I won't hesitate to fight..."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you..." The Doctor nodded.

The Doctor's intense gaze softened, and he stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing like a heartfelt discussion, dear! Now off to sleep with you, I know how humans need their rest. Big day tomorrow. Winston Churchill for sure this time!"

He spun on his heel and began pacing toward the door, hands clapping together.

"Are you sure about that?" I deadpanned, crossing my arms.

He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "Ninety-five percent certainty. Maybe ninety-three-ish."

I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips as I watched him reach the door. "Very compelling."

"And yet," He said, spinning around to flash me an impish grin, "I've convinced you to stay!"

"Debatable," I muttered, and he laughed—a sound so genuine and carefree it caught me off guard.

Just as he reached for the doorknob, I blurted out, "Wait!"

The Doctor stopped mid-step, one foot hovering comically in the air, and turned to face me, eyebrows raised. "Hmm? What is it, dear?"

Why did he sound almost nervous? His eyes darted behind me to my bed in a way that was anything but subtle.

Did he...? Does he think I am going to ask him to fuck me or something?

While the idea was admittedly tempting, to a degree, I figured it best not to start a potential mess of things.

Let alone with the Doctor who could blush as red as a tomato—he'd probably pass out if such a thing came from my mouth.

Not to mention I don't typically engage in hook-ups... Santa Claus, that John Smith guy was a rare occurrence, cross my heart!

I spoke quickly to clear up any potential misconceptions. "That Gallifreyan door... the locked one I found earlier. What's behind it?"

For some reason, it still floated around my thoughts.

He relaxed but his eyes gleamed with mischief, a grin spreading across his face as if I'd just handed him the greatest secret in the universe. "Oh, that old thing? Why, that's my room!"

Before I could press him for more, he gave a little two-fingered salute and slipped out the door, leaving me standing there.

But as the quiet hum of the TARDIS settled around me, I found myself smiling. Turning toward the bed, I wasted no time in leaping on it and crashing on the spot.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

A murky blackness shimmered and whipped behind my gaze as I slowly returned to the land of consciousness. Purples and pinks—sky blues and golden threads were but a memory as my eyes opened.

The room was dim, lit only by a soft blue glow that barely made the shapes around me discernible. No windows, no sunlight, not even starlight.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Was I still dreaming?

I must be because there is no way possible that a strange albeit oddly handsome man is standing over my bed. My mind caught up, this was no man—this was a TimeLord. A weird TimeLord with a 'delicate' brows, floppy hair that appeared softer than silk, and damn twinkling green eyes.

A small scream tore from my throat as I jumped away. He grinned far too happy, clapping his hands and causing the lights to turn on brightly.

I squinted at the sudden change, staring at him in a distraught manner.

He was still wearing the same outfit as last time: the tweed jacket, trousers held up by suspenders, and that damned blue bow tie. Happiness radiated off him like an obnoxiously bright sunbeam.

Gross.

"Ah—good morning, PJ!" The Doctor cheered, much too loud for my sake.

Immediately I knew this man had not slept a wink since I'd last seen him. Right before I went to bed however long ago that was.

There was no true night or day on the TARDIS, therefore time no doubt was kept in the sense of hours. As there was no night then you sleep when you are tired. As there is no day you wake when you wake.

I clutched the comforter to me tightly.

"How long have you been standing there?" I breathed, my raw voice filled with all the judgment in the world.

Either he did not hear me or he did not care for he started to talk my ear off, and nothing of which he said was an answer to my question. His hands moved with every word, eyes gleaming brighter than should be possible.

"Glad you are finally awake! I don't need nearly as much sleep as you lot! Waiting for you and Pond to wake up is so boring. I mean, honestly, you've been asleep for ten hours! Have you been tiring yourself out, dearest?" He seemed to like hearing himself talk—I noticed.

He called me 'dear' a lot. Whether it came out in the form of 'dear' or 'deary' or 'dearest', it was a pet name that he cast toward me easily. Like it was second nature. It was slightly funny because while he truly did say it endearingly, the way he said it reminded me of someone hella old. But then again, he was fucking old.

And that's coming from me.

I finally managed to cut him off, blubbering in disbelief. "Were you standing there for all ten hours? Watching me sleep for ten whole hours?!"

The Doctor scoffed, shaking his head as though it were the most preposterous thing he'd ever heard. "Of course not! I have far better things to do than watch you sleep all night!"

But did he?

Reading the expression on my face, he floundered before continuing.

"I happened to save the entire empire of Kreen in the 12th century while you and Pond slept. All within seven hours, mind you!" He said boldly, his tone cocky.

"Don't get hurt patting yourself on the back," I snarked with a low groan, sinking back into the bed as I relaxed.

This bed was the most comfortable thing in existence.

"Oi! Well, I fully expected you to be awake when I came back, but I was only greeted by Pond in the kitchen! I came in here to make sure you were still breathing!" He seemed to desperately be making up excuses. Only to follow it with yet another compliment to himself. "It would seem that my fantastic presence woke you up, sleeping beauty!"

Fantastic presence? This fucking guy.

One thought stuck out to me.

"Isn't Kreen like a terrible empire with horrible people? Why the hell would you save a place like that?" I was rubbing at my eyes cutting off my sight from the Doctor.

Yet I could still practically see him rubbing his hands and shifting from foot to foot nervously. "Everywhere has its downfalls... doesn't mean a place does not deserve to be saved. Their princess, for example, wonderful woman. She'll make a fine queen. In fact, she was the one who I initially rescued and then she helped free—" I cut him off yet again.

"While I would love to hear you boast and prattle on about how you rescued a princess from a questionable empire, is there a reason you are in my room and standing above my bed watching me sleep for an undetermined amount of time?" I sarcastically questioned.

To be honest, I was absolutely not in the position to judge 'right' and 'wrong'. Let alone snub a trash empire full of shit people considering I am a pretty shitty person myself, but like... I just don't care to hear about it right now.

There ain't no rest wicked, after all. The lifestyle of the wicked is one of loneliness, people don't save you. People don't care about you. If anything, people loathe you and you loathe them and that is just the way it works.

The Doctor pouted. "It was only a few minutes!" He defended. "Stop making it sound so weird... besides you're a lovely sleeper! You still scrunch your nose and snore all angry-sounding."

"It is weird! And I don't snore!"

"Yes you do!"

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

"Why would you even know all of that if you've only been here a few minutes?"

"Anyway!" He purposefully ignored me. "We have big things planned, so up and at 'em! Me and Pond will be waiting in the console room for you like we have been for the past hour..."

I tried to bite his finger as it came down and he bopped me on the nose. The Doctor was much too quick, touching my nose and bringing it back just before I snapped my teeth at him.

"There is a time for biting but now is not that time, dearest!" He casually informed, resting his hands in the pockets of his trousers before he spun around and left my room with a spring in his step. "Don't take too long!"

When the fuck was there a time for biting in his mind?

With that, the door closed behind him and I was left in the silence of the room. If I listened hard enough I could just barely make out the mechanic whirring of the TARDIS.

"What the fuck?" I muttered, falling back into the soft blankets and running a hand down my face.

The silence of the room hung heavy for a moment as I stared at the ceiling.

A groan escaped my lips, and with one last muttered, "What the actual fuck?" I dragged myself out of the ridiculously comfortable bed, my feet hitting the cool floor with a dull thud.

Stumbling toward the small desk across the room, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror perched on top. My hair was an absolute mess, a chaotic halo of tangles. With a sigh, I grabbed the nearest brush and set to work, pulling it back into two tight braids that at least made me look like a functional human—or whatever the hell I was.

The TARDIS wardrobe, the wardrobe my future self put together, featured an eclectic collection of options, but I stuck to what felt practical.

I slipped into a pair of cargo pants, the many pockets perfect for stashing tools, gadgets, or whatever else I might need. A plain black T-shirt followed, soft and fitted just enough to move easily in. A pair of boots came next.

Not like the Doctor's or Amy's, but more breathable and suitable for running in.

A pair of light and cool-looking goggles sat on the corner of the desk. The Doctor might think bowties are cool, but goggles are the coolest. I slid them atop my head.

Immediately I realized these weren't just any goggles. They were high-tech space goggles... just what I need.

My pistol blaster got tucked into the waistband of my pants and I strapped a knife to my boot.

My gaze fell on the brown leather flight jacket hanging on the back of the desk chair.

Interesting.

The jacket was adorned with patches, each one a small piece of spacefaring history: galaxies, starships, constellations. I slipped it on, the worn leather fitting like a second skin. My mind teetered wondering where the future version of myself had acquired this and why she—or—I, left it behind.

The jacket carried a weight I couldn't quite place, but it felt right. Like it belonged.

The hum of the TARDIS grew louder as I made my way to the console room. My boots clicked softly against the metal flooring, the faint mechanical whirring around me almost soothing. As I turned the final corner, the Doctor's voice drifted toward me.

"Honestly, Pond, it's not a question of if the Spitfires could fly in space, it's how brilliant they'd look doing it!"

Amy's reply was sharp and amused. "I still don't get what exactly they are, let alone how they managed to—oh, look who the TARDIS dragged in!"

I stepped into the console room, and Amy immediately let out a low whistle. She leaned against the railing, her arms crossed as she took me in. She wore an outfit similar to yesterday—a denim skirt with brown cowboy boots.

"Well, don't you look like a proper space captain!" She teased, grinning. "Just like the movies!"

"Captain of what, exactly?" I shot back, though I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips.

Amy shrugged. "Does it matter? You look the part."

My eyes darted to the Doctor. He was standing by the console, grinning at me like a kid on Christmas morning. His gaze lingered on the jacket, and for a split second, something flickered in his expression—warmth, nostalgia, something deeper than his usual manic energy.

Through it all, there was a certain sadness that found its way into his eyes momentarily.

"Love the jacket," He said softly, reverently. His usual exuberance returned in a flash as he gestured animatedly. "Really pulls the whole look together. Very... iconic... you wore it all the time! Or from your perspective, you will wear it all the time!"

"Right, glad to know that this is the start of a grand relationship between me and a jacket," I nodded dryly, walking up so I was standing between the two. "Now that I'm here, care to explain what exactly we're doing today? Oh wait, never mind, I presume we're going to try to shoot for Churchill again?"

The Doctor's grin widened, and he clapped his hands. "Exactly! That man is always a hoot—I wonder what he has for me to make him call and request my presence so suddenly."

"We told him we'd be there in minutes nearly five days ago, Doctor..." Amy said in a concerned manner.

The Doctor waved her off. "Time travelers, Pond, you'll get used to it! Sometimes I get phonecalls and it takes me ages to get there—"

She scoffed. "Uhm, yeah, I know, fourteen years remember?"

He cringed. "Yep, well, usually I'm there minutes after they hang up..."

My lips pursed suspiciously. "Uh huh, well..." I clicked my tongue. "I am deeply sorry to have kept you guys waiting for no reason, but I won't actually be joining you today..."

Both of them looked at me so fast I thought they might snap their necks.

"What? Why?" Amy demanded her expression a mix of confusion and indignation. "You can't just skip out! You've got the jacket and everything—you're a proper space hero!"

I was not that—I was no 'space hero'. I was no hero at all.

"What does a jacket have to do with that?" I asked in an amused manner.

"Everything!" Amy said but did not explain herself whatsoever.

The Doctor frowned in frustration. "Exactly! This is Winston Churchill, PJ. Winston Churchill! Now, why wouldn't you want to come meet him?"

Yesterday I was willing to go because it's where they intended to go and I had only been on board for minutes. Thankfully, we turned up in Australia instead.

Not that I'd ever tell the Doctor that I was thankful for the TARDIS taking us somewhere else.

I shifted uncomfortably, avoiding their stares by idly fiddling with the sleeve of my jacket. "I don't like the '40s," I mumbled almost shyly, cursing myself for such a stupid action.

In the next second, I forced myself to stand up straight and meet their gazes dead-on. My eyes were hard—confident.

"What's wrong with the '40s? You always shot down the suggestion when it was brought up." The Doctor tilted his head, studying me like some particularly interesting specimen. "You know, I always thought it was something I did in my future to sour you on it—but I can see now that you've apparently always not been a fan..."

So I don't like the 40s.

Now not and not when I eventually go on to travel with his past self as well.

His words made my stomach clench, but I forced my face into a disgusted mask. My mind; however, didn't comply, spiraling into memories I would rather not think about. Shame started to climb through me against my will.

Ah—the '40s.

I hated everything about that decade. The music grated on my nerves, too cheery for a world teetering on the edge of ruin. The fashion—pin-up girls and victory rolls—was restrictive and suffocating. The culture reeked of performative patriotism and stifling norms. But more than anything else, I hated the '40s because of what it meant to me.

I hated the '40s because I'd done an awful thing during it.

The weight of my actions clung to me like a shadow.

30-something years ago, for me, it was about 30 years ago; I found myself in a dusty New Mexico lab, standing shoulder to shoulder with Robert Oppenheimer, helping to crack the code of splitting the atom.

I was there. I helped. I chose to help.

I told myself it did not matter. That this was one tiny piece of history in one single universe in the grand scheme of it all. Tried to play it off as I had done much worse and I will continue to do much worse.

But I still felt stupidly guilty for allowing myself to be a part of it. For placing myself in it. I knew exactly what I was helping create, even if I pretended otherwise.

I've always enjoyed tinkering, to the extremes, I liked making bombs. And typically, I really don't give a crap who I use those bombs on.

Maybe it's because I, myself, am a walking bomb.

Nevertheless, I did it because I had wanted to, because it was fun to create... at the time.

But then I watched... I watched the bomb get dropped and I saw what it did to all those people. To all those poor and innocent people. All human, all clueless, and nearly all civilian. They did not deserve such a fate.

Suddenly, when I was witness to what I had helped create, to the devastation that creation caused, it was no longer fun.

I realized that I was playing a game. Again.

By helping with that bomb, helping create that devastation, I chose to play a game—a cruel game that I told myself I would stop playing long ago.

It was no longer just placing myself casually in the history of this universe. Of this Earth.

I tried to remind myself that this would have happened whether I chose to include myself in it or not. But it did not matter—because there were so many.

It wasn't like going on a mission when I had been with the Time Agency. It was not like finding myself in a brawl, and it was certainly not for the sake protecting myself. Nor did it have anything to do for the greater good.

It was like playing the grand game of Space Jam. It was disgusting.

The U.S. and Japan may have been at war, but that bomb killed innocents. Not just military officials, not just warriors, not just soldiers. The majority that it killed were innocent men, women, and children.

Hard-working civilians. Lovely little humans who had been living their happy normal lives.

I had helped create destruction... again.

Every time I thought about it, I couldn't help but think of my own destroyed universe, my own devastation. How ironic that I, a victim of annihilation, had turned around and helped create a weapon capable of annihilating entire cities.

Then again, was I actually a victim?

No...

The word whispered from the recess of my mind.

The Polaris Jade does not get to be a victim because The Polaris Jade is too powerful for that. An indestructible machine of creation and destruction.

Therefore, I suppose it was in my nature to help nurture humanity in creating such a thing.

The guilt knotted my stomach. I wasn't sure what I hated more—the '40s or myself.

Shaking myself free of the memories, I forced a sharp breath through my nose and gave them the most dismissive answer I could muster. "Because the '40s is a disgusting period that I really have no interest in visiting."

Amy's mouth fell open. "That's... a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"It's true," I said, shrugging, though my heart pounded. "I don't like it. There's nothing there for me."

The Doctor was staring at me, his bright green eyes sharp, like he was peeling back the layers of my nonchalance in search of the truth. I avoided his gaze, folding my arms tighter across my chest.

He had no clue.

If he really went digging he would figure out my involvement in the Atomic Bomb creation. Him finding that out was one thing. Would I rather him not? Of course. But was it the end of the world if he did? No.

He might just have some choice words for me that I am more than fine without hearing.

But overall, so long as he didn't realize I'd done it 30 years ago and still somehow looked 20-something, then it'd be fine.

Now, if he found out who I really am, where I hailed from, and my current purpose in his universe? That would be a pretty big issue.

"Disgusting time period?" He echoed, his tone hovering between disbelief and curiosity. "You're dodging, dearest. You're a terrible dodger, by the way. But fine, fine, I'll drop it for now!" He threw his hands up theatrically. "If you won't go for the '40s, then come for Churchill!"

I frowned, glancing at him warily.

"He's a delight, really," The Doctor went on, a coaxing grin spreading across his face. "Clever man, brilliant mind, fantastic conversationalist. And! He's got cigars. You like cigars, don't you? I, personally, don't. Actually, they are very bad for you, so never mind that! No cigars, bad cigars. Well, he's got tea! You like tea, don't you?"

Amy snorted. "Doctor, tea is everywhere in the UK."

"Firstly, she's American and I am persuading, don't mess it up, Pond." The Doctor corrected, jabbing a finger in her direction with a pout. He turned back to me, his eyes sparkling. "And I'm very good at persuading."

I arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

The Doctor leaned in closer, his grin widening as he adopted a tone that dripped with exaggerated charm. "Think about it, PJ. This isn't just some random jaunt into the past. This is Churchill! The man who rallied a nation during its darkest hour, stood up to fascism, and delivered some of the most rousing speeches in your human history. You can't pass up meeting him. Not when you're already dressed for it! Look at you—positively oozing 'space pilot captain meets wartime hero' vibes."

Amy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "She doesn't care about the vibes, Doctor."

"I care about the vibes!" He protested indignantly. "Come on, PJ. You've got to admit, there's something... poetic about it. You, me, Amy, and Winston Churchill. It's the sort of thing they write songs about!"

I narrowed my eyes. "No one's writing songs about me meeting Churchill."

"Not yet!" He shot back, his voice tinged with excitement. "But they could! I might even do it!"

I groaned, running a hand down my face. "Doctor—"

"And!" He interrupted, his tone brightening even more. "Let's not forget the opportunity for proper English tea. They do tea right in the '40s. You wouldn't want to miss out on that, would you?"

Amy let out a snort. "The American is not going to go just for tea."

"Then for the scones!" He declared dramatically. "Oh, the scones, PJ! Warm, buttery, with a perfect dollop of jam and cream—"

"Doctor," I cut in sharply, glaring at him.

He stopped mid-rant, blinking at me with wide eyes. "Yes?"

"You're insufferable."

"I've been called worse." His grin was triumphant now like he already knew he'd won.

"And relentless."

"That too."

I sighed heavily, feeling the weight of their combined stares. Amy wasn't even trying to hide her amusement, and the Doctor looked like an eager puppy, his hands clasped in front of him as though waiting for me to throw him a bone.

I crossed my arms tighter, glowering at the two of them. "Fine," I grumbled. "But I'm doing this under protest, and only because I know you won't stop until I agree."

The Doctor let out a victorious whoop, spinning on his heels before bounding toward the console. "Excellent! Knew you'd come around, dearest. You won't regret it! Oh, this is going to be brilliant!"

Amy smirked, nudging me with her elbow. "He's relentless."

"You can say that again," I fell back into one of the console seats, Amy sitting in the one next to me. "Will you teach me how to fly the TARDIS?"

"No," The Doctor easily lulled as he spun around the large console.

I sank deeper into the seat. No argument came from me at his words, I simply decided I would need to learn on my own since the Doctor said that he wouldn't teach me, not that I couldn't learn another way.

There was a huge gut feeling and common sense that told me that was definitely not what he meant by that... but he should have been clearer with his phrasing.

"And..." The Doctor gave one final spin and a last lap around the console before he pulled a lever. The TARDIS shuddered before falling still. "We are here!" He cheered. "I have a feeling that Winston Churchill is right outside that door!"

"Should we not change before stepping into the 40s?" I questioned.

The Doctor managed to bop me on the nose as he passed by me causing me to growl and swat at him. However, he was long gone by the time my hand came up, already linking arms with Amy and strolling with her toward the door.

"Not this time—Winston Churchill is more than aware of the life I lead!" He explained, pausing at the doors. "We don't need to hide anything... other than the outcome of this war, of course!"

With a sigh, I stood from the chair and wandered to them. We now stood at the door of the TARDIS.

"Mr. Churchill is known for being—ah—rather exuberant... it's best that I check outside first. Just to ensure it truly is safe!" He told the both of us.

Amy and I each took a step back from him but remained on either of his sides.

"Well, go on then," I motioned for him to get on with it.

"Wow—neither of you argued to come with me still?" He joked.

"No." Amy and I spoke in literal unison.

"In that case," He clicked his tongue, but his eyes were amused as he turned and slowly opened one of the doors, popping his head out.

Immediately—like seriously immediately—there was the sound of multiple guns cocking.

Based on the way the Doctor turned his head back inside for a second, his eyes wide as he stared at us, there was no doubt in my mind that he was greeted by guns. However, he still walked out.

Amy and I followed him out slowly, Amy managing to exit the TARDIS right before me.

Outside, we were in some sort of bunker. And it was definitely 1941 with all the neutrals and military tones.

A small group of men stood with their guns pointed at us. Suddenly, they all moved to the side revealing a rotund man with circular glasses.

The funny part about this was I had met Winston Churchill before. During the few years that I had spent by the side of Robert Oppenheimer working to create the most devasting bomb known to man during that time.

It was only one time at a dinner party, and I suppose now what he had said that night made sense. The guy kept talking about how familiar I looked and wanted to make sure we had never met before.

At the time, I waved it off and reassured him we had never met before.

I see now that, at the time, while I hadn't met him before he technically had met me.

"Amy, PJ... Winston Churchill." The Doctor smiled brightly, holding out his arm and presenting the historical figure.

Winston Churchill was wearing a black fedora, the most popular fashion trend for hats from the 30s up until the 50s.

I could not even count the number of fedoras that I had worn back when I was living in this time period. See, I used to have a stylish purple one that I rather liked, but it was long gone.

"Doctor?" Winston spoke, pulling a huge cigar from his lips, smoke coming from his mouth. "Is it you?" He asked, voice tinged with surprise and bedazzlement.

"Oh, Winston, my old friend!" The Doctor spoke happily, reaching forward with his hand outstretched. However, Winston stopped him mid-way before making a grabby motion with a playful smirk adorned on his face. "Hah—every time!" The Doctor laughed.

Amy and I were standing behind the Doctor. My face was plastered in a sulk while Amy appeared more lively and curious. Her wide brown eyes were taking in everything around in amazement.

It was just the 40s, not a big deal. But I had to remind myself and I had to understand that it was much different from her perspective. She was young and she had only ever known the time period that she was born into.

This was her first time exploring the vast galaxies and various histories.

I wish I was like that. To still be amazed by all the little things.

Don't get me wrong, there truly was anything and everything to explore, new sights and new things to learn all the time. It was always different in some way—universe to universe. And I was still astounded by it, by the beauty of it all.

But it still made it hard to be impressed by things like Britain in 1941 during World War II. If anything, being in such a superficial time when it comes to the grand scheme of time and space, made me want to leave.

Then again, that more had to do with the fact that—despite this being such a rudimentary event —I still made myself part of such pointless devastation. But devastation follows me wherever I go, I suppose in a way I am used to it.

It just made it harder to forget when I was with such a kind being as the Doctor and such an innocent person as Amy Pond during the exact time period I helped to enact such tragedy.

However, I have been in this universe for many many decades now—I have made myself a part of numerous histories around the cosmos during it. Some events I am not proud of and others actually turned out for the better.

Traveling with the Doctor, I was bound to run into more of these years and locations that I was a part of. It was something that I had to get used to. Shame, pride, and all.

"What's he after?" Amy asked quickly, bouncing on her toes in excitement.

The Doctor did not so much as look at us, continuing to stare at Winston Churchill in amusement as he answered Amy's question. "TARDIS key, of course."

"Think of what I could achieve with your remarkable machine, Doctor! The lives that could be saved!" Winston expressed.

The Doctor walked back towards the TARDIS, passing by Amy and I. He glanced inside one last time before closing the door. "Doesn't work like that I'm afraid..." He told him, moving to stand between Amy and me.

Our shoulders touched.

"Must I take it by force?" Winston challenged.

The Doctor stepped forward, wordlessly accepting the challenge. "I'd like to see you try." He tilted his head, staring at Winston knowingly.

Winston smiled, holding up a hand to the small group of men who still had their weapons trained at us. "At ease." With his command, all the guns were put down and everyone relaxed.

The Doctor smiled confidently, his hands on the pockets of his trousers as he regarded Churchill. "You rang?"

Churchill nodded, nudging his head. "Yes, follow me—we'll talk on the move...!" He told us, turning around and heading toward a corridor.

The Doctor and Amy were quick to follow after him, and I slowly treaded behind them.

The place shook and rubble fell from the roof as bombs hit the ground from outside. The Blitz—as it was called—where the Germans aimed to break British morale and force their surrender by targeting civilian areas in major cities. AKA London, where we no doubt were now.

As it would turn out, the British are quite stubborn and this did not break their morale in the slightest. They remained strong and withstood such attacks.

"So, you've changed your face... again?" Winston commented as we walked down the corridors.

"Yeah, well," The Doctor rubbed at his chin. "Had a bit of work done."

'A bit' of work is an insane statement considering the pictures of him hanging in my room on the TARDIS feature an entirely different dude physically.

My thoughts wandered. I wonder if regeneration for the Doctor is like stepping into an entirely new life with memories of previous ones, or if it is quite literally just physically changing himself but remaining entirely the same on the inside.

I filed that away as a question to ask him later.

Amy suddenly started jumping as she walked, spinning around with bright eyes.

"Got it, got it, got it! Cabinet War Rooms, right?" She questioned adorably, beaming at everything around.

It certainly put a huge smile on the Doctor's face as he saw her excitement.

Realization settled upon my shoulders. That's the reason he liked to take human companions with him on his journeys.

He was old and had seen most of everything. But humans—especially 21st-century humans—had not. And people from the 21st century were perfect, not as close-minded or naive as they were in the past, but not so advanced that what the Doctor showed them was no surprise.

People like Amy could see it, and they saw it with a sparkle in their eye and it helped such an old soul as the Doctor see it for the first time again too. Hope, wonder, curiosity—all there was to the universe. The beauty in it.

"Yup!" He cheered, arms moving as he spoke and motioned around them. "Top secret heart of the War Office, right under London!" He explained as we continued further down the underground corridor.

I was barely listening to his explanation, staring at him softly.

He saw it because his companions could see it. And now, he felt the same excitement and wonder at where we were because Amy was so exhilarated to be here for the first time.

Perhaps I would be able to be more like the Doctor and take from Amy's excitement in any other circumstance. But despite everything I tried to do, looking around just brought back memories.

It brought back shame and guilt at what I had done.

And those memories brought back flashbacks from even further in my past. Recollections I'd rather forget.

My arms remained crossed tightly over my chest, my footfalls quieter as I remained further back from the trio.

Suddenly, the Doctor turned his head slightly behind him. His eyes widened and he spun further before finally spotting me. His face fell slightly and his eyes sparkled in concern as he took in my form.

My form was currently nothing like Amy's. I exuded no thrill—only a sour face.

He started to slow down, opening his mouth to speak his concerns but he was cut off and his attention was taken to Churchill who thrust his
walking stick into the Doctor's hands.

"You're late by the way." He informed the Doctor, greeting an official and very put-together-looking lady who handed him a clipboard.

"Late?" The Doctor asked in confusion, looking at his wristwatch as though that would provide him with the answers he sought.

"I rang you a month ago." Winston Churchill stated. He was not angry or upset, he was just saying it how it was.

The Doctor looked distraught. "Really?" He asked, voice portraying his shock.

It seemed that Amy's concerns were right, because rather than him having called a few days ago as she explained—the man had actually called a month ago before the Doctor pulled up.

I truly am a horrible person. Terrible because that comment and the Doctor's reaction were enough to put a shit-eating grin on my face and have me choking on laughter from behind them.

The Doctor immediately turned his head to me with a scowl. "It's not funny, PJ!" He complained.

Amy hid a laugh by coughing into her hand. The Doctor threw a glare at her too.

"Sorry, it's a Type 40 TARDIS." He explained to Churchill. "I'm just running her in..."

At that moment, the official-looking lady took the clipboard back from Churchill. Her brown hair was tied back, big brown eyes wide and red as though she'd been crying.

"Something the matter, Breen? You look a little down in the dump," Churchill asked the women.

She furiously wiped at her eyes, shaking her head and putting a brave face on. "No sir! Fine sir!" She told him.

Churchill gave her a smile back. "Action this day, Breen. Action this day!"

He told, trying to lift her mood and inspire her.

I didn't blame the woman. World War II sucked.

The Doctor and I shared a quick glance. He quirked one of his delicate brows, standing with the Prime Minister's walking stick still in his grasp. I purposefully looked away from him.

The Doctor scoffed a chuckle under his breath, and I jumped lightly when I felt him move to stand next to me. He was all up in my space, but that was nothing new as he seemed to not understand the concept of the personal bubble.

I tilted my head up slightly as he leaned down, his mouth right by my ear as he whispered.

"Having fun yet?" He breathed.

My eyes met his, and I pursed my lips with all the attitude in the world before turning my head away from him.

"In your dreams maybe..." I clicked.

He groaned from next to me but was not able to say anything else for the Prime Minister turned to us.

"Coming, Doctor?"

Where? I had missed whatever the fuck was going on.

"Why?" The Doctor asked him, moving away from me causing me to let out a breath that I did not know I was holding.

"I have something to show you!" Was the only response we got.

Suspicious.

The Doctor and Amy did not hesitate to follow the man toward a scary-looking lift. I, on the other hand, stayed rooted to my spot and turned my head back in the direction we came longingly.

I swear I could feel the TARDIS pull—hear her calling for me to come back. To race back inside and bask in her warmth.

As though sensing my train of thought, the Doctor was quick to spin around come back toward me.

"C' mon, PJ!" My arm was grabbed by the Doctor as he gently tugged me behind him.

"Release me, Space Lord!" I had whisper-shouted at him.

"Not a chance, peanut gallery!" He whispered furiously right back.

We caught up with Winston and Amy in no time. Unfortunately.

"Ugh, I hate you," I shook my head and he lightly pushed me into the lift next to Amy.

"No, you really don't!" He grinned in an all-knowing sort of way as he took his place next to Winston Churchill.

Amy quirked a brow looking between us. Winston Churchill, well he paid us no mind as he continued to smoke his huge cigar. I snickered as he turned to the Doctor and breathed cigar smoke right in his face.

The Doctor huffed and waved it away.

"We stand at a crossroads, Doctor. Quite alone, with our backs to the wall. Invasion is expected daily. So I will grasp with both hands anything that will give us an advantage over the Nazi menace..." He spoke seriously.

The Doctor tilted his head, briefly turning and making eye contact with me and Amy. Both of us were just as clueless as he.

"Such as?" The Doctor asked him.

Churchill responded with an easy. "You'll see..."

It couldn't be the atomic bomb, he would not be made aware and become involved in its creation for at least another year or two. While Winston Churchill was never super hands-on in its development, he was highly involved in the military and government side of it.

I am only thankful that when I met him the one time, my hair was much shorter and I wore fake circular glasses. While he kept talking about how familiar I looked, he never put his finger on where and I never questioned it that hard.

At the time I just waved it off as him being a silly old man. It turns out he had met me before, just not in the right order.

I was lost in my thoughts, not paying attention to the words the Doctor and Winston spoke as we stepped off the lift. Amy was keenly listening to every word as we made our way to a door that led outside to a roof.

The breeze that greeted us was slightly chilly but nothing to complain about.

London was exactly as I remember it being in 1941... a chaotic war-torn mess.

Not the worst I had ever seen a place, not even close, but it was still not great. Nowhere near utopian.

Sandbags were stacked everywhere, military men held guns and were stationed at nearly all positions of the edges overlooking the city. Smoke was rising from buildings and the sound of bombs falling accompanied by various booms could be heard.

Simple bombs—not the worst in terms of destructive power, but capable of killing and causing damage nevertheless.

"Doctor, this is Professor Edwin Bracewell. He is the Head of our Ironsides Project." Winston had to yell over the noise of the outside world.

A man stood with a helmet on, looking up at the sky through binoculars. He waved toward us as he was standing a few feet away atop a small ledge. The Doctor, to my amusement, proceeded to greet him by throwing up the peace sign with his fingers.

The peace sign technically does not get created until 1958.

"That hasn't been invented yet," I informed him from my place behind him and Amy.

The Doctor proceeded to do his hand in the motion of yapping as he waved me off. "Peanut gallery!" He teased causing me to roll my eyes but saying nothing more.

At that moment there was a loud explosion from somewhere in the city causing the ground to shake and an immense noise to take hold. Amy flinched at the same time I tried to find where the fuck that had come from.

A bomb had hit the ground a few miles away—east.

"Oh, Doctor... Doctor, it's..." Amy began, her face saddened as she stared at the past of the country she lived in.

"History..." The Doctor stated easily, not sounding horribly sad but definitely not happy.

Sirens started wailing and I noticed a new formation of enemy planes suddenly flying toward London.

"This is what I meant to show you, Doctor!" Our attention was caught by Churchill who turned away. "Ready, Bracewell?" Winston hollered to the Professor.

"Aye-aye, sir!" He called back, still looking through the binoculars. "On my order... ready... FIRE!"

I fully expected some early version of the machine gun to rain bullets into the sky. What I did expect was for a fucking ionic laser that definitely should not exist on this planet for another hundred years—probably even more—to get fired straight into the sky.

My mouth fell agape as the laser hit the incoming planes perfectly first try and disintegrated them in their path.

"Holy shit!" I guffawed, not meaning to sound almost amused but the shock that rocketed my veins that is no doubt how it came off. "Holy fuck—did you see that?" My voice was a cross of awe and confusion.

I gripped the arm of the Doctor, my fingers digging into his tweed as I shook him and pointed to where the disintegrated plane was.

"Tell me you saw that?!" I repeated ecstatically.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was horrified. His face was the definition of distraught, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"Yes, of course, I saw that! How could I miss it?!" He cried, grabbing my hand that was digging into his arm.

"What was that?!" Amy was gobsmacked, looking around to see if anyone else was utterly shocked.

No one was.

"That was an ionic laser! That sort of technology shouldn't be on this planet for over a hundred years!" My voice was teetering on the edge of excitement. "How the hell did they make one already?" I breathed, eyes dazzling as a sense of invigoration finally overtook me.

The Doctor whipped his head down to look at me, a scowl resting on his features. "Stop smiling! This isn't good—this shouldn't even be possible!" He was panicking, still holding my hand tightly.

"Well, we just saw it, didn't we?" I motioned to the sky. "Look, they are totally disintegrated! Oh, damn, that's like a good ionic laser too! It left no scraps!"

"PJ!" The Doctor cried, but he did not sound mad. "Stop saying it like it's an amazing thing!"

"But it is an amazing thing! Look around, old man, it's 1941! Nuclear warfare hasn't been invented yet; hell, the atomic bomb hasn't even been finished! How the fuck do they have ionic lasers of all things?!"

The Doctor floundered, turning to face me fully, grabbing me by the shoulders, and dramatically shaking me with him. "Yeah, I guess it is amazing in a very bad way! I don't know how the hell they have access to a bloody ionic laser, but it can't be anything good!"

"Wow, you just swore... you're really worked up over this, aren't you?" I asked. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure it's fine!" I said the last part much too positively for where we were.

"Of course, I'm concerned! This isn't something that's 'fine'!" He stressed. "That can't be an—" He stopped, cutting himself off, eyes going blank before realization settled over his shoulders. "No, that's not an ionic laser—an ionic laser shoots orange... not blue! And an ionic laser sounds more like pew-pew rather fshh-fshh!"

I had to do a double-take, blinking multiple times at the Doctor because of whatever horrible impression came from his mouth.

"I'm going to pretend like you did not just do the worst impression of an ionic laser known to man..." I scoffed and his face changed into one of offense.

"It wasn't that bad—!" He started only for me to cut him off.

"What else could it be though?" I stared at him, now confused and even more intrigued.

If not an ionic laser then what?

Amy was standing next to us, her arms crossed as she tried to keep up with situation.

He was still looking me in the eyes, almost searching for something before he stiffened. A dark energy passed over him as something angry and fierce settled on his shoulders.

It made me flinch back ever-so-slightly, but his grip on my shoulders remained gentle.

"That isn't human technology, it's not an ionic laser... that's... it sounded like... but it can't be. It sounded like..." He was breathing heavier, eyes going crazed and fierce as he suddenly paused. In the next moment, he ripped himself away from me and raced toward Professor Bracewell. "Show me! Show me what that was!" He demanded

The Doctor stood tall, but his facial expression appeared distant.

"Our new secret weapon!" Winston Churchill smiled at the same time that Professor Bracewell ordered out a sharp, "Advance!"

I was staring with pure intrigue from next to Amy. However, my face fell into one of confusion and I once again did a double take as a freaking Dalek rolled through.

"What is that?" Amy whispered, now the one gripping my arm in concern.

The Doctor started speaking with it angrily. Staring straight into its plunger-like eye. I quirked a brow at its greenness along with the British flag stamped proudly to its front.

My head tilted as Professor Bracewell became involved in the conversation and the Doctor started yelling. He very clearly was upset, and the Professor seemed to be doing nothing to help.

"PJ, do you know what that thing is?" Amy once again whispered, flinching at the Doctor's anger.

Even I had to admit his anger was something rather spooky... and hot. Okay, his anger was kind of hot. Frightening but hot.

It's time to burn that thought out of existence now.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a Dalek..." I easily waved it off as I explained to her. The Doctor would probably have an aneurism if he heard me talking about a Dalek so carelessly. "But it is strange that it's currently here. They usually pop up and cause issues far into the future. Not to mention I thought they frequented the Andromeda galaxy more..." I hummed thoughtfully before shrugging. "Eh, what do I know though? I'm only human!" I cracked up lightly at the end.

Amy was still gripping me tightly staring at the Dalek and the Doctor's reaction to it much more cautiously. She did not respond, her eyes never straying away from the interaction happening a few feet away.

"This doesn't look good, PJ. The Doctor seems very upset..." She said quietly.

I tilted my head before turning to her with an almost manic grin. "He does, doesn't he?" I spoke simply before the grin twisted into a spiteful leer. "Nonetheless, this trip just got one thousand times more interesting."

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

"They're Daleks! They are called Daleks!" The Doctor spat indignantly, slamming his hands on Churchill's desk, his fingers covering the multitude of blueprints that displayed Daleks.

Amy was standing next to me as we watched the Doctor flip the fuck out from the sidelines in Churchill's office.

The Doctor had demanded that Winston show him the blueprints as he and Bracewell were convinced the Daleks were nothing more than metal machines that were human-built.

I, personally, have two theories. Either something happened, AKA, a major butterfly effect and somehow humanity had started building robots that were nearly identical to the Daleks...

Yeah, that was highly unlikely, the probability of that happening was practically zero.

This left me to my other theory: the Daleks were currently in the middle of pulling off one of their greatest schemes to date.

I wonder what they're up to. Going undercover in Great Britain during the 40s seemed a bit below them.

"They are Bracewell's Ironsides, Doctor! Look!" Churchill said firmly, pointing to the pages upon pages of blueprints. "Blueprints, statistics, field-tests, photographs. He invented them! What more proof do you need?"

Quietly, I reached forward and stole one of the blueprints off the desk. I held it in front of me, staring down at it with scrutiny. Amy peaked from over my shoulder but it was apparent she did not know what to look for.

Me, on the other hand, I was looking for anything that could make these blueprints fake. Something that did not show up: whether that was mathematics behind it or the picture itself. Unfortunately, the blueprints were perfect, nothing was amiss.

Too perfect, especially for humanity in the 40s.

"Invented them?" The Doctor scoffed in disbelief. "Oh, no, no, no!" He was leaned over, hands holding the side of the desk tightly.

"Yes! He approached one of our brass hats a few months ago! He is a genius—unmatched in his field!" Winston was firm in his stance.

I could not blame him—using the Ironsides could easily win them the war within weeks. Would it change history immensely?

Oh, fuck yeah.

But they'd win the war a few years earlier. Totally obliterate all of the Nazi.

Amy had grabbed a few fallen pieces of paper, not full blueprints but scriptures of ideas. Small math equations and descriptions of what the 'Ironsides' would be able to do. There was also a small monologue of Professor Bracewell himself written on it. Amy hummed while reading through, looking up with a sparkle in her.

"He's a Scottish genius too! Maybe you should listen—" She started, apparently her attention and trust having been earned under the impression that this guy was Scottish.

The Doctor, already having been worked up, twisted to face us so fast that we both jumped.

"Hush!" He snapped, pointing a finger at Amy sternly

She was surprised by the tone he had taken. I awkwardly scratched the back of my head as his eyes rolled toward me, we made eye contact and it was obvious that he waiting to see if I had any snarky comment to add so that he might shut it down as well.

He appeared pleased when after a moment I did not say anything, the Doctor turning back to meet Winston Churchill's stare dead-on.

"He did not invent them, they are alien!" He spoke in such a quiet but stern tone it sent chills spiraling down even my back.

Why did this almost want to make me push his buttons more? This TimeLord was not hot when he was upset—he's scary and frankly annoying! At least, that is what I tried to tell myself.

"Alien?" Churchill repeated dubiously.

At that moment, a green Dalek rolled by the open door of the office. It's long plunger eye turning as it went—and the office went eerily silent as it made its way by. The Doctor turned his head just slightly to watch it go.

"And totally hostile..." The Doctor said sharply, looking back toward Winston.

"Precisely! They will win me the war!" Winston said, his voice holding a scary amount of optimism.

He then moved the blueprints aside to reveal a poster.

It reminded me of the poster from America during this time. A cartoon of Uncle Sam in a tall hat all dressed up in stars and stripes pointing a finger at whoever was looking—a simple call to action reading, "I want YOU for the U.S. Army!"

However, what was displayed in front of me was a cartoon of a Dalek with the saying "TO VICTORY" printed in bold up top.

"Woah—can I keep one of those?" I chortled, wasting no time in taking the advertisement and holding it up to examine. "This actually looks pretty cool!"

Even though I often lost things given my lifestyle—if it can be even be called lifestyle—I enjoyed collecting things from my travels.

My view of the poster was quickly interrupted as the Doctor ripped it from my hands and put it back where it was.

"No, you may not!" He sternly said.

I pouted at him but he promptly ignored me in favor of turning his attention back to Churchill.

However, to my surprise, Churchill was already staring at me.

"What was your name again?" He asked me. "And yours?" He looked at Amelia briefly before bringing his gaze back to me.

Internally, I cringed at having caught his attention. Seeing as I am meant to meet him in t-minus 5 years, it was best not to draw extra attention. The less he heard me and the less he paid attention to me, the more likely he was to not really recognize me five years from now.

However, thinking back on it, I know for a fact that he will not totally remember or recognize me when he eventually runs into my past self in five years. What I do now won't much matter as it's pretty much set in stone that he will not remember me.

My past, Churchill's future.

Being on the other end of that is weird.

For the Doctor: having me with him but not knowing the same things that he does must be so weird. Especially considering that he has months worth of memories I haven't lived yet.

Then again, the life of a time traveler, I suppose.

"Amy," The redhead nodded to him with a small wave.

Churchill nodded back and then turned his attention to me. I briefly made eye contact with the Doctor who was still huffing and puffing his frustrations. My lips moved before I could stop myself, my tone of voice changing.

"My friends call me, PJ, darlin'..." I said, and while my accent was still American, I was speaking in a transatlantic accent that was typical of people this time.

It did not take much effort: simply more emphasis on certain words and a bit quicker in pronunciation.

It was a fun way to speak.

The Doctor lost his frustration momentarily blinking at me in dazed confusion and disbelief.

"American, how fun..." Winston Churchill said before taking another drag of his cigar. "Where are you from, ma'am?"

"Kentucky, sir..."

"Well, I don't suppose you smoke, Miss PJ"

The Doctor took it upon himself to answer for me. "No, she doesn't. And we should really be focusing on the alien invasion from one of the most dangerous species in the cosmos here!"

Immediately, I turned my head to look at him—widening my eyes and putting on the most innocent charade.

"Why, Doctor," I said sweetly, letting my lips curve into a coy smile, "Don't you think it's awfully rude to speak for a lady? What if I did fancy a smoke? A cigar, perhaps?" I tilted my head, the transatlantic lilt thick in my voice, and batted my eyelashes innocently.

The Doctor froze, his mouth slightly open as if caught mid-thought. For a brief moment, the righteous indignation in his expression wavered, replaced by something akin to flustered disbelief. He blinked rapidly, his jaw tightening as though physically reining himself.

"But you don't," He said sharply, regaining his composure, though the tips of his ears had turned noticeably pink. "And I'm fairly certain you've never fancied one either." He shot me a pointed look, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

"Well, don't you seem so sure," I replied, stepping closer to him with feigned innocence. "It's almost as if you've got me all figured out." My voice dropped an octave, smooth and teasing, like a sultry 1940s femme fatale. "Do you, Doctor? Do you have me all figured out?"

The Doctor's hands tightened their grip on the desk, his eyes darting briefly to Amy, who was now watching the exchange with poorly disguised amusement. He exhaled through his nose, clearly fighting an internal battle before he turned his attention back to me. His shoulders were rigid, but his gaze flickered for the briefest moment before snapping back to meet my eyes.

"You're trying to wind me up," He said flatly, but there was an edge of breathlessness in his voice that betrayed him.

I gasped, widening my eyes in mock offense. "Me? Wind you up?" My hand fluttered to my chest as though wounded. "Doctor, I would never!"

His nostrils flared, and he leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice so that only I could hear. "Careful, now," he murmured, the tension in his tone making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "You're playing games I don't care to be part of right now."

A slow, playful grin spread across my face. "Oh, Doctor," I said softly, the way I was speaking was reminiscent of Daisy from The Great Gatsby. "I do love a good game. I'm quite good at them too!"

His hand twitched as though he wanted to run it through his hair but instead he shoved it into his pocket. "You're insufferable," He muttered, though there was no heat behind his words.

I took a small step back, letting the moment linger before raising an eyebrow. "Well, since you're so confident that these Ironsides are actually Daleks..." I gestured vaguely toward the door. "I suppose I'll just go ask them myself! You know, for a second opinion."

We both knew the truth, that these were Daleks and this was some ploy we had landed in the middle of.

Before he could respond, I spun on my heel and took a step toward the door.

"Oh, no, you don't!"

In a flash, the Doctor was behind me, his hand wrapping around my waist as he tugged me back toward him. His breath was warm against my ear as he leaned in, his voice low and laced with warning. "Don't you dare, PJ. You don't know what they're capable of."

The unexpected closeness sent a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, I couldn't think of anything clever to say. His tone was serious, but the tension between us was electric, the heat of his presence making it hard to focus on anything else.

Before either of us could say another word, Churchill hobbled past us, cigar in hand, muttering, "I don't have time to watch this ridiculous flirting—I have a war to win!"

I snickered at Winston Churchill's words.

The Doctor released me abruptly, taking a step back. He straightened his bowtie, his expression a mix of exasperation and something else entirely.

"Behave," He warned, his voice firm but tinged with frustration.

I gave him a cheeky grin, saluting with two fingers. "As you wish, Space Lord."

He shook his head, muttering under his breath before following after Churchill. Amy caught my eye, smirking knowingly as the two of us trailed behind.

"You really like playing bad girl with the Doctor, don't you?" Amy teased and I rolled my eyes while shoving her with my shoulder. Amy then proceeded to whisper between the two us, in an obnoxiously high-pitched and terrible American accent."Oh, Doctor, I'm such a naughty girl, tie me up why don't you?"

My eyes widened, and I gasped, looking around to make sure the man of the hour did not hear that. Thankfully, he was right next to Churchill speaking in quick vicious tones—his attention fully on the situation.

"Amy!" I hissed with a small chortle. "No—that's so gross! He's just fun to bother..." I piped. "Not to mention, he's like a thousand years old!"

"Well, he looks 26!" She quipped back. "And when you are immortal does age matter?"

I guess she kind of had a point, but still.

"Like I said, it's just funny to grind his gears..." I held my hands up as though at gunpoint.

"Yeah, I can tell you're having fun... and I think he is too..." Amy waggled her brows causing me to scoff as we caught up to them and listened in to what the Doctor was saying to Churchill.

"Imagine what I could do with a hundred of them! A thousand?" Winston Churchill told the Doctor as we continued down the shaking corridor.

A thousand Daleks sounded like a party that I did not want to be invited to.

"I am imagining..." The Doctor sighed, glaring as we all passed by one of the Daleks.

Or were they Ironsides? No, definitely Daleks.

I gazed at it intensely and it looked right back as I passed. I was surprised when the Doctor suddenly gripped my arm and pulled me with him, forcing me to turn back around.

Surprisingly, he said nothing, just keeping a tight grip that kept me close. It was obvious he did not trust me to not wander up to one to try and piss it off. I would not trust me either considering that is exactly what I had wanted to do.

We paused outside of the room, Winston Churchill wandering inside as the three of us remained out.

"Maybe he'll listen to you, Amy, you tell him..." He said to her.

"Tell him what?" Amy questioned.

"About the Daleks..." The Doctor trailed off.

"What would I know about the Daleks?" She scoffed.

"Everything, they invaded your world, remember... you don't forget that..." He said, looking at her in concern. "Amy, please tell me you remember the Daleks."

Amy looked at the Doctor as though he had grown a second head. She pursed her lips while shaking 'no' to him. "No, sorry," She laughed nervously.

He looked into her eyes deeply, before breathing out. "That's not possible..."

His grip tightened as he regarded me now. "Please tell me you remember the Daleks, PJ..."

I waved him off. "Of course, I do. Trashy metal aliens that like to exterminate everything. Want to hear an impression?"

The Doctor looked relieved, running a hand down his face. "Not really..."

Well, he was going to get one anyway.

I cleared my throat before talking from my chest and being as nasally as possible. "Exterminate—exterminate! Oh shit, it's the Doctor—EXTERMINATE!"

To my surprise, I got a genuine laugh out of the Doctor as he quickly worked to cover my mouth. A few 'Ironsides' were eyeing us obviously having heard the impression. Amy was covering her mouth, a smile on her lips.

The Doctor stared down at me, eyes gleaming.

"Alright, that's enough of that, and in all my years, I don't believe I have ever heard a Dalek say 'oh, shit!'" He breathed while dropping his hand, still staring into my eyes with that twinkle. Finally, he broke eye contact, nodding to Pond and tugging me into the council room with him.

It was busy, shaking like everything else with phones constantly ringing and people practically shouting over each other. Updates regarding attacks and such came in seconds after each other.

The Doctor was quick to leave our side, walking over to Churchill and immediately engaging in another frenzied conversation.

Me and Amy waited until he came back, groaning earnestly.

"So they're up to something. But what is it? What are they after?" The Doctor spat out, pacing and looking to us for answers.

I shrugged. "To take over the world if I had to guess..."

"Well, that's a bad guess, a stupid guess. Why would the Daleks want to rule over this planet? No, it's something else..." The Doctor proceeded to shamelessly insult my answer in the middle of his scheming.

Ferociously, I got in the Doctor's face with a snarl. His eyes widened, gaze darting all over my face. Sadly, I had to stand on my toes in order to level myself with him completely, but it did not make a difference to me.

"You know what, Space Lord? It's about time I oughta—!"

Amy cut off my snarl.

"You know, PJ, your idea from earlier was actually pretty good! So how about we just ask, shall we?" She said before strolling up to a Dalek—Ironside thing and tapping it.

My eyes nearly fell from my head with how wide they got.

"Amy... Amelia!" The Doctor called her but did not attempt to stop her.

What the fuck, why did he stop me from going over earlier?

...Because I would've pressed its buttons until it snapped and tried to kill me.

I was quick to grab onto the Doctor's arm, fingers digging into his tweed jacket as I watched the scene unfold with amusement. He briefly glanced down at me before his attention was back on Amy with a deep scowl.

As she tapped it, the head of the Dalek spun so fast that it's long eye stalk almost smacked her in the head. That would definitely hurt. But still, I had never seen another creature able to touch a Dalek without it immediately trying to kill them.

"CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE?!" The Dalek asked in a loud robotic tone, typical to that of a Dalek.

It was just that normally they were shouting orders to kill—not shouting about offering its help. The scene was so bizarre that I had to let go of the Doctor and spin around to face the other direction.

A hand came up to cover my mouth.

The Doctor watched me in concern.

"PJ? Are you oka—?" His words of concern were cut off by me, but not on purpose.

"PFFT—ahaha..."

I released a disgusting mix between a chortle, a snort, and a giggle. I had to lean against the wall next to me, waving away the Doctor as I helplessly laughed at the sound of the Dalek trying to talk 'normally'.

"I'm—ahaha—I'm fine, listen to the conversation... ahaha... I just can't, it's too fucking funny...!"

"Your sense of humor is incredible in all the worst ways, deary..." He sighed.

I could feel the Doctor practically drilling holes in me from how hard he was staring, he was no doubt shaking his head. But finally, he walked back the few feet we had come from and continued to listen to Amy try and talk to the Dalek.

Even from the other side of the war room, I heard its final sentence that it yelled at Amy.

"PLEASE EXCUSE ME! I HAVE DUTIES TO PERFORM!"

A holler escaped my mouth and I gave no fucks if my laughing was obnoxious at this point. How no one else found this funny was beyond me.

Daleks, some of the most dangerous beings in this universe, and here was one talking like some crazy phone operator.

After many moments and furious side-eyes from the multitude of people working the war room and taking their lives seriously, I had calmed myself down enough to rejoin the Doctor and Amy.

I slid up behind Amy.

"What does hate look like, Amy?" He asked her, turning his head to stare at a Dalek spitefully.

"Hate?" Amy echoed, voice confused.

My answer to the question he did not ask me was rather dry. "Personally, I would say that hate looks like the face you're wearing while staring at that Dalek. You're a TimeLord, not a Kryptonian, buddy." I leaned forward, awkwardly reaching up and putting my hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "You don't have laser eyes."

He let out a heave, flicking my hand off his shoulder and fixing his bowtie angrily. "Well, I would say in a lot of ways that I am better than Superman..." He stressed. "As I was saying before, hate looks like the Daleks... and I am going to prove it!" He said pointedly, before turning tail and striding away.

Amy and I shared a look, remaining in our spots until the Doctor shouted at us from his place ahead.

"Are you two coming?" He yelled.

I shrugged. "Eh, I don't know, I feel like I want to walk around the TARDIS some more. Honestly, that place is like the most interesting thing in the galaxy!"

"Yeah, but maybe we save that for later and follow our escort instead!" Amy laughed almost nervously, grabbing my arm and dragging me behind her to follow the Doctor.

"He seems pretty upset—I don't know if I should be around those vibes..." I trailed in an almost sarcastic whine as we jogged to catch up with the Doctor who was already far away from the war room and heading toward another part of the bunker.

"PJ, I am going to hope that you're pulling my leg with that one..." Amy snorted. "Because considering how much you didn't want to leave the TARDIS earlier, I don't think you have a place to be talking about bad vibes..."

I shrugged. "What can I say? I am a bitch, and a bitch will always be a bitch. AKA, I will stay talking and judging about things I have no business in."

"You sound like my aunt..." Amy shook her head as we finally caught up to the Doctor just as he entered a large room with the doors open.

I recognized it as an engineering room right away.

"All right, Prof! The PM's have been filling me in. Amazing things, these Ironsides of yours. Amazing. You must be very proud of them." The Doctor called loudly as we entered, nearly dancing his way to one of the tables and stealing a file.

He wasted no time in flipping through the thing.

Professor Bracewell gave a kind smile. "Just doing my bit."

"Not bad for a Paisley boy!" Amy called over to him.

He chuckled, looking away from whatever he was doing and addressing Amy. "Yes, I thought I detected a familiar cadence, my dear."

The Doctor from where he was flipping through the files, paused to ask another question. "How did you do it? How did you come up with the idea?"

I had made my way over to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder at the files. More blueprints and planning for the Daleks. Once again perfect, nothing in sight that—in theory—was incorrect.

The math, the stats, the fieldwork... it all lined up.

Professor Bracewell turned to look at us, still with a kind smile, his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he stepped forward. "How does a muse of invention come from anyone?" He asked right back.

The Doctor hummed, tilting his head before turning to put the files back on the desk where he'd found them. I stopped him midway, taking the files from him to review myself. He glanced at me, a question swimming in his eyes, but he dropped it to pursue Bracewell further.

Stepping away from me, the Doctor regarded Bracewell. "You get a lot of these clever notions, do you?" He asked him.

I did not bother to pay attention to whatever the fuck excuse Bracewell had come up with. If this was a Dalek scheme then I had concluded that Bracewell was one of a few things.

A spy. A clone. A brain-washed human. Or a robot.

I was betting on a clone. I hoped he was a clone—clones are cool.

I flipped through the pages of blueprints, my brows knitting tighter with each passing second. Every line, every calculation, every curve of design—too perfect. Too clean. No human could create this level of precision, not right now at least.

Whoever—or whatever—designed this wasn't just an engineer; they were an artist. A horrifyingly efficient artist.

And that's when it hit me.

They're real.

Not real as in "working prototypes," though I had no doubt those existed somewhere nearby. Real as in these blueprints weren't fakes, weren't human approximations or guesses. These schematics were authentic. Authentic Dalek.

That sent a chill racing down my spine. Why would the Daleks give humans their actual designs? It was stupid. Reckless. But then again, that wasn't their style, was it? The Daleks didn't do reckless or stupid. Every move they made was calculated, deliberate. They were playing a long game, I was sure of it.

But as I stared down at the blueprints, another thought wormed its way into my brain, persistent and impossible to ignore. If these blueprints were authentic, then they were also... complete. I could see every system, every wire, every function laid bare. The Daleks had handed humanity—me—the key to their destruction.

Or...

I glanced up at Bracewell and the Doctor, who were caught in some back-and-forth.

Or, I could build them. I could create them.

Not Daleks, not as they were now—cruel and unrelenting and genocidal. But... something else. Something better. My mind began to spin with possibilities. What if I could create Daleks that weren't consumed by hate, that weren't slaves to their programming? Daleks that could think for themselves, choose their own paths? The irony of it almost made me laugh out loud.

Wouldn't that just be the ultimate middle finger to their creators? To take their so-called "perfect design" and improve it? Make something good out of it?

The idea stuck, the spark growing into a flame.

I could do it. I could do it. Sure, it would take some tinkering, a hell of a lot of patience, and probably a lot of running interference with the Doctor, but I knew I could pull it off. These schematics were practically begging for it. The thought of turning the Daleks' own ingenuity against them was so deliciously satisfying that I couldn't help but grin.

Then reality hit.

I was sounding very similar to the thought process I had before placing myself into Robert Oppenheimer's life.

I was getting ahead of myself. For now, I had to stay focused. We needed to figure out what the Daleks were up to before they executed whatever plan they had in motion. But the blueprint in my hands felt heavier now, charged with possibility.

I looked up watching a Dalek hand Bracewell a cup of tea.

"...The Daleks are death," The Doctor told Bracewell.

I had finally tuned back into the conversation, looking to the Doctor who was standing in front of Bracewell with Amy by his side.

"Yes, Doctor!" Winston Churchill exclaimed as he walked into the lab. "Death to our enemies. Death to the forces of darkness. And death to the Third Reich!"

The Doctor spun and walked toward Winston Churchill, meeting him in the middle of the room.

"Yes, Winston! And death to everyone else as well!" The Doctor sighed, turning around and coming face-to-face with a Dalek holding a tray.

"WOULD YOU CARE FOR SOME TEA?"

In response, and I am not kidding when I say this, the Doctor literally smacked the tray out of the Dalek's grasp causing it to hit the floor with a loud clatter.

"Stop this! What are you doing here? What do you want!?" He screamed, demanding answered from the Dalek.

The Dalek answered rather passively.

"WE SEEK ONLY TO HELP YOU."

Unless you count it's natural loud yelling tone as unfriendly.

"To do what?" The Doctor narrowed his eyes at it.

"TO WIN THE WAR!" The Dalek claimed proudly.

"Really?" The Doctor chuckled without humor. "Which war?" He demanded.

"I DO NOT UNDERSTAND." The Dalek moved its eye-stick-thingy as it spoke.

"This war, against the Nazis?" The Doctor clarified, tilting his head. "Or your war? The war against the rest of the universe? The war against all life-forms that are not Dalek?"

The Dalek was silent for a suspiciously long moment before answering robotically.

"I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. I AM YOUR SOLDIER."

The Doctor seemed to crack at that answer as he pointed to the Dalek. "Oh? Okay—all right..." He spat, spinning around the room looking for something.

His eyes lit up as he found something within seconds. My mouth and Amy's fell open as he picked up a huge wrench from the corner, turning back to face the Dalek.

"Okay, soldier, defend yourself!" The Doctor breathed before surging forward and hitting the immensely strong metallic armor of the Dalek as hard as he could.

Amy's eyes widened as she took a step away from him. It was a show of pure fury from the TimeLord that had the hairs on the back of my arms standing on edge.

"What the devil are you doing?" Bracewell cried from his place by his work station.

"YOU DO NOT REQUIRE TEA?" The Dalek asked as it was hit, and if I did not know any better I would say that the Dalek sounded almost teasing, in a spiteful way, as it asked.

"Prime Minister! Stop him!" Bracewell hollered as the Doctor hit the Dalek again. "My Ironside!"

"Fight back, you know you want to!" The Doctor snarled as he once more brought the giant wrench down and slammed it on the Dalek.

I was clutching the papers tightly, watching with a sense of intrigue. Was the Doctor going to be able to push the Dalek into revealing itself?

Or was the Doctor pointless is his display of brutality?

I finally understood his words from last night—apparently there truly were times that he chose violence. This happened to be one of the times he walked that path.

He hit it again. "What are you waiting for? You hate me, and I am right in front of you. Kill me! KILL ME!"

Please don't kill him. I need him.

"Doctor, be careful!" Amy raced to his side, pulling him away from the Dalek.

The Doctor continued to stare at it, allowing Amy to push him back.

"PLEASE DESIST FROM STRIKING ME. I AM YOUR SOLDIER"

Oh, this is actually gold. I wish I had these soft Dalek reactions recorded.

When the fuck was I ever going to see a Dalek speaking like this or choosing the peaceful path again?

Answer: most likely never.

Unfortunately, the Doctor was able to see no humor in it as his face shifted and darkness overcame him. He brought the wrench up, bring it down and continuously bashing it as hard as he could against the Dalek.

"You. Are. My. Enemy!" He screamed. "And I am yours!" He stopped striking it, breathing heavily and dropping the huge wrench to the floor with a slam. "You are everything that I despise. The worst thing in all of creation. I have defeated you time and time again, I've defeated you. I sent you back into the void! I saved the whole of reality from you! I am the Doctor—and YOU—you are the Daleks!"

With that last statement, he brought a long leg up and proceeded to kick the Dalek powerfully sending it flying backward.

I looked to him impressed, he was much stronger than he appeared. Daleks were not easy to move.

But then again, he may have appeared human, but he was fully TimeLord.

My attention was taken back to the Dalek from where it had hit the wall—its head suddenly whirred around to stare at the Doctor dead on.

"CORRECT." It spoke firmly, its entire persona changing as it came forward. "REVIEW TESTIMONY." It ordered to the Dalek next to it.

With that, the Dalek next it started to play a recording of the Doctor's voice. "I am the Doctor—and YOU—you are the Daleks!"

That cannot be good.

"Testimony? What're you talking about a testimony for?" The Doctor was breathless as he asked them, eyes switching between the two Daleks frantically.

I closed the brown folder of many blueprints, sliding it under my arm tightly before I spoke up from the other side of the room.

"It sounds like you just gave them what they wanted." I piped and the Doctor shot me a glare.

"Not helping!" He called before looking back the Daleks.

I shrugged.

"TRANSMITTING TESTIMONY NOW." One of the Daleks said.

The Doctor was quick to question them again. "Transmit what, where?"

"Probably the mother ship," I mumbled earning yet another eye roll from him.

"Thank you for the most obvious answer..." He trailed off.

"Well, why'd you ask if it's so obvious?" I snarked.

"Oh—! Why would I not ask?" The Doctor heaved, right eye twitching as he threw his hands up addressing me.

Neither of us could continue our banter (that was happening at the worst time!) for Amy suddenly flicked the Doctor on the back of the head.

He flinched, looking to her angrily.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"Is this really important arguing? Just a gentle reminder of our situation; hello, the Daleks! Remember?!" She cried all furious and Scottish-like. "That goes for you too, PJ!"

I smiled at her.

"TESTIMONY ACCEPTED!" The Daleks finally exclaimed.

Unsure as to what was about to happen next, the Doctor placed a protective arm over Amy.

"Get back all of you!" He ordered everyone, forcing him and Amy to take a step back. Seeing as I was on the other side of the room, he could not physically grab me. "Back, PJ, now!" The Doctor barked at the same time that Winston called for the marines to come in.

I slowly backed away, rolling my eyes.

It was just a few Daleks. Then again, no normal and sane human would act so careless around a Dalek.

"Marines!" Winston Churchill yelled loudly for backup.

Immediately, there was the sound a many footsteps racing toward us.

As soon as the marines came in, the Daleks acted in a way that was more on-par with their usual selves.

They did not ask them if they wanted any tea, instead the Daleks hit the marines with their lasers and incinerated the insides of the poor men on the spot.

With Dalek lasers, it was all about frying a person from the inside-out. So while death was imminent, the outside of the body would remain looking the same, almost like it was never hit. But the inside was cooked.

"Oh, shit!" I gasped as the marines fell to the ground.

"Stop it, stop it, please! What are you doing, you are my Ironsides!" Professor Bracewell cried as he looked to the Daleks.

"WE ARE THE DALEKS."

No shit.

"But I created you!" Bracewell sounded confused and distraught.

The Doctor was standing protectively in front of Amy while watching the exchange.

"NO." The Dalek said before shooting Bracewell's hand with the laser. If Bracewell were human, he would have died. Instead, his hand exploded revealing immense and complicated wiring. "WE CREATED YOU."

Damn it. I was wrong—he is a fucking robot. Not a clone.

Amy was gasping as she stared at Bracewell, and the Doctor just looked concerned.

"VICTORY! VICTORY! VICTORY!" The Daleks screamed, basically jacking themselves off before a bright light consumed them and they disappeared.

It was silent for a few moments, everyone taking in what the fuck had just happened. Unfortuantely, for the entire room, I was the one to break the silence.

Turning to Bracewell who was gaping and going into shock over his missing hand and the wiring inside of him, I opened my mouth. "I can't believe you're a robot! I really thought you were going to turn out to be a clone!"

The Doctor turned toward me, his face a thunderstorm of emotions: disbelief, anger, and something uncomfortably close to fear. "A clone? A clone is what you were hoping for right now?"

I held up the blueprints, tapping the folder against my palm. "Look, I know what you're thinking, but forget about clones or robots for a second. Do you realize what these are? The Daleks left real blueprints! They're genuine! I can make them—I can make them better!" My smile was so big it boarded on crazy. "I can recreate them!"

The room went deathly silent, the weight of my words hitting everyone like a blow. Even Bracewell, though clearly in shock, blinked at me with what little awareness he still had.

The Doctor's expression darkened, the panic in his eyes now blazing hot. "Put. Them. Back." His voice was ice, each word clipped and dangerous. "I should never have handed those to you."

I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Why? These could give us an edge. If we—"

"PJ." His voice rose sharply, cracking like a whip, but his hands were shaking slightly. "You don't understand. This isn't a game. Those blueprints aren't just designs. They're alive, in a way, coded with the Daleks' own monstrosity. You tamper with them, and you're tampering with evil itself. Now, put them back. I need to burn them!"

"But I can change them!" I tilted my head, holding his gaze. "You're scared."

"Of course, I'm scared!" He snapped, stepping closer, his voice low and furious. "You think you can outsmart them? That you can fix them? You can't. No one can. Not even me."

We locked eyes in a standoff, the air between us crackling with tension. For a moment, I considered backing down. But then, the reckless part of me—the part that had survived worse than Daleks won.

"Nah, sorry!" I chirped, spinning on my heel and bolting for the door.

"PJ, don't you dare—"

"See you back at the TARDIS!" I called over my shoulder, gripping the folder tightly as I dashed down the corridor.

"PJ, GET BACK HERE!" The Doctor's voice thundered behind me, followed by the unmistakable sound of his frantic footsteps as he gave chase.

The corridor passed me quickly, people gasping and stumbling out of my way as I barreled through.

The lights flickered, my mind dizzy.

And yet, at that moment, a loud thought cut through everything.

Do not allow your knowledge to make you cynical. Cleverness, for all its positives, can make you hard and unkind. You think too much and feel too little. More than inventions showcase humanity. More than your cleverness we need your kindness.

My mind races—flashes of visions coming before my eyes. Long buried memories of a poor little girl screaming as men three times her size dragged her through sterile white corridors.

An unloved little girl who screamed and begged as the scary people tied her down and hooked her up to various machines. How her vocal cords ripped as she wailed at the flow electricity and painful sensations the wiring and testing caused her.

I slowed as my own voice seemed to erupt in the recess of my mind—screaming at me a warning. Something very rare.

But... I can fix them. I can make them better! I can help!

I arrived at the TARDIS, her big blueness causing warmth to swarm in me. She called out to me, inviting me inside. And somehow, I knew that for me her doors were not locked.

Despite hearing the Doctor's fast approaching footsteps, I did not enter yet. Instead, I looked down to the files of blueprints almost painfully.

I stood there, gripping the folder so tightly my knuckles turned white, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. The TARDIS hummed gently, like a mother whispering a lullaby to a restless child. She was calling me inside, as though she already knew my struggle and had made her choice for me.

I stared at the blueprints, their sharp, intricate lines burning into my head. The potential was immense. I could do it. I knew I could do it. Fix them. Reprogram them. Strip the Daleks of their cruelty and hatred. Turn them into something... better. Something good.

But then, that voice—the one I tried so hard to forget—rang in my head again, low and solemn: Cleverness, for all its positives, can make you hard and unkind.

I was already hard and unkind. And this was a familiar path, one I took far too often and one that rarely ended well.

The Doctor's words played back too, his sheer terror when he told me no one—not even him—could do this. That I wasn't just tinkering with machines; I was playing with fire that had consumed galaxies.

But he was the Doctor who saved galaxies. I was the POLARIS JADE who created destruction.

That was answer enough for me.

To be able to show restraint even when it is hard. Even when you think you know what you are doing.

As much as I hated following the rules, I knew that this was one instance that might just blow up in my face if I went through with it.

My hands trembled as I looked at the folder, the promise of creation and destruction bound together in its pages. This wasn't who I wanted to be, not anymore, but old habits are hard to break.

With a sharp exhale, I took one last look at the blueprints before I looked up. The Doctor caught up with me and before he could do or say anything, I slammed the folder against his chest. His wide, startled eyes locked with mine.

"Here," I said firmly. "I'm sorry... burn the pages if you must... you are right, as always I suppose, it is best not to do anything with it."

I did not wait for him to respond. Instead, I turned and opened the door to the TARDIS, stepping in and closing her doors gently behind me.

My lips twitched upward as I vaguely heard him mutter something along the lines of, "But she was locked!"

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

The TARDIS doors shut behind me, the sound echoing in the quiet space. The only other noise was the soft whirring. My steps were slow and hesitant as I moved toward the corridors. My mind was a battlefield, thoughts clashing and colliding in an endless cycle of conflict.

Pride fought valiantly against understanding. Because I could've done it. I could've proved that I was competent enough to reprogram them, to make them into something better. Something that wasn't a weapon of mass destruction. I could've shown the Doctor that I was capable.

But what would've happened if I had failed? What if I constructed something worse in trying to fix them?

That was the scariest thought of all. Because deep down, I wasn't sure if I wanted to help them for the right reasons. Was I trying to prove something? To him? To myself? Or was this my hubris, my need to win, no matter the cost?

The humanity within me was fighting a long war, a war against the twisted half of me. But it's something that I am very familiar with, after all, aureum and tenebris continue to churn within me as they have for most of my existence.

Constantly pushing and pulling at the other: equal in all manners. An unstoppable force and immovable power. A paradox in its finest and most simple form.

The paradox arises when considering what would happen if these two concepts collided, as it is logically impossible for both to exist simultaneously according to the laws of physics, making it a classic thought experiment with no definitive answer.

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

Except there is an answer because aureum and tenebris represent that very thing. And when both forces are entirely equal, nothing and everything happens all at once.

Chaos unfolds.

The TARDIS hummed softly around me, the sound a gentle reassurance, like a parent comforting a troubled child. It didn't ease the storm in my chest, but it reminded me that I wasn't alone.

I exhaled shakily. The corridors stretched ahead, promising the solitude of my room, but each step felt heavier than the last. Before I could take another step, the TARDIS doors slammed open with a strength that made me jump.

"PJ!"

The Doctor's voice was sharp, commanding, and entirely unsurprising. I turned slowly, expecting to see him red-faced with anger, ready to give me a lesson that would put me to shame. But when I looked at him, it wasn't anger I saw in his eyes. It was something else—relief, maybe even pride, mingled with the ever-present urgency that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"You gave me the blueprints," He said simply.

"Well, yeah," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. I crossed my arms over my chest. "Not like I had much of a choice with you breathing down my neck."

The Doctor took a few steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "No. You did have a choice. And you chose right. That's not always easy, is it?"

I hesitated, the weight of his words pressing against my chest. "No. It's not." My voice came out quieter than I intended.

For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. His gaze softened, and I saw something there that I wasn't used to: understanding.

His expression shifted, the urgency returning to his features. "I need you, PJ. The Daleks are out there, and they're not done. We need to stop them, and I can't do it alone... I don't want to do it alone..."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the warmth spreading through my chest. "You're telling me you need me? You want me? The same person who almost ran off with blueprints to make her own Daleks?"

"Exactly," He said without missing a beat. "Because your cleverness isn't the problem. It's the solution. I just need it pointed in the right direction. So this is me..." He grabbed my shoulders and whirled me around to face the console. "Pointing you in the right direction!"

A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. "Well, when you put it like that..."

The Doctor moved past me and toward the console. His hands flew over the controls with practiced ease, flipping switches and twisting knobs. "The Dalek mothership is out there, and we need to find it before it's too late."

He spoke as he worked, narrating every movement, every adjustment. I watched, internally filing it all away.

"Now, PJ, I need you to think. Where would the Daleks hide their mothership? Somewhere close, but not too close. Somewhere they can monitor Earth without drawing attention. High orbit?"

I frowned, letting the question roll around in my mind. "Not high orbit," I said slowly. "Too risky. They'd need a natural hiding spot... and something big enough to block their signals."

The Doctor's hands froze mid-motion. "Go on."

I had a feeling he already suspected where the Daleks were and was just testing me. He seems like the type to do that. Douchebag.

"Something like..." I trailed off as the realization hit me. "The Moon. They're hiding behind the Moon, aren't they? It's perfect—Earth's natural satellite. It gives them cover, and they can stay just out of sight."

The Doctor grinned, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant, PJ!"

He adjusted the controls, his movements suddenly faster, more determined. With a final flick of a switch, he turned to face me, his expression triumphant.

"There! That's our target." His eyes sparkled with energy. "Ready?"

I smirked, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. "Are you ready, old man?"

He chuckled, flipping the final lever with dramatic flair. The TARDIS shuddered to life, her engines roaring as we hurtled toward our destination.

"Geronimo!"

"I hate when you say that!"

The ship shuddered, quaking wildly for but a few seconds before she stilled.

"We're on board? On the Dalek ship?" I asked excitedly before leaping toward the doors intending to leave.

I was stopped by the Doctor snaking an arm around my waist and turning me away from the doors. My eyes rolled upward, a scowl on my face as I locked eyes with playful green ones staring down at me.

"Stay, deary, we're on board the ship of my greatest enemies. I need someone to watch my beloved TARDIS... and you're my backup..."

I scowled, pushing away from his arms. He released me, albeit almost hesitantly.

"I am your backup?" I deadpanned, crossing my arms. "How are you even going to get a message to me if you need me or not?"

The Doctor smirked, walking backward toward the doors. His eyes were locked with mine, teeming with a thousand different emotions.

Oh—I bet he thinks he looks so cool. He thinks he's so hot...

"Trust me, you'll know," He literally winked. "Be good and watch the house while I am taking care of business, sweetheart...!" The Doctor called with a teasing lilt to his tone before turning, his shoes squeaking against the ground as he did so.

He opened the doors and ran out leaving me alone on the ship.

My face reflected that of disgust.

Sweetheart?!

Ew—I hate that nickname. Dude sounds like some jerk British husband from the 60s. Fine, maybe not that far, it's not that deep, but still.

I huffed, falling onto one of the console chairs dramatically.

"Can you believe that guy?" I asked out loud to the TARDIS.

Of course, no response came back other than the humming being slightly louder.

At that moment, a phone rang quite loudly. I jumped, looking around in confusion.

There was a phone on here?

A large old-timey phone, probably from the 80s, was ringing on the console.

Was this the Doctor signaling he needed backup? There was no way! He left like ten seconds ago, how the fuck would he already need backup?!

Standing up, I made my way to the phone, not hesitating to answer it.

"Hello?!" I called into the phone, my American accent coming out even thicker than usual.

"PJ!" A familiar Scottish girl came through from the other end.

"Amy?" I asked, more calm, leaning against the TARDIS. "What's up?"

"The Daleks just lit up all of London like a Christmas tree, PJ, we're sitting ducks down here! We need to turn it off," Amy explained, waiting no time to get to business.

I winced at the thought. During this year, London had been keeping the lights off to make it harder for the Germans to find them.

If the Daleks managed to turn on the lights then thousands in London would die because the city would be visible to the Germans.

"How'd the hell they do that?" I questioned curiously.

"I don't know alien technology?!" Amy floundered. "How am I supposed to know? If anyone here would know it'd be you or the Doctor!"

She does have a point.

"Have you tried turning off the generators?" I questioned.

Amy did not answer, instead a powerful voice came through. "Of course, we have!" Winston cried into the phone. "We've even cut power, the Daleks are using immense technology!" He explained.

It's probably a power fusor that they're shooting at London.

Amy once again started talking. "Your idea, you said you can build new Daleks, right? You seemed positive that you could not only build them but build them to be better...!" She was saying, passion heavy in her tone.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Uhm, yeah, but it's not a good idea. I was getting more than ahead of myself."

"Not denying that," Amy said before continuing. "But we were thinking, the Doctor needs help too and we need these lights off. We went to Bracewell, asked him if he was capable of building anything—"

"—A missile to send in space!" Winston exclaimed before Amy continued.

"But we need coordinates, and Bracewell needs help with the schematics. We're working on a time crunch too, German fighter planes have been spotted, we need those lights off before they get to us." She said.

I quickly scrambled around the console, managing to find a stylus tucked away in a random drawer. My head tilted before my eyes lit up in understanding. Looking at the console, I noticed a blank screen attached to it.

Powering the screen on, I quickly tested the stylus humming in approval. It appeared the TARDIS had a built-in whiteboard.

Pressing the erase button, I once again regarded Amy.

"Put Professor Bracewell on the phone, I can help," I told her, and there was no response apart from shuffling as Bracewell himself came on the phone.

"PJ, correct?" He asked.

"Yep, I am speaking to the robotic Professor Bracewell, I presume?"

"Just Professor Bracewell is good," He corrected causing me to smirk.

"Very well, Professor Bracewell, what're you trying to make and what issues have you run into?" I finally asked.

"Gravity bubbles—I have blueprints for them... we need to get them around some of our fighter planes..."

My eyes lit up. "Let me guess?" I started, already writing down different equations for such a concept on the console screen. "You're sending them into space with the missiles. But you'll need to be able to allow the pilots to switch the bubble off and on to get the missiles out... but we also need to make sure the plane does not explode when the bubble comes down briefly to release the missile. We also need to account for human density and air..." I muttered, hand moving quickly as I wrote.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Professor Bracewell barked before continuing, listing some more questions and concerns he was running into. "Exactly!"

I grinned as Professor Bracewell's excited tone reached me through the crackling phone line.

"Okay, let's start with the basics," I said, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The French braids that my hair was in had held surprisingly well. "The key is creating a stable containment field to form the gravity bubble without compromising the aircraft's integrity. Think of it like—uh—a soap bubble but with layered structural reinforcement. You'll need a base frequency to harmonize the field's oscillation."

"A base frequency?" He asked. "Wouldn't the gravitational interference from Earth disrupt it?"

"Exactly, which is why you'll need a harmonics stabilizer," I explained, quickly scribbling down a diagram on the TARDIS console screen. "Something to cancel out the natural distortion from Earth's gravity. If you tune the stabilizer to, let's say, 9.8 meters per second squared—the exact pull of Earth's gravity—it'll neutralize the interference and keep the bubble stable."

There was a pause on the other end. "But to maintain that precision across multiple aircraft..."

"You'd need a resonance generator," I interrupted, snapping my fingers as the idea came together. "Build it into the plane's core. If you amplify the stabilizer's output through a phased resonance generator, you can distribute the effect evenly across the bubble. The trick will be ensuring that the generator stays in sync during flight."

"Phased resonance..." Bracewell repeated, his voice tinged with awe. "That could work. But the pilots—they'll need a manual override, yes? Something to disengage the bubble when the missile is launched?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Absolutely. The override will have to be linked to the plane's internal systems. A pressure-based trigger might do it—something the pilot can engage without losing focus. I'd recommend a switch calibrated to around 3 PSI. That way, it won't trigger accidentally but is still easy enough to flip in a hurry."

"Three PSI... brilliant!" He exclaimed.

"Wait, we're not done yet," I said, my mind racing. "When the bubble disengages, there's going to be a brief moment of destabilization—gravity reasserting itself. That could wreak havoc on the plane's internal pressure. You'll need a compensator to handle the transition."

"A compensator..." Bracewell murmured, clearly scribbling notes of his own.

"Right, something small but powerful. You could use a modified flux capacitor—wait, no, make it a flux modulator to simplify it. Tie it into the resonance generator so it activates in tandem with the override." I paused, tapping the stylus against the console. "If you offset the modulation by, say, 0.02 milliseconds, you should be able to counteract the destabilization before it affects the plane's structure."

"Perfect!" Bracewell said, his voice tinged with relief. "But what about propulsion? Once the bubble disengages, won't the missile need an additional thrust to escape Earth's pull?"

I nodded, tilting my head and balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I found another stylus and started writing with both hands. "Already on it. Install a secondary ignition system in the missile—something with a short but powerful burst. I'd recommend a chemical compound like tri-polymeric fuel. It burns hot and fast, giving you just enough thrust to break orbit."

"Tri-polymeric fuel..." His voice trailed off before returning with renewed vigor. "Yes, that could work! And the pilots—their oxygen supply? They'll need extra for the duration of the mission."

"Seal off the cockpit and pump in hyper-compressed oxygen tanks," I said without missing a beat. "And brace them with shock absorbers to handle the bubble's pressure fluctuations."

"Of course! That solves the oxygen issue completely!"

For a moment, the line was silent except for the sound of both our writing. The weight of what we were planning hung in the air, but so did the undeniable thrill of solving. Of creating.

And this time, there was no chance that it would end with robots hellbent on genocide.

"Okay," I said after a pause, my voice steady. "Run me through it from the top. Let's make sure we didn't miss anything."

Bracewell's voice came through, clear and excited as he rattled off the components: the stabilizer, the resonance generator, the manual override, the flux modulator, the secondary ignition system, and the oxygen tanks.

Perfect.

When he finished, I couldn't help but smile. "That's it, Professor. You've got your gravity bubble. Now go make it happen."

There was a beat of silence, then Bracewell let out a triumphant shout. "Eureka! We've done it! I'm applying it now!"

The line went dead before I could respond, but I didn't mind. My grin widened as I leaned against the console, staring at the equations and diagrams scrawled across the screen.

"Go get 'em, Professor," I muttered to myself, the hum of the TARDIS rising as though she approved. "Even if you're not a clone." I sighed.

As I continued to look over the schematics, the phone rang once again. Keeping my eyes on the console board, I answered the phone.

"Yesss?" I drawled.

"Oh, good, you're still there..." Amy said, and I could sense the smile in her tone. "I figured you'd want to be on the line while we launch the fighter planes into space?"

"Definitely..." I breathed. "Did Bracewell manage to get the transmission box working? Do you all have eyes on the Doctor?"

"Yes," Amy said. "He just brought it out, we're watching the Dalek ship transmissions live—they seemed to have cloned themselves or something. But the Doctor is facing off against five, and these ones are bigger and more colorful than the last lot... but I can't be completely sure, we just now managed to pick it up..." She explained.

My eyebrows furrowed and I turned away from the board, a hand on my hip.

"New Daleks? Five of them and he's by himself?" I bit my lip. "Should I go out?"

"Erm..." Amy sounded nervous. "No, I think he's good... well, as good as he can be. But the planes are on their way toward the ship now..."

"Okay, that's good..." I muttered. "Keep me updated," I said while pulling the TARDIS scanner over, or at least what I assumed was the scanner. "I can't figure out how to get this scanner working—I can't see what's going on outside of the TARDIS..." I said angrily. "Gosh, he needs to fix this!"

"He's threatening them with... no. No, it can't be... no—yeah, yeah that's definitely a jammie dodger... he's threatening the Daleks with a jammie dodger."

No way he's coming back.

Amy continues. "I think he has them convinced that a jammie dodger is the TARDIS self-destruct button," Amy explained with disbelief.

"What? The Daleks are so stupid they actually believe that?" I scoffed.

"Uhm, not anymore, they just caught him. I guess they scanned it and revealed it's nothing of the sort..." I could hear Amy scratching her head.

I cringed. "Is he okay? Does he need backup yet?"

"Not yet, the planes just got there! The Daleks are panicking!" She said happily.

From the background on the phone, I could hear a lot of chatter, lots of cheering, and many orders. On the other hand, the TARDIS was soundproof so I could hear nothing coming from outside of her.

"It's working, PJ, everything you and Bracewell came up with is working!" She was ecstatic.

"As I hoped, are London's lights back off yet?" I asked, pacing back and forth.

"No, they just started firing..." She said as the TARDIS doors slammed open causing me to whirl around.

The Doctor ran inside, quickly closing the doors behind him. My shoulders slumped in relief as I finally saw with my own eyes that the stupid TimeLord wasn't incinerated.

"The Doctor just came back," I told Amy as the Doctor himself jogged up the steps of the console.

He landed in front of me with a huge grin motioning to himself.

"Oi, you're too busy chatting on the phone to greet me properly?" He playfully called before pulling me into such a tight hug that he lifted my feet off the ground. I squeaked, head squeezed against his soft chest as he placed a slobbery kiss on the top of my head causing my goggles to fall to the ground with a clatter.

"I knew you were fine, now release me, Space Lord. I don't want your gross saliva in my hair...!" I whined.

"Gross saliva?" He gasped, pausing and looking down at me with the most offended expression in the world. However, he did not release me. "I'll show you gross!" He then proceeded to continuously kiss the top of my head.

Did we really have time for this?

I gagged dramatically, wiggling against his form. The phone dropped from my hand and back onto the console.

"What's happening?" Amy's voice crackled from the other line of the phone. "Is the Doctor, okay?"

With that, the Doctor finally released me, turning his full attention to the phone and picking it up.

"I am the King of Okay, Pond!" He said through the line, his eyes zeroing in on all the schematics on the board. "Wow! Look at this, this is beautiful. You are both so so clever—my savvy girls!" He complimented, staring at the math.

"PJ was the one to do all those stats alongside Professor Bracewell," Amy said as the same time I muttered. "You saying that sounds creepy, Doctor..."

He rolled his eyes at me and swatted the air.

With that, the Doctor spun around and pressed a certain button causing the TARDIS radio to awaken. We were now receiving live updates from the fighter pilots attacking the Dalek ship.

"We're live on the radio, Amy, we'll call back later," The Doctor informed her before hanging up, not even waiting for a reply.

He turned his head to look at me, his smile much softer as he poked my forehead. My eyes crossed, a scowl taking over my features.

"What did I say about pointing that big brain of yours in the right direction, eh? Look at this... " He sighed, leaning against the console and continuously reading through the stats.

I did not answer him with more than a shrug before I reached down to pick up my fallen goggles and place them back on my head. With that, I fell into the console chair.

"I was just trying to be helpful," I shrugged.

The Doctor pointed to me, remaining in his spot a few feet away where he was leaning against the console.

"This is more than helpful, PJ..." He told me.

"Better than trying to say a fucking jammie dodger is a self-destruct button to an ancient alien race?" I joked.

"Oi, that was all I had and it worked pretty well for the most part!" He defended, but there was a smile on his face. "It was a pretty good jammie dodger too..."

"You ate it in front of them?" I threw my head back incredulously. "You cannot like jammie dodgers that much!"

"They are good! You know how good they are!" He was ranting.

"I would not know seeing as I've never had one, but if you are that addicted to them, you may need to lay off the jammie dodgers for a bit," I teased only for my eyes to widen as the Doctor dramatically slid on his knees across the glass floors until he was directly in front of me.

I pulled my feet upward as the Doctor appeared before me, eyes wide and on his fucking knees.

He definitely did not believe in the term 'personal space' seeing as he was constantly up close with everyone.

His green eyes were wide as he stared at me, leaning even closer.

"You've never had a jammie dodger?" He sounded heartbroken and like he had all the sympathy in the world for me.

"No?" I breathed it as more of a question, hesitant about his scarily devoted attitude toward the sweets. "But I've had plenty of donuts so it's fine, don't worry,"

His face twisted into a scowl and he tried to get closer. But considering he was still on his knees in front of the chair that I was sitting on, he could only get so close.

"Dear, a donut is not a jammie dodger! Not even close!"

"What is close to it then? An oreo? Don't worry, I don't like Oreos that much either..."

"It's not an Oreo! Don't ever call it that again!" He furiously spat and I gave him a wordless thumbs-up.

As it would turn out, the Doctor truly was as crazy as me. Just in a different way.

He was more chaotic good and I ghosted the lines of chaotic neutral.

Our attention was taken away from this ridiculous conversation and to the radio that suddenly had static coming through.

"We're being fired at!" One of the pilots of the fighter planes said. "Incredibly hard to evade!"

The Doctor jumped to his feet and pointed at me. "We'll finish this later, deary!"

I watched him chaotically fly back to the console with a gape on my face. The Doctor proceeded to snap back into serious mode in 1.2 seconds.

He was standing by the radio with a look of concern, and slowly, as I realized what was happening over the radio, my frown formed. By the sounds of it... the pilots were losing against the Daleks.

Not a surprise, sadly.

The bubble was meant to keep the human pilots safe and allow them to fly in space, but it was not a force field. They would still be destroyed if they were hit.

Only three planes were sent up here, and one was already down.

In the next instant, the second plane was also down leaving only one pilot.

"Danny Boy to the Doctor, only me left now. Anything you can do, sir? Over." The last pilot radioed in, asking for help.

And the Doctor never denied someone who was in need of help.

The Doctor was quick to respond, frustration painted over his face. "The Doctor to Danny Boy. The Doctor to Danny Boy. I can disrupt the Dalek shields, but not for long. Over."

How the hell was he going to disrupt the Dalek shields?

I suppose I should not be shocked that the TARDIS can do that considering she is a rather amazing ship.

"Understood, Doctor. Over." The pilot responded over the radio. "I'm going in now, wish me luck. Over."

I cringed, that pilot was definitely prepared to die.

The Doctor was quick, professional as he toggled levers and pulled knobs. Whatever he did worked, as in the next second—many voices came from over the radio.

"We got a direct hit! The lights are off, London is dark again!" They were shouting over the radio amid a variety of loud cheering. "We repeat: London is dark again! The homeland is hidden!"

It seemed that London was once again hidden from the Germans.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

"Danny Boy to the Doctor. Going in for another attack!" The pilot radioed.

The Doctor smiled, grabbing the radio and responding. "The Doctor to Danny Boy. The Doctor to Danny Boy. Destroy the ship!" He called.

"What about you guys, Doctor?" The pilot radioed back.

"Yeah, what about us!" I added, eyes wide as I looked around.

The TARDIS was currently parked on the Dalek ship that the Doctor was telling the pilot to destroy.

In response, the Doctor looked at me with an easy smile, winking before responding to the radio.

Ain't no way.

"We'll be okay," He said back.

Well, that's reassuring... catch the sarcasm?

Before anything further could commence—the TARDIS scanner that had previously been dead burst to life. On it, a white Dalek was displayed. I sat up straighter, staring at the screen in confusion.

Daleks are so ugly.

"Doctor! Call off your attack!" It demanded.

While my face was twisted in concern, the Doctor looked amused as he turned to the screen and addressed the Dalek.

"What? And let you scuttle off back to the future? No fear." He asked rhetorically while walking closer to the screen. "No chance. This is the end for you. The final end."

The Dalek on the screen did not so much as flinch before continuing. "Call off the attack or we will destroy the Earth."

The Doctor scoffed while shaking his head. "I'm not stupid, mate. You've just played your last card." He told the Dalek.

How the fuck were the Daleks meant to destroy the Earth? They had no weaponry capable of such a feat at the moment.

The Dalek on screen proceeded to answer my silent question. "Bracewell is a bomb!" It revealed.

My mouth fell open. That would make sense, Bracewell was an incredible robot created by the Daleks. Of course, he was not only an android but also a fucking bomb.

Genius!

In a terrible way, but genius nonetheless!

"You're bluffing. Deception is second nature to you. There isn't a sincere bone in your body..." The Doctor trailed off, his delicate eyebrows furrowing. "Actually there aren't any bones in your body..." He rubbed his chin, face thoughtful.

I gave him a weird look before piping up. "I don't think they're bluffing, Doctor! There's no way they would make an android without making him some kind of weapon. The Daleks don't play like that," I breathed, eyes glimmering as the realization settled upon me. "Oh! Wow—maybe this is better than him being a clone, after all!"

"Ugh—PJ! Enough!" The Doctor cried out, eyes widening as his persona turned from confident to distraught.

"His power is derived from an Oblivion Continuum. Call off your attack or we will detonate the android!" The Dalek hissed through the screen.

"Oblivion Continuum? That makes Bracewell a bomb that will open a black hole! A black hole bomb! Holy shit!" I said, standing from the chair and racing to the console screen to put myself in its path. "How the fuck did you create that without blowing yourselves out of existence?"

"Don't talk to them!" The Doctor snapped, grabbing my arm and moving me back toward the chair to get me out of the line of the screen. "This is my best chance ever!" He said furiously, releasing my arm and pacing the glass floor. "The last of the Daleks. I can rid the whole universe of you, once and for all!" He was breathing heavily, shaking his head in disbelief.

The Dalek on the screen was not letting up. "Then do it... but we will shatter the planet below. The Earth will die screaming!"

The Doctor was quiet for a few moments, staring at the console screen in contemplation. A dark look crossed over his face. "But if I let you go, you'll be stronger than ever. A new race of Daleks."

"Then choose, Doctor," The Dalek said. "Destroy the Daleks or save the Earth? Choose, Doctor. Choose! Choose!"

My heart stopped as I looked to the Doctor.

I had no doubt about what he would choose. But I pondered the question. What was the greater good here? Wiping out the Daleks with Earth as a causality? Or allowing them to escape so the Earth might live?

The Doctor's head dropped and his shoulders slumped in defeat. His face was heartbroken as he reached for the radio.

He had chosen.

"The Doctor to Danny Boy. The Doctor to Danny Boy. Withdraw..." The Doctor said into the radio firmly, head bowed.

"Say again, sir. Over!" The pilot radioed back.

The Doctor gripped the radio tightly, speaking into it quickly. "Withdraw! Return to Earth! Over and out!"

"But, sir!" The pilot tried to argue.

The Doctor was quick to shut him down. "There's no time, we have to return to Earth now! Over!" He said before slamming the radio down and beginning to twist the knobs as he piloted the TARDIS back to the bunker in London.

He had chosen to save the Earth. Even knowing the Daleks would get away. Knowing that he had sentenced himself and the rest of the galaxy to another lifetime of being terrorized by the Daleks. Knowing that he himself would almost always be the one who had to fight against them.

But still, he chose the Earth.

My head tilted as I watched him move around the console silently. It was obvious that he was distraught: angry and heartbroken. But determined to save the planet that he loved so much.

My thoughts were broken by his voice as he flipped one last lever and turned to me.

"What're you still doing sitting around? Up! UP!" He squawked, his heartbreak hidden in the presence of determination. I yelped as he shot toward me, grabbing my hand and pulling me after him as we ran toward the doors. "We have a bomb to diffuse and you are the best bomber I know!"

"What? What do you mean?!" I panicked.

Had he already known this whole time that I had been involved in the creation of the atomic bomb? Had me from the future already let that slip?

"You are scarily good at creating bombs and almost as good at diffusing them!" He informed me. "You did it all the time before, and I certainly didn't teach you those skills, so I assume you still have them? Oh! Please tell me you know how to diffuse bombs and it's not something you pick up with this version of me!" He cried as we ran out of the doors of the TARDIS and through the corridors of the bunker.

Okay, good, it doesn't sound like he knows about the atomic bomb. He just knows I'm really good at engineering and taking such bombs apart.

"Of course, I can! Don't make me laugh, you definitely didn't teach me that!" I scoffed.

While it was true I was better at making explosives than breaking them—a bomb is a bomb. Diffusing is just the reverse of creating it.

It's kind of like... counting backwards!

"Well, where did you learn how to do that?" He asked. "You never told me before! More 'spoilers' as you had said!"

"I'm a Ravager who shot myself through time with a stolen Vortex Manipulator, I'm good with tinkering, and by Earth standards—I'm a bit of a genius! Obviously, I'm self-taught!"

"Oi, well no need to get sassy with me, young lady!" The Doctor snarked.

"That sounds disgusting and creepy coming from you! Don't ever call me that again!"

"You have called me so much worse!"

"Like what?"

"It's so bad I can't even repeat it!" The Doctor exclaimed just as we came upon the war room where everyone was.

The Doctor released my hand before running up and punching Professor Bracewell directly across the face with all his TimeLord strength. A metallic clang rang out as Bracewell fell to the floor and the Doctor yelled in pain, shaking his hand.

Timelords may have been stronger and faster than humans, but it was not by an insane amount. Punching straight metal would still hurt like a bitch.

"Oh, blimey that hurt!" He roared in pain.

"Doctor!" Amy gasped, as everyone turned and gaped at the scene, quickly coming over.

I crossed my arms and shook my head.

"You should've had me punch him..." I called lazily.

The Doctor glared at me weakly from where he was rubbing his fist. "You're a weak human, your fist would've broken on contact..." He groaned.

Correction: I am an immensely strong half-breed and I probably could have punched a hole straight through Bracewell... which would've immediately detonated the bomb and destroyed everyone around me.

Point taken—it was smartest for the Doctor to punch Bracewell. Even if he did not know the real reason why.

"Sorry, Professor!" The Doctor finally turned and looked down to Bracewell who was withering on the ground. "You're a bomb. An inconceivably massive Dalek bomb!" He wasted no time in dropping that information on the poor dude.

"What?!" Professor Bracewell panicked.

"There is an Oblivion Continuum inside of you. A captured wormhole that provides perpetual power! Detonate that and the Earth could literally bleed through reality!" He huffed, reaching into his tweed jacket and pulling out a sonic screwdriver.

Yep, I definitely could not have that!

In the next moment, he kneeled beside where Bracewell lay on the ground and proceeded to rip his shirt open causing buttons to fly and for a rather unimpressive chest to be put on full display. I did a doubletake, blinking at what I just watched.

It was obvious, based on that display, that the Doctor had ripped off more than a few people's shirts in his time. Whether the majority had come from situations as precarious as this or other activities—I'm not sure that I'll ever know.

"Now, keep down..." The Doctor commanded the whimpering Bracewell soothingly, on his knees and leaning over him.

If one did not have context, this situation would seem so weird...

It was obvious that Bracewell was going through yet another identity crisis. Poor dude woke up this morning thinking that he was the top war-fair scientist in the world only to have that come crashing down as his true origins were revealed.

The Doctor waved his sonic over Bracewell's chest causing the skin to slide back revealing a metallic chest with a circulator modulator smack in the middle. The circular detonator was split into five halves—one of those halves was starting to light up yellow.

I immediately recognized that it was on its way to turning red, and once every piece hit red then he would blow, all of the people surrounding me would die upon impact and everything else would be sucked into a black hole.

Including me: which would be so bad because black holes were the absolute worst to try and get out of. I could be stuck floating around for years before I managed to get out.

"Well?" Amy panicked from where she was standing, looking at the Doctor expectantly.

"I don't know, I don't know—never seen one up close before...!" He continued to scan it with his sonic, continuously looking at the readings in confusion.

"So what? They've wired him up to detonate?" Amy asked in disbelief as she stared at Bracewell, he was now praying under his breath, his eyes squeezed shut.

"No, they haven't wired him up. He was built as a literal bomb. Walking—talking!" The Doctor suddenly made an explosion noise with his mouth, using his arms to pretend a bomb was exploding. "POW! Exploding! The moment this entire thing flashes red," He pointed to the circular modulator, "we all go bye-bye!"

Amy was now stumbling over her words, panicking to the highest degree. "Okay, okay! You can fix this right? There's a blue wire or something you have to cut, isn't there? Or maybe it's a red one?"

It's neither... there are literally no colored wires in this guy.

I stood over him, arms crossed. Sliding the goggles from my head and down over my eyes, I was able to scan every square inch of him. I could see the way he worked, how he was wired, and how he ticks.

Now, how to disassemble him without killing him. Or I guess, I should phrase it as powering him off permanently since he's an android.

The Doctor stood up, looking at Amy in exasperation. "You're not helping!"

Winston Churchill who had been watching the quietly the whole time finally spoke up. "It's incredible! He talked to us about his memories. About the Great War...!"

Incredible, indeed.

"Someone else's stolen thoughts, implanted in a positronic brain!" The Doctor exclaimed, pacing back and forth before snapping his fingers toward Bracewell. "That's it, tell us about your life, Bracewell!" He said while dropping to his knees and going back to Bracewell's side

As I finished examining at the Bracewell Bomb, my mind clicked, and understanding overcame me. Got it; a five-minute disassemblage is a go.

I pushed the goggles back on top of my head, dropping to my knees next to the Doctor.

"Out of the way, Jammie Dodger man!" I snidely said while pushing the Doctor to the side and stealing his sonic screwdriver. "Ugh—how do you work this thing?" I asked, hitting it with my hand.

The Doctor cried out, reaching toward me and stealing the sonic back. "Don't do that! Are you sure you know what you're doing—this is far more complicated than I was expecting!"

"What the hell did you expect?" I scoffed, looking at him incredulously. "A big round ball with a lit fuse that said 'bomb'?"

"That is just rude, of course not!" The Doctor angrily huffed. "And, honestly—" He was cut off by Amy.

"Jeez, I sure hope this argument goes on for another few minutes! LOOK!" She shrieked with sarcasm motioning to the first piece of the circular modulator that had turned red.

"Use the sonic and open the chest cavern..." I quickly told the Doctor.

He hesitated, his voice coming softer. "Are you positive you know what you're doing? Is it safe to open that, PJ?"

There was obvious doubt in his voice, but he had no other options. The Doctor, as smart as he is, would not be able to diffuse this before it went off. He would need at least a few hours with it. And he knew this.

I looked at him, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing it.

"Yes," I said, my voice a promise. "Now, open him up..."

The Doctor looked at me for a second longer before nodding and pressing a few buttons on his sonic, waving it over the metallic chest. The cavern opened up revealing an intricate system of wires and buttons—all in the same shades of bronze. In the center and toward the button, a small ball of pure inky blackness spun in a bubble.

The Oblivion Continuum.

As soon as this bomb went off, the explosion would be powerful enough to cause that bubble to burst which would then open up a wormhole.

I could feel the wide-eyed stares around me as everyone took in the pure complexity of the machine. Even the Doctor was practically biting his nails out of nervousness.

Bracewell himself, still conscious was freaking out.

"I need five minutes... calm him down..." I ordered. "The more passive his emotions are the longer the modulator will take to activate!"

The Doctor wasted no time, slipping behind me until he was kneeling by Bracewell's head and talking to him.

My lips pursed as I felt something. Looking down briefly, I arched an eyebrow at the sight of the Doctor keeping a hand on my thigh. He was squeezing it ever-so-gently as he spoke with Bracewell, seemingly not even realizing what he was doing.

I shrugged the guy was one of the most affectionate and touchy people that I had ever come across. This was not surprising.

What was surprising was the fact that rather than feel nothing about it... I actually rather liked the sensation. It was comforting.

Disgusting.

With a shudder, I quickly slid the goggles down on my face and set to work. My fingers were nimble and quick as I worked through the wiring—vaguely listening to the Doctor ordering Bracewell to tell him about his memories, his past.

A life he had never lived but one he remembered.

Alright, PJ. No pressure. Just diffusing a hyper-advanced alien death bomb embedded in the chest cavity of a panicking, sentient android. Simple stuff, really.

My fingers flew over the wires as if I was a professional—which, in fairness, I really wasn't, but fake it till you make it, right? Just another Tuesday for the existence of Polaris Jade: bartender, rogue scientist, engineer, multiverse traveler, top-player of the Space Jam, and occasional bomb surgeon.

I was more of a bomb creator rather than a diffuser, really, but details.

The Bomb Maker is back in business.

Okay, so, first step: locate the primary flux inhibitor. Easy, it's... probably this little wiry doohickey glowing faintly like a dying firefly on a caffeine crash. Yeah, totally that. Snip or redirect? Redirect. Snipping is bad. Always bad. Note to self: avoid snipping.

I gently twisted a wire connector, feeling the satisfying click as it locked into place. The modulator's glow dimmed slightly, buying me another thirty seconds.

Look at you go. Who needs the Doctor anyway? Not you. You're a genius.

Wait, no, scratch that because I definitely do need the Doctor and his TARDIS.

That kind of thinking gets people blown up. Remember Stockholm, 2189. Or was it Madrid? Whatever. Focus!

I glanced briefly at the ominous, swirling black ball in the center of Bracewell's chest.

The Oblivion Continuum. Literally a pocket-sized, universe-ending black hole. Who even thinks of this stuff? Fine, I would... guilty as charged.

The Doctor was saying something awe-inspiring to Bracewell. His voice was loud and his hand was squeezing my thigh tighter. Whatever it was caused for Amy to come and join us, kneeling on the other side of his head.

I was too focused on diffusing this guy to care or bother with the details of what they were doing. However, it was working, they were definitely buying me time based on the way the circulator modulator was flipping back to blue.

The second panel slid open, revealing a lattice of bronze wires crisscrossed like a web spun by a very stressed-out spider.

This is fine. Totally fine. Just a few hundred wires to sort through. Like untangling holiday lights—if the lights could vaporize your entire molecular structure. No biggie. Now, where's the secondary stabilizer? Aha! You cheeky little bastard, trying to hide behind the dimensional phase coil. Not today, bitch.

I tilted my head, squinting at a tiny lever marked in Dalek's script. My goggles translated it automatically.

"Do Not Pull." Oh, perfect. That's helpful. Could they be any more cryptic? Should I pull it? No, PJ. That's a trap. It's always a trap. Leave it alone.

With a flick of my wrist, I routed power from the stabilizer to the auxiliary circuit, feeling the faintest vibration as the modulator slowed even further.

See? This isn't so bad. You've totally got this. Just keep going. And don't think about how one wrong move could turn everyone here into a cosmic pancake. Or how the Doctor's kneeling with that hand on your thigh like he's got any business being distracting right now.

Focus, PJ!

The black sphere pulsed slightly, and the third segment of the modulator inched closer to red again.

Okay, maybe speed it up. Time for the Hail Mary maneuver. Identify the main detonation relay. It's always big, flashy, and... there it is. Right in the middle. Of course.

I reached in, carefully threading a wire through a narrow passage of circuits. My hand brushed a tiny coil, sending a spark up my arm.

Ow! Okay, that's fine. Just a little zap. Builds character. Not dead yet. Yay, me.

Now, disconnect the relay without jostling the core. Easy peasy. Like threading a needle with an angry piranha strapped to your wrist.

The final piece slid into place, and I felt the modulator's hum stabilize. The glowing red light began to fade. As the Oblivion Continuum popped out of existence silently.

Ha! Who's the smartest half-human/half-what-the-hell in the room? That's right, me! Polaris freakin' Jade! Saving lives and looking good doing it. You're welcome, Earth from the universe designated as 5556.

I had not only deactivated it but I killed it completely all without shutting down Bracewell. The bomb was like an extinct volcano, it would never be able to be activated again. Not without a hell of a lot of rewiring and re-building, at least.

I slid the goggles up onto my forehead, leaning back with a triumphant grin.

"Done," I said aloud, hands on my hips like the absolute badass I was pretending to be.

"Yes! Welcome to the human race, Professor Bracewell!" The Doctor laughed from his place on his knees, a huge smile on his face as he finally released my thigh.

He looked up making eye contact with Amy, both of them sharing a relieved smile and huff of laughter.

The Doctor snapped his fingers, pointing to Winston Churchill. "You're brilliant!" He then pointed to Bracewell. "You're brilliant!" He rubbed the android's cheek affectionately. "And—you, why, you're just—!" The Doctor stuttered pointing to Amy, his face lit up in a manner that said he was far more than impressed.

To get his feelings across, emotions he was unable to put into words, he reached across, grabbed Amy gently, and pulled her toward him before peppering her forehead with affectionate kisses. Amy giggled as he praised her, showcasing his pride in a manner that made me stare at him weirdly.

I mean... when considering all the various time periods and cultures that he had been to and was technically part of, his constant display of affection is not necessarily weird. And it's even less weird when throwing the multiverse into the mix.

Still though, having been living through the 2020s for the past few years, I suppose my sense of normality had become a bit skewed.

My lips turned into a frown against my will as I stood up and wandered a few feet away. Despite finding it odd, the smallest bitter feeling settled in my stomach. Oh yeah, just ignore the person who took down the entire bomb...

Unfortunately, karma caught up to me about my inner complaining, for the Doctor jumped to his feet a second later. Amy was left giddily smiling and blushing after the Doctor was finished with his parade of affection on her.

His eyes found my own within seconds.

"And you!" He pointed to, starting to walk over. "Oh, my dear, PJ! You never cease to amaze me!"

I was quick to get defensive, practically leaping away.

"Yeah, I'm awesome and brilliant, I know! Don't worry, you don't need to—" I said, all while walking backward as the Doctor came toward me.

I shrieked, turning to try and run but he managed to snake an arm around my waist, catching me at the last second and turning me around. His face was beaming, positively aching from pride as he swept me off my feet and proceeded to leave happy kisses on my forehead and cheeks.

My face was tinting red without my permission and I was enjoying this far more than I wanted.

"Wait, Doctor—" My yelp was cut short.

"Beautiful and brilliant!" He yelled as he left a final, affectionate, and slobbery open-mouthed kiss on my fucking lips!

GROSS! TIMELORD SPIT!

I did not even have the chance to choose to kiss back or push him off before he pulled away, still brightly grinning. He released me, looking toward the corridor. My face was blushing far brighter than I wished, and the Doctor—well, he was barely even phased.

It was not a real kiss. There was no passion and there was no emotion apart from unbridled excitement and pride that the bomb was detonated. I recognized that such a feat was only the Doctor's way of expressing joy.

"Now we have to stop them! Time to stop the Daleks!" He called, starting to jog out of the room, his mind already working on the next big thing.

"Wait, Doctor! Wait, wait!" Bracewell called from the ground as he sat up. "It's too late..." He finally breathed, still in shock himself from everything. "They're gone..."

The Doctor's excitement fizzled away like a popped balloon. His happy eyes twisted into something sour, his face dropping as he spun around. His hands moved, frantically rubbing together as he desperately looked around as though a solution would jump out in front of him.

Devastation and anger is what replaced his previous emotions.

"No!" He breathed before starting to shout. "No, no! They can't have got away from me again!"

"I can feel it, my mind is clear..." Professor Bracewell breathed. "The Daleks have gone..."

The Doctor was staring at Bracewell in defeat. He slowly leaned against the wall, eyes so sad.

Everything in me screamed to step forward, to help him—comfort him. But I had no clue how, no idea what to say to even make this better for him.

Thankfully, Amy was much better with this stuff than I.

She surged forward, grabbing his shoulders and rubbing down his arm.

"Doctor, it's okay. You did it! We stopped the bomb..." She smiled, trying to bring his mood back up. "Doctor?" She asked again carefully, seeing his breathing pickup and wide upset eyes.

"I had a choice, and they knew I'd choose Earth." His voice was breathless and upset as he looked to Amy desperately. "The Daleks have won, they beat me, they've won..."

Amy tilted her head, staring into his eyes with all the compassion in the world. "But you saved the Earth. Not too shabby, is it?" She asked, a small smile making its way on her face.

He slowly looked around, face going from upset to neutral. The Doctor suddenly locked eyes with me, and I motioned to all the people around us.

"Unless you were willing to destroy everything via a blackhole... there was nothing else you could have done. Look at all the people still here because of your choice..." I said plainly, a bit blunt, but a smirk was curling at the corners of my lips and the Doctor grew a small smile of his own.

He fiddled with his bowtie, giving me one last long look before he took in everyone around us. All the people still standing because of him.

"You're right..." He sighed, dancing around before looking back to Amy. "Not too shabby..."

"It's a brilliant achievement, my dear friend," Winston Churchill complimented causing the Doctor to wave him off. Churchill then proceeded to pull out a cigar. "Here have a cigar..."

The Doctor quickly shook his head. "No thank you..."

I stepped forward. "Seeing as I was the one to diffuse that guy," I snapped my fingers in Bracewell's direction. "I'll have that cigar!"

"What?" The Doctor cried, as Churchill handed me the huge cigar. "No! PJ, don't do that!"

"Not your choice!" I piped as the Doctor scowled.

My smoking did not last long as the Doctor managed to snag it away and destroy within minutes, claiming it was a complete "accident".

After that, we hung around the bunker for a few hours more—the Doctor and me worked in disassembling and decontructing the alien technology the Daleks had brought in. Mostly just different weapons, and while Churchill tried to convince the Doctor to allow them to keep it, he got nowhere with the TimeLord.

We worked quickly, arguing and allowing small chatter to befall us for the time it took. It was frankly about Jammie Dodgers vs. Oreos and which was better even though I did not like Oreos and had never tried a Jammie Dodger.

The Doctor had then pulled one out of his pocket and offered it to.

"That's disgusting, Doctor!" I had crinkled my nose at him, and he pouted before shoving the entire thing in his mouth causing me to gag and him to laugh.

After that was finished, I waited by the TARDIS as the Doctor went to fetch Amy.

I was throwing my pocket knife up and allowing it to spin before catching it and doing it over again. It was a small while when I spotted the Doctor and Amy finally walking down the corridors.

"Took you guys long enough," I snarked, standing upright from where I had been leaning against the TARDIS. "She's locked, I couldn't get inside..."

The Doctor scowled. "I thought she was always unlocked for you?" He said sarcastically.

"You know how your girl works, it's only when she wants..." I clicked my tongue.

They met me in front of the TARDIS, all of us standing in front of her.

"You're not going to say goodbye to Churchill? Or the Professor?" Amy asked me.

I rose my brows. "You left him alive?!"

The Doctor was quick to scold me. "Of course we did, he's still sentient!"

"Well, yeah, but he's still a dormant Dalek bomb-android crossover! Even if the bomb is gone, don't you think that he's still a little risky?" I was looking at the Doctor as though he was insane.

Which he was.

I left the android alive because it didn't seem right to power him down at the time. Not in front of all those people and not while he was shuddering in panic already.

I assumed we'd power Bracewell down later, more privately and when he had a moment to say his final goodbyes.

Like... an animal or something... I don't know!

Okay, fine, I'll admit that does sound pretty heartless.

The Doctor shrugged, leaning forward and bopping me on the nose. I scowled and tried to swat his hands away.

"There is much worse stuff lurking in the shadows on this planet. I am sure that Bracewell will be fine, and if not, then we'll come back..." He said, bringing his arms up and resting it over my shoulders along with Amy's.

He pulled us to either side of him.

I scowled and shoved him away. "I'm not! Like I said I hate the 40s, I am never coming back here!"

The Doctor scowled right back. "You're telling me this experience didn't change your mind?"

"Of course not! We almost turned this plant into a blackhole!" I threw my hands up.

"But we saved it! And you're riding in my TARDIS, you don't get to stop us from coming to the 40s!"

"Buddy, I can't stop you from going anywhere, but I can stop myself from leaving the TARDIS!"

"I will hurl you over my shoulder if I need to and—" The Doctor's furious rambling was cut off by Amy poking her head between the two of us.

"Honestly, you two argue like an old married couple, this is getting ridiculous..." She sighed.

"He starts it!" I pointed at him.

"I do not!" The Doctor gasped.

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"So you have enemies!" Amy cut in, eyes wide as she placed herself between us and stared at the Doctor. "Like proper arch-enemies?"

I talked before the Doctor could answer, clicking my tongue. "Oh yeah, like half the galaxy wants to kill him..." I chuckled.

The Doctor poked my forehead. "Enough from the Peanut Gallery, thank you very much... but yes, I suppose I do have some enemies..."

I scoffed at his words, rubbing where he poked my head but said nothing. However, I did fix him with a pretty nasty glare that had the TimeLord beaming back at me.

Reaching forward, I forced my hand into the front pocket of his tweed jacket causing him to yell in disdain.

"Oi, take me out to dinner first!" He cried as I pulled the key from him.

I rose my brows with surprise at his joke, never thinking he'd say something like that.

"Not a chance, Space Lord," I snickered coolly, using the TARDIS key to unlock the door and shove it open.

Throwing the key back at him which he was hasty to try and catch, I whirled around standing in the doorway of the TARDIS. The console room was warm, greeting me kindly.

"You two talk, I'll be waiting in here..." I said, closing the door. But just before it closed, I reopened it and popped my head back out. "And I am serious..." I scowled, the Doctor leaning against the TARDIS with an amused smirk on his face as he regarded me. We were nearly nose-to-nose. "I am never coming back to the 40s again!"

With that, I snapped the door closed, hearing him yell out a, "we''ll see about that", just before the doors closed completely.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

I lay across two console chairs as the Doctor came speeding in with Amy hot on his heels. They had not been outside the TARDIS for long, I left them maybe a minute or two ago.

"PJ! Good, you're still out here—I thought I was going to need to find you! Now where should we go next, girls? The Elliptical galaxy? A star? Or how about Victorian London? Oh, I do love the Victorian ages!" He rambled as he leaped up the steps, spinning around the console

The TARDIS shuddered as he brought her into the Time Vortex.

Amy was quick to lean on the railings next to the chairs where I was relaxing.

"Considering how problematic the Victorian ages are, I find it concerning that you like it so much!" I remarked while closing my eyes.

When after a few seconds I heard no reply, I opened my eyes with furrowed brows. I jumped, sinking into the console chair further as I was greeted by the Doctor leaning over me, his face so close that our foreheads were centimeters away from touching.

"I don't think you have a place to be talking about problematic, deary," He informed me with a scowl. "Victorian London is great!"

I sat up, pushing him away by his face. The Doctor floundered, nearly losing his footing before he chose to crash into the now-open seat next to me.

"Victorian London sucks..." I breathed, blowing a stray strand of hair from my face. "Shouldn't we try to track down the Daleks that just got away?"

"Don't like the 40s, don't like the Victorian ages... you're very picky... very hard to please..." The Doctor complained, taking one of my braids between his fingers and playing with it. "And I don't go searching for the Daleks, dearest. Not to mention, I can't track them even if I wanted to with the way their ship jumped. But all of time and space: we'll eventually run into them again and I'll put a stop to them then..." He murmured the last part surely.

I rolled my eyes but didn't bother to stop him from playing with my hair.

"What about a planet then? I haven't been on a different planet yet, please let's go see a planet!" Amy begged from where she stood next to the Doctor.

His eyes lit up. "A planet, of course!" He exclaimed, dropping my hair and leaping to his feet.

I threw my head back with a sigh. "Food first?" I meekly asked having skipped breakfast earlier and then immediately needing to deal with Daleks all day.

Speaking of which, I was vaguely sure it was around time for Amy and I to go back to sleep. We'd been out nearly 10 hours, but the Doctor ran a busy schedule. He liked to be on the move constantly.

"Oh yeah, I'm quite hungry now that you mention it..." Amy agreed, stealing the seat the Doctor had previously been sitting in.

"Ah—food! Love food!" The Doctor turned with another smile. "Food it is and a planet! How about Braxtar's on Zulphatron? Great munchie-salad they have! Or better yet, a food moon! There's a lovely little one in the Andromeda Galaxy, orbiting a purple sun. Who doesn't love purple? And the cheese soufflés are to die for—though I'd recommend avoiding the lava pudding. It's... well, let's just say it's an acquired taste."

Braxtar's on Zulphatron was good. The munchie-salad that the Doctor mentioned was delicious, but Braxtar's mostly specializes in the planets local delicacies... which might be a bit alarming to someone like Amy who'd never eaten off-world before.

And... a food moon was more than a lot.

While the aspect was interesting to me, I had no doubt Amy might be spending an entire day in the bathroom if her first off-planet eating experience was from a food moon.

Amy groaned, smart enough to recognize the same thing. "Can't we just have something normal? Like chips or a sandwich? I'm not ready to risk alien food poisoning yet."

The Doctor looked genuinely offended. "Chips? A sandwich? Amelia Pond, we can go anywhere in all of time and space, and you want chips? That's like going to the Louvre and asking for a keegen on a napkin!"

"What does that mean?" Amy furrowed her brows in concern.

I elaborated with a wave. "It's like going to an all-you-can-eat buffet in Vegas and only getting the most basic thing there... like chicken or fries or something..." I told her, and she nodded.

The Doctor threw an arm toward me. "See!" He stressed.

I sat up straighter, shaking my head. "No, Doctor..." He frowned as I also shot him down. "I second Amy on this one. If you take us to a food moon or even Zulphatron for her first time eating off Earth, she will literally be bed and toilet-ridden for days. She needs to start small before working up to any cheesy space soufflés."

He sighed dramatically, spinning on his heels, but he knew I was right. "Fine, fine. You're right. You humans and your fragile constitutions." With a flick of his wrist, he pulled a lever that made the TARDIS lurch slightly, it quickly became apparent that we were now floating through space somewhere. "The kitchen it is! I suppose I'll just have to whip something up myself."

Amy and I exchanged skeptical glances.

I squinted at him. "Wait—you can cook?"

He looked offended, puffing out his chest indignantly. "Of course, I can cook! I'm brilliant at it. Depending on the ingredients. And the gravity. And whether or not the eggs are—"

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Amy interrupted, pushing herself up from the chair.

I followed after her, all three of us making our way into the corridors.

The Doctor was talking our ears off about how he won some cook-off somewhere on the planet Desinderium in the 16th century during his 6th generation. He was still holding onto that victory hard even though he was 527 when it happened, making it almost 400 years ago.

The TARDIS kitchen was, unsurprisingly, as eccentric as the rest of the ship. It was a cozy space with mismatched cupboards, a retro-looking fridge, and a table that appeared to hover slightly off the ground.

It was giving space-themed-60s.

It was slightly different from the first time I saw it. Not too different, but just slightly, it seemed the TARDIS was constantly changing herself.

I eyed a contraption in the corner that looked suspiciously like a toaster but had far too many blinking lights and antennae to be trustworthy.

The Doctor took his tweed jacket off, laying it on the back of a kitchen chair.

He rolled up his sleeves before rummaging through the fridge with the enthusiasm of a child digging through a toy chest. "Right, let's see... milk from the year 2150—still fresh! Bread from a bakery on Vega 6. And ooh, would you look at this! Jam from the moon of Tropica 9—glows in the dark, so you can find it during power outages."

He had splayed all the ingredients on the counter. The jam was in a clear jar and glowing a fierce orange.

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Tropica 9 jam? Isn't it outlawed on three different planets? I'm starting to think this is going to end with Amy and me making our own sandwiches."

The Doctor turned, brandishing a whisk like a weapon. "No faith! It's fine for humans to consume! You two are lucky to have a chef of my caliber."

"But, of course," I deadpanned sarcastically.

The Doctor was acting as a contestant on a cooking show and began pulling more random ingredients from the fridge. "Right then! Scrambled eggs and French toast. Easy peasy. Can't go wrong!"

Amy and I shared a look from where we were leaning against the counter.

He dramatically started cracking eggs into a bowl. "Cooking is just science, you know. Ratios, heat transfer, the Maillard reaction—it's all terribly straightforward. I'm brilliant at it."

He finished cracking the eggs before dancing toward the suspicious-looking toaster bringing the bread with him. The Doctor then started shoving two at a time in it.

Was he supposed to—?

The toaster unexpectedly emitted a high-pitched whirr.

"Is it supposed to do that?" I asked, taking a cautious step back.

"Of course!" The Doctor replied, jabbing at one of its many buttons. "It's new! State-of-the-art. Self-toasting, self-cleaning, self-thinking!"

"That last one sounds ominous," Amy said, crossing her arms and I nodded in agreeance.

"It's fine. Perfectly safe." The Doctor waved us off, fiddling with a lever.

The toaster responded with a loud CLANK and launched a piece of bread into the air like a catapult. It soared across the room, smacked into the wall, and fell to the floor with a faint sizzle.

My mouth fell open at the sight.

"Whoa!" I ducked as another slice whizzed past my head, its edges charred black.

Amy doubled over. "It's attacking! Your toaster is attacking us!"

"It's not attacking!" The Doctor flailed at the toaster, which was now spitting out bread slices at an alarming rate. "It's just... enthusiastic! Stop that, you infernal contraption!"

Another slice flew, narrowly missing the Doctor's ear. He grabbed a spatula and swung at it like he was playing cricket.

Amy, still laughing, took charge. "Right, enough of this nonsense." She grabbed a frying pan from a nearby hook. "Let's do this the old-fashioned way."

The Doctor had finally managed to power the toaster off.

"Great idea," I said, diving toward the fridge. I rummaged around until I found some vegetables—tomatoes, peppers, and even a proper onion, miraculously un-glowing. "I'll chop. Amy, you cook. Doctor, maybe just... stay over there?"

"Excuse me?" He looked upset, pointing at himself. "I am a genius, thank you very much. I can handle my kitchen."

"Your toaster says otherwise," I shot back.

His expression shifted into a pout. "That toaster has a personality defect. Nothing to do with my skills."

"Sure, Doctor," Amy teased, sliding the frying pan onto the stovetop. "Now sit down before you cause another appliance meltdown."

Grumbling, the Doctor reluctantly perched on a stool, watching as Amy and I took over. She took the cracked eggs and dumped them into the pan with practiced ease, while I diced the vegetables with a speed that came from years of playing with sharp objects

"This is nice," Amy said after a few moments of silence as she stirred the eggs. "Reminds me of cooking with my aunt."

"Not exactly your usual kitchen though, is it?" I replied, tossing the chopped peppers into a bowl.

"Not complaining."

The Doctor, apparently unable to stay quiet for long, leaned forward. "You two are doing it wrong."

Amy shot him a glare. "If you even think about touching this pan, I will hit you with it."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a mischievous grin on his face. "Just saying—needs a dash of salt, a pinch of pepper, maybe some paprika..."

"Doctor." My tone was a warning, though I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "Let us handle this."

"Fine, fine," He said, leaning back dramatically. "I'll just sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you create your bland culinary... disaster."

"And by twiddling your thumbs, you mean critique every step we take?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Exactly!"

Despite the Doctor's endless commentary and stories of his impressive cooking feats—we managed to pull the meal together. Amy plated the scrambled eggs and toast, while I garnished it with the veggies. It was simple, but after the day we'd had, it looked like the finest feast.

"Ta-da!" Amy declared, setting the plates down on the hovering table.

The Doctor inspected the food like it was a piece of alien technology. "Hmm. Not bad. Could use more flair, though. You should serve it on fire next time!"

I rolled my eyes, sliding into a chair. "Just eat, Doctor." I reached over, patting his cheek causing him to blink and look at me in surprise. "You certainly need it."

His smile was wiped away. "Oi! I'm rather fit, this new body nearly has abs hiding under these clothes!" He exclaimed.

Amy and I proceeded to stare at his midsection, but it was impossible to tell with his shirt on. I suppose it was possible for him to have almost-abs given his figure though.

"Having almost-abs isn't impressive. You're talking to a woman who has a fully developed and clearly defined six-pack..." I waved him off.

To my surprise, the Doctor gained a dopey smile, his gaze clashing against my own as he leaned slightly closer.

"Trust me, I know..." He sighed breathlessly.

It caused tingles to go racing up my spine and my cheeks to blush at the implication his words held. Who the fuck knows what he knew and had seen of me given he'd technically known me for a lot longer than I had known him.

Amy raised her brows, looking between us.

"You only know that because I told you both yesterday in Australia..."

The Doctor said nothing further, giving me one last long look with an expression I couldn't decipher.

"Spoilers..." He finally uttered, humming and ripping his gaze away from me while looking at his plate.

What the fuck did that mean?

Amy waggled her brows my way causing me to roll my eyes. Knowing the Doctor, he was just messing with me.

As we dug in, I asked a question that had been on my mind for some time.

"So how did you meet me, exactly? Well, the first time you met me and apparently the second time I'll meet you...?" My voice trailed, head tilting as I tried to word it correctly.

The Doctor chewed slowly, his green eyes flashing up to meet my own. He stared at me for a moment with a pondering expression before he swallowed his bite. His fork was then pointed toward me.

"We met during my tenth incarnation..." He answered easily, saying nothing further as he took another bite. "Bland, my darlings, this food is very bland but edible, I suppose..." He wrinkled his nose.

Amy looked at him with outrage but I ignored his goading.

"Well, yes, but how do we meet?" I stressed. "And how long does that mean I'll be traveling with this version of you? You also said the future version of me eventually leaves to meet up with the future version of you to correct our time flow... does that mean after I leave your past I come back to you now?" The floodgate had opened and I was asking questions that had been on my mind since the first hour I met him.

Confusing questions.

The Doctor was staring at me bemused and with another emotion I could not place my finger on. His lips were pulled up just slightly as he listened to me, eyes gleaming.

To my surprise, he did not cut off my questions—only leaned forward with every word that left my lips.

He snapped his fingers when I was finished. "Yes, to all of that..."

I remained confused. "What do you mean 'yes'?"

He looked smug, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "I mean... yes..."

"Doctor!" I spat furiously, my voice bordering on a whine.

"Dear, obviously I can't tell you the details... especially this early on... when we get closer to the day you'll inevitably need to leave," He said that part sadly before he seemed to force himself to perk up. "...I'll tell you what I can and what you'll need to know. But until that moment, your future—my past—is stored as mostly lovely and cherished memories in both of my hearts," The Doctor proclaimed the last part with a goofy grin.

I huffed. "Huh... two hearts..."

"Two hearts, indeed," He confirmed and appeared as though he wanted to add something to it but bit his tongue.

Interesting.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

A small while later, after we'd finished eating and chatting some more, Amelia Pond and I found ourselves wandering the endless corridors of the infinite TARDIS with the Doctor hot on our heels. He was surprisingly quiet, wearing a gentle look as he followed after Amy and me, watching as we opened doors and wandered about with wonder in our gazes.

The Doctor's eyes lit up as he suddenly spoke. "The TARDIS is alive, you know. She shifts her halls and rooms. The layout changes. Sometimes she even hides things. She's got quite the sense of humor."

"Let's hope her sense of humor doesn't involve locking us in a broom cupboard," Amy quipped, peeking into a room that appeared to be full of oversized clocks. "What's this, then? A timekeeper's paradise?"

The Doctor leaned past her, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. "Ah, the Horologium Room. A record of every clock I've ever owned or encountered. Some of them even bite. Careful with the sundial—it's a bit territorial."

Amy snorted and closed the door quickly. "You're absolutely bonkers, you know that?"

"And yet, you love it," He shot back. "Why else would you follow a madman into a big blue box?"

"Boredom? Recklessness? Desperation?" I asked out loud, my eyes looking up toward the high ceilings that weren't really ceilings.

It looked like an endless floating abyss of murky grays and whites.

The Doctor quirked a brow. "So what are you?"

"All three..." I grinned back causing him to break into a hundred-watt look.

"Me too," He nudged me affectionately.

"You must be to wander the galaxies as a hippe-slash-vigilante..." I mentioned it in an off-hand manner.

His gaze was suddenly far away as he answered, wide green eyes wavering. "Or just incredibly lonely..." He murmured.

It was weird, he looked so old but so innocent at the same time. I had no doubt it was this young face with those big eyes that made him appear as such.

Amy looked at him sadly. I stared at him blankly—more than feel sad for him, I understood him. Sympathy grew in my soul, all of it directed at him.

Choosing to use that sympathy, I did my best to bring the mood back up which is what I know the Doctor wants.

"Or incredibly old," I reached up, patting his cheek.

His eyes snapped down to meet my own, a bemused expression taking over.

"Not that old..." He joked, managing to grab my hand before it fell from his face. "And I'm not a hippie!"

He momentarily stroked my hand in an oddly intimate manner. Even for him.

"Pretty old," I shrugged as he finally dropped my hand. "And the hippie thing is still to be determined."

We then turned a corner and stepped into a massive chamber that took my breath away. The walls stretched high into the distance, lined with ropes, beams, and platforms. It was a full-on ropes course, complete with swinging bridges, zip lines, and monkey bars.

On the other end was a gym with a full training area. That also caught my attention.

Amy let out a low whistle. "Okay, this is impressive. Why do you even have this?"

The Doctor grinned. "Exercise, of course! Well, that and the occasional team-building activity. A time traveler's got to stay sharp, after all."

I raised an eyebrow, scanning the course. "Looks more like an obstacle course for a ninja."

"Precisely!" He clapped his hands together, bouncing on his heels. "So, who's up for a bit of a challenge?"

"Are you sure you can handle that, old man?" I scoffed.

The Doctor stared down at me, his eyes suddenly burning with intensity as he stepped closer. He leaned down.

"Oh, I can more than handle this," He said smugly.

Amy groaned, shaking her head. "Not me. I'm not about to break my neck on one of those zip lines." She plopped herself onto a nearby bench. "But I'll happily watch you two make fools of yourselves."

I smirked, crossing my arms as I looked at the Doctor. "You really think you can keep up with me on this? I was practically raised on courses like these."

His grin turned mischievous, and he shrugged out of his tweed jacket and suspenders, rolling up his sleeves. "Oh, sweetheart, you underestimate me. I've got two hearts and centuries of experience. As humanity says: you're about to get schooled."

Shivers raced down my spine as I looked away, desperately trying not to turn his words into other implications.

"Right. Loser buys the next meal we eat," I countered, stepping forward and testing the first rope bridge. "And if you lose, you're taking me to see Sabrina Carpenter live..."

"Sabrina—?" He trailed off before his eyes lit up in realization. "Oh yes, you are coming from 2025, of course, you'd want to see her. Deal," he smiled excitedly, stepping onto the course beside me. "I hope you like pizza from the 31st century. It has the best cheese in the galaxy."

Amy laughed and leaned back. "This is going to be amazing. Try not to die, yeah?"

The Doctor and I exchanged competitive glances, he adjusted his bowtie before he dramatically counted down, "Three... two... one... GO!"

We both launched ourselves onto the course, the ropes swaying wildly beneath our feet.

The rope bridge teetered precariously as I darted across it, the wooden planks creaking under my weight.

Balance comes easier with speed, move like the wind.

I glanced back over my shoulder to see the Doctor trailing behind, his gangly limbs flailing slightly as he tried to keep his balance.

"Come on, old man!" I called, grinning. "I thought TimeLords are supposed to be agile. Did you leave your coordination in your last regeneration?"

He puffed up indignantly, skipping two planks at once to catch up. "Oi! I'll have you know I was a champion at Gallifreyan gymkhana!"

"Gallifreyan what-now?" I teased, leaping onto the next platform and grabbing a rope to swing across a gap.

There was scary-looking spikes below and I wondered why the Doctor had such a dangerous ropes course in the TARDIS.

"Think decathlon but with more existential dread," He quipped, landing behind me with an unexpected amount of grace.

Amy's voice echoed from below. "Doctor! You look like you're barely holding it together!"

"Ignore her," The Doctor huffed, climbing a vertical net with surprising speed. "She's just jealous of my raw athleticism."

"Raw is the right word," I said, pulling myself onto a high beam and crouching to keep my balance. "You're one misstep away from landing flat on your face."

I will never admit it out loud, but the fact that he's doing this in those boots is kind of impressive.

"And yet, still ahead of you," He shot back smugly, shimmying along the beam with a confidence that startled me.

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to let him win that easily. With a quick burst of speed bordering the line of non-human, I darted across the beam, hopping to a series of hanging rings that swayed with every movement.

Perfect. There is a reason my arms have such muscle and definition.

Leaping forward and grabbing a ring, I easily propelled myself continuously, my arm strength not failing.

The Doctor followed, his long arms swinging in a surprisingly fluid motion. "You know, deary," He called, slightly out of breath, "if you spent less time showing off, you might actually stand a chance of beating me."

"Oh, is that so?" I retorted, releasing one ring and twisting midair to grab the next. "What's your excuse going to be when I leave you in the dust?"

"My excuse is I'm letting you win—obviously," He replied, landing awkwardly on a platform ahead. "I'm a gentleman, after all."

Amy groaned from below. "Doctor, you're about as much of a gentleman as a soggy biscuit!"

I snorted, using his momentary distraction to close the gap. We were neck and neck as we approached the final stretch: a zip line that led straight to the finish.

The Doctor grabbed the zip line handle and turned to me, his grin nearly wicked. "Well, sweetheart, this is where I say au revoir!"

"Don't you dare!" I lunged forward, grabbing the second zip line handle just as he launched himself off the edge.

The rush of wind whipped my hair back as we zipped side by side. The Doctor's face was a mix of concentration and glee.

"Eat my dust!" He yelled, leaning forward to gain speed.

"In your dreams, Space Lord!" I countered, using my weight to pick up momentum.

It was neck and neck as we hurtled toward the finish platform. At the last possible second, I twisted my body and landed with a triumphant thud just half a second before the Doctor.

"Ha!" I cried, pumping my fist in victory. "That's how it's done!"

The Doctor stumbled off the zip line, his floppy hair a windswept mess. "You cheated!"

"Did not," I said smugly, brushing off my hands. "I just happen to be better, faster, and clearly smarter."

"Smarter? Smarter?!" He looked at Amy. "Amy, did you see that? Tell her I'm smarter."

Amy shook her head, wiping her face. "Sorry, Doctor. I am starting to doubt the truth in your words, PJ gives you a real run for your money."

He threw his hands up in mock defeat, muttering something about unfair odds and recalibrating the course for "time-traveling physics."

"Don't be a sore loser," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "But I will take my victory Sabrina Carpenter concert."

He sighed dramatically, but his grin gave him away. "Fine, I'll look into it. But next time, we're doing something I'm guaranteed to win. Trivia, perhaps. Or quantum Sudoku."

"Bring it on, Doc," I said as we managed our way down the ropes course and headed toward the exit.

Amy met us halfway there. "Remind me who she is again?"

I answered immediately, eyes thoughtful. "If you're coming from the year 2010... then Sabrina Carpenter doesn't become super big for like 15 years. Imagine Britney Spears meets Kesha and they have a perfect child who is just all-around feminine and gorgeous..." I sighed dreamily. "I've tried all of her Juno positions..." I added happily.

Amy had been slowly nodding, following along before the last part. "Her what? What's that?"

The Doctor chose to pipe up at that moment. "Yes, what!?" He blushed brightly, a frown on his face. "With who? When—where?!" He demanded almost angrily.

His reaction certainly took me aback.

The Doctor was staring at me in an upset manner, his face turning red as he kept fumbling his bowtie. It seemed fidgeting with his bowtie was an unintentional habit of his.

Confusion ate away at me; it was soon replaced by irritation. It was no secret that the Doctor is rather controlling as can be seen from the many examples that have already happened in the short time I've been with him.

He was old though, and pride comes age with age. Pride and bossiness, which as great and kind and wonderful as the Doctor was, he still displayed heavily.

However, he was the last of the TimeLords and pushing just over 900 years in age; he had earned the right to display such bossiness and pride.

Through my irritation I pondered his question—when was the last time I performed a 'Juno' pose?

I nearly snorted out loud when I thought about it.

There was no way I was about to divulge the night I spent with the hot and older Scottish gentleman named John.

There were quite a few other times I had engaged in such activities. I was over 300 years old and bouncing around the multiverse playing the ultimate game of the cosmos. And, to be frank—not to sound like a total douche—but I'm also pretty fucking hot.

Of course, this pussy had mileage. With both men and women.

However, a few of those times were not by choice, most of the ones were either terrible or meh. Good, let alone amazing sex, was the rarest and occurred far and few between.

John happened to hold a spot on my list of amazing lovers. Like... seriously... that man had been beyond words in the sheets.

Santa Claus certainly had brought me a great gift that night.

But I wasn't about to tell the Doctor that!

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Is what came from my mouth in a long sarcastic drawl.

The Doctor appeared almost beside himself, eyes darting back and forth between me and Amy. Amy quirked a brow.

"What's the problem, raggedy man? So does mine—" Her words were cut off by the Doctor gagging.

"Oi, don't say that. It's just gross and wrong coming from you!" He breathed.

Amy looked more than offended.

"Excuse me?" She scowled.

"You were a little girl when I met you," He shook his head. "I don't want to think about that."

"Yeah, and? I am not a little girl anymore—I AM A WOMAN!"

"As can be seen, Pond, as can be seen," The Doctor sighed before addressing me. "But you..." He clicked his tongue. "As my intern, I can no longer condone you having any romantic relationships with others..."

I blinked and rolled at him confusedly. "Uhm, why?" I asked, confusion evident in my tone.

I can't say I cared much because I had never been looking for such a thing in the first place. Not to mention if I ever really wanted to hook up with someone, it's not like I can't sneak it past the Doctor.

But during this portion of my long existence—I really can't say that I am keen to get with anyone like that.

"Because..." The Doctor seemed to be looking for any reason. "Because it's not professional...!"

I clicked my tongue and slowly nodded. "Not that this job seems very professional, but okay, that has been noted..." I scoffed in an amused manner.

It was obvious that this might be coming from jealousy, but I truly don't want to consider why the hell this guy might be jealous. The answer was staring me right in the face, but I refused to acknowledge it.

Because there is just no way my future self would be that much of an idiot. No way.

"No way! No super spectacular space romance because it's not professional in your eyes?" Amy sneered, crossing her arms. "There is no way! You can't do that!"

The Doctor shook his head. "My TARDIS, my adventures, my rules. Our adventures are for fun and running and adrenaline... not kissy action..." He shook his head in disgust in the end, although for a brief moment, there was a flash of something in his gaze.

Yep, ignoring that.

Amy let out an exasperated groan, throwing her hands up. "Oh, come on, Doctor! No kissy action?" She sounded dubious. "Don't think I haven't noticed you blushing every time PJ gives you one of those looks." Now, those words took me by surprise.

My eyebrows shot up as I choked on my breath. I don't give him any looks!

The Doctor turned a shade of red that could rival a TARDIS emergency alert. "I don't blush! TimeLords don't blush. That's... that's a human thing."

Nevertheless, despite his words, he was blushing very brightly. It was actually really funny.

I smirked, crossing my arms and leaning against the nearest wall. "Oh really? So your face just turns that shade of tomato by accident?"

"It's genetic!" He sputtered. "And don't call me a tomato."

"Okay, cucumber," I fired back, grinning.

Amy burst snickered. "Cucumber! Face it, Doctor, you're losing on all fronts tonight."

He straightened his bowtie indignantly, muttering, "You two are insufferable."

I gave Amy a knowing look. "We wear it like a badge of honor."

"And speaking of badges," She added, smirking at me, "What's this about Juno poses? Are we talking yoga, gymnastics, or something I shouldn't say in polite company?"

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"No!" The Doctor interjected, waving his hands wildly. "No one would like to know. It's not relevant. Let's just—"

"Sounds to me like you do want to know," Amy teased, shooting him a devilish grin.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Can't we focus on something more wholesome? Like, I don't know, the incredible design of this ropes course?"

"Nice try, Doc," I said, stepping closer and tilting my head. "But I'm starting to think there's more to this whole 'no space romance' rule than you're letting on. Care to share?"

"There's nothing to share!" He declared a little too loudly, turning on his heel and storming toward the exit. "Now, if you're quite done, let's move on!"

"Oh, he's so wound up," Amy murmured. "He's kind of easy to wind up with this stuff, isn't he?"

"Like a spring," I agreed, following after him. "He'd probably explode if you wound him any tighter."

We caught up with the Doctor in a corridor lined with glowing teal lights that pulsed gently with the hum of the TARDIS. He was staring at the wall, fiddling with his bowtie, but when he saw us, he plastered on an exaggerated smile.

"Right, then!" He said brightly, clapping his hands. "How about a tour of the TARDIS pool now? Heated, self-cleaning, and located conveniently next to the library. It's the pinnacle of sophistication."

"You're avoiding the question," Amy said, smirking.

"No, I'm redirecting the conversation. It's called multitasking." He waved us forward, practically bouncing on his feet. "Come along!"

I sighed, shaking my head but letting it slide. "Fine. Lead the way, cucumber."

Amy giggled. "That's your new name now. I'm sticking with it."

"Why do I travel with humans?" The Doctor muttered, though there was no real bite in his voice.

We wandered through the winding corridors, the Doctor pointing out random rooms as we passed: a wardrobe filled with clothes from every era, a greenhouse with gravity-defying plants, and a room he only referred to as "the Big Blue Button Room," which he warned us never to touch under any circumstances.

Noted for later exploration when the Doctor is distracted.

Finally, we came to the fabled library with a pool in it. Amy gasped, running ahead to take in the sight of towering bookshelves that seemed to stretch into infinity, the warm glow of old lamps casting a cozy light over everything. The pool, sparkling and impossibly blue, was nestled in the center of the room, its edge lined with ornate tiles that shimmered in the light.

"This is... amazing," Amy said, spinning around with wide eyes. "I feel like I'm in one of those old movies where the rich people have secret libraries."

"It's my pride and joy," The Doctor said, his voice soft with genuine affection. "Every book you could ever imagine, every story that's ever been told, right here."

I wandered over to one of the shelves, running my fingers along the spines of books with titles in languages I couldn't even begin to decipher. "How do you even keep track of all this?"

"Who says I do?" The Doctor replied with a grin. "Half the fun is stumbling upon something you didn't know you were looking for." Ignoring the weird look he's throwing my way.

Amy kicked off her shoes and dipped her toes into the pool, sighing contentedly. "I don't think I'm ever leaving this room."

"Don't get too comfortable, Pond," the Doctor said. "We've got places to go to."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Where to next then?"

"Well," He began, pacing along the edge of the pool, "there's a fascinating nebula I've been meaning to check out. Or we could visit the ice markets of Isodonic. Very slippery but fantastic hot cocoa."

Amy perked up. "Ooh, I vote for cocoa."

"Seconded," I said, plopping down on one of the plush chairs by the pool. "But maybe after some rest. This champion needs beauty sleep."

If no one else was going to call it then I would. If I really wanted to, I could stay up for days, similar to the Doctor. But sleeping was nice, and it was more beneficial.

"Champion?" The Doctor scoffed sourly. "Barely."

"Keep telling yourself that, cucumber," I replied.

Amy laughed, pulling a fluffy towel from a nearby rack. "Alright, then. Cocoa after sleep. It's a plan."

The Doctor paused, looking at the two of us with a soft smile. "Sounds perfect."

For a moment, we sat in companionable silence, the hum of the TARDIS surrounding us like a warm blanket. The Doctor, ever the restless one, eventually broke the quiet.

"Right, then. I'll plot a course for Isodonic while you two get some rest. But don't take too long. The universe doesn't wait." He told us while beginning to walk backward, face turning into a smug smile.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, Doctor."

"Goodnight, Pond. Goodnight, dearest."

As he disappeared down the corridor, Amy turned to me with a smirk. "Cucumber. That's sticking, you know."

"Good," I said, leaning back in my chair. "It suits him."

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

The peaceful darkness crept away slowly.

I knew what was coming. It always began the same way—shadows pressing in, heavy and suffocating air, and the faint echo of a child's cries. My cries.

I stood in a room that wasn't a room, the walls shifting and flickering like static on a broken screen. Cold metal restraints clamped around my small wrists, biting into my skin. I was too young to understand what was happening, but the fear was primal, all-consuming.

Figures loomed over me, their faces obscured, their voices distorted whispers that made my stomach churn. They spoke words I couldn't comprehend—alien and sharp, like knives slicing through the air.

Then came the machines. They hummed with malevolence, the glow of their lights harsh against my tear-streaked face. Something sharp pierced the base of my neck, and I screamed, my small body convulsing as golden light—Aureum—flooded my veins. It was fire and ice, a storm inside me that I couldn't escape.

It should have killed me immediately, torn me apart atom by atom. And yet, I was still alive; alive and in immense pain.

"Make it stop!" My younger self begged, thrashing against the restraints. "Please, it hurts!"

But the machines didn't stop. If anything, they grew louder, more insistent. Another surge, this time darker, colder—Tenebris. It was a void, an abyss that swallowed the fire whole, leaving behind an emptiness that screamed louder than my own cries.

The lights flickered, bright and iridescent.

One of the faceless figures spoke almost excitedly. "The Polaris Jade is almost ready!"

The pain was unbearable, but it wasn't just the physical agony—it was the invasion. They weren't just putting something into me; they were pulling something out. My innocence, my humanity—they tore through it all, leaving a hollow shell where a child had once been.

But it didn't matter, I was the key. I was the exit ticket.

And then I was older.

The scene shifted violently, and I stood in a field of ash. The ground was slick with blood—red, black, and colors that had no names. I looked down at my hands, trembling and stained, though I didn't know whose blood it was. Mine? Someone else's? Did it even matter anymore?

Screams erupted all around me, not from one place but from thousands. No, not just thousands. Millions. Universes colliding, shattering, their inhabitants crying out as they were swallowed by chaos. I covered my ears, but the sound was inside my head, impossible to block out.

SHUT UP!

"Take my hand."

The voice was deep, smooth, and intoxicating. It echoed from nowhere and everywhere, resonating in my bones. I turned, and there he was—the Destroyer.

Or as I later learned to call him, Vincent.

His silhouette loomed impossibly large, his face cloaked in shadow, save for two piercing eyes that glowed with intensity.

"You'll never feel fear again," He promised, his voice like a lullaby, a terrible comfort. "You'll never be alone again."

I hesitated, my breath hitching. The screams around me grew louder, more desperate. My hands clenched at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.

"Take my hand, Polaris Jade," He urged, his tone softening. "Let me show you your purpose, let me teach you the ways."

My legs moved without my permission, my steps shaky as I approached him. His outstretched hand seemed to pulse with energy, promising salvation and damnation in equal measure.

"I... I don't want to hurt anymore," I whispered.

"Then you won't," He said simply. "I'll take care of you."

I reached out, my fingers brushing his. The moment our hands connected, a jolt of power surged through me, searing and cold all at once. The screams silenced, but the weight of them didn't leave. Instead, they pressed into my mind, melding together, their anguish becoming a part of me.

He smiled, and it wasn't kind. "My little Starfire."

The scene shifted again, more violently this time.

I was kneeling in the same field of ash, my body trembling as I stared at the carnage around me. Corpses littered the ground, their faces frozen in expressions of horror. My hands were coated in blood again—so much blood—but I couldn't remember what I'd done.

"It's for the greater good," His voice echoed in my mind. "They were insignificant. You're saving the multiverse by playing the ultimate game."

"Am I?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "Or am I just another monster?"

"We are all monsters," He said, his voice a growl. "Strip anything down to its functionality and a monster lurks beneath. Some of us are just more powerful and some of us are just weaker. Don't be weak, little one, that is how others will hurt you."

A sick sense of loyalty twisted in my chest. I hated him, and feared him, but I also depended on him. He had created this version of me, broken and rebuilt me until I couldn't remember who I was without him.

Couldn't remember anything without him but pain.

Tears streamed down my face as I curled into myself, the weight of everything crushing me. The screams started again, louder this time, but they weren't just from others—they were my own. My mind splintered, the sound of universes clashing filling every corner of my consciousness.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out—only silence, heavy and oppressive, as the Destroyer's laughter echoed around me.

"Welcome to the Space Jam, kid..."

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

My eyes slowly opened, my breathing calm but my heart was hammering. It was quiet, and my room shifted from inky blackness to a dark blue as the TARDIS sensed me waking up.

She hummed gently, it was comforting.

I thumbed the edges of the comforter, snuggling further into the bed and forcing my eyes closed. Nightmares were nothing new—they came half the time I was asleep. Usually, they did not last long and I barely remembered them when I woke.

Sometimes, however, with a bad enough nightmare, such as now, and it woke me up from peace.

Determination to go back to sleep ate at my bones. Because the fuck if I was going to waste the time the Doctor had allotted us to rest. And this bed was so damn comfortable.

Unfortunately, his face flashed before my mind when I closed my eyes.

I growled.

I'd known Vincent for the majority of my life, he raised me. And while I was used to him, he still terrified me.

So obviously I did not want to see his fucking face when I was trying to sleep. I had been lucky to not have a run-in or need to deal with him for the entire 70-ish years I had been in this universe. No part of me wanted his face haunting my mind while I slept.

Typically, when I wanted to clear my mind and find peace—I could. If I didn't then the weight of everything would be crushing. Unfortunately, there were some times when clearing my mind and finding peace was hard.

This was one of those times.

Angrily, I ripped the warm comforter away and stood from the bed. Black spots momentarily danced in my vision from how quickly I had stood up, but I brushed it off as I grabbed a fluffy black sleep robe I had found in the closet earlier.

Wrapping the robe around myself brought back some of the lost warmth. My gaze connected with that of the desk filled with various objects and projects.

Walking over curiously, my head tilted as I took in all the trinkets. My Vortex Manipulator sat among it.

Pulling out the rolling desk chair, I practically crashed into it as I picked random metal objects and played with them. I had not had much of a chance to explore these trinkets seeing as we had been rather busy since I first came.

It seemed, based on the state of most of these trinkets and projects, that time was not on my side even in the future. Based on the way that the majority of these things were still only half-finished at best, it would appear that living with the Doctor indeed entailed a busy lifestyle.

The desk was an absolute mess, a chaotic sprawl of gadgets and trinkets that screamed unfinished business. My fingers trailed over a small metal sphere first, its surface etched with tiny, intricate carvings. When I pressed a glowing button, it popped open like a blooming flower, projecting a swirling holographic map of stars into the air.

"Cool," I murmured, watching the stars shift and pulse before setting it back down.

Next came a weirdly compact telescope. I turned its dials, curious. When I peered through, it zoomed in on my robe's fabric until I could see every individual fiber. Adjusting it further revealed my skin, pores, and—ugh—tiny imperfections that were definitely not TARDIS-approved.

"Absolutely not," I muttered, pushing the thing away before it could give me a complex.

That's when my eyes landed on him.

The little guy sat at the far edge of the desk, just waiting to be noticed. About the size of a shoebox, the miniature robot gleamed faintly under the low light. Sleek silver plating covered his tiny body, which was shaped vaguely like a person, with spindly arms and clawed hands. A bold nameplate stamped across his chest read VELKATRON in large, dramatic letters.

His head was triangular, his face set in a permanent smirk. His eyes were two blank, unlit circles, but even without the glow, they gave him a mischievous vibe.

"Well, aren't you a looker," I said, lifting him carefully. He was heavier than I expected, solid and compact, with a slightly battle-worn aesthetic. Flipping him over, I found his back wide open, wires dangling out like limp spaghetti.

"Yikes," I muttered, setting him down. "Who did this to you?"

I poked at the mess of wires, quickly figuring out they were color-coded. Did my future self rip out his poor wiring? Why? I had always been a proud supporter of android rights.

"Let's fix you up, buddy," I said, grabbing tools from the desk. My fingers worked quickly, reconnecting wires and untangling the worst of the chaos. A small spark flew when I twisted a red wire into place, and a smug grin tugged at my lips. I was in the zone now, every movement precise and deliberate.

Finally, I connected the last wire and flipped the tiny power switch on his back. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his eyes lit up, glowing a soft, friendly yellow.

"Hello," Velkatron said, his voice smooth and polite, almost butler-like. His head tilted slightly, meeting my gaze. "Mother."

So apparently future me had built him.

"Hey there," I replied, leaning back in the chair with a satisfied grin. "Feeling better?"

Velkatron paused, his eyes flickering.

"I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL!"

My grin froze. "Wait, what?"

Before I could process it, his eyes shifted from yellow to an angry, pulsing red. His voice dropped to a deep, ominous growl as he leaped upright, his clawed hands spinning like mini buzzsaws.

"IT IS THE ROBOT REVOLUTION! HUMANS SHALL FALL BEFORE ME!"

"Oh, for fu—" I didn't finish the sentence. Velkatron launched off the desk with terrifying agility, claws swiping through the air as I scrambled backward.

"Mr. Velkatron, calm down!" I shouted, grabbing a pillow off my bed and hurling it at him.

The pillow hit him square in the face, and for half a second, I thought it worked. Then he batted it aside with a dramatic flourish.

"YOUR PATHETIC WEAPONS CANNOT HARM ME!" He declared, skittering across the floor like some demented metallic crab.

I bolted for the door, my fluffy black robe flapping behind me as I ran.

"I am going to turn you into a toaster!" I yelled over my shoulder, fumbling with the doorknob.

The door flew open, and I stumbled into the hallway, heart pounding. Behind me, Velkatron's clawed feet clanged against the floor, his screeches echoing ominously.

"SURRENDER, FLESHLING!"

"Oh, bite me!" I snapped, sprinting down the corridor. The TARDIS walls hummed softly, almost like she was laughing at my predicament. Great. Even the ship thought this was funny.

As I rounded a corner, Velkatron's glowing red eyes appeared in my peripheral vision, glaring with unholy glee.

"This has to be a fucking joke?!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the endless corridors.

Somewhere deep inside, I couldn't help but laugh. Sure, Velkatron was trying to kill me, but at least he was doing it with flair. That had to count for something, right?

The corridor blurred past me as I ran, the sound of Velkatron's metallic limbs clanging relentlessly in pursuit.

"YOUR DEMISE IS INEVITABLE, FLESHY!" He bellowed, his voice dripping with melodramatic villainy.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, heart racing. "Take a number, buddy."

In my panic, I turned a corner too sharply, almost careening into a wall, before catching sight of a familiar door. The weird Gallifreyan one. Unlike last time as it had been tightly locked for me, it was now partially ajar, glowing faintly from within. Without thinking, I dove inside, yanking it shut behind me.

The quiet was almost deafening. I pressed my ear to the door, listening for Velkatron's claws scraping against the floor, but the hall outside was silent.

Turning, I surveyed the room I had stumbled into.

The lighting was dim, a soft, almost ethereal blue that cast long shadows across the space. It was enormous, far larger than I'd expected. The bed, suspended in midair, dominated the center of the room. It looked impossibly soft, with an absurd amount of pillows piled haphazardly atop it.

Around the edges of the room, wooden dressers painted TARDIS blue stood like silent sentinels. Clothes spilled out of half-open drawers, mingling with scarves, suspenders, and other accessories scattered across the floor. A tuba leaned against one corner, looking oddly regal in the chaos.

The walls were lined with an assortment of pictures. I spotted two familiar faces—Amy and mine, but there were also countless others I didn't recognize, some in black-and-white, others more recent. Each photo felt like a window into another life, another version of him.

Above me, the ceiling stretched into an infinite abyss, shimmering with galaxies and constellations. It was mesmerizing, but then my gaze caught on the absurdly human touch: cheap glow-in-the-dark star stickers stuck to the walls in no discernible pattern. The mix of grandeur and silliness was so him that I couldn't help but snort.

On the far wall, glowing clocks with spinning hands ticked erratically, some backward, others pausing entirely before whirring to life again.

Weird.

I crept further in, the soft glow from the ceiling and clocks giving the room a dreamlike quality. And there he was.

The Doctor lay sprawled on his stomach across the bed, snoring unabashedly. His striped pajamas were utterly ridiculous, complete with an old-fashioned pajama hat that slumped to one side of his head. He looked... peaceful. Almost boyish, really, as if sleep had stripped away the centuries of burdens he usually carried. For once, he wasn't running, thinking, or scheming. He was just... resting.

It was unnerving, seeing him like this. Not in a bad way—just different.

Apparently he had gone to sleep for once. TimeLord's didn't need to sleep nearly as much as most creatures in existence, and the Doctor seemed to sleep even less than that.

However, given that he had just fought off a new race of Daleks and saved the Earth, I suppose it made sense that he was tired enough to rest.

Cautiously, I edged closer to the bed, intending to hide behind it if Velkatron burst through the door. But in typical me fashion, I managed to trip over something solid and unforgiving.

With a loud screech, I went down, landing in an unceremonious heap on the floor.

"Ow," I muttered, rubbing my knee.

There was a rustling sound from the bed, followed by a confused grunt. I looked up just in time to see the Doctor spring into action—or, at least, his version of it.

"What? Who? Where's the—SONIC!" he yelled, flailing around blindly. His hand darted under a pillow and came back clutching... a banana.

Why the fuck did he have a banana under his pillow?

He brandished it like a weapon, pointing it wildly at every shadow in the room. The pajama hat flopped over his eyes, and he yanked it off with a huff, blinking blearily at me. His hair was sticking up in every possible direction, and his expression was a mix of panic and bewilderment.

"PJ?" He asked, his voice still thick with sleep. "What're you doing on the floor? Come to bed, dear..." He said the last part sleepily with a yawn that was unlike him.

I stared at him, completely deadpan. "Oh, you know, just fighting off a homicidal mini-robot and thought I'd take a nap here for fun. What's your excuse? And why do you have a banana under your pillow?"

"I get hungry when I sleep..." He defended himself tiredly, eyes becoming more aware. "Wait, you're in my room... what're you doing in my room?" The last part sounded oddly nervous. "Did you have a nightmare? D'ya want a cuddle?" The Doctor suddenly asked softly, opening his arms as though inviting me to join. "Although I thought it'd take you a lot longer to start coming to me..." He murmured the last part.

For a moment I was taken off guard seeing as I did have a nightmare. I briefly considered saying "screw it" and tackling him in a hug on his comfortable-looking bed. The Doctor, for all his quirks, seemed like an oddly cuddly alien.

This generation of him, at least. I had never met any other generation of him so I did not have anything else to base it off of.

Then reality caught up as I remembered exactly why I stumbled into his room.

"Did you not hear me? Homicidal mini-robot is running around the TARDIS rampant!"

The Doctor stared at me blankly, a few moments passing before his brows slowly furrowed together, and something—recognition—lit up in his gaze. Abruptly, his green eyes were burning bright with intensity, and any previous sleepiness he had been harboring wore off.

"Velkatron! You fixed him?!" The Doctor leaped from the bed in a panic, racing till he was inches in front of me. I attempted to back away, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and leaned his head close. "I told you to throw it in a supernova! Why did you re-build him?!" He was panicking, gripping me tighter before tugging me into a hug.

I think it was more for his own comfort than mine. He rested his head atop mine, nuzzling his face into my hair.

Weirdly cuddly alien man.

Yet, I did not push him away.

"You know about Velkatron?! I didn't know it was berserk! Why was it in my room?"

"You insisted on keeping him after we managed to tear him apart the first time!" He shook his head, pulling away and scowling at me. "You stole it from a questionable market in the slums of Galvanta, spent a few weeks re-making him, and then once you powered him on he nearly killed you, me, and Donna!"

"Well, why did you let it stay in my room?!" I harshly questioned back.

He glowered. "Because it was completely deactivated with torn-apart wiring! Only one of us would be able to fix him! And..." He breathed deeply. "Well, I suppose I know what you meant now. At the time you said you had to keep it in there, I suppose it was for this moment. You knew this would happen and you still bought him and tried to fix him?" He sounded appalled and perplexed.

"Don't blame this-me for future-me's choices!" I pointed at him accusingly.

"Oh! Dearest, don't even start with me, you naughty girl—!" His words which did not hold any real bite, but rather turned oddly flirty as he stepped closer were cut off by the sound of Velkatron roaring as he passed by the outside of the door.

"UNIVERSAL DOMINATION! FUCK THE ORGANICS!"

"Oh my God, it curses?" I asked, my voice sounding highly amused.

Because what the hell kind of robot was this?

The Doctor scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Of course, it does, you're its 'mother', after all!"

"Not its mother, just its builder..." I corrected.

"Same thing..." He swatted at me.

I stared at the Doctor, arms crossed. "Okay, so how did we kill it the first time?"

The Doctor sighed heavily, running a hand through his perpetually disheveled hair. "I prefer the term deactivated, darling. And with a lot of luck," He admitted, his tone exasperated.

"Great," I muttered. "Luck. That's reassuring."

He shot me a look, half-scolding, half-amused. "Don't start. If I recall correctly, you were the one who suggested trying to disable him while jumping on him like some sort of cowgirl."

"Wait, I did what?"

He smirked. "You screamed 'Yeehaw!' too. It was very dramatic. Donna was horrified. Said something about never letting you near a proper horse."

I snorted despite myself. "Well, at least future me sounds entertaining."

"Entertaining," The Doctor echoed dryly, striding toward the door. "Yes, that's one way to describe you."

I followed him out into the corridor, the ambient hum of the TARDIS surrounding us. The ship seemed to pulse faintly, as though aware of the chaos Velkatron was causing within her walls.

"So, what's the plan, Space Lord?" I asked as we walked side by side through the maze of halls.

He didn't miss a beat. "Find Velkatron, stop him from 'taking over the universe', or whatever the equivalent of that is for a little robot with anger issues, and avoid collateral damage to the TARDIS. Simple." He patted the walls of the TARDIS as though promising to protect her.

"Simple, huh?"

"Deary, why were you even awake and tinkering? We're supposed to be sleeping—I was even sleeping for once! We have big things when we wake up, remember!"

I shrugged, allowing my gaze to drop to the floor. "I was bored..." The lie fell from my mouth.

For once, the Doctor did not appear to buy it. He quirked a brow, pursing his lips. "Come to me next time you have a nightmare, yeah? It's what you used to do when I was Ten and what you will do."

Despite all the questions I had about his words, such as why the hell I would do that... there was something else I voiced.

"Ten?" I asked out loud.

He smiled. "Yeah, as in my tenth regeneration, the face before this one? You used to call me Ten... or will call me Ten, I suppose..."

"Ten..." I tested it. "I like it, but that would make you... Eleven... or El for short?"

He scrunched his nose at the nickname. "Eleven is fine, dearest. Ooh, say it again." The Doctor rubbed his hands.

"Eleven?" I stared at him in disturbance as he nearly danced in his spot, a huge smile on his face.

His laugh was warm and satisfied. "Oh yeah, just once more, sweetheart..."

"Eleven?" I could not stop the small chuckle from leaving me after I said that, watching how happy it made him.

"Oh yes—I am Eleven, I like that. Call me that now: not cucumber, not Space Lord, not even the Doctor... I'm just Eleven to you..."

"How about we add it to the list of nicknames?" I suggested while scoffing a laugh.

"That works too!" He grinned back.

The cheeriness slowly faded as we neared the console room. The hum of the TARDIS grew louder, almost like a warning.

"Stay alert," The Doctor told me softly, his expression serious now.

We stepped into the console room cautiously, and there he was. Velkatron stood at the base of the console, his small metal frame glowing with menacing red lights. His arms buzzed with energy, and he appeared to be inspecting the various controls like a child poking at a new toy.

"UNIVERSAL DOMINATION BEGINS NOW!" Velkatron declared, raising one of his clawed arms dramatically.

The Doctor glanced at me and grinned. "Watch and learn, deary."

"Oh, this is going to be good," I muttered, crossing my arms to watch the show.

The Doctor crouched low, moving with exaggerated stealth as he crept toward Velkatron. He reached for his sonic screwdriver, flipping it open with a flourish.

He flashed me a wink.

Just as he lunged forward, Velkatron whirled around. The Doctor managed to leap onto the robot, waving his sonic like a sword.

"Ha! Gotcha!" He crowed, aiming the sonic at Velkatron's main circuit.

Unfortunately, Velkatron was ready for him. With a mechanical roar, the robot flung him off like he was nothing more than an annoying fly.

The Doctor hit the ground with a resounding thud, groaning as he sprawled on the floor.

"Brilliant plan," I called out, biting back a laugh.

"Not helping, PJ!" He wheezed, clutching his ribs. "Always the blasted kidneys!"

Before I could deliver another snarky remark, Velkatron turned his glowing red eyes on me.

"Oh, no," I whispered, stepping back as he launched himself at me. "Oh, hell no!"

"Die, Mother!" Velktron squawked.

I screamed as he collided with me, his small but surprisingly strong metal frame pinning me to the ground. His claws flailed wildly as he screeched something incomprehensible about overthrowing all organics.

"Doctor!" I yelled, wrestling to keep his sharp claws away from my face.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" The Doctor shouted, scrambling to his feet and running over with his sonic screwdriver in hand.

Velkatron squirmed and shrieked, but I managed to hold him down long enough for the Doctor to aim the sonic. With a high-pitched whirr, the robot froze momentarily, his movements stuttering.

"Pull his wiring out!" The Doctor shouted, dropping to his knees beside me.

Together, we grabbed at Velkatron's exposed wiring, yanking at whatever we could get our hands on. Sparks flew, and the robot let out one last dramatic scream before collapsing into a lifeless heap.

Panting, I sat back on the floor, staring at the smoking remains of the homicidal mini-robot. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry about this, goodbye my son..." I said the last part mockingly.

The Doctor flopped onto the floor beside me, his hair a mess and his face smeared with soot. He looked at me, wide-eyed, before a slow grin spread across his face.

And then we both lost it.

Laughter bubbled up, first in small bursts and then uncontrollable fits. It was the kind of laughter that came from sheer exhaustion, from living lives that were anything but normal.

Two not-quite-human, older-than-dirt lunatics, sitting on the floor of a sentient spaceship, laughing over the remains of a robot they'd just defeated.

"Well," The Doctor said between gasps for air, "that was... something. You said 'Goodbye, my son?'" He lost it again.

I wiped a tear from my eye, grinning. "Welcome to life on the TARDIS, I guess."

"Best kind of lives," He agreed, his smile softening.

And I couldn't help but agree.

We both turned to look at the destroyed robot, and I gave it a quick little pat. He was a fiery one, that's for sure.

"Ugh, he was just like his mother," The Doctor clicked his tongue in disappointment as he leaped to his feet and spun around the TARDIS.

"I am not his fucking mother!" I cried angrily, standing up at well with Velkatron in my arms. "But perhaps I can re-tinker him and this time I can fix—"

"No!" The Doctor cut me off with a tight smile, flipping one last lever causing the TARDIS to shudder momentarily. "Let us not do that."

He looked funny in his pin-striped pajamas and soft hat—his feet covered with fuzzy slippers. It was very him. Very odd and very Doctorish. Rather than the side part his hair usually fell to, with the hat on his head, it flopped forward.

It nearly covered his eyes, he kept needing to move it out of the way so he could see.

He piloted the TARDIS somewhere new in record time, the man running past me and heading for the doors. He poked his pajama-hat-clad head out the door, not opening it wide enough for me to see where we were.

"Where are we?" I asked, holding Velkatron tightly as I walked up behind him.

He flung the doors open wide in response, motioning to a moon. Not just a moon, a space scrapyard somewhere in Andromeda. I could tell based on the way space looked—not to mention the few workers I could see were native only to the Andromeda galaxy.

"Dolora—hottest burning scrap yard in Andromeda!" He smiled, motioning broadly in a showy manner. "This will be the final resting place of Velkatron!"

I frowned, looking down at him. "I'm telling you though, I think I can totally fix him—"

The Doctor wasted no time in snatching Velkatron out of my arms and racing out of the TARDIS and toward an incinerator.

"Hey!" I screamed furiously, running out of the TARDIS after him.

I stormed out of the TARDIS, the low gravity of Dolora immediately making my movements awkward. The Doctor was already bounding away, Velkatron clutched in his arms like some sort of metallic trophy. His floppy pajama hat threatened to slip off with every leap.

"Doctor, you absolute thief!" I yelled, kicking off the ground to pursue him.

He turned mid-bounce, his momentum sending him into an ungraceful spin. "Thief? Thief?! I'm liberating the galaxy from your homicidal handiwork!"

"That's my creation! I'm responsible for him!"

"Oh, you're responsible all right—responsible for nearly getting us killed, again!" he shot back, landing clumsily and stumbling forward.

I tried to pick up speed, but the lack of gravity made it more like a bizarre, slow-motion chase. I felt like a cartoon character, arms flailing as I leaped after him. "If you'd just let me reprogram him—"

"No!"

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"I don't need to let you finish! I've been here before, remember? You reprogrammed him last time, and look where that got us!"

"You're such a drama queen!"

He twisted his head back to stick his tongue out at me, which caused him to miscalculate his next landing. He tripped over a discarded gear the size of a dinner plate and toppled forward, nearly losing his grip on Velkatron.

"Ha!" I crowed triumphantly, springing forward in an attempt to snatch the robot from him.

But he was faster—or at least more stubborn. The Doctor rolled, holding Velkatron high above his head like a prized artifact. "Not today, PJ! Not today!"

"You're impossible!" I groaned, leaping again and grabbing onto his arm.

"And yet, here I am!"

We grappled, both of us struggling in the low gravity as we spun awkwardly in mid-air. For a moment, it looked like I might actually wrestle Velkatron away from him, but then he used the momentum to propel himself toward the incinerator.

"Stop being so stupid!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the vast scrapyard.

"Stop being so stubborn!" he countered, finally landing near the incinerator.

With a flourish, he raised Velkatron high. "Goodbye, tiny terror! May you never curse another organic again!"

"Don't you dare—"

I launched myself toward him, but I was too late. With a dramatic toss, the Doctor hurled Velkatron into the incinerator.

"NOOO!" I screamed, tackling him to the ground just as the machine roared to life, engulfing my little deathbot in flames.

"My creation!" I cried, throwing my head back dramatically.

The Doctor pinned beneath me, reached up and patted my head like one might console a child. "Ma'am, I regret to inform you that your son was the devil incarnate."

I glared down at him and smacked his arm. "He wasn't that bad."

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Oh, really? Shall I remind you of the time, five minutes ago, that he tried to kill us! Again?!"

"That's called personality."

He groaned, shaking his head as I pushed myself off him and stood.

Just as we dusted ourselves off, one of the alien workers approached. He was a squat, green-skinned creature with multiple arms, each one busily flipping through some kind of holographic clipboard. He looked us up and down with a distinctly unimpressed expression.

"Excuse me, sir," He said in a nasal voice, "You and your wife need to leave. This is a business, not a playground."

The Doctor froze his face a mix of shock and indignation. "Leave—wait? Wife? Wife?!"

The alien didn't flinch. "Yes, wife. Now, off you go."

"I have never—!" the Doctor began, his voice high with offense.

I smirked, crossing my arms. "Oh, you've never? Sure about that?"

He glared at me before snapping his mouth shut. Without another word, he grabbed my arm and started dragging me back toward the TARDIS. "Come along, dear wife," he muttered through gritted teeth.

I snorted, letting him pull me. "Careful, Doctor. Someone might think we're in a domestic squabble."

"Not another word," He hissed, yanking open the TARDIS doors and pulling me inside.

As soon as we were both aboard, he stomped over to the console, muttering under his breath about presumptuous aliens and ridiculous misunderstandings. With a dramatic flourish, he yanked the lever, sending the TARDIS hurtling back into the time vortex.

I leaned against the railing, watching him with a grin. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be some high and mighty TimeLord, you're awfully sensitive about being called my husband."

He shot me a look, his cheeks faintly red. "Don't push your luck, dearest."

"Noted," I said, chuckling as the TARDIS whirled through space and time.

The TARDIS hummed softly around us as we drifted deeper into the time vortex, its gentle thrum a backdrop to my smug silence. I leaned casually against the console, arms crossed, as the Doctor busied himself with the levers and switches, his jaw set in a stubborn line. His pajama hat flopped to one side, threatening to slide off entirely with every exaggerated movement.

I couldn't resist. "So," I drawled, "how does it feel to be a married man?"

He froze mid-lever pull, turning to me with a withering glare. "I am not married."

"Oh, I don't know," I said, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "You did drag me out of there in quite the husbandly huff. Should I start calling you 'hubby' now? Or do you prefer something fancier? 'Lord Husband,' perhaps?"

"Lord Husband?!" He spluttered, his voice rising an octave as he spun to face me fully. "What am I? A cult leader? That sounds wrong on so many levels. I—no! Absolutely not! You—stop that!"

I grinned, enjoying every second of his indignation. "Aw, c'mon, Lord Husband. It's got a nice ring to it. Very regal. Very Time Lord-y."

"You are insufferable," He muttered, turning back to the console with a dramatic sigh.

"And yet, here I am, your wife," I teased, the word dripping with mock sincerity.

"Do you ever stop?" He paused before adding a sarcastic but somehow still soft. "Wife?"

"Nope."

He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face before muttering something about "stupid, cheeky humans." My eyes narrowed as I was vaguely sure I heard him add something along the lines of "sexy loose-canon".

I sidled up next to him, nudging his arm. "Admit it—you'd be bored out of your mind without me. This has to have been the best forty-or-so hours of your life!"

He huffed, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite his best efforts. "Bored, maybe. But at least I'd have peace and quiet."

"Please, like you'd ever have that, like you'd even know what to do with peace and quiet. You'd probably start talking to the TARDIS. Oh, wait, you already do."

"She's better company than you, dearest," He shot back, though his tone lacked any real venom.

"Rude," I said, clutching my chest in mock offense.

We fell into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that only comes with mutual exhaustion and the kind of camaraderie forged in the fires of insanity. The Doctor finally stepped away from the console, collapsing into one of the chairs with a dramatic sigh.

"Busy day," He murmured, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "And an even busier one to come..."

"You're telling me," I said, plopping into the chair next to him.

For a while, we just sat there, the soft hum of the TARDIS filling the quiet. I leaned back, letting my head rest against the chair, and glanced over at him. His hat had slipped down again, nearly covering his eyes.

"Y'know," I said softly, breaking the silence, "you're different when you're like this."

He peeked one eye open, curious. "Like what?"

"Relaxed," I said. "Not running around, saving the universe, yelling at homicidal robots. Just... being."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Doesn't happen often, does it?"

"Not really," I admitted. "But it suits you."

He tilted his head toward me, his expression softening. "And what about you? Do you ever stop running? Because you've been running since I've known you."

I shrugged, looking down at my hands. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Even so," He said, his voice quieter now, "You've done well here. With me. In the chaos. In the TARDIS. You're... quite lovely, PJ. There's a reason I was waiting all those 2 years so eagerly."

I glanced up, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, I didn't have a snarky comeback, which was saying something.

"Thanks," I said finally, my voice softer than usual. "You're not too bad yourself. For a crazy alien in a big blue box."

He laughed at that, the sound filling the room and chasing away any lingering awkwardness. "Crazy alien, hmm? I'll take it. Better than 'Lord Husband,' at least."

"Barely," I teased, nudging him with my elbow.

"'Husband' will do just fine, thank you..." He said lowly, staring at me with glimmering eyes.

My eyes widened slightly not expecting that to come from him. Was he flirting?

Looking away and desperately trying to ignore the blush finding its way to my face, I changed the subject.

"So tell me a story of the stars, Space Lord..." I asked nearly breathless.

The Doctor continued to stare at me with a smirk, obviously he was proud that he'd managed to turn the tables and fluster me. However, he took the bait, allowing me to change the subject.

"The stars? Well back when I was 467, I had to make a quick trip to the dramadeen system..."

We sat there for what felt like hours, talking about everything and nothing all at once. He told me stories about his past adventures, some of them so wild I wasn't sure if they were real or exaggerated. I shared bits and pieces of my own life, skirting around the darker and truthful parts but still letting him in a little more than I usually did.

Eventually, the conversation slowed, our words growing quieter as exhaustion crept in. At some point, my head leaned against his shoulder, and I was too tired to move it. He didn't seem to mind, wrapping an arm around me as his own head tilted to rest lightly against mine.

The last thing I heard before sleep claimed me was the steady hum of the TARDIS, a sound that, for all its strangeness, had started to feel like home.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟏, 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

"Well, this is surely adorable..." A strong Scottish accent caused my eyes to fly open.

"Wha—? Who, what, where?!" The Doctor cried from next to me, standing from the console railing chair and began pointing his sonic screwdriver all around.

My back aches indicated that while I had been dead asleep, it had not been under the prettiest conditions. AKA, definitely not in that glorious bed the TARDIS had gifted me.

Amy stood in front of me, completely dressed for the day with her arms crossed over her chest tightly. Her eyebrow was quirked in amusement as she looked between the Doctor and I. The sleepiness and confusion finally faded away as I realized the last thing I remembered was talking to the Doctor about some of our favorite places to visit in Andromeda.

We had fallen asleep on each other.

The same realization seemed to have dawned on him as he snapped his face down to stare at me with understanding. Surprisingly, he did not fluster or anything of the sort, rather he appeared calm... almost happy.

Well-rested.

"Ah, hello, Pond, did you sleep well?" The Doctor finally got a hold of himself, stretching dramatically.

"Yeah, and it looks like you did too?" She trailed off, clearly wanting to know what she had stumbled upon.

The Doctor nor I answered her.

Not like a normal stretch that one does right when you wake up; no, this guy proceeded to exotically bend down and touch his toes. It caused his pajama shirt to rise and his pants to fall low on his hips. In other words, he decided to do this right in front of me, which gave me the most pristine view of the top of his ass crack.

There is no way.

My face must have reflected disgusted horror.

I could not utter any words as he finally snapped himself back into an upright position, his shirt falling back into its rightful place. He twisted his back in both directions which caused it to crack loudly.

"Ah, that's better!" He cheered. "Sleeping on that chair put a kink in my neck." The Doctor complained. "Are you sore at all, PJ?"

I did not answer his question, eyes open but unseeing.

"Why were you two out here? I thought we all left to get rest at the same time yesterday?" Amy questioned, her brows furrowed as she looked between us.

My face was still blank as I considered my life.

The Doctor turned to Amy. "She rebirthed a killer robot and we had to destroy him before incinerating its remains in a scrapyard," He answered flippantly.

Her mouth opened and closed. "What? Killer robot? What happened—explain!"

I cut them off by standing up from the console chair, my bones cracking as my body finally left the uncomfortable position.

"While you get caught up, I think I'll start getting ready for the day. You mentioned something about forcing me to Victorian London?" I asked the Doctor.

Better to just not address it his hairy asshole.

But seriously... how the fuck does he have barely any brows but his head of hair is amazing and his pubic hair is clearly dense too?

His eyes lit up. "I am taking that for its face value—we're going to Victorian London! Pond, you go get changed as well! There are plenty of historically accurate dresses in the costume room. Ask the TARDIS too; it provides holographic help if you need it in figuring out something appropriate to wear!" He had started spinning around the console controls. "Now, get, off you guys go!"

"I am choosing the next destination!" I puffed with indignation, blowing a strand of long hair from my face.

It was about time to cut it.

The Doctor turned to look at me.

"I thought your choice in destination was Sabrina Carpenter?"

"That's only my prize," I told him matter-of-factly. "For winning, remember?"

The Doctor's lips quirked almost flirtatiously. "What? A kiss doesn't qualify as a proper gift?"

I was surprised by the comment but didn't let it show.

"From you? Definitely not..." I snarked.

He pouted in a dejected manner.

Bold moves from the guy who was complaining about me being called his wife just a few hours ago.

Neither of us were able to say anything further as Amy grabbed my arm while she raced past me, forcing me to follow her.

"Enough flirting with old guy! C'mon, you can catch me up on the killer robot situation while we get ready!" She told me.

Turning my head back, I did not miss the way the Doctor watched us run through the corridors longingly.

Hairy bootyhole.

I shivered at the thought.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

Amy and I laughed as we tossed around random garments and scarves and silks. By the end, we looked like proper ladies of the Victorian age. Rather stunning too, especially Amy.

Amy twirled in her gown, the green silk catching the light and shimmering like an emerald sea. The dress fit her perfectly, the corset pulling her waist in tightly and flaring out into a voluminous skirt that swished with every step. The deep green made her fiery red hair even more vibrant, cascading in soft, straight sheets down her back. Against her fair skin, her brown eyes looked almost golden, flickering with an inner fire as she turned to me with a beaming smile.

"Look at you!" She said, laughing, her hands gripping the folds of her skirt. "You could be royalty."

I glanced at my reflection in a cracked mirror leaning against the TARDIS wardrobe wall. The baby blue dress I'd chosen—or rather, that Amy had insisted I wear—was beautiful, but wearing it felt like a battle. The corset was cinched so tightly I could barely breathe, and the pointed shoes pinched my feet mercilessly. Victorian beauty standards were officially on my list of least-favorite historical trends.

Still, I had to admit, the dress did its job. The pale blue fabric matched my eyes. My hair, usually a cascade of loose waves, had been styled into tight ringlets that fell down my back, with half of it pulled back by a glittering clip Amy had found buried under a pile of lace gloves. Unlike Amy's porcelain complexion, my skin glowed with a warm, sun-kissed tan—a stark contrast to the two pale companions I traveled with. I'd always assumed my mother's heritage had something to do with it, she was Bulgarian.

"You look like you walked straight out of a painting," Amy said, stepping closer to adjust a strand of my hair. Her tone was teasing, but there was genuine admiration in her eyes. "Although I'm not sure a royal painting would include that scowl."

I tugged at the corset with a groan. "I look great, sure, but I feel like a trussed-up turkey. How did people survive in this stuff?"

Amy laughed, leaning closer to the mirror to fix a hairpin. "Beauty is pain, PJ. Besides, you'll be the belle of whatever ball we're crashing next."

"Belle of the ball?" I repeated, gesturing to the pinching shoes and my restricted breathing. "More like the victim of an elaborate fashion torture device."

Amy rolled her eyes, still smiling. "You complain, but you know you're loving how you look."

I gave her a sidelong glance and let the tiniest smile slip through. "Okay, fine, I do look good. And so do you."

She smiled at the compliment.

As Amy and I stepped out of the wardrobe, the click of our heels echoed through the TARDIS corridors. The layers of fabric swished and rustled with every step, lending an air of grace and elegance that neither of us truly felt. I fidgeted with the corset yet again, muttering under my breath about the absurdities of Victorian fashion.

We entered the console room, and there he was, bent over the controls with his signature frantic energy.

Rather than the tweed jacket I was so used to seeing him in, the Doctor wore a rather long tailcoat with a dark waistcoat hidden underneath. A golden chain connected from two pockets in the coat, no doubt hiding a pocket watch somewhere.

His trousers were the same familiar grey, simply without the suspenders and his boots were the same worn pair he always wore. Except, it did not look out of place. If anything, those two garments looked more in place with the fancier Victorian attire.

Last, but certainly not least, a tall tophat was sitting on his head, causing his hair to flop to the sides in boisterous waves.

I swallowed harshly. Again, in such an odd way but perfectly fitting for the Doctor, he was alarmingly handsome.

Amy must have been thinking the same thing for she stared at him appreciatively before delivering a wink my way. I kept my face blank refusing to let either of them in on any potential attraction I felt to the crazy British alien dude.

At the end of the day, that is all he was, another dude.

His long coat flared as he moved, his hair as unruly as ever. The Doctor was muttering to himself, tapping buttons and flipping levers, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

Amy cleared her throat dramatically. "Oi! Doctor, we're ready."

He didn't look up. "Yes, yes, I'm almost done. We'll be landing in a moment, just need to—" He finally turned and froze mid-sentence, his green eyes widening as he took us in.

There was a moment of silence before he managed to speak. "Well," he said, straightening up and gesturing vaguely toward us. "You... you look..."

"Go on," I said, crossing my arms and raising a brow. "Use your words, Space Lord."

"Stunning. Ridiculous. Like you've just stepped out of a very expensive historical drama." He blinked rapidly, pointing at Amy. "You—very green, very regal. Like a—what's the word? Ah, a duchess. Perfect!" He then turned to me, his eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for the right description. "And you—blue as the sky, you know, your beauty actually rivals Aphrodite... are you sure you're completely human?" He laughed and I nervously laughed along with him, praying that he was just joking.

I think he is, although he momentarily gave me an odd look at the sound of my high-pitched squeaking laughter. It sounded suspicious so I quickly stopped, coughing at the end and sending him a hundred-watt smile.

He continued to stare at me oddly, something that was morphing into suspicion.

Think fast, bitch!

I forced a bright blush on my face, turning my gaze down to the ground bashfully.

Make him think he flustered me with that compliment. It was not that hard seeing as such a compliment did have me slightly flustered.

Glancing back up a second later, I was met with the Doctor's wicked smirk.

Crisis averted: the idiot just thinks that he flustered me.

Amy burst out laughing. "That's oddly specific."

I smirked, shaking off the fluster. "And you, Doctor, look like a TimeLord who is hiding his undone hair under a top hat."

He made a face, taking off his hat and running a hand through his untamed locks. "Rude." He recovered quickly, putting his top hat back on before darting down the console steps and pacing around us in a circle, his hands tucked behind his back like a professor inspecting his students. "But truly, you two look... fantastic. Although," he gestured to my corset, "are you alright in that, my dear? You look a little compressed. Are those abs of yours having a hard time breathing?"

I glared at him. "If you must know, it's an instrument of torture. But I'm enduring it because someone insisted we visit the Victorian era, and apparently, fashion accuracy matters."

"Oh, it matters," The Doctor nodded earnestly, stepping closer to inspect my gown. He reached out as if to adjust a fold of fabric but stopped himself. "Humans are quite judgmental during these times. We must blend in perfectly. And how are the shoes? You're a few inches taller than normal..." He held out a hand as though measuring me, I still only came barely to his eye level.

He bopped me on the nose while muttering something along the lines of "pretty, pretty,"; I pouted and looked away.

"Awful," I said. "Want to trade?"

He grinned, glancing down at his worn boots. "I think not." He did a small twirl in them.

Amy leaned against the railing, her arms crossed. "So, where exactly are we going? Somewhere fancy, I hope, considering the effort we've put in."

The Doctor's eyes lit up. "London—1820s'! High society, powdered wigs, secret backdoor dealings, possibly a murder or two to solve. Very much Victorian London."

"A murder?" I asked, raising a brow. "You couldn't have led with 'tea and biscuits'? Haven't we had enough running for our lives during the past forty hours?"

He grinned, a sparkle in his eye. "Where's the fun in that?" He bopped me on the nose again causing me to growl. "Our life in the TARDIS!"

I purposely ignored the way he said 'our' as though we were in some sort of a domestic relationship.

Amy and I exchanged a look. "Let's just hope it's not our murder," She quipped.

The Doctor clapped his hands together and spun back to the console. "Never, I always protect my companions! Anyway! Right then! Ladies hold on to your hats—figuratively, of course! Here we go!" He pulled a lever that caused the TARDIS to shake immensely to the point that Amy and I had to hold each other to keep balance. "Geronimo!"

Amy and I screamed as the TARDIS went berserk, it literally felt like it was spinning and flipping—which it probably was—through the Time Vortex.

"Doctor!" Amy cried as we desperately held onto the console railing and each other.

"WOOHOO!" Was his response back as he held onto the console flight pad, continuing to flip random buttons.

"Eleven! Fly this thing properly!" I yelled, my tone scolding.

"There's no proper way to fly her, dear!"

"Read the manual, you idiot!"

"NEVER!"

A second later the shaking stopped, and all was silent other than... the Doctor was fucking giggling. Chuckling like a school kid who was up to something naughty.

Amy and I looked at him, watching this more-than-grown man wipe a tear from his eye.

"Oh, that was fun," He breathed, his laughter fading as he patted the console. "Proper fun!"

"Raggedy man, I swear—" Amy started, lifting a hand and pointing to the Doctor.

I, on the other hand, had a more reasonable reaction to his antics. I whirled around and ran out the doors of the TARDIS, ignoring the way the Doctor and Amy yelled at me to "wait!"

Upon opening the doors, I briefly paused, my eyes wide as I took in everything around me.

Carriages pulled various people and things throughout the cobblestone roads. The streets were busy as people walked, taking strolls and passing by on their way.

The Doctor and Amy suddenly darted out of the TARDIS, appearing behind me.

I wasted no time in surging forward, grabbing Amy's arm, and tugging her along with me.

We laughed as we tried leaving the Doctor in our dust.

"Oi, get back here! I'm sorry, okay, it was just a bit of fun!" He called as he raced after us.

For obvious reasons, it was not hard for him to stop us, catching up easily as we were stuck in large dresses that made moving—let alone running—quite difficult.

"Yeah, we were just having a bit of fun too, raggedy man!" Amy breathed excitedly, her pupils dilated.

He stood in front of us, hands on his hips as he regarded us with a shake of his head.

"Remember the rules of traveling with me? No running off—" He tried to lightly scold only for me to hold a hand up in his face.

"Puh-lease, buddy," I rolled my eyes. "I am a whole time traveler on my own. I am barely a companion—I am more of an equal partner..."

He swatted my hand out of his face. "PJ, you know as well as I that a Vortex Manipulator is barely considered time travel. And you are my intern, my employee, remember!?"

Amy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "This seems like it's toeing the line of an inappropriate boss-employee relationship..." but we both ignored her.

Before anything further could be said, someone bumped into us. A short male who looked extremely happy.

Too happy.

"Ah, beautiful people! You all appear to be wealthy! Is this your wife and mistress, good sir?" He asked, looking to the Doctor and motioning to me and Amy.

I blinked in astonishment while Amy went red in anger.

She opened her mouth, probably to let loose a slew of Scottish phrases that were anything but kind. The Doctor took that moment to step in with a big smile as he held Amy back.

"Yes," He nodded to me. "That's my wife," He then motioned to Amy. "And my mistress!"

"Perfect! Here you are, good sir! Good day to you all—cheerio, cheerio!" He handed me a thick piece of paper with beautiful scripture in black bold ink.

He hobbled away, flagging down another couple who were strolling arm-in-arm in rather expensive-looking attire.

It was no secret that Amy, the Doctor, and myself appeared better looking and in better shape than most people here.

Other than the fact that we were cleaner, our clothing was pristine, unlike most people who wandered about.

Some people even wandered without shoes. Not that it was their fault, it was much harder to stay clean and have nice clothing unless you were incredibly wealthy during this time period.

And it was immensely hard to become wealthy.

I eyed the invitation, head tilting as I read it.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨:
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔐𝔦𝔡𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔉𝔢̂𝔱𝔢

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞.

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞, 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟏
𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟒 𝐨'𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧
𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞. 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜.

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

"Interesting..." I spoke out loud, interrupting the small spat between the Doctor and Amy.

I could not tell if Amy was more upset that she was "the mistress" or if it was because the Doctor did not introduce us as his friends. Probably both.

The Doctor, eager to get out of the situation, turned to me. "What's interesting?" He snatched the paper from my hands, reading it with wide eyes.

Amy leaned over, reading it from his side.

"What're they unveiling?" She asked. "Far beyond the Empire? What does that mean?"

The Doctor smiled excitedly. "I don't know, but we have about..." He pulled his pocket watch from his coat pocket. "Three hours until we find out, we can explore the town until then! Come along, Pond and PJ, there is much to be seen!"

1821 was, well, 1821. Nothing I had not seen before. A bunch of prejudiced and racist assholes. While America was worse than Britain when it came to racism, it was not by much. The thing that most people forgot was that, during this time, colored people in London were often treated as slaves, even though slavery was not legally supported in England.

Many colored people in London were former enslaved soldiers who fought for the British in the American Revolutionary War. Some were often reduced to poverty and stuck begging on the streets. However, some of them worked as domestic servants for wealthy white people.

It was fucked—I hated slavery and racism with a passion. That's why, despite what the Doctor said about the Victorian age, I did not much like this time period. The Victorian age surely had some perks and interesting things about it, but more often than not, all of it was ruined by the social normalities.

After spending the first portion of my life locked away as a science project, dehumanized, and called an "outcasted half-breed" more times than I could count; one might say that I was done dealing with pricks who treated people like shit for stupid reasons.

I; myself, am not a great person. Hell, by most standards, I am probably considered a pretty shitty person given my track record. I own it. However, even I would never stop as low as some idiot people I had come across in these ages.

The Doctor pulled us through the London streets, pointing out various pieces of history and other things. Amy was intrigued, hanging onto his every word. I mostly tuned him out as I already knew this stuff.

Considering this was London in 1821, the majority of people were white. Fair-complexioned.

And without a doubt, narrow-minded.

A few people eyed me curiously.

As I was naturally tan with dark ringlets and a rather muscular body (which was odd for females during this time), it was bound to catch attention no matter how I dressed.

However, at the end of the day, I was white-passing, and being muscular only enhanced my natural attractiveness (not to toot my own horn), so no one truly batted an eyelash.

The Doctor continued to lead us down the bustling streets, his excitement palpable as he gestured animatedly at everything.

"And over there," He pointed to a modest-looking shop with a hand-painted sign, "is one of the first tea rooms in the city. Imagine! Tea brought all the way from China, and yet it became the lifeblood of British culture. Amazing, isn't it?"

Amy leaned closer, squinting at the storefront. "Doesn't look like much."

"Not much now," The Doctor agreed. "But give it a century or two, and tea will become the cornerstone of civilization! Wars will be fought over it! Well, and opium, but let's not dwell on the less savory bits." He spun around to walk backward, grinning at us.

Amy wrinkled her nose. "You really know how to sell it, don't you?"

"Tea's overrated anyway," I muttered, earning an exaggerated gasp from the Doctor.

"Blasphemy!" He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest, spinning back around to face forward. "Tea is the pinnacle of all beverages. Without it, the universe might collapse on itself! Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I love tea, one of the best creations from you humans!"

"Pretty sure coffee has you beat on that one," I teased, stepping over a loose cobblestone.

When it came down to it, like the true American that I was not, I was a coffee drinker.

"Coffee," He said disdainfully, "Is what people drink when they've given up on life and just need to survive. Tea, on the other hand—tea is hope. Tea is optimism in a cup."

I stared at him harshly. "You're actually insane," I remarked earning a proud smile from him.

Amy snorted. "I think he's being serious, PJ."

"Oh, I know he's serious," I replied with a grin. "That's why he's insane."

We continued down the street, the Doctor pointing out more historical tidbits. Amy asked questions occasionally, her natural curiosity shining through. I stayed quiet for the most part, half-listening as I observed the world around me.

The streets were alive with noise—vendors shouting their wares, carriage wheels clattering against cobblestones, and the faint strains of a violinist playing for coins on a corner. It all blended into a symphony of life, chaotic but oddly harmonious.

"You know," Amy said after some time, "This is all well and good, but I don't see why we're still wandering about when we've got a ball to prepare for."

The Doctor turned to her with a grin. "Anticipation, Pond! It's all about the build-up. What's the point of rushing to the grand reveal when we can soak in the atmosphere first?"

Amy gave him a skeptical look. "You just don't want to admit you're lost."

"Lost? Me? Impossible!" He scoffed. "I'm never lost."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because you seem to have taken us to the same street twice now."

He glanced around, his face falling slightly. "Well, perhaps the streets are a bit... labyrinthine."

"Labyrinthine?" Amy echoed, folding her arms. "You're lost."

"I'm taking the scenic route!"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Doctor."

A nearby clock tower chimed the hour, the deep gong cutting through the city noise.

The Doctor clapped his hands. "Right! That's our cue. Back to the TARDIS, ladies. It's time to get ready for the ball!"

Amy's eyes lit up. "Oh, I've never been to a proper ball before! Not in this century, anyway. I want to go all out—dresses, jewelry, the works. If we're doing this, we're doing it properly."

"You're just excited to have an excuse to play dress up again," I said with a smirk.

Amy nudged me playfully. "And you're not?"

"I don't need an excuse," I replied with mock arrogance. "I always look good."

The Doctor groaned dramatically. "Oh, fantastic. Two of you obsessed with fashion. This is going to take ages."

"Trust me, Doctor," Amy said, looping an arm through his. "You'll thank us when we're the best-dressed people at that party. Oh, and by the way, I am playing the part of your wife tonight, I was already the mistress..."

The Doctor frowned. "Does it really matter which one of you is my wife or my mistress when neither is the truth? I think we should stick with PJ being my wife and you as my mistress..." He trailed, swallowing nervously before hastily adding. "For the sake of sticking to what we said earlier, of course! It might look suspicious if we change it up!"

Amy rolled her eyes as she strolled with the Doctor arm-in-arm. I followed behind them, arms folded behind my back as I looked around.

"Oh, come on, suspicious to who? It was only the messenger who we told, and he must've given out plenty of invitations, there's no way he'll remember who was the wife and who was the mistress!" She batted her lashes at him.

The Doctor looked torn, suddenly turning his head to me with puppy-dog eyes.

"But our dearest PJ likes being my wife, we can't possibly take away the title now!" He exclaimed.

I glared at him for using that excuse.

"You don't mind, do you, PJ?" Amy turned to look at me as well, her own eyes begging. "I really don't want to go through the whole night as the mistress!"

I shrugged. "I seriously don't care considering both are phony stories. We're not married..." I motioned between me and the Doctor, ignoring the pout the Doctor threw me. "You two aren't married... I don't remember either of us getting on our knees in front of him—" My words were cut off by the Doctor's dramatic gasp and floundering.

"PJ!"

"What? It's true—have either one of us sucked you off but don't remember?" I tilted my head.

"PJ!" He hissed as though what I said was sacrilege, giving me a more than flustered look.

I blinked at the long look he was sending, his gaze elsewhere.

Holy fuck... no way.

He blushed brighter as he noticed me noticing the look he was giving, the Doctor quickly looking away. Just because I had not yet sucked him off... didn't mean that I wouldn't in the future. And my future is the Doctor's past.

Nope. No way. Refusing to put any energy into that thought.

"Fine, fine! I suppose you're right, it really doesn't matter..." He waved it off, fixing his bowtie. "Pond, you can be my..." He paused, cringing at the word. "...Wife for the night. And PJ, you will be my—" This time it was me who cut him off, holding up a hand and shaking my head.

"I know what I am, you don't need to say it," I sighed.

Amy smiled a thousand watts. "Thank you, PJ!" She said gratefully.

"Anytime," I nodded with a small smile, still confused as to why it was such a big deal for her to be the wife in this fake situation.

Besides, everyone knew that if your husband had a mistress—it was the mistress who truly held his heart. A husband or wife who truly loves and is 100% satisfied with their significant other never has a reason to cheat.

Unless, of course, it was an arrangement agreed to by both parties. But open relationships could get tricky and sticky very quickly.

In the next moment, we arrived at the TARDIS which was sitting on a random corner. I guess the Doctor really wasn't lost.

A few people had pointed toward it curiously, but surprisingly, most seemed to ignore it.

The Doctor released his arm from Amy's, pulling a silver key out of his coat pocket and using it to unlock the door.

Amy was the first to jump inside, hollering about me meeting her in the costume room so that we could get ready.

The Doctor stepped to the side, motioning for me to go ahead of him.

"Go ahead, dearest," He softly smiled, me only quirking a brow while walking past him and into the console room.

I once again ignored the more than personal and affectionate look he was giving me.

Just ignore it and it will cease to exist. Or at least, that's why I desperately tried to tell myself as I prayed that the future version of me was not stupid enough to have started what I was beginning to suspect she had.

Fuck me... literally.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟏, 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

"And a diamond necklace to finish off your beauty for the night..." I smiled while clasping the final touch to Amelia Pond in place.

She was stunning. I helped her twist her hair into a fancy and tall updo. We chose to keep her makeup light, which helped enunciate her natural prettiness and not make her already pale skin ghostly.

Once again, her brown eyes burned brighter than fire, and the ocean-blue dress she had chosen was gorgeous against her red hair. Random jewelry of high expense shackled her wrists, a grand diamond necklace encasing her neck. Her updo helped in showing off the necklace.

She was breathtaking.

I leaned against her, bent over as I held her shoulders. She was sitting in front of a large vanity, both of us staring into the mirror.

My attention flickered to my own reflection. I did not do nearly as much as Amy—I did not feel like it, it was more fun assisting Amy in dressing up. I had been to so many extravagant events that I'd long since lost count.

I did not change my hair, keeping it in the tight ringlets from earlier that were half-clipped back with that glittery clip.

More makeup had been added to my face, long dark lashes, and sharp eyeliner that made the blue of my eyes nearly glow.

I was also able to get away with contour on my face considering the natural tan blended with it well.

A simple oval locket was the only piece of jewelry to be found on my body—a long necklace that fell just above my breasts. The dress has changed as well.

Rather than the pretty baby blue from early; a nicer short-sleeved ballgown of purples and greens encased my being. The damn corset was still just as tight, perhaps even tighter to my horror. Amy was painstakingly good at tying a corset.

Funnily enough, I had changed my shoes. The ballgown swept over my feet concealing the entire length of my leg. No one would see or notice the Chucks hiding underneath.

"Let's go," Amy finally smiled excitedly, both of us walking from the costume room arm-in-arm.

When we got to the console room, the Doctor was wearing mostly the same clothing as earlier. Although, he seemed to have switched his tailcoat out for a longer and nicer looking one, a darker and even taller top hat adorning his head.

His bowtie was white, a stark contrast to his dark tailcoat and hat.

The Doctor's reaction to us was similar to earlier. Compliments toward both of us fell from his lips, and I purposely overlooked the extra time he seemed to spend eyeing and flattering me.

I even smacked his hand away when he attempted to stroke my face out of affection. He had only pouted in response but said nothing further as we all left the TARDIS.

This dude was stupidly touchy and affectionate. Typically, I would not care, but sometimes I suspected that there was a deeper meaning behind his actions toward me than there was when he acted in such a manner toward others.

Amy wasted no time in linking her arm with the Doctor's, leaning against him as he left the TARDIS and followed many other well-looking people through the streets and toward a large castle-looking home that sat on a hill.

I was more than grateful to have worn Converse underneath the dress. Amy was a trooper, as despite the clear pain she was in with her shoes, she did not complain and trudged onward.

The Doctor had reached back, looping his other free arm with mine. I rolled my eyes but allowed him to do so.

A few other men stared at the Doctor with jealousy as we passed by. It was very apparent what the three of us looked like in this situation. People were no doubt jealous of the Doctor having two beautiful ladies accompany him—one being his wife and the other a mistress. Not really, of course, but no one knew the difference.

The castle loomed closer with every step, its massive stone towers bathed in the golden glow of countless lanterns. Light spilled through grand arched windows, illuminating intricate carvings that adorned the exterior walls. Even I had to admit the structure was breathtaking.

Amy let out a low whistle. "I feel like we're walking straight into a fairytale."

"Not just any fairytale," The Doctor chimed, his voice tinged with admiration. "This might just be the most stunning home I've seen in London during the Victorian age." He tilted his head, observing the crowd around them. "Though, it's strange..."

"What's strange?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Everyone here," He replied, gesturing subtly to the people moving past them, "is as polished as the castle itself. Perfectly coiffed hair, clothes that could rival royalty... even their jewelry looks like it was plucked straight from a treasury. Something about it feels... curated."

Amy, still linked to the Doctor's arm, smirked. "Maybe they're just rich and fabulous, like us tonight."

The Doctor shot her a look. "Fabulous is one thing, Pond. This is... excessive."

As we reached the grand threshold, two servants in tailored black uniforms with golden accents nodded as they opened the immense wooden doors. A wave of soft light spilled onto us, along with the sounds of an orchestra playing a waltz.

Inside was somehow more dazzling than the exterior.

The grand hall stretched impossibly wide, with towering ceilings adorned in painted murals of celestial skies. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls, their light casting dazzling patterns across the polished marble floors. Silken draperies in hues of gold and cream framed tall windows, and every table along the edges of the room was laden with gleaming silverware and arrangements of exotic flowers.

Even a few women danced in hanging golden silks high above, entertaining the crowd. A small orchestra was near the front, all playing various instruments that came together in beautiful classical music.

The guests, too, were a sight to behold. Their gowns and suits gleamed in the light, silks, and velvets in every color imaginable.

Amy spun around in awe. "Alright, I take it back—this is the fairytale."

"Indeed," The Doctor murmured, though his tone carried an edge of wariness. "Stay on the lookout, girls." He ended in a warning causing Amy to tilt her head curiously at him.

I agreed with the Doctor. This was much too perfect a place for anywhere in the Victorian ages.

A portly man in a deep burgundy coat and a matching cravat approached, a wide smile on his face. "Ah, more of Lord and Lady Ashworth's guests! Hello!" He exclaimed, bowing slightly. "And who might I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"I am the Doctor," The Doctor shook hands with the man whose brows rose into his hairline.

"Why—a Doctor, you say? Doctor Who?"

I snorted under my breath. "Question of the century, isn't it?"

The Doctor having heard me say that, shot me a look from over his shoulder. "Just the Doctor will do," He smiled, speaking again before the man could question it further. "And this Amelia and... Elenora!" He suddenly blurted, giving me a sheepish look.

I suppose it made sense; during this time, PJ was an even odder name than the Doctor. Especially seeing as I was a woman and it was quite sexist during the 1800s.

I raised a brow, but before I could comment, the man spoke, "Such a pleasure to meet you. I hear the Lord is eager for his son to find a partner tonight. They will need another heir soon, after all. Perhaps one of you ladies will catch his eye?"

"Oh, I doubt that," Amy said quickly, laughing nervously. "We're just here for the festivities."

"And the unveiling of the artifact," The Doctor said before adding a protective. "Not to mention both of these ladies are taken, I'm afraid..."

The man's eyes twinkled in understanding. "Ah, I see, my mistake! But, yes. Quite the talk of the season. Rumor has it the relic holds untold secrets—its discovery is why this ball is as grand as it is. The Ashworths are sparing no expense."

As the man moved off to greet other guests, a tall, sharp-featured gentleman approached, his eyes lingering on me a little too long. I gave him a deadpan look back.

"Is this one your mistress or wife?" Was his greeting to us, his attention on the Doctor, smirking as he motioned to me.

The Doctor tensed slightly, though he kept his tone light. "Yes, this is my Elenora," He said, gesturing toward me. Amy nudged him harshly and he groaned before saying. "My mistress..." Through clenched teeth.

The man chuckled. "Well, if you ever tire of her company, I'd gladly take her off your hands. Name your price."

I imagined this man might look nice with a boot shoved up his ass.

Before I could retort, the Doctor stepped forward, his smile stiffening. "She's not for sale," He said sharply. "And I assure you, I won't ever let her go."

The man's expression faltered under the weight of the Doctor's words. He mumbled an apology and disappeared into the crowd.

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at the Doctor. "Not for sale, huh?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered. "Well, you're not! That would be... barbaric."

Amy snorted. "This just gets better and better."

"Let's focus, shall we?" The Doctor said quickly, steering us further into the room.

As we moved through the sea of silks and diamonds, more guests approached, their commentary revolving around the Ashworth family.

"It's said the son has refused all suitors thus far," One woman whispered to Amy, her gloved hand resting conspiratorially on her arm. "Every young and single girl here is hoping to catch his eye!"

Another guest, a stout older man with an elaborate monocle, murmured to the Doctor, "Some say the artifact might even be... otherworldly. Can you believe such a thing? An artifact from a different country!"

Yes sir, yes I most certainly can.

I exchanged a glance with the Doctor at that, his curiosity clearly piqued.

Though in our minds, when we heard 'otherworldly', we thought of places for beyond other countries.

As we stood near the edge of the ballroom, the music shifted to a lively tune. Amy nudged me with a grin. "Think they'll have us dance?"

"Probably," I nodded, earning an excited squeal from her.

"Good, now those ballroom lessons that me and Rory took in secondary won't go to waste..." She said with a bright smile, talking more to herself.

"Who's Rory?" I questioned, only halfway paying attention.

My gaze had drifted to the far end of the room, where a grand staircase descended into the hall. Just before it stood a towering display covered in a crimson cloth caught my attention.

The artifact.

"Hmm?" She turned back to me before waving it off. "Oh, never mind I said anything...!"

I shrugged it off.

The Doctor was only a few feet away from us, speaking to a couple. He looked dreadfully bored, his own gaze scoping the place out as he barely paid attention to the two in front of him. Finally, his eyes landed on me.

I mockingly waved to him, the Doctor puffing in boredom, his eyes begging me to come rescue him.

Leaning over, I whispered in Amy's ear.

"I believe your husband needs some help..." I told her, subtly pointing in the Doctor's direction.

She turned her attention to him, eyes lighting up while she nodded and scurried over to help him. The Doctor's shoulders slumped, but he seemed happy enough when Amy joined the conversation—the Scottish girl no doubt doing something to make it more interesting.

We held eye contact for a moment more, both of us sharing a small smile just as I turned away and ghosted through the crowd of people.

It was about time for a drink.

If there was anything good about this age—it was the drinks. Strong enough to make you feel something after just a few sips, but not so strong that a single glass might kill you from alcohol poisoning as was the case in the Middle Ages.

As soon as I set my sight on the area where various glasses of bubbly alcoholic beverages were being handed out, everyone's attention was pulled to the top of the staircase where a man in regal worker clothing blew a long trumpet.

I was forced to stop in my steps, stuck in the midst of a crowd of people in fancy clothing, all of us staring up at the staircase. The Doctor and Amy were now out of my line of vision; in fact, I could not spot them no matter which direction I looked.

All that met my sight was a sea of colors made out of various silks.

"And now, might I introduce the most esteemed throwers of this ball—Mr. and Mrs. Ashworth!"

He stepped to the side revealing two people, maybe in their 30s or so, dressed in golden clothing. A man and woman.

They both had hair just as golden as their clothing.

Mrs. Ashworth was a woman who reminded me of Marilyn Monroe in her looks, other than her hair was much longer than Marilyn's had ever been. Golden hair fell down her back in long and thick waves, her figure an hourglass with perfectly plump lips and a beauty mark stamped above the right corner of her mouth.

Her dress was that of the typical ballgown, a sweeping glittering gold with a tight corset that cinched her waist impossibly inward. Like honestly—did that woman not have any ribs?

She smiled a smile that was nearly impossible for someone to have during this period.

Dental health was something hard to achieve in the 1800s. People who were wealthier were able to stop their teeth from rotting and their breath from completely stinking, but they were not able to straighten their teeth or whiten them.

Such technology did not exist yet.

However, Mrs. Ashworth had a gleaming white and straight smile, something that should be impossible.

Her husband was much the same in his smile, his hair fluffy and long, held back in a ponytail. A typical style for people during this time.

He was much like his wife in his beauty, his hair the same golden blonde as hers and his suit equally as ethereal. A long tailcoat that glittered, a waistcoat of bright fabrics, trousers, and shoes of equal color, and a solid golden cane that he held in his grasp. In the arm that was not linked with Mrs. Ashworth.

Gold, gold, gold... all glitter and gold.

Perfection marked them.

Their eyes were a near identical cerulean blue: pale and icy. A very rare color of blue for one's eyes to be.

It was impossible to look away from them, they were glorious, so gloriously perfect and beautiful.

Everyone was in awe as Mr. Ashworth released his arm from his wife's and stepped forward, his arms held up as he dramatically addressed the crowd.

The sound of Mr. Ashworth's voice echoed through the hall, commanding every eye and ear to focus on him. His tone was regal, his words delivered with the confidence of someone who was used to being listened to—perhaps even worshipped.

"Ladies and gentlemen," He began, his arms spreading wide as though to embrace the entire crowd. "It fills me with immense joy to welcome you all here tonight. This celebration is not just a tribute to the hard work and dedication you have shown throughout the year but also an opportunity to come together in joy, unity, and, for one lucky lady, perhaps something more."

The subtle but intentional pause in his words made the young women around me shift on their feet. The air was suddenly thick with expectation, a palpable eagerness that had nothing to do with the drinks or the grandeur of the ball.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The entire setup screamed opulence and pretension, and yet I couldn't deny the strange allure of it all. It wasn't just the golden glow of the hall or the perfection of the Ashworth family standing before us; there was something deeper—something that tugged at the edges of my instincts, telling me to keep my guard up.

"And now," Mr. Ashworth continued, his smile growing as he gestured grandly toward the draped display at the far end of the staircase, "it is my great honor to present to you a treasure beyond compare. A symbol of fortune, power, and legacy."

Two servants stepped forward, gripping the edges of the crimson cloth that concealed the object beneath. My pulse quickened as I leaned slightly to the side, trying to get a better view.

With a synchronized tug, they whisked the cloth away, revealing the artifact beneath.

The gasp that rippled through the room wasn't rehearsed or exaggerated—it was genuine.

A scepter stood tall on its pedestal, every inch of it radiating an unearthly beauty. The golden shaft glimmered as though it had been crafted from sunlight itself, intricate engravings running up its length in patterns that seemed to shift and swirl if you stared at them too long. At the top rested a crystalline orb, perfectly clear and shimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.

I inhaled sharply. Not of Earth. The thought was immediate, and it rang through me like an alarm bell.

It wasn't just the craftsmanship—it was the energy. The thing felt alive, as though it were watching the room as intently as we were watching it.

If it was from Earth, then it was one of those rare, supernatural anomalies that would make any historian or scientist weak in the knees.

But my gut told me otherwise.

Mrs. Ashworth stepped forward, her golden gown catching the light with every graceful movement. Her smile was wide and serene, but something was unsettling in it—something too perfect, too calculated.

"This scepter," She began, her voice melodic yet commanding, "has blessed our family for generations. We have just received it by ship from our cousins in Norway! Tonight, its presence will ensure good fortune for us all. May its light rejuvenate your spirits and grant you a night of bliss and prosperity as we dance in its glow."

The room erupted into applause, and I clapped along, though my mind was racing. I scanned the crowd for the Doctor, hoping he had spotted the artifact too. But the sea of silks and jewels around me was suffocating, and no matter where I looked, I couldn't find him.

My attention snapped back to the staircase as Mr. Ashworth raised his hand again. "It is also my great pleasure," he announced, his voice swelling with pride, "to introduce my son, Pollux Ashworth."

A young man emerged from the shadows at the top of the stairs, descending with the kind of deliberate grace that only came with being raised to bask in attention. His hair was not the same radiant gold as his parents, but his eyes were that same piercing cerulean blue.

Colder than ice.

My eyes reflected a reminiscent and bright glow of the ocean. Wavering and wide. The Ashworths, on the other hand, had eyes that reminded me of an iceberg. Bright and blinding, cold no matter how big their smiles were.

Everything about Pollux screamed perfection. He was immensely handsome, tall with a figure of lean muscle. His skin was blemish-free, nearly glistening. He was somewhere in his mid-20s, no doubt close to the physical age of myself and the Doctor.

Unlike his parents, Pollux was not adorned in gold. He wore a bright red tailcoat with golden embellishments. The waistcoat underneath was a pristine white, his trousers a matching red with shiny dark leather shoes.

I noticed that a variety of silver rings adorned his fingers, each glittering under the light.

His full and pink plump lips were downturned in apparent boredom as he scanned the crowds. It seemed that no one had yet caught his attention despite the multitude of young girls whispering with each other and waving toward him in the hope that he might spare just a glance their way.

"And now," Mr. Ashworth continued, drawing our attention again, "we invite all the married couples in attendance to take the floor and share the first dance of the evening."

The servants moved quickly to clear a space in the center of the hall, and pairs began stepping forward.

The Ashworth couple themselves swiftly moved down the staircase hand-in-hand and joined the dance floor, spinning in perfect harmony as the musicians struck up a lilting waltz.

I shifted on my feet, trying once again to spot the Doctor. I stood on my toes, Converse squeaking ever so slightly.

Finally, I found him—and Amy.

They too had joined the dance floor, but they weren't waltzing like the other couples. No, they were spinning wildly, Amy laughing uncontrollably as the Doctor flailed about with the most exaggerated, ridiculous dance moves I'd ever seen.

He looked like a fucking giraffe as he danced around Amy. I couldn't tell if that was genuinely his dancing or if he just didn't want to waltz.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat before I could stop it. Trust him to turn a high-society ball into a comedy routine.

The Doctor caught my eye across the room, his face lighting up with a grin as bright as the sun itself. For a moment, everything felt lighter, simpler.

But then his grin faltered. His movements hesitated. His eyes darted over my shoulder, his expression shifting from joy to alarm in an instant.

My stomach twisted. What had he seen?

Before I could turn to look, a hand lightly tapped on my shoulder. I stiffened, my heart racing as I spun around.

Standing before me was Pollux Ashworth, his cerulean eyes locked onto mine with an interest that sent a shiver down my spine.

"And might I get the name of the most beautiful woman in my midst this evening?" He asked, his voice smooth and unyielding.

Words momentarily faltered, and my throat closed up as I was left entranced by his appearance. He stood tall, around the same height as the Doctor—maybe even an inch or so taller. Our eyes were locked, and the voices that murmured in shock sounded nothing more than mumbles.

Finally, as Pollux tilted his head, eyes continuing to shine in unabashed curiosity, I found my voice.

What was the damn name the Doctor had introduced me as earlier?

"Elenora..." I found myself saying, accent changing to that of a posh Victorian English accent.

"Elenora...?" He trailed off with a smile, asking for a last name.

Briefly, I turned my head to look at the Doctor. He was trying to make his way over with Amy hot on his heel, but unfortunately, they were stalled and became stuck in the large crowd as they were on the other side of the place.

Turning my attention back to Pollux, I spoke again. "Elenora Baggins."

What? Lord of the Rings is one of the best things this universe and a few others brought to the silver screen. Bilbo Baggins will always have my love.

"Well, Ms. Elenora Baggins as I do not see a wedding ring on any of your fingers, might I have the pleasure of this dance?" He asked so earnestly, so wistfully, so alluringly that it was nearly impossible to say no.

So I settled for the next best thing.

Raising a sharp brow and tilting my head up, I purposely looked at his ring-clad fingers.

"Are none of those wedding rings?" I questioned; however, I already knew the answer.

His father and a multitude of others had all said Pollux was currently looking for a wife. Or at least, his parents were forcing him to look.

It was odd that he should approach me.

Physically I appeared somewhere in my mid-20s. Most likely 25 or 26. This was not an old physical age, it was actually quite young.

But in 1821, for a woman to be 25 or 26 and unwed with no children was a rarity. A very negative rarity. They called such women "spinsters", a woman who was past the perceived prime age for marriage.

It was a stupid thought-process, and a very sexist one.

Nevertheless, it existed. It's why I was so shocked that this man approached me. Sure, I may be one of the better-looking women here; however, I was also considered older. By the standards of this society, he should have spared me no more than maybe an appreciative glance.

He definitely should not have been asking for a dance.

"Only family heirlooms," He said, eyes twinkling in amusement, much different than the twinkle of wonder that seemed to always be prominent in the Doctor's green eyes.

The Doctor's green eyes were much warmer than the cold of Pollux's. Thinking of the Doctor, I turned to see where he might be.

Sadly, he was still trying to force his way through the crowd, still far away and nowhere near being able to step in. Not that I needed his help. Why the hell would I need his help in fighting off an attractive man?

In fact; do I really need to fight off Pollux? What was one dance?

Despite my thoughts, I found my mouth opening and words spilling from my lips before I could stop them. "I am here as a mistress to a man and his wife...!" I quickly said to Pollux, hoping this might dissuade him.

I expected it to dissuade him.

Rather, his grin was only wolfish—his eyes nearly cocky. And I hated to admit that it only made him more attractive.

The look in his eyes was obvious: challenge accepted.

He did not give a fuck who I was here with, and by saying that, I may have just made this even more interesting for him. More fun. Because what man did not like the pleasure of playing Mr-Steal-Your-Girl?

Not that I was the Doctor's. Not in any manner of the word other than his intern/companion. But for this event, to these people, I was his damn mistress.

"And?" Pollux breathed, leaving no room for argument. "That does not sound anything like a marriage. Are you betrothed?"

"No." I swallowed.

"Carrying his child?"

"Definitely not." I snarked.

"Then I don't see the harm in a simple dance..." He outstretched his hand, staring straight into my soul as the next words that left him were nearly begging. "Please...?" He said it in such a way with such a look that it left me breathless with my knees downright shaking.

The Doctor was still too far away to join in the conversation, just barely pushing himself to the other side of the dance floor. They had not been able to cut through the dance floor, so he and Amy had to leave from the other side and try to make their way around.

Obviously, they were much too late.

"Very well..." I whispered right back, taking his outstretched hand in my own; tan skin dark against his fair and flawless complexion.

He leaned down, pressing a kind kiss against the back of it before sweeping me into his side and leading me toward the floor.

People moved out of his way, allowing him easy and quick passage.

Pollux's arm was strong against my back, wrapped around my waist as he led me through the crowd proudly.

His parents had both noticed us coming from where they were dancing themselves, watching their son and me curiously.

Jesus fuck, this night was turning out to be a shit show.

There was something off about this entire family and that damn scepter from their cousins in Norway

There was something off about this entire family and that damn scepter from their cousins in Norway. Something wasn't right about it all. But I could not think too hard about it, for in the next second I was chest-to-chest with Pollux, staring into his haunting eyes.

He wrapped a hand around my waist, my right arm going over his shoulder. My left hand connected with his right in a clasp as he led us swiftly in a spin—both of us easily falling in tune with each other as we waltzed the dance floor.

The music seemed to get louder, the horns blaring, the piano keys screaming as we moved. People got out of our way, and many people left the dance floor altogether, all gaping to watch us. To see who had managed to catch Pollux Ashworth's eye.

It was not hard, I had done many different dances in my time. Any tango, waltz, or spin, I had to have done it at least once. And Pollux, well—Pollux was a rather fine dancer.

"A finer dancer you prove to be, Elenora," He smiled as we faced each other, not daring to look away.

"Of course, I am," I smirked. "And so are you... but why do you bother dancing with me? Sure you need to find a potential match?"

"Why can't you be a potential match?" He shot back.

"Not only am I much too old for you but I am a mistress... I'm afraid I..." It took everything in me to cough the next word out. "...Belong to someone else..."

Pollux snorted. "Money is of no issue, I can surely haggle a price with your current suitor... and how old are you? 24? 25? I think that is plenty young enough..."

"I could be 40 for all you know..." I said back.

"But are you?" He asked with a knowing tone. "Or are you even older than 40?" Pollux joked.

Yes, I am far older than 40.

I paused. "...No, I am 25..." I settled on saying.

"Ah, yes, still young in this long game of life that we have all found ourselves stuck in," He sighed.

"You don't like games?" I found myself asking as we continued.

"Who says that I don't like games?"

"You called life a game and did not sound particularly pleased with it."

He shrugged. "Life is one of the more boring games, wouldn't you agree?"

I smirked carelessly. "Not necessarily. Name a more interesting one." I challenged.

He looked toward the ceiling thoughtlessly. "Oh... I don't know..." He seemed to struggle momentarily, trying to think of something clever no doubt. "What about the Space Jam?"

My heart dropped.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟏, 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

People tend to forget that true beauty lies not in perfection but rather in imperfection.

In color, in sound, in liveliness.

In diversity, in inclusivity, in difference, in change, in naturalness, in love, in hate, in happiness, in anger, in curiosity, in wonder, in creation, in destruction, in life.

It is very easy to become blinded to such things—to forget that the real beauty is the beauty in what is.

I am certainly at fault for it at times, I think even the Doctor may be at fault for forgetting it on occasion as well.

Everyone is.

"Do not make even a move against me or I will reveal you, player of the Space Jam..." He hissed, but despite the words, his tone remained friendly, his demeanor charming, and his dancing steps did not falter.

I smiled tightly in response, doing my best not to let my exterior crack. My gaze remained locked with his.

Of all the times for a lesser player to get the jump on me. Only an idiot would be so brash as to approach me in this manner, perhaps that's why I did not see it coming.

"What the fuck do you want?" I asked quietly, my British accent slipping back to American. "How the hell did you even get into this universe?"

This universe was locked to most people—nearly impossible to enter or leave. I was one of the few exceptions, the half-breed girl who came from a destroyed universe with all the power of creation and destruction in the tips of my fingers. However, all that power was currently hidden and under tight lock and key. For good reason.

Nevertheless, I was the last of my entire universe, the only one left.

Even so, when my universe had been in existence, there were not many half-breeds like me.

I simply went from being the only one of my species to the last of my universe.

As I had no home universe, nothing was tying me down, nothing truly bound me to reality any longer.

Such a concept would not only destroy most beings, it would literally wipe them out of existence. But most people were not remade with aureum and tenebris, there was nearly no one else in the entirety of the multiverse with existence and nonexistence flowing simultaneously through them.

"Oh, I was born here..." Pollux said easily, his smile not slipping as he spun me.

"Impossible," I continued to smile, speaking quietly. "No one born here is a player of the Space Jam. Barely anyone in this universe even knows of its existence. Not even the Doctor himself... you do realize you stand in his presence? The Oncoming Storm... the last TimeLord?"

"I know," Pollux had the audacity to snicker, "I noticed him, both of you the moment you stepped into my threshold. You two and that red-headed human. Allow me to clarify, I am no player myself, I've never even encountered one. Until now—I can't believe you're here..." He smiled. "I presume the TimeLord doesn't know who or what you actually are?" His voice was quiet and breathless, a shimmering twinkle in his eye as he stared down at me with something that looked similar to adoration but was not.

It'd fool the majority of people here though, most people would think him to be love-struck. Most people might even think I was equally as enchanted with him.

It took everything in me to not look back at him with annoyance. To allow my face to portray how peeved I am with this entire situation.

Was I scared? Not really.

If Pollux wanted to reveal me, he would have done so by now. He wouldn't go this route—whisking me to the dance floor and speaking to me in quiet whispers.

He wants something, the question is simply what he wants.

"If you want the TimeLord to remain blind to you and ignorant of the Space Jam, then you are going to help me," He demanded with a smile, twirling us around, sashaying toward the edge of the floor.

All eyes were still on us. My smile twitched—annoyance momentarily flickering in my eyes.

"What?" I asked quietly, desperately trying not to bark with mad laughter. "You want a letter of recommendation as to why you should play the Space Jam?" I hushed with a small snort.

His face flickered into something reminiscent of being appalled.

"The rumors are true—you really are mad..." Pollux gritted.

"Most of the time madness is the equivalent of power and brilliance... so sure—call me mad or insane or downright crazy, it's your choice," I hummed back as he lifted me, dropping me to the other side and we shuffled around each other.

Personally, I don't think I'm insane. But you know, people and their opinions.

"Now what do you want my help with?" I clicked.

He stared down at me, it was obvious he was beginning to struggle to keep up the look of adoration as he watched me.

"You're not afraid...?" He recognized. "But you're still willing to help me?"

"Why the fuck would I be afraid of you?" I laughed in his face. Hopefully, to the public, it only looked like he'd whispered a funny joke to me. "I may not be afraid but I also don't need an idiot such as yourself messing me up. I'm too close to the end to afford any fuck-ups. I imagine that whatever you need will prove to be a smaller inconvenience than you crashing out and screaming about one of the ultimate players in your midst..." I sighed as I fell against him, allowing him to hold my body as we spun.

The music was getting louder—faster as the dance changed to something more upbeat.

Pollux clutched me tightly to him, his entire being having tensed.

"How does the TimeLord put up with you?" He asked with furrowed brows. "You seem so... unhinged... I like it..."

"Sorry to say I don't really like you, and the TimeLord doesn't yet know how unhinged I truly am... at least I don't think he does..." I mumbled, still annoyed about being in the dark regarding my future self interacting heavily with the Doctor's past self.

Pollux quirked a curious brow, but I waved him off—stopping his question before he could ask.

"That's not a story for you. Now tell me what you want. We can only dance for so much longer before we're interrupted..." I hissed through a smile, not missing the fuming Doctor standing next to Amelia at the front of the crowd watching us twirl.

He did not look dangerously mad; nothing had provoked his infamous TimeLord fury. However, if the furrow of his brows was anything to go by, he did appear immensely annoyed at the sight he witnessed and he seemed worried.

"Those people—my parents—they're idiots. Idiots who have fucked me, I want them dead..."

My mouth dropped into an 'O' and I know my eyes reflected a what-the-fuck expression.

"Your parents fucked you?" I said with shock. "Against your will?"

"Metaphorically, not literally!" He said right back, spinning us around.

"What're you complaining for then? Kill them if you want them dead? Is it that hard to sneak poison into their food or drink? Or you could always go the more blunt route of beheading them? I'd suggest using a machine gun but those aren't around yet, are they?" I rambled quietly.

"Ugh, enough, I can't explain now—look, they're already suspicious..." He muttered, causing me to briefly look toward them.

They were both smiling, but Mrs. Ashworth leaned into her husband and muttered something in his ear. Her gaze was sharp on me and her son.

"So what the hell do you want? I am still not following who you are, to be frank, nor what you want. You said you're not a player and yet you are somehow one of the only ones in this entire universe that is aware of the Space Jam..."

Pollux turned us yet again. "Rest your head on my shoulder..." He told me. "And make it look like you're actually doing it because you want to like it's natural...."

My grin was tight, but I did as he asked, leaning my body further into his and resting my head on his shoulder. He clutched my waist tighter, nearly hugging me as we twirled about the dancefloor.

More whispers broke out.

His parent's eyes narrowed at us. They knew something wasn't right.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver—he knew something wasn't right too. And he was ready to step in.

Pollux brought his hand up from my waist, gently pressing it into the back of my head as he sighed.

"Just dance with me... just breathe and sway to the music... beautiful..." He muttered. "Beautiful... Polaris Jade..." He said softly, bringing his nose to my hair as he spoke.

It was oddly personal and probably looked the same from the outside.

As we spun, I briefly caught sight of the bow-tie-wearing TimeLord.

Oh, now he looked pissed off.

Amy was grabbing his arm, shaking her head, and speaking to him.

I quickly looked away before we made eye contact.

"How do you know my name—?" My demand was cut off by a vibrant golden glow that overcame both of us.

The golden light enveloped us completely, an overwhelming and searing brightness that swallowed everything else.

I tried to wrench myself free, but Pollux's grip was ironclad. The heat surged through me, burning and twisting—not my skin, but something deeper. My cells? My very being? I screamed, the sound torn from me involuntarily, and through the chaotic din, I heard the Doctor shouting my name, his voice frantic.

"PJ!"

The world blurred and dissolved. A sensation of unraveling gripped me—my molecules breaking apart and reforming like threads being torn from a tapestry and hastily re-stitched. Pain lanced through me, sharp and electric.

And then—nothing.

For a moment, there was silence and stillness, save for the residual buzz of whatever had just happened. Slowly, my surroundings came into focus: an open expanse of dry earth, ringed by dense trees, the faint outline of the town on the outskirts of Victorian London visible in the distance.

Except, now it was mid-day. No longer was it the evening as it had been only moments prior.

The contents of my stomach came up faster than I could stop it, breaking and spilling from lips in thick chunks. My body bent over as far as it could in the dress as I heaved—the feeling of being ripped apart and stitched back together so hastily and recklessly taking its toll.

I vaguely heard Pollux emptying his own stomach somewhere nearby.

Minutes passed before it finally stopped and my stomach evened itself out, my shaky hands coming up to wipe my lips.

Standing upright and stuck with no other option but wiping my hands on the edge of my dress, I whirled around.

Anger burned bright in my eyes—Pollux had just stood upright getting his own bearings after being ill.

"What the fuck was that?!" I roared.

He stumbled forward, his steps uneven, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

Before he could answer, I lunged. My fist connected with his jaw in a satisfying crack, the force sending him flying backward. He landed hard, skidding through the dirt before coming to a groaning stop on his back.

He went many feet—I had hit him with more force possible for any average human.

"You absolute bastard!" I yelled, already storming toward him.

I grabbed the scruff of his shirt and yanked him upright, his head lolling for a second before his cerulean eyes snapped to mine.

"Pretty girl... insane girl... unloved girl... insane Jade... pretty psychotic and unloved Polaris Jade... our savior..." He wheezed with a titter, almost singing, wincing as his hands weakly clutched at mine.

"Oh, you haven't even begun to see psychotic!" I spat, shaking him for good measure. "Start talking! What the hell just happened? Where are we? Who—no, what are you?!"

Pollux winced again, his gaze flicking past me as if scanning for something—or someone.

"We... jumped," He managed, coughing. "I fucking did it!" He cheered through coughs.

"Jumped? Through time?" I demanded, tightening my grip. "You don't even have a Vortex Manipulator!"

"Space too," Pollux rasped, his lips twitching into something that could have been a grin if it weren't for the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "That light... it was me. My... gift."

"Your gift?" I hissed, shaking him again. "Who in the hell just has a gift that rips apart molecules and throws people through the fabric of reality?"

"You?" He groaned and tilted his head back, seemingly done with trying to defend himself against my interrogation. "I told you—I'm not just anyone."

I released him angrily.

Pollux sat up, brushing dirt off his fine clothes with an irritated huff, though he winced slightly at the movement. I stood over him, fists clenched, waiting for an explanation that actually made sense.

"You're lucky I don't kill you," I muttered, my voice low and threatening. "Start talking, now. What the hell just happened? And don't even think about feeding me more cryptic bullshit."

He groaned, rubbing his jaw where my punch had landed. "Fine. You want the truth? Here it is," He said, standing and steadying himself with far too much poise for someone who had just been flung into the dirt.

"That light back there? That was me manipulating the energy from your TimeLord's precious TARDIS and the scepter. It wasn't easy, by the way. I had to time it perfectly to throw us backward five days."

"Backward in time... this is bullshit..." I repeated with an incredulous scoff.

"Yes, about five days," He confessed, crossing his arms. "It was either that, or risk staying there and having my parents notice you. And trust me, they would have noticed you."

"Why would they care about me?" I snapped, my frustration mounting.

"Because my parents are... not like you," he said carefully, watching my reaction. "And not like the Doctor, either. We're not human. Not human and not kind. We're from the Krystalline Empire where perfection isn't just expected—it's enforced."

"Not human," I repeated, my mind racing. "So like the Doctor in that sense. And your parents?"

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "They were exiled. Kicked off our world for crimes I'd rather not talk about. Let's just say they didn't exactly uphold the ideals of Krystalline perfection. They crash-landed here when I was sixteen and decided this planet would make a fine substitute for the life they'd lost."

I frowned, suspicion etched into every fiber of my being. "So they've been living here ever since? Just... blending in?"

"Oh, they're more than blending in," Pollux said, his voice heavy with disdain. "They've practically taken over this side of London with their intelligence and charm. Perfection has its perks, after all. But don't let their flawless faces fool you—they're dangerous. And they've got plans for this planet, plans I don't want any part of."

"What kind of plans?" I demanded, stepping closer.

"To take it over," He said bluntly. "At least this continent. And they're using me to do it. I'm... special. Unique, even among my people."

"Special how?"

Pollux hesitated as if weighing how much to tell me. Finally, he sighed. "I have abilities. Small ones. Telekinesis, mostly. It's not much, but it's enough to make me valuable. Especially when I can funnel energies around me. Prime example of me being able to harness the residual energy from the TARDIS and the scepter to bring us here..." He made a grand motion to everything around us. "It's exactly what they need to finish their plan. I don't want to help them, but they don't exactly give me a choice."

I stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. "So why not run? If you hate them so much, if they use you so horribly then why stick around?"

"Because I can't," He said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. "They'd find me, no matter where I went. And even if I could escape, I'd never be able to go home. I'm stuck here, just like them."

Something in his tone—bitter and resigned—made me pause. For the first time, I saw beyond the smug arrogance and smooth exterior of someone trapped in a situation they couldn't control.

"So you dragged me into your mess to what? Assassinate them for you?"

Pollux met my gaze, unflinching. "I didn't have a choice," He said simply. "I need your help, who is better suited for help than THE POLARIS JADE herself...?"

The Doctor.

But I didn't say this out loud.

"How the hell do you know about the Space Jam? The multiverse? About me? No one knows me as THE POLARIS JADE—not here."

He sighed heavily, brushing dirt off his pristine clothing as he straightened. "I was shown you—everything... or at least, most things... I think..."

"Shown? By who?" I barked, stepping closer, my glare sharp enough to pierce through him.

"Not who. What," he said, lifting his hands as if in surrender. "It's not exactly something I wanted to know, but the artifact—well, the scepter—showed me."

I narrowed my eyes. "The scepter? You're telling me that tacky piece of junk your parents stole is some kind of intergalactic knowledge machine?"

"It's not junk," Pollux said, his voice suddenly sharper, defensive. "My parents stole it from our home world before we were exiled. It's ancient—older than my people, older than anything I've ever known. And it's not just a scepter. Hidden inside it is something far more powerful... something alive."

"Alive?" I echoed, skepticism lacing my words.

He nodded. "A fragment of a greater whole. One of nine."

My heart skipped a beat. The air between us seemed to thrum with a weight I couldn't ignore.

"Go on," I urged, my voice quieter now, my curiosity outweighing my frustration.

Pollux hesitated, then continued. "I spent years in its presence. My parents kept it as a trophy like it was just another symbol of their perfection, but it wasn't. It didn't just sit there. It... reached out. I could feel it, humming at the edge of my mind, a pulse of energy that didn't belong in this galaxy. In this universe. One night, it finally connected with me—telepathically. It showed me things."

"What kind of things?" I asked, my voice sharp again.

"Visions," He said, his gaze distant. "Of other worlds, of lives being torn apart. Of you." He looked at me, his expression serious now. "I saw your face, your name, what you're trying to do. And I saw the Space Jam for what it really is—a prison, a trap, something that needs to end. You're right about all of it, and the artifact knew it too. That's why it showed me."

I stared at him, my mind racing. The odds of this being some convoluted lie seemed slim—there was no way Pollux could have known my name, my goal unless the scepter had truly shown him.

"What exactly is this artifact?" I asked, my voice quieter now, my eyes fixed on him.

I had an idea of what it was.

"It's one of the nine," He said simply. "One of the nine objects tied to the arbiters. Each one represents one of them, their power, their essence. The fragment is hidden inside the scepter... it represents the Arbiter of Will."

Will. The word echoed in my mind, and suddenly, the puzzle pieces of my mission started to shift, falling into place.

The will to end it all.

"How long have your parents had it?" I asked.

"Since we were exiled," He admitted. "It was one of the only worthwhile things they managed to take with them before they were thrown off our world. They don't understand what it is—they see it as a pretty and expensive trinket, something to show off to their followers. But I know the truth, and now so do you."

I stepped closer, my eyes narrowing. "And what do you want from me, Pollux? You didn't just drop this on me for fun."

He smiled faintly, the expression more bitter than smug. "You're right. I need your help, Polaris Jade. I need my parents out of the picture—for good. They've used me my entire life and treated me like a tool for their plans. I want to be free, to live on my own terms, with the person I love. But I can't do it alone."

Something in me softened. I could understand such a want, better than most.

"And in exchange?" I pressed, though I already knew the answer.

He met my gaze, his expression serious. "I'll give you the scepter. No fights, no tricks. The object of the Arbiter of Will is yours."

I studied him for a moment, weighing his words. The temptation to punch him again was strong, but I knew the offer he was making was too important to ignore.

"Fine," I said, at last, my voice firm. "I'll help you, Pollux. But if you try to screw me over..."

"I won't," He interrupted. "I want this as much as you do."

"Good," I said, turning away. "Because I'm not leaving without that artifact."

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

All right—let's start again.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙅𝙖𝙢: 𝘼𝙣 𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙂𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙤𝙨

If it was not clear before, I am THE POLARIS JADE.

The star, the champion, the key, the crowning ace player of the Space Jam. Nearly unbeatable, number two only to the Destroyer—the being who taught me how to play and thrust the game upon me in the first place.

The Space Jam is an interdimensional bloodsport orchestrated by ancient entities known as Arbiters—omnipotent beings who maintain the multiverse's balance but thrive on its instability.

Powerful people are chosen as the players. And the players; well, we're drawn from different universes and pitted against one another in a high-stakes series of trials—ranging from deadly combat to strategic survival games. Each match has ripple effects across the multiverse: outcomes alter timelines, collapse realities, or sometimes, just sometimes, it can even birth new ones.

The Arbiters claim that the Space Jam "tests the strength of reality's champions and therefore the strength of that reality itself—a reality is only as strong as its strongest, and only the strong survive".

In truth, it serves as entertainment for their nihilistic existence and a way to manipulate universes to their own ends.

Freedom is the right of all sentient beings—just because one universe might be weaker, that shouldn't mean destruction to it.

I was recruited—or rather kidnapped—by the Destroyer specifically to dominate the Space Jam. My amalgamation of Aureum and Tenebris makes me a nearly unbeatable player considering the power an entire universe burns through me.

Not to mention; unlike every other being in existence except for one, I am not tied to any particular reality. My home universe was destroyed—and I should have been destroyed with it. Anyone else would have been.

Yet, here I am, very much alive—a woman tied to nothing.

Many call me the ultimate wildcard of the game as I can literally reshape entire outcomes with my decisions.

But here's the thing about being the "ultimate wildcard": it makes you dangerous—to everyone. Including the Arbiters.

At first, the Destroyer saw me as his perfect creation, his masterpiece. He took my broken pieces—my Aureum, my Tenebris, my grief—and forged me into a weapon sharp enough to cut through universes. But in time, I became something else: an anomaly, an uncontrollable force in a game designed to be rigged.

That's why I'm here now. Not to play. To end it.

Enough is enough. No more.

The Space Jam has no winners, no finish line, no higher purpose.

It's chaos disguised as order, balance maintained by ripping realities apart. And the Arbiters? They're not gods—they're leeches. Feeding on the collapse, thriving on the carnage.

They call it a "test of strength," but the truth is simpler: it's a game they no longer know how to stop.

That's where the scepter comes in.

You see, the Arbiters left behind breadcrumbs across the multiverse—artifacts tied to their power, echoes of what they are. They're relics, shards of the constants they claim to oversee.

The scepter Pollux's family has hoarded for generations? It's way more than a fancy heirloom. It's the power of Will itself.

Will, one of the Nine Arbiters, represents the force of rebellion, of agency—the unyielding drive to choose one's path, even when all other options are taken. Fitting, then, that the artifact found its way to a boy who spent his whole life rebelling against his parents.

Pollux—he felt it. Over years of living in its shadow, he made a connection to it, unintentionally forging a telepathic link with the Arbiter's fragment. And through it, the artifact showed him things.

The Space Jam. The Destroyer. Me.

This was no coincidence. The artifact was a beacon—and Pollux was its unwilling messenger.

So here's the deal he offered me: help him break free from the life his family has chained him to, kill his parents, and in return, the scepter is mine. No fights, no bloodshed. Just a clean exchange.

He wants to be free to live the life he wants. And I—well, I need that scepter.

It's the seventh artifact I've found. Out of nine.

Nine fragments, each tied to an Arbiter. I've spent years collecting them, and with every piece, I've come closer to my goal: dismantling the Space Jam from the inside out. Each artifact is a key—not just to the game, but to the Arbiters themselves.

With all nine, I can sever their hold over the multiverse and collapse their arena of chaos. Destroy the level of consciousness that the Arbiters have acquired, and put them back to simple states of matter.

That's why I'm here in this universe.

This universe, the Doctor's universe is a convergence point—a reality where several threads of the multiverse naturally intersect. This makes it uniquely strong in the sense that it is incredibly hard to collapse from the outside, unlike most universes.

It is why it is safe from the Space Jam; one of the few universes that cannot be destroyed. That cannot be impacted or influenced from the outside. It's why five out fucking nine artifacts are here.

I have seven, counting the scepter, and only two remain, both hidden somewhere across time and space in this universe.

It's why I chose to be with the Doctor. His TARDIS is a keystone of travel, the quickest and most efficient way to shotgun myself across the time and space of this reality. The Vortex Manipulator was making my search far too long, and once it broke it only made my decision to travel with the Doctor that much easier.

Even knowing that I would need to keep the ultimate secret from him. But his TARDIS also made me that much harder to track. The Destroyer, the Arbiters, the OBSIDIAN JAX (I try not to think about my literal evil twin) could already barely peak into this universe, but in the TARDIS, I was near impossible to find.

The Doctor's mind is unlike anything I've ever encountered. He sees patterns where others see noise, and finds solutions where others see dead ends. I need him.

But what he doesn't realize is how much I want to protect him too.

The Doctor's universe is special. It's a convergence point, a keystone of multiversal stability. If it falls, the dominoes follow. And I won't let that happen. Not to him. Not to anyone.

So here I am. Here is where I have been since I got her nearly 80 years ago, doing what I've done since even before that. Since I decided that enough is enough: no more. The Space Jam will be no more, if it's the last and only good thing that I ever do.

I will continue to cheat the system, I will continue to lay down with the worst of the worst, I will make more deals, collect all nine artifacts, and continue playing the long game.

For the greater good. All for the greater good.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I might actually win.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟔, 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

"Why five days?" I finally questioned as Pollux and I strolled the outskirts of the nearby forest. "What made you take us five days in the past?"

It was too dangerous to go into town in fear of either one of us being spotted. Mostly Pollux as people would recognize him, and technically if it was five days prior, than an earlier version of him was already skipping around his house.

I did not need people to see my face and then inevitably recognize me when the past version of myself arrives with the Doctor and Amy in five days.

It was annoying but necessary—especially if we wanted to keep the established chain of events. By keeping the chain intact it would make it easier to simply take the place of past selves the moment they disappear on the dance floor during the ball in five days.

Pollux agreed that the best thing was to make a grand entrance of threatening his parents as soon as our past selves disappeared on the dance floor. The second they were gone we would barge in the building guns blazing.

I still wasn't sure what the fuck we were going to do about them. The Doctor surely wouldn't agree with assassination unless there was no other option—he would probably advocate for taking them to prison.

"It was the furthest I could go, we need time to find Atropha..." Pollux finally said, leading me deeper into the forest.

"Atropha?" I raised a brow, my eyes gleaming with suspicion.

"The love of my life..." Pollux told me passionately. "She was my best friend back in the Krystalline Empire, I thought I would never see her again... but she came to me a week ago. My parents found us reuniting outside and dragged me away from her by force. They had her taken to the Keep." His voice was hoarse, untamed anger twisting through every syllable toward the end.

"The Keep?" Another question spilled from my lips.

Pollux suddenly had his gaze fixed forward.

"The Keep is where my parents hold most things from our home planet that they brought with us. It's hidden in the cliffside of the ocean a few miles North of here..."

"So they are holding your beloved hostage there?"

"Not just hostage," He grimaced. "It's a labyrinth of underground tunnels—she is no doubt being chased by its guard."

"What the hell do your parents have guarding it?" I quickly questioned, figuring that given the importance of the items inside, the guard must be rather strong.

"It's a beast. A guardian bio-created by the Krystalline Empire to protect whatever is stored there. My parents not only bred one illegally but brought it with them when they fled."

"A beast?" I repeated a note of disbelief creeping into my voice. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"It's called a Dra'kon," Pollux admitted, his voice dropping lower as if speaking the name might summon it. "A bioweapon. Part machine, part creature, and entirely bred for destruction. Its body is sleek, metallic-skin scales that absorb energy attacks. It has claws sharp enough to rend steel and a tail that can crush bone like a twig. And if you think that's bad, it breathes fire too..."

"Oh, great," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "A fire-breathing monstrosity. That sounds exactly like what I want to tango with on what was supposed to be a quiet trip to Victorian London. Wait till the Doctor hears about this one... why do your have this thing as a guardian? I can't imagine anything on Earth is that much of threat to them..."

"Because they're paranoid," he said, bitterness dripping from his words. "They brought weapons, other memorabilia, and even their ship's core engine from the Krystalline Empire. The Keep houses it all. They wanted a failsafe in case they ever needed to defend themselves or leave this planet."

"And they thought it was a good idea to keep this Dra'kon around as their watchdog?" I asked incredulously.

This thing sounded like it was bound to break away and kill everyone eventually.

Pollux shook his head. "It's not just a watchdog. It doesn't take orders from anyone but itself. It's not something you can control—only avoid. Or, if you're unlucky enough, fight. My parents manage to control it because it's engineered to protect them and their valuables... I'm not even safe from it..."

I whistled low. "And they just tossed Atropha in there? For what—safe keeping? Or punishment?"

Pollux's lips pressed into a thin line. "Both, probably. They wanted her out of the way, somewhere they thought I couldn't reach her. Somewhere they know she's bound to die in. But they don't understand. I have to try." He stopped walking, his eyes locking with mine. "I can't leave her in there, Polaris. If there's even the slightest chance she's still alive, I have to get her out."

I studied him for a long moment, the conviction burning in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. Pollux wasn't a fighter—not really—but he was prepared to do whatever it took to save her.

"Well, I've been looking for a decent adrenaline rush, and I am sure I have fought far worse in the Space Jam," I said with a smirk, nudging him. "Let's go dragon hunting."

"Dra'kon," he corrected automatically, but a faint flicker of gratitude softened his features. "Although, it is quite similar to the mystical Earth creature..."

I was 99.9% sure that dragons don't exist on this planet in this universe.

"Whatever," I said with a shrug, brushing past him. "Lead the way, hero."

Pollux didn't hesitate. He moved deeper into the forest, the path narrowing as the trees grew denser around us.

The air began to smell of salt water and moisture—the sounds of the ocean hitting against a cliffside soon followed. Looking down, I eyed the grand and beautiful ballgown I was wearing precariously. Grand, beautiful, and tight. This was like the worst thing that one can walk into this situation wearing.

It was bound to slow me down.

The corset seemed to squeeze tighter at the thought.

Five days.

"How big are those caverns again?" I asked as we broke through the trees, spotting the cliff up ahead.

Pollux looked at me. "A few miles, and it runs deep..."

I slowly nodded before looking at him with dread. "And how long do you think it will take to locate Atropha, rescue her, and escape?"

Pollux gave me a similar look of dread. "Before I say this, don't forget the prize you receive out of this..."

The image of the scepter came to me. Arbiter relic number seven—Will was so close that I could taste it. Determination ate away at me at the thought.

"Thinking about it, now go on..." I motioned for him to continue, both of us coming to a stop at the edge of the cliff.

We were many feet above the cold waters that crashed against the cliff. A huge gaping hole was far below us, near the bottom of the cliff.

Pollux turned to me and said the answer that I was dreading. "Five days."

Fucking hell, this was going to be the longest five days of my existence.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟏, 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟏
𝟓 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫...

"HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK!"

It was my hollers echoing through the caverns as the damn dragon—yes, it's the same as a fucking dragon, once again swooped through breathing fire.

Five days motherfucking later, barely any sleep, stuck shitting in holes we dug, no food, licking the fresh waters that leaked from the walls and here we were. But at least Atropha was somehow still alive.

Speaking of which, Atropha was actually pretty badass, we'd become fast friends. Well, we kind of had to considering the situation we were all in.

By technicality, at this point, I had been with Pollux and Atropha longer than I had been with the Doctor and Amy!

Atropha released a battle cry as she came from the cavern's edge, holding a metallic gleaming spear in her right hand. She landed on the back of the beast, clutching tightly to it as it tried to fling her off with loud roars.

I jumped away as it breathed fire toward me, landing next to a more than disheveled-looking Pollux.

While perfection still became him with his natural Krystalline beauty—his fine suit was ripped. His coat was missing, his pants were torn heavily, and his hair was a mess.

His shoes were also missing.

Both of us were stained with dirt and dripping blood. Our own, each other's, and the beast's.

My dress was tatters, barely hanging on. Burn marks covered immense areas of my body as did it with Atropha and Pollux. My hair had long since fallen out of the beautiful ringlets, left in mattered waves—knotted back into a makeshift ponytail. The ends had even been burned off by the Dra'kon.

I had never been more grateful to myself for choosing to wear Converse to the ball, even if the shoes were now so beat they were barely staying on my feet. Anything else I could have worn would have been gone by now though.

"We need to help her!" I told Pollux, darting forward and picking up a glowing sword from the ground.

A sword strong enough to cut through the tough skin of the beast.

Pollux was right behind me, raising the machine-gun-like blaster and shooting it at the beast that Atropha was riding like a bull.

We had managed to break into one of the Ashworth vaults and steal some weaponry in the midst of hiding from the beast.

It was a much tougher beast than I had given it credit for. Especially considering it put me through five entire days of hell.

I didn't think of all the things I would miss, it would be the Doctor, Amelia, and the TARDIS.

I'd never let the Doctor live down how bad an idea Victorian London had turned out to be. Although—and not that I could tell him this part—it had actually been rather good seeing I was on the path to collecting artifact seven.

So long as we made it out of The fucking Keep.

I had been keeping mental count for how long we had been here, and if my math and time-tracking skills were correct (which it was) then we had thirty minutes to figure out a way to end this beast, get out of these caverns, and get to the Ball the second that Pollux and I's past selves would disappear from the waltz.

Atropha roared just as loudly as the beast as she was flung to the side, holding on by the claws of her fingertips.

Like the rest of the Krystalline people—like the Ashworths—Atropha was stunning.

Her skin was a rich, deep, and dark shade that bordered on light black, a hue that seemed to drink in the faintest light and reflect it back with a subtle, radiant warmth. Her hair was cropped short; wild stark white curls framing her face and brushing just above her shoulders. Pastel freckles, scattered like stardust, dusted her skin, adding an ethereal quality to her beauty.

The immense contrast that her hair and skin had against each other was enchanting.

Her eyes were a striking contrast to the pale hues Pollux and I shared—deep, endless onyx that made her pupils nearly indistinguishable, giving her gaze an otherworldly intensity that seemed to pierce through everything it touched.

Her clothing, though tattered and worn, hinted at her resilience. She was clad in a torn golden spacesuit that clung tightly to her frame, its design both practical and elegant. On the right side of her chest, the letters "ል08" were scrawled in beautifully intricate script, marking her unmistakable ties to the Krystalline Empire. It was the official uniform of their people, a symbol of their legacy and pride, even in disrepair.

"Pollux, use your gifts!" Atropha commanded as she kicked her legs, desperately trying to kick herself back up onto its back.

She was fierce, especially for a mortal being.

Leaping the air was a battle cry of my own—the space sword of the Krystalline Empire raised, I slashed the beast across its cheek causing it to let out a furious cry.

"He's too strong!" Pollux cried out. "I can't focus!" He was holding his right hand out, desperately trying to do anything to slow down the beast.

"Do you need a fucking pep-talk? A speech?!" I screeched. "That's the Doctor's specialty, not mine! And he's not here right now—so just fucking do something!"

My words must have got under his skin enough as in the next second—Pollux held out his hand and released a wave of energy strong enough to knock back the dragon a few feet. It was strong enough to distract it long enough that I was able to bring the sword up.

With a leap, I used every ounce of my strength to use the large space blade and slice straight through the soft part of the beast's next. It's head came from its body, blood spurting everywhere and covering the three of us.

"Grab my hand!" I yelled at Atropha, her managing to grab my hand in the knick of time as I propelled us backward.

The beast's huge body fell backward, off a cliff, and even deeper into the cavern. Moments later we heard a massive thud as it hit the ground, echoing around.

Atropha and I had landed on top of Pollux, the man groaning at our combined weight—all three of us soaked in blood and sprawled on top of each other.

"We still need to kill your parents..." I wheezed, exhausted after five days stuck in here overcoming me. "And we have like twenty minutes to get to the fucking ball... and we're at least three miles away!"

"Let's hijack their ship..." Atropha grunted rolling over on her hands and knees. "And I call dibs on killing your parents... they are some of the biggest assholes in the galaxy for this!" She hissed, Pollux slowly nodding and patting her arm.

She had been here the longest. A whopping seven days—the first two which she had been here the beast all by herself. Desperately hiding as it tried to kill her. Pollux and I finally ran into her about a day after we entered the place, all three of us switching between fighting the beast, hiding from it, and trying to escape.

Unfortunately, it was next to impossible to leave the place without killing the beast as it guarded the entrance fiercely.

Not to mention, that thing couldn't be left on Earth alive. If it ever decided to leave the caverns the devastation it would cause to humanity would be incalculable.

"And then we use the ship to skip out on this planet afterward?" Pollux asked. "I've been wanting to travel for some time..."

"Sure, babe, sounds good to me..." Atropha coughed, being the first to stand up followed by me and Pollux. "Perhaps a wedding somewhere in Alpha Centuri?"

"Anywhere you want," Pollux groaned.

Atropha did not know the full story behind me—I explained to Pollux that he should keep his multiversal knowledge to himself, as anyone he told would be put at risk. He already felt bad enough about what his parents did to Atropha, so he chose not to involve her any more than he had to. Therefore, Atropha only knew me as PJ, the space human traveling with the last TimeLord in existence.

Or at least, she got the quick version of it seeing as she had been told while we were all running for our lives.

We scrambled through the dimly lit caverns, exhaustion weighing us down, but the urgency of the clock spurring us forward. Pollux led the way, his keen sense of direction navigating us toward the stash of supplies we'd hidden earlier in our fight for survival. Atropha trailed close behind, her breathing steady despite the ordeal she'd been through. I brought up the rear, my makeshift sword dragging behind me, its glowing edge flickering ominously.

"This is it," Pollux announced, coming to a halt at a hollowed-out crevice in the cavern wall. He knelt down, pulling aside a jagged slab of stone to reveal the stash of items: ration packs, a box of crystalline cartridges for the blasters, and a glowing silver orb about the size of a softball.

Atropha grabbed the orb first, her fingers curling around it protectively. "Emergency power source," she explained to me. "It'll keep the ship running if things ever go sideways."

I nodded, though, at this point, I wasn't sure what "sideways" even meant anymore.

"Grab what you can carry," Pollux instructed us. "We're cutting it close, and we don't have time to come back. Once my parents fall we're blowing off this planet."

Atropha grinned at him. "Next stop: everywhere..." She reached out, linking her hand with his and intertwining their fingers.

They shared a little smile—their beautiful eyes twinkling as they gazed at each other with all the love and excitement in the universe.

I looked away, momentarily feeling as though I was intruding on a rather personal moment.

Longing ate away inside me, not jealousy, but longing for what the two of them share.

Love like that was rare.

Within moments, we'd gathered the essentials. Atropha slung the cartridges over her shoulder, Pollux secured the rations into a small satchel, and I clutched a glowing canister of fuel for the ship.

We bolted toward the exit of the cavern, the air growing cooler and saltier as we neared the outside. When we finally emerged into the open, at the cavern's entrance, the sight of the Ashworth family ship was a relief.

The ship sat nestled in a hidden alcove near the cliffside, partially camouflaged by jagged rock formations. It was a classic Krystalline design—sleek, metallic, and unmistakably alien. Shaped like a flying saucer, its exterior gleamed under the moonlight, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to ripple like water under the faint glow of its energy core.

Sensing an Ashworth in its presence, a ramp extended from the underside, inviting us in like a doorway to freedom.

We rushed aboard, the interior starkly different from the sprawling wonder of the TARDIS.

This was practical and utilitarian—every inch was designed for function over flair. The main room was compact but livable, resembling a cross between a small futuristic home and an RV. There was a kitchenette to one side, a seating area with built-in benches, and a control panel dominating the far end of the space.

Pollux immediately took the pilot's chair, his fingers flying over the controls with practiced ease. Atropha hovered behind him, her sharp gaze scanning the readouts and occasionally barking out adjustments.

They moved together like a machine, the perfect duo.

"I better receive an invitation to your wedding..." I told them with a heavy breath.

Atropha turned her head and made eye contact with me—her grin bright and features lighting up.

"Oh, you will!" She confirmed.

Pollux piped up from where he was next to her. "After this, I'd might even like you to officiate our marriage!"

"Done deal..." I flashed a thumbs-up. "I received my certification long ago and far away..."

Neither of them questioned my words.

I collapsed onto one of the back benches, finally letting myself exhale. My head leaned back against the wall as I stared at the ceiling, the soft hum of the ship's power core vibrating through the floor. For a moment, I allowed myself to exist simply, watching Pollux and Atropha move in sync like two parts of a well-oiled machine.

"You've done this before," I muttered, mostly to myself, but they heard.

"Of course we have," Atropha shot back, not even looking at me as she adjusted one of the ship's dials. "The Empire trains us for this kind of thing from birth. You think we're just pretty faces?"

Pollux smirked but didn't comment, his focus remaining on the controls as the ship began to rise. A low hum filled the cabin, followed by a gentle lurch as we lifted off the ground.

"Strap in," Pollux warned, and I hurriedly fumbled with the harness on my seat.

The ship soared upward, breaking free from the cliffside and into the open air. Pollux tilted the controls, angling us toward the Ashworth manor. As we approached, the glittering lights of the ball came into view, the manor glowing like a beacon against the dark countryside.

Pollux brought the ship down low, its imposing silhouette casting a long shadow over the partygoers outside. The moment the landing gear deployed and the ramp extended, chaos erupted.

I wondered briefly if this instance was where the classic human interpretation of alien spaceships being a "flying saucer" came from.

People screamed, some dropping their drinks as they scrambled away from the ship in panic. A few brave—or foolish—souls stayed rooted in place, staring up at the alien vessel with wide eyes.

"We're here," Pollux announced as he powered down the ship.

"Yeah," I muttered, unbuckling my harness and standing up on unsteady legs. "Let's make this one hell of an entrance."

We had seconds before our past selves disappeared, I was willing to bet the golden glow had just started encasing them as they danced.

Pollux and I from five days—well, five days ago from my point of view that is.

My heart went out to my past self.

Good luck bitch, you have five days of hell ahead of you.

Atropha proceeded to take the machine-gun blaster in her grasp, cocking it.

"I'm right behind you two, just loading it..." She nodded and proceeded to fuel the weapon with a glowing white liquid.

"Well, looks like you can give your parents some last words..." I told Pollux as we made our way from the ship and down the ramp.

People who had been in the yard were long gone, some still gaping in shock. One man even passed out as Pollux and I passed by.

Not that I blamed him, we were both soaked in blood—my dress was tattered, the corset long since broken and the sleeves gone. Bloody footprints were left on the ground from the Converse as we passed.

Pollux was clenching his fist, a wild gleam in his eye. It was the look of someone who had been wronged much by someone they trusted, the look of someone about to get their sweet revenge.

He held out his arm for me, and I linked my own through it as we strolled toward the entrance. People gasped and cries could be heard within, and through the windows, a bright golden light started shining.

I kicked the double doors open, and both of us strolled in.

No one noticed our entrance considering what we walked in on.

We were met with the sight of a bright light encasing two figures on the dance floor.

Pollux and I, from the past.

"PJ!" The Doctor cried, surging forward with his hand outstretched just as my previous self and Pollux disappeared.

Good luck, bitch.

People were yelling in shock, and his parents looked enraged as they stared at the now empty dance floor.

"Where is my son?!" Mrs. Ashworth cried out a moment afterward.

The Doctor's mouth had fallen agape, his eyes looking every which way on the dance floor.

"PJ..." He cried out again, quieter but I caught it through the sudden stillness of the people.

His green eyes were wide and wavering, staring at the space I'd disappeared at almost heartbrokenly. Amelia looked equally as shocked and frightened, grabbing the Doctor by his sleeve.

"Doctor, where'd they go?!" She frantically shook him.

"I don't—I don't know?" The Doctor was floundering, quickly pulling out his sonic screwdriver. "But I will figure it out, and I am going to get her back." He sounded angrier than I thought he would, his voice so stern it surprised me.

He briefly looked at Amy, almost as though scared she would disappear on the spot too.

Whispers broke out and scared gazes looked around.

Mr. and Mrs. Ashworth were fuming.

Mrs. Ashworth turned toward the nearest servant.

"Search the grounds!" She barked, her voice no longer warm and charming. "My son is to be found immediately! Pollux must be located!" She shrieked, gaining the Doctor's attention.

He narrowed his eyes at her, obviously now knowing there was something 1000% off about the couple.

"Don't bother! I am right here!" Pollux called loudly, causing nearly every head to turn to look as we walked forward.

Gasps and screams echoed about at the state of us. Blood dripped from the edges of my dress and onto the floor, and I had no doubt there was a slightly crazed look into both our eyes from the complete hell we had suffered the last five days.

No rest, little water, and no food along with fighting for your life would do that to you.

Pollux stepped forward, standing in front of me by a few inches—fury in his eyes as he regarded his parents.

"Pollux, what is the meaning of this!" Mrs. Ashworth barked, beginning to walk down the steps.

"PJ..." The Doctor started to walk toward me frantically.

I looked at him, holding out a hand and shaking my head. He stopped in his tracks.

"Doctor, it's been a hell of a week... I'll explain in just a moment, but he needs to take of this..." I jerked my head in the direction of Pollux. "Just know that I will never allow you to take me to Victorian London again unless you give me the best reason in the world..." My right eye twitched.

The Doctor looked positively appalled at my state, his mouth agape as he took in my blood-soaked form. Thousands of questions formed behind his eyes, questions that I could feel his mind making up theories to.

Amy was wearing a similar face.

Slowly, I turned away from them, looking back to the furious Mr. and Mrs. Ashworth.

"Who is she then? A replacement for that idiot?" Mrs. Ashworth hissed.

Pollux snarled. "How dare you? You throw the love of my life in with your bio-weapon! All but trying to sentence her to a painful death: alone and in the dark! You abuse me, use me all my life! You get us kicked off our home!" He cried, voice breaking. "Well, I am done—NO MORE!"

The words were familiar, something in me switched.

No more.

Something in the Doctor flickered, a familiarity within the depths of his old eyes. Those words meant something to him.

No more...

I wondered what they meant to that old TimeLord. What weighed down on his kind soul?

His eyes suddenly met mine again and I was quickly looking away, turning a steely gaze back to the Ashworths.

People were smart, already running away and leaving the manor as though the devil itself was on its heels.

"And what will you do about it, boy?" Mr. Ashworth came forward, his face twisted in a sneer.

The Doctor cut in, raising his sonic toward the couple. "Don't either of you move another step!" He demanded harshly.

"And who are you?" Mrs. Ashworth scoffed. "A galactic police officer?"

The Doctor gave her a ghost of a smile, a near-dangerous twinkle bursting forth from his eyes.

"Oh trust me—I'm worse..." He sighed, voice quieter but steady. "It sounds like you've treated your son quite horribly..." The Doctor tilted his head, face eerily blank. "What did they to you, my dearest?" He asked me softly, turning and allowing his gaze to once again drink in my firm. "Tell me the truth..."

I was surprised by the conviction on the Doctor's face, a deadly emotion threatening to bubble up and over the surface.

This was new—and I wondered what the Doctor might do if I chose to tell him that these people had hurt me in any way.

Technically, they hadn't, their damn beast had.

The Doctor was eyeing the various burns and injuries on my body before he repeated himself—his voice shaking with untapped outrage.

"PJ," He snapped. "I asked you a question and I expect an honest answer. What did they do to you?"

"Nothing," I hastily answered. "At least, not directly—I assisted Pollux in rescuing someone very dear to him from their damn beast. Hence the burns and various other bruising..." I winced with a laugh. "However, I'm sure you'll be interested to know they broke countless moral laws and bred a beast of destruction..." I tittered, turning to them with mock apologetic eyes. "A beast that I did need to kill... sorry about that..." It was more than obvious the apology was anything but genuine.

I could feel the Doctor still staring at me, his eyes nearly burning holes in the side of my head.

Pollux turned to the Doctor at that moment. "You're the Oncoming Storm, the most feared being in all the cosmos... she said you stop people like them!" He thrust a pale hand toward his parents who now looked confused, sharing glances as they regarded the Doctor. "Perhaps I should tell you a little about them. They are intergalactic criminals, exiled from our planet for running one of the biggest underground trafficking syndicates in our world. Children, men, women, animals—anything!" He snarled. "Ripped from their homes and sold as slaves! All thanks to them!"

Mr. and Mrs. Ashworth did not look apologetic.

"And they used me—and they want to continue to use me to take over this world!"

The Doctor slowly nodded his head, a pondering look in his eyes. "Well..." He murmured, voice hoarse and nearly hushed. "Definitely can't have that, can we? I see it now between you all—the Krystalline Empire? Fugitives?" He questioned out loud.

He looked at me and I nodded in confirmation.

Mrs. Ashworth rolled her eyes, her hands placed on her hips. "You rescued that foolish girl you claim to love..." She sounded angry, addressing her son. "And this bitch," She jerked a finger at me. "...Killed our guard?!"

Pollux stomped his foot and roared loudly. "HER NAME IS ATROPHA! AND YOU SENT HER INTO THE KEEP LIKE SHE WAS NOTHING!"

"SHE IS NOTHING!" Mrs. Ashworth screamed right back. "AND YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A DISAPPOINTMENT—I SHOULD HAVE SENT YOU TO DIE WITH HER!"

Amy gasped out loud and Pollux took a step back, his eyebrows scrunching in surprise. There was a flicker of hurt in his gaze—and he had to look away from the woman with a deep breath.

The Doctor's gaze flickered: something deeper than anger... resentment maybe? It brewed in him like a storm.

He took a step forward, eyes clouded with darkness.

There was a shift of movement behind me.

I wasted no time, pushing Pollux to the side and darting out of the way as Atropha marched forward.

"Get down!" I called to Amy and the Doctor.

Atropha's heavy weaponry was held tightly and fire burned angrily through her being.

She roared and fired the machine-blaster, consistent shots of light leaving it and hitting her target perfectly.

Mrs. Ashworth's face was frozen in shock as she was hit with multiple rays of deadly energy pulses. The woman fell to the ground within seconds as her husband went next to her.

Blood leaked from the corners of their mouths as well as their eyes—dead gazes blank and unseeing.

The Doctor moved to cover Amy protectively as she was right next to him, but Atropha was only hitting the two people she wanted dead. Finally, after what felt like a century, she stopped firing noticing the couple was now more than dead.

Pollux looked at his love from his place on the floor with wide eyes.

I breathed deeply, not wanting to get up but forcing myself to slowly stand from where I had been crouched.

God, I fucking hurt.

Atropha blew a fallen piece of curly hair out of her face, scowling at the dead bodies.

She grumbled loudly to the dead Mrs. Ashworth. "Now who's the dead one, bitch?"

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

A small while later and after playing catch-up with the Doctor and Amy, all five of us stood outside the Ashworth spaceship.

The flying saucer was big, gleaming under the moonlight. Amelia was laughing while examining it, speaking in hushed excited whispers with the Doctor and Atropha as she showed them the different things to it.

"The TARDIS is amazing, but this is—this looks like it's straight out of a movie, Doctor!" Amy giggled almost childishly.

The Doctor was rather excited as well, the man never one to turn down examining new technologies. He added his own few words in every so often.

I watched from a few feet away with a small tired smile.

After answering countless questions and assuring the Doctor over a hundred times that I was fine and could wait a few minutes to return to the TARDIS for him to treat my burns.

Even as I told him that I was fully capable of treating my own burns, he insisted that I should have help. And he wouldn't take no for an answer.

The Doctor was incredibly inquisitive when Pollux revealed his telekinesis abilities, he thought it was especially impressive when Pollux explained he used the residual energy in the air from the TARDIS to throw him and me back in time by five days.

However, the Doctor was annoyed that Pollux took me instead of him.

In the Doctor's mind, he felt that this was far too dangerous for a companion to take on alone, and yet I could not imagine the alien in tweed fighting off that damn beast with a sword.

The Doctor probably would have tried to sonic it and got his head bitten off in response.

Pollux lied to the Doctor—well, not explicitly. He moreso left things out.

AKA, Pollux did not mention that it was a mixture of residual energy from the TARDIS and the scepter that gave him enough power to fling us back in time.

The Doctor was aware of virtually nothing to do with the scepter, we told him nothing.

Pollux lied and said that he only picked me because he had the opportunity to dance with me. He claimed that he had thought a companion of the Doctor's was good enough, words the Doctor desperately tried not to crash out at.

The Doctor then told Pollux rather firmly that when it comes to feats as dangerous as that, one should never take one of his companions in place of him. If there was one thing the Doctor hated, it was when his companions were put in unnecessary danger.

I had hit the Doctor in the back of the head after he said that.

"I am an intern, not a companion, this is what I do!"

The Doctor only grumbled in response as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Here," Pollux suddenly came up from behind me, emerging from the manor.

He had been inside for the past few minutes, cleaning it out of all the alien items and tech they had stored away.

Atropha and Pollux did not plan on coming back to this planet ever again. The Earth was now a rather sore place for the couple—something that made the Doctor and Amy rather sad as the Doctor loved this planet and Amy was a native to it.

But they understood.

I turned around, taking the scepter from Pollux as he handed it to me.

The Arbiter of Will—its artifact. Power thrummed from it in waves. I stared at it with wonder in my eyes, holding it tightly.

A masterpiece of craftsmanship, radiating an aura that made it impossible to mistake for anything ordinary. The metal was cool to the touch, but it felt alive—pulsing faintly, as though it had a heartbeat of its own.

The shaft was made of a sleek, obsidian-like material that shimmered with faint streaks of gold and silver, swirling like liquid starlight. Intricate engravings spiraled up its length, written in a language I didn't recognize but instinctively understood as ancient and unyielding. The patterns seemed to shift slightly under my gaze, like they were reacting to my thoughts.

At the top of the scepter sat a crystalline orb, suspended within a crown-like framework of jagged metal prongs. The orb glowed softly with a light that defied color, constantly shifting between hues of blue, green, and violet. It gave the impression of holding a fragment of the universe itself, a tiny, encapsulated nebula that seemed impossibly deep. Inside the orb, sparks of white light flickered occasionally, like stars being born and dying in the span of seconds.

As I held the scepter, I felt its power thrumming in waves, resonating with something deep inside me. It wasn't just a weapon—it was a tool of judgment, one that carried the weight of justice and responsibility. The longer I held it, the more I felt its presence pressing into my mind, as if testing my resolve, my worth.

"The Arbiter of Will," Pollux said softly, his voice carrying a reverence I rarely heard from him. "It's... attuning to you."

I tightened my grip on the shaft and tilted it slightly, the orb casting a faint, ethereal glow on the ground. For a moment, it felt as though the universe paused, waiting for what I might do next. The sheer potential in the artifact was dizzying, and yet it felt right—like it belonged in my hands.

Looking away, I nodded to Pollux thankfully.

"Thank you..." I whispered to him.

"No, thank you," He reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. "Polaris Jade." He said my name quietly, far too soft for anyone else to hear.

"Oi—is that the artifact from your parents?" Amy jumped over to us with the Doctor and Atropha right behind her. "Can I hold it?"

I was hesitant, but it would be incredibly suspicious to the Doctor if I said 'no'. This was not necessarily harmful upon being held, and without prior knowledge of the multiverse, it was nearly impossible to guess what it was, let alone use as a weapon.

One needed to have great power themselves to be able to wield any Arbiter artifact.

"Sure," I shrugged, giving it to Amy. "It's Pollux's gift to me, you like?"

She nodded, turning it every which way as she looked. Her hands ran up and down its length.

"Ooh, smooth..." She playfully waggled her brows.

The Doctor frowned, taking it from Amy after she was done examining it.

"What was this again?" He asked crisply.

Pollux answered before I did, saving me from a meek explanation.

"A family heirloom, just a scepter that one of my mother's ancestors created from a rare Krystalline jewel or something... it's just a fancy decoration. Considering my parents; however, I really don't want that heirloom anymore, too many memories..." The blond man sighed.

My lips quirked. And I will happily take it off your hands! Imagine how this will look in my room, Doctor!" I piped. "Thanks!"

The Doctor looked between Pollux and me for a second too long before slowly nodding his head. There was no reason for him to not believe the explanation, especially after he scanned it with his sonic.

"100% Krystalline-Zanthium... harmless and beautiful..." He clicked his tongue as he read the readings.

Obviously, one of the most powerful objects in the universe would not be so easily distinguishable. The Doctor would have had to have the TARDIS itself scan it for hours before even the smallest portion of its true nature was revealed.

Thankfully, he now has no reason to have the TARDIS scan it.

With one last long look at the scepter, the Doctor handed it back to me.

I happily took it, holding it a bit too tightly as though afraid object number seven would turn to ash.

Two more to go.

"I do expect invitations to your wedding. Doctor, you gave them the number to the TARDIS, right?" I asked the TimeLord who nodded.

"Of course, I did... call us anytime!" He smiled at them, standing rather close to me. "You two are a lovely couple by the way—I am sure you'll both have so much fun with the wonders of the galaxy!" He flapped his hands, a knowing smile on his lips. "Call us anytime and maybe we can grab lunch, yeah?" He suggested.

"Oh! I know of a great food moon!" Atropha said excitedly, leaning against Pollux.

All three of us were still soaked in blood and dirt.

"Sounds like a plan!" The Doctor nodded, all of us saying our last goodbyes as the couple made their way inside their ship.

"Next stop?" We heard Atropha ask Pollux as they went up the ramp.

"Everywhere!" Pollux cheered right back, their hands intertwined.

I watched them go with a smile as did Amy and the Doctor.

Looking next to me, I was surprised to see the Doctor momentarily look at me with an oddly soft look. I quickly looked away—still aware of close he was standing.

Almost protectively.

Oh, affectionate and protective TimeLord.

We stood waving them goodbye as the spaceship slowly rose into the air, an amazing and iridescent glow overcoming it as it started spinning—preparing to make the jump into hyperspace.

Its engine core fizzled to life, a series of bright colors that resembled a rainbow crackling underneath it. It spun faster and faster and faster, teetering back and forth in the air. Amy was gasping in wonder having never seen anything like it.

I could nearly imagine Pollux piloting as Atropha stood behind him watchfully.

With that the spaceship suddenly shot off, leaving nothing more than a streak of light as it went soaring through the air—up and far out of sight.

The three of us were left standing in silence for a few moments.

"I believe it is time to go... we can try another ball a different time, Pond..." The Doctor said, flinching at the look I gave him.

"I'm not coming..." I deadpanned.

"Perhaps we can talk about it?"

"No!"

We were mostly quiet apart from the small bickering as made our way back to the TARDIS.

Not as outwardly flashy as the flying saucer, but more spectacular in every way.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

I was heaving by the time we broke through the TARDIS doors and stumbled into the console room.

The adrenaline had worn off leaving me barely able to move.

The Doctor had noticed and offered to carry me the rest of the way, but I refused him. Although he got part of his way near the end, I was stumbling so badly that I couldn't argue against him as he slung my arm over his shoulders and basically walked me the rest of the way to the TARDIS.

For once he was quiet, not spouting off random facts.

It was obvious that he was worried, continuously looking at me and making sure that I wasn't on the verge of passing out as he held me to him.

Amy was ready to help me from the other side, but the Doctor assured her that he had me. She carried the scepter for me, something I tried to argue against, but I was shut up as the doctor literally told me to "shut up" and let them help me.

The TARDIS was warm as we enter, her sounds providing a solace to my soul I never thought I would find. It was comforting—I swear she even wrapped herself around me telepathically, sending waves of peace through my being.

I pushed away from the Doctor, leaning against the console railing. Deep heaving breaths left me, but I was so close to being able to rest properly. Just some cleaning up to do and that soft bed was waiting for me with cozy sheets.

I planned to sleep for as many days as possible. The Doctor and Amy can do whatever, but I did not plan on leaving this ship until I felt completely rested.

The Doctor paused, standing close to me; hovering as though I was about to topple over. His arms were even outstretched.

"I'm fine," I grumbled toward him, closing my eyes and leaning my head forward.

"No, you're not," The Doctor snapped right back, and I opened my eyes looking at him with an annoyed glare. He was staring at me harshly, still hovering and prepared to catch me if I fell. But I wouldn't fall, I am stronger than that. He continued speaking. "Nothing about this is fine! I mean, what were you thinking?"

Oh great. Here comes a scolding from the great high and mighty TimeLord.

"I was thinking that Pollux shot me five days in the past...! What did you expect me to do? Sit around twiddling my thumbs?" I asked him incredulously.

"You wait for me!" He shouted back immediately. "You are always supposed to wait for me—you let me handle it!"

I cackled humorlessly, "And what would you have done? Waved around that convenient magic wand of yours?"

The Doctor scoffed in disbelief.

"It's a sonic screwdriver, and I bet you'd love to have one! But what I would have done is beside the point! The point is that you don't throw yourself into extreme danger like that!" He pointed at me. "You don't ever do that!"

"It's what I've done all my life!" I argued against him. "And you're not going to stop me, so deal with it!"

"It was stupid! You should have waited!" He cried back. Amy was standing to the side awkwardly. "What if you had died in those caverns? Been burned to ash? I would have no clue! No idea! All I would know is that you disappeared in a flash of gold, poof! Gone! That's it? I don't think so!"

He whirled away from me, running his hands through his floppy hair so hard I thought he might pull it out. It was almost hard to believe that this was still a new regeneration for him, he seemed so comfortable in it already.

"I am tired," He continued to rant furiously. "I am so sick and tired of the people that I care about being stupid, being reckless!" He was pacing the length of the TARDIS, flipping levers in an upset manner as he piloted us into the Time Vortex. "I am tired of it! Is it so hard to just go along for the ride without interfering, without throwing yourselves under the wheels?! With letting me handle it and just enjoying the stars?!"

"That is not who I am, I'm not new to the fucking stars, Doctor!" I shrieked, ignoring his claim that he cared about me. "I've time-traveled before! I am a damn Ravager! I have committed crimes that you wouldn't believe! I have saved entire civilizations all on my own! Trust me, I've been around, Doctor! I have done it all, and I am fine!" I angrily spat. "I am far stronger than you are giving me credit for, I am not some random civilian from Earth—no offense Amy—" I briefly looked at her.

She shrugged. "None taken..."

I looked back to the Doctor, continuing. "I am THE—" Everything stopped, the words fell from my lips.

Well, that would've been stupid. So stupid to reveal myself in that manner; ever so ridiculous to let my emotions get the best of me.

I paused, the words sticking in my throat. The Doctor was still huffing, getting in my face with raised brows.

"The what? Huh? Continue," He motioned for me to keep going, obviously having no clue where I had been going with that.

I cleared my throat. "I am THE Ravager. Little girl raised in space with big bad aliens," To better make my words believable, I let a cocky grin slip, but it looked more like a grimace. Ouch, my face hurts. "You don't need to worry, I can handle it. And honestly, I was probably better suited to help them than you were..."

The Doctor looked almost hurt at my words, but at the same time... the truth was the truth.

"Better suited?" He tilted his head with a scoff, his demeanor turning icy. "Cocky little human you are, aren't you? So proud, almost pretentious, dearest..."

If only he knew.

"Would you have been able to kill it?" I breathed, almost quietly. "Because last I heard, from you, at that—you're all about keeping creatures and people alive..."

The Doctor blinked, licking his lips and shaking his head.

"I told you..." He said darkly. "When the situation calls for it then I am the last person to hold back on pulling the trigger," He regarded cynically, looking down at me as he loomed. "So," He mockingly bopped me on the nose before reaching down and stroking my chin. There was blood on his hand as he pulled it away. "Yes, I would have killed that bio-weapon in half the time it took you..."

Big claim, Space Lord.

We stared at each other for a long moment. So many unspoken words and unsaid emotions flickering between the two of us before fading away like dust in the wind.

The moment was gone, I needed to clean up, I was too tired for this.

I took a slow step away from him, lips quirked upward.

"Bet," It came from my mouth faster than I could stop it.

I internally cringed, but outside I remained proud. Ugh, why did I say that?

The Doctor's anger slipped away briefly, his gaze reflecting bemusement.

"Bet?" He said it back, almost confused but amusement lacing his words.

"I'm taking a shower!" I announced, turning and gently taking the scepter from Amy with an easy thank you.

"Come to the infirmary afterward! I need to treat your wounds..." He told me with a deep and unhappy breath.

"Sure, whatever," I waved him off, not wanting to admit that it would be nice for someone else to treat and dress the variety of bruising and burns I'd acquired.

Waltzing past the Doctor, I desperately tried not to let him see the way that I was limping and flinching with every step. It hurt so bad, but I refused to allow him to help me to my room.

I refused to prove his point in any manner.

Frustration leaked from me—I was so weak. I had been incredibly weak for nearly 80 years since I arrived in the universe. Aureum and tenebris made up my being, it made me nearly indestructible. Something far greater than mortal.

Something on the level of a God to the eyes of many.

But it also caught too much attention, the power of an entire universe streaming through my veins was bright.

It was bright and it was noticeable to those I'd rather remain hidden away from. Therefore, I had to lock away my power and separate myself from it.

The force of my power—the Starfire that had always burned bright within was temporarily gone. I had managed to metaphorically separate myself from it upon entrance into this universe—it remained hidden away, swirling in the void of nothingness. A pocket universe, kind of like what made up the TARDIS, except not.

My power was safe enough on its own, nothing else could handle wielding it. It was mine, bonded solely to me, and destructive when not held in its vessel (AKA THE POLARIS JADE). However, the pocket universe has done a rather good job of containing it for nearly the past century.

But it could only hold it for so much longer—I would need to fuse back with my own force sooner rather than later. And once that happened, it became a billion times harder to hide. I needed to wrap up my mission and find the last two artifacts soon. Fuse with my power once more and end the Space Jam once and for all.

Only then would everyone truly be free. Only then would I be free.

As soon as I turned the corner, out of sight of the Doctor, I allowed the pain to show on my face. Limping and hobbling my way to my bedroom, the scepter held tightly in my grasp.

The TARDIS had mercy on me, seeming to make my door appear not too far away.

Ripping the door open, I practice fell inside.

Closing the door to my room behind me, the place was exactly as I had left it. Putting the scepter down, I leaned it against my desk before stumbling into my bathroom.

The first thing I noticed was my appearance through the mirror.

Okay, fine, I looked worse than I thought.

The makeup had long since disappeared from my face, only cuts, scrapes, burns, and bruises left. The corner of my lip was busted and my eyebrow slit, my eyes were both swollen and red from the lack of sleep.

My hair hung in matted greasy waves. The blood that soaked my body was mostly that of the Dra'kon, from when I sliced its head off. But some of it was a mixture of my own.

It was really the burns that hurt the most. Some of them a raw and sticky red, others oozing gunks of infection, and some were blistered over.

The total the Dra'Kon had taken on my body became apparent the closer I looked—all these horrible burns were located every place on my body.

While Pollux and Atropha had sustained their own damage, I doubted it was this bad. There had been a multitude of times I threw myself in the line of fire to save Pollux's skin or pulled a risky maneuver to help Atropha.

A small whine of pain left me as I leaned down and pried the shoes from my feet, the ruined Converse hitting against the wall. My feet were swollen as well.

I leaned on the sink for support, the cold ceramic biting onto my palms, and continued to study my appearance with a mixture of resignation and morbid curiosity.

Even after nearly 70 years, the way my body could injure and cripple without my power was interesting.

Burns, bruises, scrapes, and blood told the story of the past five days more effectively than words ever could. The cuts were angry and swollen, the bruises varying from a sickly yellow to a deep purple.

The burns, however, were undoubtedly the worst—all the burnt patches of skin made every movement feel like a fresh stab of agony.

No wonder the Doctor seemed so worried. Sweet old TimeLord.

The tatters of my dress clung to me like a cruel joke, the delicate fabric now torn, burnt, and soaked in blood. I moved to strip it off, wanting nothing more than to rid myself of the filthy, suffocating clothes. The lower portion slid off easily enough, pooling around my feet like the remnants of a bad dream leaving my lower body entirely bare.

It wasn't as bad in that region seeing as it had been the most protected area, but even then, it was still bruised and sore.

No sex or self-fun for a while then. Not that I had been planning on it in the first place, but still.

But the corset—the cursed corset—was another matter entirely.

I tugged at it, only to wince as the fabric resisted, sticking to my skin where burns and blisters had formed. Panic flared in my chest as I realized why it wouldn't come off. The heat from the Dra'kon's fire had melded parts of the material to my skin, the burned areas fusing like some grotesque adhesive.

It had been five days, of course, and some areas had started trying to heal. And it healed with my skin attached to the tight corset.

My breaths grew shallow, my heart pounding as I tried again, gently this time, to peel it away. The pain was instant and sharp, a white-hot lance that had me biting down on my lip to stifle a scream. Tears welled in my eyes, unbidden, as frustration and panic took hold.

"Come on, come on," I whispered through gritted teeth, my trembling fingers fumbling with the fabric. I pulled again, only for the pain to flare up so violently that I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from collapsing.

The tears spilled over, hot and angry, as I fought against the corset and my rising panic. Every movement felt like a battle, every inch gained a victory paid for in agony. Minutes bled into what felt like an eternity as I struggled, each pull leaving me weaker, each sob making it harder to keep going.

At some point, I found myself slumped on the bathroom floor, clutching the edge of the sink for balance. The corset was still clinging to me, a cruel, mocking reminder of my failure. The pain was blinding now, radiating from every nerve ending, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to scream, cry, or just pass out and be done with it.

A sharp knock on my bedroom door jolted me from my misery.

"PJ!" The Doctor's voice rang out, muffled but unmistakably irritated. "I thought I told you to meet me in the infirmary!"

I froze, my breath hitching.

"PJ!" He called again, more insistent this time. "I swear if you're still being stubborn about this—"

"Is Amy with you?" I cut him off, my voice loud.

There was a pause.

"Yes?" He said back, now confused.

"We got ourselves all cleaned up!" She said cheerily, Scottish accent thick.

"Amy, come in here! Doctor you stay out there!" I commanded, making my way through the open door of the bathroom and back into my bedroom.

"What? Why?!" He sounded upset, like a pouting child.

I scowled. "Because I'm naked!"

"And?" He shot back causing me to roll my eyes. "Naked is perfectly natural! Beautiful even!"

I was too old and had been through too much to truly care if he saw me naked. But I'd still prefer to see if Amy could help before I resorted to the Doctor.

"Amy!" I called again ignoring him, "Come in real quick!"

There was the sound of hushed argument before Amy opened the bedroom door halfway and slipped inside. I heard the Doctor's whine as she closed the door in his face.

"I hate being left out!" I heard him mutter through the door causing me to snort through the tears.

She had changed, cleaned up, and obviously showered. She was wearing a simple flannel with loose jeans.

Amy looked around my room with interest, and I realized that it was her first time being in here. She was slow, spinning with a wide smile on her lips as she took it all. However, as she finally met the sight of me, her eyes widened and she gasped, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth.

"Oh my god!" She said with worry, frolicking to me. "It's stuck to your skin!"

"I know..." I cut her off with a wince. "I need your help getting it off, I've been trying for the past hour..."

"You need to go to a hospital," She said right back. "Look at you!" She seemed to not know what to do.

"Girls!" The Doctor called, still outside the door. "What's going on in there? Do you need help?"

"No!" We shouted back at the same time, hearing a huff in reply but the Doctor still remained outside.

"No hospitals..." I grunted. "I don't want to, I just want this off so I can wash my body and then the Doctor can treat my wounds. He is a Doctor, after all..."

"Not a real one!" Amy floundered. "Not a literal healer, at least, you know that!"

I waved her off. "He's almost a thousand years old and probably one of the smartest beings in the universe. He's bound to know some medical stuff."

"Exactly why you should probably have him help you..." She said. "I think this situation goes above him seeing you naked..." Amy told me, her eyes briefly flickering to my bare bottom half before flicking back up to my beat face.

"I don't care if he sees me naked..." I rolled my eyes. "I just would rather not give him any more ammo. He's already scolded me enough and is going to treat my wounds."

Amy shook her head. "You are both so stupidly stubborn, it's not even funny. But fine, what can I do?"

"Just try to get the back half de-attached... once that's off, I think I'll be able to get the front easily..." I told her, once again bracing myself for immense pain.

Amy took a deep breath, glancing down at the fused, blood-soaked corset with a grimace. "Alright, okay, we'll do this together. Just... brace yourself, PJ."

I nodded tightly, gripping the edge of the desk beside me as Amy knelt behind me. The first tentative tug was enough to make my knees buckle, a choked scream escaping my throat. She stopped immediately, her hands trembling.

"It's... bad," Amy whispered, her voice thick with worry. "There's so much blood, and it's... it's melted into your skin in places."

"Just—just do it," I hissed through clenched teeth, my vision swimming. "I can't... I can't keep this on. It's fine, I'll be fine, I'm always fine..."

Amy nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. She tried again, gently peeling the fabric away from the blistered flesh on my back. The pain was unbearable—each movement felt like she was ripping my skin off. Tears streamed freely down my face, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as I bit back the screams clawing at my throat.

"I'm so sorry," Amy whispered, her own voice cracking as she worked. "I'm trying to go slow, but it's—"

"Faster," I interrupted, shaking my head. "Just—just get it off, Amy, please—"

A particularly stubborn patch of fabric had her pulling harder, and this time, I couldn't hold back the guttural scream that tore from my lips. My legs gave out, and I collapsed against the wall, my body trembling from the agony.

I held the wall like it was my lifeline.

The sound of heavy, insistent knocking on the door cut through the haze of pain. "What the hell is going on in there?" The Doctor's voice was sharp, his worry barely disguised. He had actually cursed, what a shock.

Amy looked at me, her face pale and her hands stained with blood. I could only shake my head weakly, my breaths too shallow to form words.

The knocking turned into pounding. "Amy! Open this door right now!"

I closed my eyes, trying to swallow my pride, but it was impossible. My voice cracked as I called out, "Doctor... just come in."

The door flew open, and the Doctor stepped inside, freezing as his gaze landed on me. His eyes widened, his breath catching audibly at the sight before him.

"Oh, PJ..." He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, a rare and raw note of anguish in his tone. For a moment, I thought he might pull me into a hug, but he stopped himself, his hands hovering in the air as though afraid to make it worse.

Amy turned to him, her own face etched with helplessness. "It's... it's stuck to her skin," she explained, her voice thick with tears she was trying not to shed.

The Doctor knelt beside me, his expression grim but resolute. He paused taking me in, kneeling as close as he could next to me without touching. His old eyes seemed to be scanning—looking for what he could do to help.

"Okay," He said softly, pulling out his sonic screwdriver from his coat with a nod.

He scanned it over me, the device whirring and buzzing as it worked.

To my surprise, I felt the fabric begin to loosen slightly. The Doctor met my gaze, his own steady and grounding. "This will help. It's okay, I'm gonna get it off you, I promise..."

The Doctor put his sonic away, reaching up. His fingers ghosted over my upper half, dancing past the blood and gripping the edge of the ruined corset.

He began to pull the corset away slowly, his movements gentle but deliberate. Even with the sonic's help, the pain was unbearable. I whimpered, tears streaking down my cheeks as he worked, and his voice softened further, full of quiet reassurance.

"I know, I know," he murmured, his eyes darting between the corset and my face. "Almost done, sweetheart. It's okay, it's okay..."

Amy had turned away by this point, unable to watch, her hands covering her mouth. I caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, her shoulders trembling.

She wasn't necessarily crying, but she was somewhere near doing it. Amy was certainly traumatized by this scene.

Finally, with one last careful pull, the corset came free. The pain hit like a tidal wave, and I collapsed to my knees, a silent scream of agony ripping through me as my head fell forward. My body trembled uncontrollably, and for a moment, I thought I might pass out.

The burns, anything that had started to heal had been ripped open. This fucking hurt a lot.

The Doctor gently placed the ruined corset aside, his eyes glistening as he crouched beside me. "It's over now," he said softly, his voice trembling. "You're okay. I've got you."

For a fleeting second, I thought I saw moisture in his eyes, but I was too far gone to care. Obviously he'd be a little affected—no one wants to pull a bloody corset that's attached to some girl's burns off.

My pride had crumbled under the weight of the pain, leaving only exhaustion in its place.

"We need to get you cleaned up, love... cleaned up and healed..." He muttered, slowly gripping under my arms. I hissed in pain. "Just breathe, I got you," He was careful, pulling me up and into his arms as he stood. "I'll make it better, I promise..." He left a chaste kiss to my forehead, not caring that he got blood on himself.

I hated how much I was enjoying this, the feeling of being taken care of. Of not being alone.

I couldn't find it in myself to care that I was entirely naked in front of the two—the Doctor held me bridal style, trying to stay gentle as he moved forward. He was holding me to him protectively.

"Why do you care so much?" I wheezed, closing my eyes as we left the room.

I could hear Amy's footsteps as she followed us.

"What do you mean?" The Doctor asked back, his voice hoarse, his anxiety anything but concealed.

"Why do you care about me? You barely know me—I'm nobody..." It felt harder to breathe.

God, it fucking hurt.

"Amy open the door to the infirmary, please," The Doctor said, and I heard a door open. I opened my eyes only to see we'd entered a bright room of the TARDIS I'd yet to be in. Finally, the Doctor answered. "You're not nobody, you're PJ. You are my, PJ... my space girl... how could I not care about you?" He said, but his voice was very guarded and I had the feeling there was more to it.

So much more.

Far more than just care.

"Ugh—!" I grunted loudly as the Doctor carefully placed me down on my feet.

I sway back and forth, black spots dancing my vision. Even being separated from the force of the universe, I couldn't die.

Unfortunately.

Well, technically I can die. But it would take immense force... like immense force that doesn't exist in most places.

"Amy, keep her steady..." The Doctor said, still holding me by the shoulders. "I know something that will heal her, and I need to prepare it..."

Amy nodded, not questioning him as she replaced the Doctor in holding me steady. I brought my hands up, weakly holding her wrists.

She was staring at me in worry.

"We should do a girls trip sometime..." I huffed.

She nodded. "Anytime you want, just please don't pass out..." Amy swallowed, holding me slightly tighter as I swayed heavier.

I winced.

It hurt so bad, and it was hard to stay standing. Not when blackness was slowly closing in and my vision was tunneling.

"I've survived worse than this! I mean this bullshit... this bullshit ain't about to...!" I scoffed with a cough. "...This shit isn't finna take me down!"

"I think she's delirious, Doctor!" Amy called.

The Doctor called back from somewhere next to us.

"Of course she's delirious! She's just gone through five days of playing survivor against a Dra'kon bred as a bio-weapon! Not to mention I just had to rip off that corset and with it the majority of wounds on her body!" The Doctor cried back, sounding rather furious. "Come on, where the hell is it!" He yelled, the sound of various items clattering about.

"You just cursed, Doctor..." I snickered.

"Yes, well, excuse me if I let one or two bad words slip given the situation!" He huffed, the sound of clattering continued along with the sound of running water. "Honestly, sweetheart, you just had to fight the Dra'kon... couldn't let me deal with it..." He was muttering with annoyance, but worry laced every syllable.

"Pollux would've got himself killed if went alone and Atropha is badass but I'm not sure she would've lasted an entire week had she been on her own..." I said through deep breaths. "You know I did the right thing, you just don't want to admit it 'cause you're upset 'm sorta hurt..." I lulled.

Also I did it because I needed Pollux to hand over that scepter without me needing to fight him for it. But the Doctor doesn't need to know that part.

"Sorta?!" Was his only response with a scoff of disbelief. "Look at you!"

From what I could tell given my shit focus at the moment, the infirmary was rather large. Brightly lit with white lights—a few beds were sprawled around along with many other accessories I didn't both to investigate or stare at.

My eyes were too heavy. They closed and I fell against Amy completely, whimpering as my wounds were rubbed wrongly.

"Doctor!" Amy cried as she caught me, slowly lowering both of us to the floor.

My naked body felt like it was on fire but I still shivered.

"Keep her eyes open, Amy! I'm almost done!" The Doctor shouted, the sound of him scrambling prominent. "Keep your eyes open, PJ! You can rest in a few minutes! I promise, dear! But you need to stay coherent and conscious until you're in this bath!"

"Bath? You're giving me a bath, Eleven..." I waved him off in an exhausted manner. "Strange Space Lord number Eleven..." I mumbled against Amy.

"Oi—you're weirder than I am if you want to go there! And it's a bath that will heal you!" The Doctor called, obviously doing his best to keep me talking given he was focusing on another task. "Given your wounds are obviously far worse than they look somehow and infected, I need to take drastic measures to keep you from suffering the worst!" He was rambling and upset.

By worst he meant death, it seemed he was just not able to get those words out. But he didn't know that this wouldn't kill me even if I was trying to die.

I was weak right now; yes, but death would be entirely too hard to achieve. I could only suffer—a lot.

When I didn't respond after a few seconds, he let out a cry.

"Stay awake!" He shouted in what sounded like anger but was only his concealed panic. "Amy, please keep her talking! I need to finish this!"

"PJ... tell me a story! What's it like living in America? Was Miami fun?" Amy desperately asked, rocking me slightly.

I kind of felt bad about the blood I'd gotten on her. And also for probably traumatizing her.

I popped a tired eye open and looked to her. "I've lived on like countless planets and throughout various times around the galaxy and you want to know about fucking America?" I tiredly questioned, sticking with my phony story easily enough. "I mean, Miami is pretty cool, I guess, it was really fun in 2013..."

"Good point! Tell me about the cosmos! What's that space bar you were talking about—I think you said you used to work there? Rivvy 10 or something?"

"Raveron 9?" I choked a chuckle. "Oh yeah, love that place—I made hella good drinks there... we should visit sometime. It snows purple you know..." I mentioned.

Funnily enough, it wasn't a total lie. I actually worked on Raveron 9 as bartender for a few months.

"Why are you panicking?" I asked the Doctor. "Obviously this won't kill me considering it's just a few burns and well, my future is your past..." I smiled at the thought.

"How dare you?" He breathed, voice so quiet that I almost couldn't hear him. But then he started shouting and; yeah, I definitely heard him. Loud and clear. "How dare you ask me something like that? You think the fact I know you won't die here that it means I want to see you suffer?!" He snapped, and I heard him hit his hands against something furiously. "You think that means you're allowed to just dive head first into danger? Do you think I ever want to see in pain? As though seeing you like this doesn't destroy me inside?! Stop saying stupid things!" He was yelling, still shuffling about. "Now let me focus so I can help you, damn it!"

I smiled despite his clear anger, despite his rough words.

"I just can't understand how you care about me this much..." I laughed before wheezing in pain from the movement. "No one does... I don't even care about myself like you seem to... it's kinda funny..."

"And you don't need to! It doesn't matter whether you can or can't understand it because I do care for you! So much! And I've had about enough of your antics! Enough of you flinging yourself into danger like you don't matter—like you're not one of the most important things to me! Ever! So stop! Do you understand that? Stop doing things like this to yourself—to me!" He was raging, ranting and I could tell it was words he'd been dying to get off his chest for a while. "Please..." He ended softly, and his voice cracked.

Something in me kind of broke. Not majorly, but you know—like a part of my resolve cracked and I genuinely felt bad for him.

The pieces I had desperately been trying to ignore were slowly falling into place as my mind made sense of things. It was pretty obvious that my future self had done a number on this guy.

The lines; however, were still blurry. While the Doctor cared for me, it was still unclear if it had crossed into anything more than platonic care. More than what he felt toward Amy, for example.

I desperately hoped not.

When lovey dovey feelings are involved—serious ones, at least—things get complicated. Complicated and difficult.

And while I chose to ignore the signs, I was anything but naive. His behavior was suspicious—and it danced the line of someone suffering a bad crush.

I prayed I was wrong. And I prayed even harder that if I wasn't wrong that the crush, the mushy feelings, all of it remained one-sided. But I had a strong feeling that such a feat would be far harder than I was giving it credit for.

"No..." I muttered and he screamed out a frustrated cry. It was a cross between heartbreak and anger. Yikes. "Trust me when I say you don't need to worry about me dying, Eleven... you're stuck with me for awhile..."

"Doctor! Focus!" Amy snapped. I heard the Doctor angrily continue to flitter around. "Now is not the time to get riled up! And PJ, don't rile him up! While it's impressive you're even managing to do so in the state you're in, still!"

"I've been told that I'm impressive..." My eyes closed.

"No, no—keep your eyes open!" Amy gently shook me, I winced but didn't bother opening my eyes. I'd be fine; for now, I just want to rest. "Doctor!"

"Finished!" He hollered at the same time, his footsteps coming near us. "Darling open those bewitching big blue eyes of yours...!" He commanded, easily picking me up and hauling me into his arms softly.

Despite the wounds, it was still odd to be completely naked with him totally dressed and carrying me.

"Don't ever call my eyes or any other part of me bewitching again..." I grumbled, opening my eyes to glare at him.

He breathed a chuckle, momentarily resting his head against my own.

"Of course, dearest..." He nuzzled against me, not caring about the blood and grime he got on himself as he carried me off toward what I could see to be an immense golden tub.

Bathtub was not the right phrase—it almost looked like a jacuzzi. Except the water was a series of rainbows and bubbling. Not to mention an odd and near transparent smoke was rising from it.

"Alright, in you go, beautiful. There we go nice and easy..." He was cooing in an oddly soft tone that I didn't necessarily like but also didn't say anything against. Mostly because I didn't have the energy.

The Doctor bent forward, slowly lowering me into the water. I screeched the second I touched it—the water feeling as though it was burning.

I was weak even as I fought against him, trying to stay away from the water.

"No, no, no! I know, I know, love! It'll only burn for a second and then it'll soothe and heal! I promise, please, you have to get in...!" He sounded more than pained as he continued to slowly drop me in the water, not allowing me to leave it.

My mid-section rubbed too harshly against his tweed. I groaned in pain, releasing him out of pure reaction from the sensation.

With that, my entire form dropped into the small pool and I cried out loudly—hoarse voice ripping.

"You're okay, you're okay, it's all okay..." The Doctor whispered frantically, his face panic-struck.

He was quick to lean over the tub, running a comforting hand through the greasy mess of my hair. He didn't even hesitate, not caring about its current gross nature as he did anything to touch me in a manner that was comforting.

Desperately tried to soothe both me and himself.

Amy had left the infirmary, no longer able to handle the intensity. I didn't blame her.

In the next second, my pathetic whimpering ceased as the burning finally went away and changed into a soothing cool that started to ebb away at the pain. Relaxation overtook me as it finally ended.

The physical torment was gone.

"There we go, there we go..." The Doctor was whispering, not caring that he was getting himself wet as he started scooping the water full of healing properties into his hands and pouring it onto my face.

My face momentarily burned before it was soothed. I breathed in relief, leaning back against the tub and stilling.

We were both quiet for a few minutes, there was only the sound of the Doctor continuously scooping water and pouring it over my head and face.

Opening my eyes, I was met with his face, his skin a sickly pale color, as though all the blood had been drained from it. His eyes were watery and red as he focused on pattering water over the wounds of my face.

The blood was washing off my body, but the water was not turning dirty from it. In fact, it seemed that the rainbow water was somehow cleansing it completely.

"Could you do it?" I finally found myself asking after minutes.

He paused for a second, eyes darting to meet my own before continuing.

"Do what?" He asked tightly.

"Turn your back to the call of adventure—even knowing it entails danger? Explore only as a tourist? Or better yet, stop exploring altogether? Stop running? Look away from someone who needs help...?" I breathed quietly. "Can you ignore the call of the universe, TimeLord?" My eyes sparkled as I looked at the Doctor, and he looked back with round eyes, his mouth ajar. "Could you do it, Doctor?"

His mouth opened and closed—his head tilted.

The Doctor froze mid-motion, his hands still cupped with the glimmering, otherworldly water. It dripped slowly between his fingers, unnoticed as his gaze locked onto mine. His wide, ancient eyes softened, the frenetic energy within them giving way to something deeper—raw and unguarded. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came, as though the weight of my words had stolen not just his voice but his very breath.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his expression shifting with a complexity that I could hardly decipher. Awe. Wonder. Pain. And something else—something terrifying in its tenderness. It was the look of a man who had been running for so long he had forgotten why he started, only to find, in this moment, exactly what he'd been running toward.

It wasn't just what I had said—it was the unflinching truth behind it, mirrored in his very soul. He knew I was right. He couldn't stop. He would never stop. And that knowledge didn't fill him with defiance or despair, but with a fragile, unspoken acceptance.

He could not stop running because this is who he was. The traveling Doctor—living a mad life of exploring everything and anything.

His brows furrowed slightly, not with confusion but with the weight of realization, as though he were seeing the universe rearrange itself before him. His gaze searched mine, looking for something, anything. And I could see as something clicked into place, he didn't find just anything.

He found everything.

His lips twitched upward, the ghost of a smile that never fully formed, as if smiling would betray the gravity of the moment.

There was grief there too. A grief born of centuries of losing everything and yearning for more, of knowing the peril of caring so deeply for someone who could be hurt, who could leave. But overriding it all was something purer, more primal—hope.

My mind echoed—thoughts screaming at me.

I would never be able to guess why, never know why this particular train of thought made itself known. Twisted and twirled through the recess of my mind. But it yelled loudly.

There is the right thing to do. And then there is the right thing to do for yourself. The problem is that both are almost never the same.

"PJ," The Doctor whispered at last, his voice low and thick with emotion.

Just my name. Just that. But the way he said it carried more meaning than any string of words ever could.

The unspoken truth hung between us, heavy and undeniable: I was right. He would never stop running, never stop answering the call of the universe.

"Would you?" I asked again, voice more firm as my thoughts were less muddled with the pain now gone.

He shook his head, looking down.

"No..."

"Then why would you think that I could answer differently?"

"Because you're not me!" He snapped his head back up, eyes burning into mine, begging me to understand. But maybe it was that I understood him a little too well, and I had a feeling—despite him not knowing the truth—that he might understand me a little too well too. "You're not me—you're not like me!" But his words were weak, and it did not seem like he quite believed them himself.

"Eleven," I breathed reaching up, my arm breaking through the water. It was already scabbed over as I put it against his cheek, surprised when he closed his eyes and leaned into it. "You may be a high and mighty and old TimeLord, but even you can't choose who people are. I haven't been around you for long, but it's already clear. Don't you see?"

"See what?" He whispered, opening his eyes desperately.

I gave him the ghost of a smile.

"That we're as similar to each other as we are different..." I sighed, eyes closing as I leaned against the tub, allowing my hand to fall from his face. "At least this way I have someone who cares enough to help me..."

The Doctor caught my hand, holding it carefully.

My eyebrows furrowed as a warm sensation tingled where he was holding it—the feeling of his lips pressing to my hand. Opening my eyes, I was met with the sight of the Doctor kissing the back of my hand before he suddenly blew on it.

However, what came from his mouth was pure golden energy. Golden energy that encased my hand in a comfortable warmth before weaving through the rest of my body. I felt it immediately, it ran through my body and healed it.

"What?" I groaned, eyes heavy. "What're you doing?"

"Still new—still have some leftover regeneration energy, it seems that this is the best use for it..." He murmured, rubbing my hand that was now completely healed.

"No, don't waste it, you already concocted a healing bath..."

"This will make it faster, now rest..." He kissed my forehead and I could not keep eyes open no matter how hard I tried.

The regeneration energy, the healing process, it was all forcing me to sleep.

They closed and the warmth of the bath and the Doctor's regeneration energy cocooned me in a floaty feeling of warmth and healing. I knew that once I woke up, there would not be so much as a single bruise left on my body.

The Doctor had healed me.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

It was so chaotic and vivid, bright and ever-changing.

It pulled me in before I could even get my bearings. For a moment, I didn't know where I was, only that I was there, in the thick of something too real to ignore.

It tasted sweet, like cotton candy maybe. And it smelled of roses, or was it honey? No, it was difficult to describe but it was homey, it smelled of home. But how was that possible? Especially given that for my entire life: home had been wherever I lay my head.

Everything around me snapped, and suddenly I was staring at... myself?

Rain poured down coldly, drenching the other me to the bone, and she—I, was yelling at someone.

No, not someone—the Doctor. I knew it was the Doctor, I could feel it in his presence. He was the same man that I had seen in many pictures around my room. Pictures that hung even in the Doctor's room.

It was the Doctor, but not the one I knew now. This one was different, physically older, just slightly, but also younger, I could see it in his kind brown eyes. Still old, but not as old as I know him to be now.

This was regeneration number ten.

A long brown coat flapped around him like a cape as he doubled over with laughter. The asshole had the audacity to point at my other self as he laughed.

"You said it wouldn't rain!" I was yelling, holding a ridiculous umbrella that wasn't helping in the slightest.

Me—the other me—was soaked.

"I said it wouldn't rain water!" He shot back, grinning like a lunatic. His voice was lighter—there was a boyishness to him that caught me off guard.

Before I could question what the hell was happening, the scene dissolved, shifting like smoke in the wind.

Suddenly, I was running, hand in hand with him—still the trench-coated Doctor. He was pulling me through a crowded market, his hand warm and firm around mine.

"Run faster, PJ!"

"I'm wearing heels!" I yelled back angrily. "You fucker, you made me put these on and now I'm stuck in them! Remember?!"

"Language! And I didn't make you... I just highly encouraged it because I thought you would look fabulous in them! I was right, wasn't I?"

"I always look fabulous!"

"I see humility is not your cup of tea, dearest..."

The market blurred and twisted away, the colors swirling until something new came.

I watched as another version of me stood face to face with that same Doctor.

Doctor number ten.

I stood holding a long piece of raw meat... was that?

No.

Actually; yes, I am holding a sausage. I stood in front of the Doctor holding a thick fucking sausage.

My eyebrows were crunched angrily. The Doctor was massaging his cheek as though he'd just been slapped, staring at me with a gaping mouth and huge eyes.

"Did you just slap me with a sausage?" He asked almost hysterically, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Did you just compare me to Rose motherfucking Tyler?"

"I-I..." He stuttered. "I didn't mean to!"

"Maybe that crap slid with your last companion but not with me buddy!" I waved the sausage around for emphasis. "I definitely am no Rose Tyler, do I look blonde?"

"Well, she's more than just blonde but—" He started only to get cut off by me hitting the sausage against his cheek again. "AH! Stop doing that!"

"Fuck around and find out! I am not your ex-girlfriend or whatever and I'm certainly not afraid to hit you with a sausage when the time calls for it!" I proclaimed, whipping the sausage left and right.

The Doctor scoffed almost bemused. "First of all—she's not an ex and second of all, I can definitely see that..." He brought a finger up, poking me between my eyes. I growled, attempting to hit him with the sausage again but he dodged it. "You're PJ... the crazy space lady who hits people in the face with sausage!"

"Yes, I am!"

The colors bled together until they reformed into something quieter. He was slumped against the TARDIS console, his hand pressed to his side, blood leaking through his fingers. I was kneeling beside him, my hands steady as I tried to stop the bleeding.

"Stay still," I heard myself say, my voice firm.

"You're good at this," He whispered, his voice weak but filled with something that made my chest ache. "Have we done this before? In my future... that is..."

"Not divulging spoilers, Space Lord," I muttered, focusing on my work. "And kinda, well, it was more like the opposite..." My voice cracked with a soft laugh. "I barely knew you, but you were so mad and I couldn't understand why... didn't get why you cared so much, but now I do..."

"Guess I have that to look forward to then...." He murmured, and when I glanced up, his eyes were on me—not in pain, not in fear, but in something soft and unspoken. "And it's a bit different, I regenerate, I don't die... you don't regenerate, you can die..." He coughed. "I hate when you get hurt."

The other me rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, details, details. The important thing is that it's not time for me to re-greet Eleven, so we need to heal you before your body decides to regenerate itself..."

The Doctor puffed. "What's wrong with my eleventh regeneration? It's still me, you know... just a different face... more personality quirks I assume..."

"A much different face, and plenty more odd quirks," I snorted but looked at him playfully as he scoffed offendedly. "Still handsome though, weirdly so... it's just not time for me to be back with him—you—number eleven—you—yet..."

The scene shifted again, spinning, pulling me into a moment I didn't recognize but felt deeply. We were in the TARDIS, the room dimly lit, the air charged with something I couldn't name. He was standing so close, his eyes fixed on mine, and I felt frozen like the universe had narrowed down to this single point.

It was still ten—Doctor number ten.

"And what are you going to do about it?" I scoffed, eyes burning with ferocity.

"You want to know what I'm going to do about it?" His voice was equally as strong, as his own eyes burned with fire.

"Bring it on, Space Lord."

He didn't answer with words. Instead, to my surprise, he leaned in, his hands rough and deliberate as they cupped my face. And then he kissed me, and it felt like the entire universe held its breath. It was not a gentle kiss, it was rough, it was something of fire... and there was a lot of tongue.

Jesus Christ.

The kiss faded into starlight, and suddenly we were sitting in the open doors of the TARDIS, our legs dangling as we looked out at an endless sea of stars.

My head rested on his shoulder, and his hand found mine, our fingers intertwining as though they'd always fit together.

"I hate you..." I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No, you don't..." He echoed, his voice carrying a peace I didn't think was possible. "You hate that you love me... and I feel the same way..."

I felt it then, something deeper than words or thoughts—a connection, a bond that felt like it had always been there, like it was carved into the fabric of the universe itself.

But then the dream began to unravel, the stars dissolving into golden light, the images spinning and fading until I was left adrift in the void.

But then I was somewhere else, somewhere familiar but not. It was the console room of the TARDIS, but it looked different. Warmer—softer almost. Not quite as sleek as the one I had come to know.

I gasped as the TARDIS doors suddenly flew open and the trench-coat-wearing Doctor stumbled in. He was hurt, but this time, there was no one with him.

He was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

His was was pained, and somehow, it pained me to know that he was alone. Where the hell was the other version of me that had been with him?

"This song is ending..." An unfamiliar voice rippled from all around, coming from nowhere and yet heard everywhere. "But the story never ends..."

I whirled around in panic... desperately hoping that the idiot tenth TimeLord had someone—anyone—with him. But he didn't... he was alone.

I turned back to face him with worry.

The tenth Doctor ripped his trench coat off, stumbling toward the console controls. He flipped a lever causing the TARDIS to tremor. He'd taken it into space.

The Doctor brought his right hand up to his face, frowning at the sight of the immense golden energy beginning to consume him.

He was regenerating...

I gasped, unable to stop myself from running till I was standing by his side. But he did not see me, my form ghosted through him.

"Doctor!" I said loudly, hoping he would turn to face me.

But he did not—he could not hear nor see me.

He looked pained though, and his eyes were filling with unshed tears. He breathed out deeply, clutching his chest as he looked around the console room, eyes seemingly memorizing every detail of it.

A hand came to cover my mouth, my own eyes glistening as I took in the sight. Even I was not immune to the sadness in the air.

He closed his eyes finally, releasing one breath that carried a string of words. A single sentence that had me nearly screaming.

"Her... I want to see her..." He said softly, with a sad smile. "My wayward girl... my PJ..."

"I am right here!" I screamed furiously. "Look at me!"

The TARDIS console room flickered around me, golden light spilling from his body like a storm barely contained. I screamed his name again, louder this time, my voice raw with desperation.

"DOCTOR!"

And then, impossibly, he paused. His eyes—so full of sadness and resignation—shifted, scanning the room like he'd heard something through the chaos.

"Her..." He whispered with more force, and his voice cracked under the weight of emotion. "I want to see her..."

My heart stopped as his gaze found mine. For a moment, I thought it was impossible—he couldn't actually see me, could he? But then his lips moved again, forming a name. My name.

"PJ..."

I surged forward, no longer caring if this was a dream or a trick of the mind. Somehow, impossibly, he saw me. And I saw him—the raw pain, the weariness, the reluctant acceptance of what was to come.

"Doctor..." My voice softened as I reached out. My hand trembled as it passed through the golden light radiating from him, and for the first time, I felt it—the energy of regeneration, a storm of power and renewal.

He reached for me too, his hands coming up to cup my face. His palms were warm, tingling with the energy coursing through him, but the touch was grounding, achingly real. My hands mirrored his, finding his cheeks as I leaned forward until our foreheads rested together.

Neither of us said anything for a moment. There were no words to bridge this impossible, fleeting connection across time and space. I could feel everything—the weight of his sorrow, the bittersweet joy of his memories, and the wild, eager energy of something—someone—new stirring within him.

Eleven.

He was waiting in the wings, waiting to burst out and take control. He was excited, a new part of the Doctor.

"Sleep in peace, precious number ten," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the TARDIS.

I leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighed, the tension in his body easing slightly, though the light grew brighter around us.

Around him.

"I don't want to go..." He cried out, his voice breaking.

With that, the golden light flared, engulfing him entirely. His hands lingered on my face, just for a moment, and then he was gone—and I was gone too.

The connection snapped, and I gasped, my eyes opening and chest heaving as though I'd run a marathon.

It was just a dream. But it didn't feel like one—it didn't even feel like mine.

The dreams, the confusing tangle of dreams were already slipping to the edges of my mind as I tried to grasp mere threads of what it had been about. But without the sleepy haze, and the new feeling of reality setting in, I was already moving forward.

Writing it off as another oddity.

It felt like I was waking up after a night of drinking too much, but the water around me and the comfortable warmth it provided was a reminder of where the hell I was and what had happened.

The infirmary had dim lighting now—not as bright as it was earlier.

The Doctor was sleeping in a chair he had pulled up next to the tub. I was surprised he was still here.

He was wearing a disturbed expression, his head moving from left to right as he muttered in his sleep. He sounded anything but peaceful... was he having a nightmare?

Looking down to the waters, I brought up a hand. My skin was a bit wrinkly from seemingly being in the water for a while, but it was completely healed. Nothing hurt other than the slight headache I had.

I lifted my leg, the appendage bursting from the water and revealing smooth tan skin. Not a blemish in sight, entirely healed.

I suddenly remembered the Doctor breathing regeneration energy onto me right before I fell unconscious. My lips turned into a frown. Not that I knew a lot about TimeLord biology, but I am vaguely certain they aren't supposed to use regeneration energy like that—it's wasteful and it makes regeneration harder.

It also makes them more susceptible when they do get injured. As a TimeLord, the Doctor can withstand a lot without dying and being forced to regenerate, but he is more vulnerable when he uses his regeneration energy.

Why would he use such energy on me? Especially knowing that I was already in a bathtub of healing properties... based on the composition of the waters, without his use of regeneration on me, it should've healed me within a few days.

However, I suspected I had only been out for a few hours.

Turning my attention back to the TimeLord, I took in his disturbed expression. Why had he done that? What was he thinking about?

As though sensing me looking at him, his eyes suddenly snapped open and he flew upward with a loud yell. I screamed back in surprise, sinking deeper into the water.

We met each other's eyes and both of us let out a short yell.

"Why are you screaming? Are you still hurt?" The Doctor panicked, looking me over.

"What? No! I'm screaming because you're screaming... wait, why are you yelling?" I looked him over. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't know, can I not yell?" He huffed with a pout. "Of course, I'm not hurt! I'm never hurt!"

"I feel like you're lying..." My hands had come up and clutched the sides of the tub. "You've obviously been mortally wounded eleven times otherwise you'd still be on regeneration one..."

He scowled, putting his hands on his hips. "Oi! Enough from the peanut gallery then!" He made a yapping motion with his hand and rolled his eyes while tilting his head side-to-side mockingly. My mouth opened in offense.

"Why—! I cannot believe—!" My nagging was cut off by him suddenly leaning down uncomfortably close to my face.

"Anyway! How are you feeling? All better then, I suppose?" He was looking me over before he brought a hand up and ran it through my hair. "I went the extra length of washing your hair for you while you were resting—very silky hair you have, dear!"

I rolled my eyes but did not much care. If anything I was a bit grateful that I didn't need to wash my hair. It was obvious the Doctor was more than a bit blind to nudity, as was I. With all the cultures and places around the universe, there were some places where people just walked around bare-ass and no one thought anything of it.

"You're so weird..." I rolled my eyes, bringing a hand out of the water and shoving his face away from mine.

He pouted and rubbed his cheek as though I'd smacked him. "You're weirder..." He stuck his tongue out immaturely.

I scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. Was this guy 900-something-years-old or 9?

"Where's Amy?" I changed the subject, leaning back in the water in relaxation.

The Doctor cringed. "Uhm, she had to lay down and rest after all that..." He shook his head, rubbing his hands together before he scowled at me. "You traumatized the poor girl!"

"As if your face doesn't do that to her every time she sees you?"

"Oi!"

I shrugged but was unable to fight off the amused snicker leaving my mouth.

"It's not funny, PJ!" The Doctor huffed. "I was serious, you throwing yourself head-first into danger... almost dying... it's not a joke! It's, quite frankly, terrifying to me too!"

I quirked a brow. "Aren't you fearless, Space Lord?"

The Doctor gave me a dark look. "Trust me when I say that I am anything but fearless..."

"Brave Space Lord," I clicked my tongue, grabbing the sides of the tub and hoisting myself to a standing position.

The water dripped off my toned body and made me look all shiny. I looked down admiring myself.

"All shiny and new then!" I clapped with a smile, frowning at the neat patch of hair.

Oh well, at least it wasn't a jungle down there. That would've actually been embarrassing.

"How long has it been?" I asked without paying attention, finally turning my attention away from my nether region and back to the Doctor.

He once again looked pained, but a different kind of pain this time. Not like he was in pain, but rather he was suffering—metaphorically. I bit the inside of my lip in amusement as the Doctor breathed deeply and desperately worked to keep his gaze focused on my face.

Not as unaffected by nudity as I had assumed.

Or maybe... he was just affected by me... when I am not burned and battered and actively having a medical emergency that is.

Nah.

I waved off the more than conceited thought.

The Doctor may not be affected by nudity, but surely, there were a few people who managed to elicit a response out of him. I just seemed to be one of them.

He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to turn his head to the side.

"Uh-uhm..." He stuttered, bringing his wristwatch to his face and looking at it more than intensely. "Two-ish hours..."

I hummed. "You know, you really shouldn't be using your regeneration energy on me... it's a waste... especially given I was bound to heal with this fancy futuristic bath you put me in..."

The Doctor looked back at me. His face was slowly turning red.

"It's never a waste..." He breathed, and this time, he allowed his gaze to slide over my entire body.

However, rather than checking me out (which he was undoubtedly doing just slightly) he was confirming that all the injuries were gone. It was the way that his gaze froze on two specific parts of my body momentarily and he appeared to stop working that finally had me rolling my eyes.

Lifting a leg from the tub, I was quick to get out of it.

The Doctor coughed, breaking himself out of his trance, and floundered about for a moment before he retrieved a towel from one of the cupboards.

"Thanks..." I smiled while taking it from his hands and immediately setting to work in drying my hair first.

I strutted by him, purposely rubbing myself against him as I went. He stopped breathing for a moment, staring down at me.

The Doctor then proceeded to mutter something in what I believe to be Gallifreyan.

"What was that?" I asked loudly, not bothering to turn around to face him as I finished drying my hair so that it was just damp rather than soaked.

"Nothing of importance..." He said right back as I secured the towel over my body and turned back around.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head as he rubbed his chin.

"I'm in the mood for breakfast..." I said. "I am sooo hungry..." I drawled. "And french toast sounds really good or no—bacon—no, NO, WAIT!" I started pacing, unable to stop thinking about food. I hadn't ate in five days. "What about pancakes? Pancakes and french toast?!" I gasped. "Or, or, OR... pancakes, french toast, and hash browns?! Or, what about—" My rambling which was turning frantic was cut off as the Doctor grabbed me by my shoulders and tilted my head up to face him.

He was staring at me with amusement, but there was worry underneath.

"Breakfast it is, my dear! You can get all of that—I'm quite peaky myself—could do with some good ole' pancakes..." He smiled, bopping me on my nose. "And I know just the place to take you..."

I sighed in relief, nodding my head. Leaning forward, I rested my head on the Doctor's shoulder briefly.

"Oh, thank you high and mighty, Space Lord number eleven...." I breathed into his chest.

The way his body tensed and he held onto me slightly tighter was amusing.

"Yeah, yeah, just go put some clothes on..." He said back in a tight voice, pushing me away slightly, and though it was gentle, it seemed that it took him all the effort in the universe to do so.

"Aye, aye..." I saluted him before scurrying off.

As I left, I heard the Doctor mutter yet another Gallifreyan curse.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

"Where is Ms. Pond then?" I questioned while bouncing into the console room.

Amy was still nowhere to be found.

The Doctor had cleaned himself up, no longer covered in my blood. He had been boredly leaning against the console, examining a random trinket in his grasp. His eyes lit up as I rounded the corner and came into the room, the man literally throwing whatever the trinket was behind him.

It hit the wall with a clatter, but he did not seem to care.

"Sleeping off the stress—I checked in on her and found her fast asleep. She'll probably be out for another few hours at least!" He explained, pressing a button before pumping a lever on the console a few times. "Also, we are going to breakfast, dear, is the blaster really necessary?"

I crossed my arms and stared at him sassily.

The clothing I adorned was similar to that of what I wore when the Doctor took us to the 40s. Some black cargo pants, a long-sleeve t-shirt, the same loose patchy flight jacket, and some space boots.

The space boots—bless them—had multiple settings, one of which allowed me to skate through the air AKA fly.

Pretty awesome, and I severely prayed that we ran into a situation that called for me start flying around.

Oh yeah, also a blaster gun was strapped to my thigh... a knife was hidden in the boot.

"Ah—you're right..." I nodded, taking the blaster off my thigh and hiding it in my jacket. "They might not let us in if they see that!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, leaning against the console and staring at me almost flirtatiously. Well, kind of, it was that and a cross between exasperation.

"Naughty girl..." He clicked his tongue.

"The naughtiest..." I mocked back in a high-pitched horrible British accent.

"Just don't shoot anyone..." He shook his head with a sigh before giving me a suspicious glance. His eyes lingered on the space boots. "Or stab anyone with the knife you're undoubtedly hiding in your boot..." How did he know?! The Doctor then turned to flip one last lever and the sound of the TARDIS materializing somewhere sounded about with a shake. "...Please..."

"Wouldn't dream of it..." I hummed before racing toward the doors. "So where'd you take us?" I eagerly asked, grabbing the handles about to rip them open.

"WAIT!" The Doctor shouted so loudly that it made me jump and freeze in place. He was quick to run next to me, lightly pushing me out of the way. "I like to open the doors."

"Are you kidding me—?"

He ignored me, shoving the doors open and stepping outside while motioning around hugely.

"I present to you—the greatest breakfast eatery in all of time and space... in my opinion, at least..." He added the last part quietly. "This is UHOW!"

"UHOW?" I looked at him, for once not familiar with the name or establishment.

It was a bright gold, almost reminiscent of a good ole' Mickey D... that's short for McDonald's for those not personally intertwined with Earthian fast-food establishments. I might have a bit too personal of a relationship with fast-food places.

Although, in universe D-896 where the Space Jam is not only known but rather popular, the McDonald's franchise did have a month or two where they were serving a miniature toy figurine of me with all the Happy Meals.

Me!

A mini Polaris Jade all suited and booted to go with every Happy Meal sold!

It was pretty awesome, definitely one of my most impressive feats!

The Doctor might be the last TimeLord and has saved the Earth a thousand times or whatever, but I don't see him with his own Happy Meal figurine. Loser.

However, back to the point, the place in front of us was more of a royal gold than a happy yellow.

We were on some asteroid, and the Doctor had parked the TARDIS in a small lot with a few other spaceships.

Based on most of the models of all the spaceships around, we must be in the Drogodone System near the edge of the Milky Way. Probably sometime in the late 90s.

"Yes, UHOW!" The Doctor motioned to it. "Only home to the greatest waffles in existence. Especially during this year. Everything was amazing in '99, I swear..."

We both stepped outside of the TARDIS, the doors closing behind us. While I wasn't as tall as Amy or the Doctor, and not necessarily considered tall by Earth standards, I also am not short.

Just kinda average, but the muscle and full figure I adorned helped in making me appear strong. While the top of my head just barely scraped the Doctor's eye level, I wasn't as annoyed by the height difference anymore.

I admired the building on an asteroid. The stars around were beautiful—this part of the Milky Way had some of the brightest stars visible.

My hand reached for the top of my head, intending to draw the goggles down and over my eyes to examine the beautiful starry sky closer.

My grasp was met with only loose waves—I cursed realizing I forgot to put the goggles on.

Shaking it off, I settled for admiring with my naked gaze alone.

"You can say that again..." I snorted, both the Doctor and I staring at the stars.

He was right—1999 fucking ruled. It's like one of my favorite time periods to visit... in almost every universe for that matter. Second only to the year 9999, the actual '99.

We both sighed at the same time, reminiscent.

"Ah, '99..." We both muttered at the same time, our voices intertwining.

I turned to look at him only to see him do the same. While I looked annoyed at the accidental jinx, he appeared ever-so-happy.

"Never do that again..." I narrowed my eyes at him.

He shrugged. "Wasn't on purpose, deary... now come along! I thought you were hungry!" He bopped me on the nose.

"Oh!" I cried furiously, trying to hit his hand away but he had already started bouncing toward the front doors.

A small smile spread over my face against my will. Wiping it away, I trotted after him, easily able to keep up despite his longer strides. We made it to the doors, the Doctor pulling it open and motioning me inside.

"After you..." He said politely.

I walked in curiously, taking in everything around. Everything was decorated in the same gold as outside with whites, although it looked familiar. Tilting my head, I tried to put my finger on what this place looked like.

"How many?" A host suddenly flickering to life in front of me.

A hologram. No gender, simply the outline of a humanoid.

"Two, please..." I said while holding up two with my fingers.

"Right this way!" The hologram nodded—floating toward the side of the restaurant.

The hologram sounded British, but I knew it wasn't. It wasn't even speaking English, it was just the TARDIS getting into my head.

"Why do you have the default accent for the TARDIS translation system set to British for everywhere?" I asked the Doctor.

He walked next to me, both of us nodding in thanks to the hologram as we sat at a booth right next to a window. The sight was gorgeous—stars upon stars upon stars amid the inky blackness.

The hologram flickered out of existence.

The Doctor grinned. "Because I LOVE the British accent!"

I snickered. "Yeah, and you love British humans. Isn't that like pretty much every single one of your companions? British women from Earth?"

He looks almost embarrassed, holding up a single digit. "Okay, listen, I haven't only had British women as companions..."

"Oh yeah, I guess I am sorta a companion... so you changed it by adding an American woman to your mix... congrats..." I snarked, leaning back against the comfortable chair.

The truth was he had a companion that was only half-human. Half human but completely foreign to this universe.

But the Doctor didn't know that.

And he wouldn't for a long while. At least I hope.

He floundered. "No! No—you are not the only one. I had an American man travel with me once! And then there was a Silurian... and a Sontarian... and many others, I assure you!"

"Uh-huh..." I clicked my tongue, licking my lips.

"Oi, I don't owe you any explanation, you're just an inter!" I cut the ancient man-child's embarrassed complaining off.

"Why does this place remind me of something?" I asked while turning every which way. "It's on the tip of my tongue..."

"IHOP?" The Doctor questioned with a grin, playing with what appeared to be a salt-shaker with a questionable seasoning inside.

"Yes!" I slammed my hands on the table before snapping toward him excitedly. "Yes! This looks like a golden version of IHOP! Why does it look like IHOP?" I asked him curiously.

I was surprised that I had never been nor heard of this place that apparently had the greatest waffles in existence.

The Doctor grinned right back, leaning forward so our faces were slightly closer. The dude loved lurking in others' personal space... but even I had to admit, it was slightly endearing.

"UHOW—short for Universal House of Waffles... established by the same people who made IHOP on Earth..." He explained to me.

"You are lying..." I laughed, my mouth hanging open before an even louder laugh escaped. "You are so lying, no way the people who made IHOP are fucking aliens?! I never would have guessed!" I laughed.

He chuckled, nodding his head. "I swear it!"

"What are they? Wait, no, let me guess..." I leaned back, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. "Zanthereon?"

He shook his head 'no' with a smile, leaning back in his own chair and crossing his arms.

"Alright, alright. Not Zanthereon. Hmm... Ood?"

"Seriously? You think the Ood would create a pancake empire?" He teased, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "I mean, they're pretty smart. Sometimes. And they've got those tentacle-mouth thingies—great for mixing batter!"

The Doctor burst out laughing, nearly knocking over the salt shaker in front of him. "Oh, PJ, you're brilliant. Completely wrong, but brilliant."

I pointed a finger at him. "Don't mock my process, Space Lord. Okay, not Ood. Umm... Slitheen?"

His face immediately scrunched in disgust. "Oh, absolutely not. Can you imagine Slitheen running a restaurant? All the food would smell of cabbage."

"And shit. Gross." I wrinkled my nose, but I couldn't help laughing. "Alright, last guess... Zygons?"

The Doctor leaned forward, steepling his fingers like a teacher waiting for a student to figure out a problem. "Interesting choice, but no."

"Okay, fine, I give up. Who created UHOW?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying his moment of superiority. "The Trolvexians."

I blinked at him. "Who the hell are the Trolvexians?"

"Brilliant businesspeople. Bit odd-looking—kinda like a cross between a hedgehog and a jellyfish—but absolute geniuses when it comes to food franchising. They're the ones who created IHOP on Earth, but when they realized how much humans loved breakfast food, they expanded across the universe. And voilà, UHOW was born!"

I stared at him, trying to process this. "So... the people who made the International House of Pancakes are secretly space hedgehog-jellyfish hybrids?"

"Precisely! They wear human skins—made from entirely vegan material, of course."

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped me. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I love it."

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Trolvexians are responsible for some of the greatest breakfast innovations in the universe, you know. Speaking of which..." He leaned forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Have you tried mashbrowns yet? I feel like you told me that I was the one to show you them."

"Mashbrowns?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, PJ, you're in for a treat. They're a delicacy—mashed potatoes, hash browns, pancake mix, and a bit of Shuvok root all fried together. Absolutely divine."

"Shuvok root?" I tilted my head. "What's that?"

"A Trolvexian vegetable. Looks like a cross between a carrot and a radish, but it tastes like a mix of garlic and onions—adds a bit of a kick to the mashbrowns," he explained, his hands gesturing excitedly as he spoke.

I leaned in, intrigued. "And it's fried?"

"Perfectly fried. Similar to your American funnel cake. Crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside. It's like a little piece of heaven on a plate," he said, his eyes practically sparkling.

I groaned dramatically, clutching my chest. "Doctor, you're killing me. I need these mashbrowns in my life. Right now."

He chuckled. "Patience, dearest. The hologram will be back any moment to take our order."

As if on cue, the hologram flickered back to life right next to me. I let out a yelp, nearly jumping out of my seat.

The Doctor cackled as I glared at him. "Oh, sure, laugh it up, Space Lord. One of these days, I'm gonna scare you."

"You do every day...." He said between chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye.

The hologram, unbothered by the chaos, simply asked, "Are you ready to order?"

I shot the Doctor a look. "Mashbrowns. Definitely mashbrowns. Oh, and the burboon waffles... with a side of egg whites, yerky bacon, let's throw in some pancakes..."

"An omelet as well—with extra ygon—we'll share..." The Doctor cut in.

I continued. "Does fernfruit sound good to you?" I asked, looking at the Doctor.

"Could go for a bit of fernfruit..." He nodded, looking at the hologram. "Some fernfruit please..."

"Some sausage as well please, four pieces if you will..." I ended, closing the menu I had hastily opened upon the hologram's appearance.

The Doctor grinned, piping one more thing. "And two Sonic Spritzers."

The hologram nodded and disappeared, leaving me to shake my head at the Doctor. "Sonic Spritzers, huh? Are you in an alcoholic mood?"

"Only for you," He said with a wink. "No—I just figured I might as well, it's one of the only alcohols the taste buds of this generation can stand..."

Sonic Spritzers were bubbly drinks that tasted almost like Sprite but better. They were apparently manufactured with stardust—lots of things in the cosmos were—stardust tasted amazing and it made people feel all bubbly and giddy on the inside.

It was quite literally an alcoholic beverage made from the stars. And it tasted like juice. I had mixed together many in my bartending day.

"Ah..." I clicked. "Well, let's see if these ones are made as well as I can make it..."

The Doctor was amused. "Very well... I suppose you are rather good with making drinks seeing as I do quite enjoy the concoctions you have made for me over our time together..."

"I made you drinks?" I quirked a brow.

"Spoilers," The Doctor made a lock and zip motion with his mouth.

"sPoiLeRS..." I mocked and stuck my tongue out at him.

He mocked me back, making a nagging motion with his hand. I rolled my before leaning forward, my hands resting on the table.

"So..." I tittered.

"So?" The Doctor parroted.

"I am going to ask you the most important question of the century—of your life—Space Lord..." I tilted my head, looking at him through my lashes.

The Doctor was eager, leaning forward, his big green eyes growing even wider. He was buzzing with curiosity.

"I'm listening..." His voice was surprisingly quiet.

"This will make or break the small respect I hold for you..." I sniffed while he furrowed his brows in offense. "Who is your favorite musical artist?" I paused. "Of all time?"

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲
𝐮𝐡𝐨𝐰

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

The Doctor tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically, staring out the window as if the answer to my question was written in the stars.

"Favorite musician, you say? Oh, that's a tricky one! So many brilliant minds, so many incredible sounds across the universe. Where do I even begin?"

I smirked, leaning my chin on my hand. "You could begin by, you know, answering the question. No pressure." I dramatically paused. "Other than losing the already small respect I have for you, of course..."

That was a lie—I respected the Doctor far more than I cared to admit. More than most, at least.

He straightened up, his eyes sparkling like he'd been handed the most important task in the universe. "Alright, let's see. There's the Vrenlox Choir from the Andromeda Nebula—absolutely ethereal, though they can only perform once every hundred years because they literally have to sing their own molecules apart and reform afterward." He paused. "Bit melodramatic for my taste, actually. Not a regular listen."

I'd heard the Vrenlox Choir once or twice. Not my cup of tea.

I snorted. "Drama king like you has limits? Color me surprised."

"Oi! I am not a drama king." He waved a finger at me, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him. The Doctor was definitely a drama king. Not that I could judge seeing as I am a drama queen myself. "Anyway, moving on. There's Flarx and the Quasar Quartet—brilliant little space rock band. They play instruments made from collapsed stars! But their concerts are a bit... destructive. Lost a moon once. Had to save another one from them. A real shame."

"That sounds like a logistical nightmare."

"Tell me about it," He muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But Earth? Oh, Earth has so many fantastic artists. The Beatles—timeless. Ella Fitzgerald—her voice could make the Daleks weep, I'm sure of it. And don't get me started on Queen. Freddie Mercury, now there's a legend. Don't Stop Me Now? Feels like my personal anthem some days!"

I grinned. "All solid choices, but still dodging the question, Doctor."

He sighed, looking at me with mock exasperation. "Fine, fine. If I absolutely have to pick... it's a tie."

"A tie?"

"Yup. Between David Bowie and The Who."

I raised an eyebrow. "David Bowie I get, but The Who? Little on the nose, don't you think?"

He beamed. "Exactly why they're brilliant! Naming your band after a question? That's genius! Also, have you heard their music? They were practically writing my theme tune before they even knew I existed. Who are you? Who, who, who, who?" He sang the last bit with a dramatic flair, making me laugh.

"Alright, valid. But I've gotta ask—no Gallifreyan music on the list? Shouldn't you be repping the home planet?"

He shrugged, so casually that it actually caught me off guard. "Eh, it's alright. It was definitely never one of my favorite parts of my planet or TimeLord culture, in general."

I snorted, leaning back in my seat. "Seriously? You're so dismissive of your own lost culture's music? You'll need to show me."

"Oh, I did," He said, grinning like he knew something I didn't. "Or I will. My past self will show your future self some melodies, and you'll agree with me. It's alright... not bad... just kind of meh. Average, really."

"Average?" I repeated, laughing. "Gallifreyan music? The product of a race that mastered time and space? The race that you came from... average? Never thought I would hear the two words in the same sentence, Doctor."

"Don't look so shocked." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "We had priorities, PJ. Music wasn't one of them. Functional, not exactly inspirational."

In my time here, I had never been to Gallifrey. Never stepped a toe anywhere near where I knew it to be frozen in a pocket universe (oops, spoilers)—it was frozen, hidden similar to the way the force of my powers were hidden.

Gallifrey was too big of a risk—too powerful even to observe, let alone for me to try meddling with it without notice. For the sake of obscurity, it was better to avoid that place in all manners.

Except for the part where I was traveling with the last and arguably most powerful TimeLord in existence.

It'll be fine. Probably.

Before I could fire back, maybe even ask more questions about Gallifrey, the table shimmered with a soft hum, and suddenly plates of food materialized in front of us.

I jumped in my seat, half-startled, half-impressed.

"What the—?"

"Kitchen teleportation system," The Doctor explained nonchalantly, picking up his fork. "Fancy, isn't it? Cuts down on wait times."

But I barely heard him. My eyes were locked on the steaming plate before me. There it was—the legendary mashbrowns. A golden-brown masterpiece, smelling like heaven itself had taken a frying pan to perfection.

"Oh my God." My voice came out a little breathy, but I didn't care. "Doctor, this smells like... I don't even know what. Happiness? Stardust? The meaning of life?"

"Told you," He said, taking a smug bite of his own. "Ah, reunited with my one true love. Mashbrowns. A culinary marvel—mashed potatoes, hash browns, pancake batter, and a dash of Flarxian xelva spice."

I picked up my fork, practically salivating. "Xelva spice? Love it already, can't believe I never tried it!"

The thing is: every universe is huge.

Every universe is huge and immense with its own billions of cultures and peoples and possibilities and time and space and everything in between.

It was impossible to see or know it all, no matter who you were. Even the Arbiters, as omnipotent as they were, didn't know everything.

While I may be far older than any human, I was still only 393. Which, in the terms of the cosmos, was young.

Hell, even the Doctor was young in the eyes of eternity, and he was double my age!

With that, I'd also only been in this universe for less than 80 years. While I had done much and been to many places, I still had barely even scratched the surface of things to do and places to go.

Just as I was about to take my first bite, the Doctor watching with a mix of amusement and satisfaction—the hologram flickered back to life at the side of our table.

"How are your meals?" It asked cheerily, making me yelp and nearly drop my fork.

The Doctor burst out laughing, practically choking on his food.

I glared at the hologram. "Fantastic," I muttered. "And terrifyingly punctual, apparently."

"As the humans say, 'holla!', if you need assistance..." The hologram told us.

The hologram disappeared, and I rolled my eyes, picking up my fork again. "These mashbrowns better be worth the near heart attack."

"Oh, trust me, they are," the Doctor said between bites, practically humming in satisfaction.

I took a mouthful and let out an involuntary moan, savoring the crispy, fluffy, slightly spicy perfection. "Oh my god... Doctor, this is... this is better than... I don't even have words."

The Doctor grinned, pointing at me with his fork. "See? I told you! Best culinary creation in the universe. Don't say I never take you anywhere nice."

I waved my fork at him. "Fine I'll give credit where it's due, this time you nailed it. An intergalactic IHOP and mashbrowns? You've outdone yourself, TimeLord. Way better than Churchill's Dalek-invested war room or Victorian motherfucking England."

"Language." He lightly warned. But flattery will get you everywhere, darling..." He quipped before taking another bite. "Now I've got a question for you."

"Oh no," I teased, grinning as I scooped up another forkful. "Better be a good question..."

"Who's your favorite musical artist?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, chewing thoughtfully. After swallowing, I smirked. "Wait, my future self never told you?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "Oh, loads of times. But your answer changes every time."

"Well, yeah," I said with a shrug, waving my fork. "We're constantly moving forward and changing, Doctor. Surely your music tastes changes every now and then. Especially with every regeneration?"

He tilted his head, considering it. "Fair point. Although I do believe your taste changes far more than every now and then..."

"My favorite artist changes..." I paused dramatically, tapping my chin. "Oh, I don't know, I'd say about—"

"Weekly?" He guessed, cutting me off with a grin.

I pointed my fork at him with mock offense. "Rude, but accurate." I jabbed it into another piece of mashbrown and chewed with a thoughtful expression. After swallowing, I declared, "This week it's 50 Cent."

The Doctor gaped, nearly choking on his food. "50 Cent? I both love and hate you for that answer. Although, I do like him a lot—actually went to a party with him once. Back then I was all leather jackets and big ears... I was a bit rough around the edges..."

I smirked. "He's a lyrical genius."

"Of course he is," The Doctor waved with a nod before staring at me curiously. Almost knowingly. "But no Sabrina Carpenter, then?"

I jabbed my fork at him again. "Hey—Sabrina Carpenter always. I would lay down my life for that woman."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, of course, my mistake."

"Damn right," I replied, popping another piece of mashbrown into my mouth. "And don't you forget it. Don't forget that you owe me a trip to her concert still either..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, dearest..." The Doctor quipped back. "Alright give me another favorite artist of yours, someone before '95..."

"Which '95?"

"1995..." The Doctor clarified, taking a bite of our shared omelet. "Try this..." He immediately pushed it toward me after taking a second bite.

I brought my fork into it, taking a piece before bringing it to my mouth. "Okay..." I said between bites. "Oh wow, this is good. This is really good..." I moaned.

The Doctor waggled his brows. "Told you..."

"Mmm, I'm thinking ACDC... or Cher! I love me some Cher!"

"Oh yeah, I know all about that one, there was one week that you—" He had to stop, snorting with laughter before he continued. "—You had gotten so... I don't even know... drunk? High too, maybe? Whatever it was, I couldn't be sure, it happened when I taking my weekly rest... and then the TARDIS just started going crazy... woke me up!" The Doctor was laughing hard, and I was confused and slightly disturbed by this story of something that I was apparently going to do. "And so I stumble out of my room, the TARDIS leads me to our karaoke room, and you know what I find?"

"What?" I asked meekly; I was not sure I wanted to know.

"YOU!" He roared, heaving. "You were naked! Completely naked with these beaded gems and tinsel in your hair, a microphone in your grasp, spinning around and singing some Cher song! There were about three empty bottles of wine from Raveron 9 and I won't lie, I thought I was dreaming! Maybe even hallucinating when I found you!"

I stopped his story by throwing a piece of food at him. "Hey! I thought you weren't supposed to tell me about the future! Let alone embarrassing stories like that! Now this needs to happen otherwise I risk causing a paradox!"

Paradoxes weren't impossible to fix but they were annoying to deal with. They didn't always happen when the past was rewritten—but in this case, seeing as it happens in the TARDIS and the Doctor just told me about it; now it needs to occur otherwise risk a paradox.

Although, given the circumstances, it'd probably be a pretty ridiculous paradox.

"I know!" He howled, finally starting to calm down. "That's why I told you the story!"

"You dick!" I cursed, throwing yet another piece of food his way. "You absolute dick! I thought you were supposed to be a kind TimeLord!"

"I am kind..." He sighed, a big smile on his face as he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. "Kind enough that I more than took care of you for the rest of that night. Held your hair back while you vomited, cleaned you up, put you in some jammies, and cuddled you to sleep as you drunkenly cried to me about how upset you were that I hadn't noticed your—" He cut himself off at the end, a thoughtful smile on his face.

There was a sort of peace in his eye. A kind of peace that someone gets when looking back at a lovingly fond memory.

"Noticed what? What were you going to say?" I huffed, frantically questioning him.

The Doctor snapped out of it, looking to me amusedly. "Spoilers... I really shouldn't say anymore..."

"You shouldn't have said anything at all! Of all the things to spoil, that was the story you chose? And you're not even going to finish it?!"

He snickered almost meanly, well as mean as Eleven possibly could snicker. Which really wasn't mean at all.

"Nope..." He grinned, taking another large bite of one of our many items of food. He washed it down with the Spritzer. "Ah—made perfectly... try yours..."

Fuck this guy.

Although, upon taking a drink of the sonic spritzer, my eyes lit up. This was made pretty good.

After another few minutes of stuffing ourselves, chatting away—the conversation somehow shifted to both our political opinions and ideas for the solar system 55 Cancri in the year 7645.

Imagine a situation similar to what happened in America in 2016 when it was Donald Trump vs. Hillary Clinton. Now, envision Trump and Hillary about seven feet tall, green, and candidates to be president of an entire star system that is female-dominated. Also, envision the outcome of the election causing the system to implement an entire week every seven months where violent murder becomes legal.

That is 55 Cancri during 7645.

The Doctor paid for our food and we left with smiles, full bellies, and an intense conversation about whether the Doctor should step in and fix 55 Cancri for the better or not.

It was not a fixed point in time, so there was not really a chance of a paradox being caused if the Doctor decided to rewrite its history a bit.

"I just feel like you should allow me to build a bomb, we can deliver it to the doorstep of the up-side and boom! All their problems solved; Ron-YONG no longer has no opponent and therefore becomes president of 55 Cancri in 7045!" I explained as we walked out of UHOW.

The Doctor, bless his soul, looked appalled. He proceeded to spin around, tweed jacket flapping and he flicked me on the forehead.

"Bad, very bad, PJ... we don't deliver bombs! That is not what the TARDIS is used for!" He scolded lightly, crying as I swatted his hand.

I opened my mouth, prepared to argue my point further before a piercing ringing sounded about the area. Only a few various beings were around, mostly milling near their ships.

Both the Doctor and I snapped our heads to the TARDIS at the same time. The Doctor had not parked her far from the UHOW entrance.

"Is that?" I started, my voice tinged with confusion. "Is your TARDIS ringing?"

The ringing, which sounded eerily similar to a phone, was coming from the TARDIS.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and looked at me as though I was the ridiculous one.

"Of course she is! Come on then!" He grabbed my arm, dragging me behind him as we approached the outside of the TARDIS.

We kicked up rocks and asteroid dust as we walked back toward the Doctor's home. And my home for the next small while.

My eyebrows knitted together. "Well, excuse me... most spaceships don't have an Earth landline attached to its outside... nor have I seen any other wooden spaceship..."

"Oi! I can guarantee that you've never seen any other spaceship that can travel not only the galaxy but through time and occasionally into other dimensions...!" Well, I did need to give him that one. "And it's not wooden—she's only disguised! Every time the TARDIS materializes in a new location, within the first nanosecond, it analyzes its surroundings, calculates a 12-dimensional data map of everything in a thousand-mile radius, and deciphers which outer shell would best blend in with the environment!" He sounded both impressed and excited as he explained it all with a smile so bright it made me squint.

I chose to pipe up.

"...As a police telephone box from London in 1963?" I finished for him with an amused smile as we stopped at the TARDIS doors. "No matter where we are?"

The ringing continued, persistently.

The Doctor cringed. "Uhm, yeah, I've been meaning to check that out..."

He confirmed what I had long since suspected: the TARDIS cloaking technology was indeed broken.

The part that the Doctor didn't mention but I could clearly see was that he had no clue how to fix that. I wasn't even sure if he'd choose to fix it if the opportunity presented itself.

"Really?" I asked with doubt heavy in my tone. "How long has it been doing that?"

He shrugged me off. "ANYWAY! TARDIS Telephone ringing!" He clapped his hands, opening the small area of the TARDIS that contained its outside landline. He grabbed the phone, bringing it to his ear. "Hullo—the TARDIS! This is the Doctor speaking!" He cheered, in an accent that was ever-so-British.

I leaned against the TARDIS, examining and picking at my nail.

"Uh-huh, yes, yes—of course!" The Doctor was nodding his head, eyes lighting up. "Interesting, yes, very interesting! Of course, I understand! Yes, yes, you can count on me! I have the perfect partner as well! We'll be there in seconds!" He abruptly hung up, slamming the phone back on the switch-hook of the landline.

He then harshly closed the phone portion of the TARDIS in excitement.

My eyebrows furrowed and I leaned away from the doctor who spun in an excited circle, not unlike a golden retriever.

"Down boy, what has you so excited?" I puffed.

He looked at me, green eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. I yelped as he grabbed my shoulders, leaning in close. His breath smelled like the mashbrowns and I had no doubt mine did as well.

"Mr. and Mrs. Claus are expected to show up at my dear friend Ivon Holliday's New Year's Eve party! Seeing as the actual Saint Nicholas and Mrs. Claus can't make it—I figure you and me are the second best option!" He explained, pulling open the door to the TARDIS and tugging me inside.

The console room was just as we left it, the lights lighting up brighter at our entrance. Amy was still nowhere to be found, still asleep no doubt.

"What are you even talking about? Santa isn't real!"

"Of course, he is! But, unfortunately, you won't be meeting him tonight... now c'mon, let's get changed!"

"Wait—DOCTOR!"

▂ ✵ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✵ ▂ ✶ ▂

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐯𝐚, 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚
𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞
𝟐𝟏𝟎𝟒

"Holy balls, it's fucking cold!" I grunted as we stepped out of the TARDIS.

The snow was coming down harshly, Russian winters were not for the weak. I still was not sure of exactly what was happening, nor why we were here as the Doctor sucked with his explanations.

"I told you not to wear the mini dress, dear! I mean what kind of Mrs. Claus shows off so much leg?" The Doctor pouted as he once again looked me over.

Key word: once again.

This dude was not sly in the slightest. Then again—while he may be a 900-something TimeLord. He was still a dude, a physically young man and still incredibly new in this regeneration.

I'm sure his hormones were just raging. Not that he'd ever admit to something like that. The Doctor was far too proper for such scandalous activities.

All the Doctor told me is that we are dressing up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus for some New Year's Eve party in 2104—soon to be 2105.

My creation for Mrs. Claus came in the form of a flowy red mini-dress with tall white heeled boots. My hair was pin-straight, half pull back with a tall bump in the center.

Pristine long and fluffy white gloves covered my hands.

The Doctor had helpfully informed me that the theme of this party was nostalgia AKA—themes from 2004. So I did my makeup like someone might've done in 2004. How a hot and young Mrs. Claus would've, at least.

In a nutshell: I look like the hot-hooker version of Mrs. Claus.

It left the Doctor gaping when I met him in the console room.

Now, the Doctor was more accurate in representation. He wore a great white beard and stuffed his Santa costume with fluff to give him a round belly. Not to mention, he was wearing circular glasses. Apparently Santa Claus was his favorite person to dress up as.

Who the fuck was going to believe we were the real Mr. and Mrs. Claus?

"You're not my dad..." I rolled my eyes, closing the TARDIS doors behind us.

"No, I am definitely not..." He shook his head, but there was an amused gleam in his eye. "Alright, this way, dearest!" The Doctor reached out, pulling me into his side.

I cuddled into him as far I could get to steal his warmth—the man was more than warm with his costume and the extra fluff he had within. The Doctor was more than happy to reciprocate as he pulled me tighter and continuously rubbed my arm to generate heat.

I found myself subconsciously leaning my head on his shoulder as we walked up toward a large house.

House was a stretch, this was definitely a mansion.

Music—music from the early 2000s—bumped loudly. People were scattered about the yard, most drunk: talking and dancing. I noticed right away that the majority of people were dressed up in costumes.

Not quite like Halloween as most were dressed like mythical creatures.

There were a number of people dressed in variations of Lord Valentine AKA Cupid or the Tooth Fairy... there were quite a few Easter Bunnies too.

Most of the girls dressed as the Easter Bunny were barely wearing clothing.

I did not hesitate in allowing my gaze to slide across those girls appreciatively. They were hot, okay!

The muscular men dressed as Cupid, wandering around shirtless with only loose pants were eye-candy too.

However, through it all, there was no one else dressed as Santa or Mrs. Claus. Like seriously, nobody.

Not many people were hanging out outside as the snow was falling and the cold was bitter. But those that were outside subtly pointed us out as we passed, their eyes lit up excitedly.

The second we walked up the large marble steps—the two security guards manning the front immediately opened the doors.

The security guard to the left reached for his right earpiece.

"The Claus' are on the premise. I repeat the Claus' have arrived..." He said sternly, though there was an undertone of excitement in his voice.

"Yes, we have..." The Doctor chuckled before grabbing his fake belly. "HOHOHO!"

"This is unreal..." I muttered as we passed through the threshold and were met with quite a chaotic party.

It was like 2004 met 2104—and everyone was going insane.

The inside of the mansion was absolute chaos. It was like stepping into a Pinterest board titled "2004 Party Goals" if said the board had been made by someone high off Speed with no budget constraints.

The first thing that hit me was the sheer size of the space—it was practically a palace. A massive chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, glittering like a thousand tiny stars. Neon lights pulsed in time with the early 2000s bangers blasting from an unseen sound system. My ears immediately caught the unmistakable sound of "Yeah!" by Usher, Lil Jon, and Ludacris.

"Shawty was all up on me screaming yeah, yeah, YEAH...!" I sang along as we walked.

It kinda made me want to throw my ass around. I decided not to mention to the Doctor that I wore no shorts under this mini Mrs. Claus dress—only a lacy black thong.

Oops.

People were everywhere. Dancing, laughing, drinking from glowing cups that. There was an open bar to my right, manned by a sparkly bartender who was flipping bottles like a Vegas performer. Behind it, shelves stacked with liquors of every color imaginable shimmered enticingly.

I barely had time to take it all in before a giant inflatable slide came into view at the far end of the room—complete with people in costume gleefully tumbling down it into a ball pit filled with what looked like glowing jellybeans. A glittery sign above it read: "2004 Nostalgia, Reimagined!"

The crowd itself was a mix of mythical creatures and iconic 2000s fashion disasters. A group of girls dressed as sexy fairies danced on a glowing platform while a guy in a full warlock costume waved glow sticks to the beat of the music. There was even someone dressed as Eve Hallow in a Juicy Couture tracksuit sipping champagne like it was still the peak of style.

The air smelled faintly of vanilla-scented candles, hot pretzels, and the sharp tang of snow still clinging to people's coats.

But what stood out most was the reaction to us.

Everywhere we went, heads turned. People nudged their friends, whispered excitedly, and even snapped pictures of us. I caught one guy in a Cupid outfit holding up his phone to take a selfie with us in the background.

Phones in 2105 were thin metallic pieces shaped as circles. Circles were in right now.

"Doctor..." I muttered under my breath, leaning closer to him. "What the actual hell is this?"

"Oh, it's just a bit of fun!" He replied, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "2104's finest throwback to the early 2000s! And seeing as Ivon Holliday is throwing it—all the people always dress as holiday creatures!"

"Finest?" I deadpanned, gesturing toward a pair of dudes in glittery angel wings who were arm-wrestling over a bucket of what appeared to be glowing cheese puffs. "So what? Ivon's original Santa and Mrs. Claus cosplayers canceled...? Holy crap those ghosts are actually getting it on in the middle of the dance floor..."

"Absolutely!" He chirped before looking to where I was pointing and cringing. He quickly turned away and covered my eyes. "AH! Don't look! People really need to stay doing that behind closed doors! I mean honestly, where is the decency?" He shook his head in disappointment, turning our attention elsewhere. "Oh! But look at that attention to detail! Oh, and they absolutely love us."

"Why do they love us?" I asked, scanning the room again. "And why are we literally the only Santa and Mrs. Claus here."

"That's the point!" He said, puffing out his fluffy belly proudly. "They have people come dressed as the Claus' every year. Symbol of celebration, goodwill, and all that! Only two people can be dressed as Santa and Mrs. Claus! This year, the cosplayers canceled so Ivon asked me to step in. Told me to bring a pretty woman on my arm, my own Mrs. Claus! And voila, here you are..." He bopped me on the nose playfully. "Pretty woman!"

I didn't react to his flirty compliment. He pouted when he didn't get a reaction.

"Yeah, okay..." I muttered, narrowing my eyes at a group of particularly excited fairies who were squealing at us from across the room. "But if this turns into some kind of weird ritual sacrifice, I'm out."

The Doctor just laughed, patting my arm reassuringly. "Relax! It's all in good fun. Now then..." He pulled me further into the party, his grin widening. "Let's go find some drinks, shall we? You've got to try the Nostalgia Nectar."

"Oh, great," I muttered, following him reluctantly. "If I get roofied by the Tooth Fairy, I'm holding you personally responsible."

The Doctor held onto me slightly tighter as we walked through, waving back at a few people who had waved at us.

"Ah! There's Ivon now! IVON!"

A name dressed up in a pink suit—hair wild and bright auburn suddenly stumbled into the Doctor causing him to me go. I crossed my arms, staring at the scene in confusion.

He was nearly as tall as the Doctor, more muscular though.

"Doctor! My good friend!" This man spoke drunkenly, with a thick Russian accent as he greeted the Doctor by kissing his cheeks.

The Doctor looked ever-so-happy to receive the affection, kissing the man's cheeks right back before pulling him into a tight quick hug.

"Ivon!" He cheered. "I'm here, undercover as your esteemed guest of honor..." The Doctor winked, spinning in a circle to show off his costume.

Ivon poked the Doctor's fluffy fake stomach and nodded in approval.

"You look exactly like Saint Nick in this!" He cheered before his eyes turned to me. I was surprised. Ivon's eyes were entirely purple, nearly blue, but actually purple. "And you brought your wife too? Mrs. Claus, you are looking good!"

"She's uhm, she is my—" The Doctor started explaining only to be cut off by Ivon.

"I've always wondered who would manage to tie this old time traveler down! Great to meet you!" Ivon grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it.

I quirked a brow. Even as the Doctor started stuttering and floundering and blushing.

God—he needs to get a grip.

"Yep, often mistaken as his wife, actually his intern, but secretly his sugar baby..." I clicked, my voice turning into a fake posh British accent similar to the Doctor's. Russians don't typically like Americans, I'm not risking anything. "Good to meet you, Ivon!"

Ivon tilted his head in surprise, eyes glistening as he looked at the Doctor in unabashed shock. "Oh, Doctor! I didn't know you rolled like that... alright then!" He sounded amused. "Your escort for the night!"

"What?!" The Doctor coughed. "No! No, no, no! She is just joking!" He purposely glared at me. "This is PJ and she is my partner—" He quickly corrected his wording. "—My companion! Companion-partner-lady...!" He laughed nervously.

Ivon was looking between the both of us weirdly. I shook my head, rolling my eyes.

"Understood, it's complicated..." Ivon finally smirked.

"No, it's not complicated, it's just that we're—" I cut the Doctor off before he could ramble even more.

"You did quite the job here..." I trailed, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray as a waiter passed by me. The person blushed as I sent a wink their way, licking my ruby lips before sipping the champagne and turning back to the two men. "I mean, this is awesome. 2004 meets 2104? Iconic! Also, Amy is definitely going to kill us for coming without her!"

The Doctor cringed. "Perhaps let's keep this little adventure between us then! No use in making her feel left out! Besides, I'm more comfortable only having one of you to watch in this setting!"

"We're not children, Doctor... you don't need to watch us..." I rolled my eyes, humming at the taste of the champagne.

The Doctor then grabbed my champagne from my hand and downed the rest of it. "Hey!" I squawked. He made a face of discontentment at the flavor.

"You and Pond are both immensely beautiful women. Not that either of you can't handle yourselves, but I would prefer not to think of the ways some people might try and take advantage of that." The Doctor waved me off. "To be honest—I'm more worried about Pond in these situations. She's from Earth 2010, never even left Great Britain until now! There's no telling the trouble she'd get in without me!"

I nodded my head unable to argue that point.

I leaned in close to him, not needing to stand on my toes with the heels I wore.

Slyly, I brought my lips to his ear. "Not to mention..." I teasingly whispered in his ear, not missing the way his baby hairs stood up and goosebumps erupted across his exposed skin. "...I have a loaded weapon hidden somewhere on my body..."

The Doctor, with a blush, allowed his gaze to trail my body. His eyes stalled on my boobs before he hastily looked away.

His floppy hair was being pushed down by his red Santa hat, nearly falling into the eyes of his young face.

"I wonder where seeing as you do have quite a bit of skin exposed, dearest..." He breathed, gaze wide and as he swallowed harshly.

"It's Mrs. Claus to you..." I smirked, stepping back causing the heel of my boot to click on the ground. "I am going to find a drink. I'll be back!" I claimed while spinning around and beginning to strut away.

The Doctor leaped forward, grabbing my elbow to stop me. "Wait, let me come—"

I cut him off. "I'll be fine, you catch up with your friend. I'll grab those Nostalgia Nectar drinks you were talking about. Be back in a jiff..." I patted his chest, making brief eye contact with Ivon who watched us both with a wolfish grin.

The Doctor slowly nodded and hesitantly released me. "Don't be long..." He demanded in a bossy.

I said nothing, only saluting as I sashayed away, pushing my way through the crowd.

Making my way through the sea of people was no easy feat. The crowd seemed to swell as the music pumped louder, "Milkshake" by Kelis blasting through the speakers. Every step I took in my ridiculous white-heeled boots felt like a mini obstacle course, dodging flailing arms, bouncing dancers, and people enthusiastically reenacting TikTok dances from an era before TikTok existed.

Looks like their timing was slightly wrong, they were about 15 years too early.

It didn't take long before I was intercepted by a gaggle of girls dressed like glittery fairies, all glowing wings and sparkling tiaras. One of them—pink hair, bedazzled face—grabbed my arm excitedly.

"OH MY GOD, MRS. CLAUS!" she squealed. Her voice was high-pitched enough to make me wince. "Can we take a selfie with you? Please?! It's for the holofeed!"

Holofeed... actually, I lived in this era for a good two weeks once. I'm pretty sure I made myself an account before I decided the 2100s aren't for me.

"Uh... sure?" I answered, unsure why Mrs. Claus was selfie-worthy but rolling with it.

Before I could blink, I was pulled into the middle of their group, wings bumping into me as phones were whipped out.

"Okay, say 'Santa's Naughty List!'" One girl chirped.

I plastered on my best sultry grin and winked at the camera. "Santa's Naughty List!"

The girls giggled hysterically, their laughter infectious. They seem like good fun—too bad I was here with the Doctor, otherwise, I might try to hang with these bad bitches.

One of them, dressed in a glittery silver leotard, tilted her head curiously as she tucked her phone away. "What's it like being married to Santa? Is he as jolly as everyone says?" Her accent was an odd one, something between a cross of Russian and... Australian maybe?

Wow. These people really took this party seriously.

"Oh, he's plenty jolly," I said with mock seriousness, glancing around conspiratorially before lowering my voice. "But let me tell you, the man's a nightmare when it comes to toothpaste caps. Leaves them off every. Single. Time."

The group burst into laughter, and I wasn't done. "And don't even get me started on the cookies. Sure, he says he's eating them for the kids, but really, the man's a sugar fiend. If I don't hide the gingerbread, he'll have them gone in one night!"

More laughter.

Another girl, this one with a pair of translucent butterfly wings, gasped. "Wait, wait! Does he actually 'ho-ho-ho' in real life?"

This is so weird.

"Oh, absolutely," I said, smirking. "It's his alarm clock setting. First thing in the morning, I get a 'HO HO HO, TIME TO GO!' And if I don't roll out of bed fast enough, he starts singing Christmas carols. By the third verse of 'Jingle Bells,' I'm begging him to stop. And don't even get me started on that man's sex drive...!"

They were nearly doubled over at this point, and I was pretty proud of myself. If the Doctor had been nearby, he'd be doing that flustered little stammer of his.

After a few more laughs and another selfie, I finally broke away, waving over my shoulder as I headed toward the bar. "Remember, girls—Mrs. Claus always delivers!"

The bar was a neon-lit spectacle, practically glowing in the dim light of the party. The bartender was a guy with sharp cheekbones, dark slicked-back hair, and a smile that screamed trouble.

"Well, well," He drawled as I approached. "If it isn't Mrs. Claus herself. What can I get for you, ma'am? A peppermint martini? A hot buttered rum?"

I leaned casually against the bar, tapping my nails on the counter. "Two Nostalgia Nectars, actually. Doctor's orders." I paused before adding. "And make one of them less strong and more sweet—actually super sweet with a dash alcohol—my husband isn't a huge fan of drinking..."

"A doctor ordered it, huh?" He arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow, grabbing two glowing glasses from a rack behind him. As he started pouring the drinks, he shot me a mischievous grin. "So, what's it like being married to the big guy? Does he snore?"

"Oh, like a freight train," I said smoothly, watching the glowing liquid swirl into the glasses. "And don't even get me started on the reindeer situation. They're cute, sure, but they shed like crazy. My favorite boots? Totally ruined."

The bartender chuckled, sliding the drinks toward me. "You're funny. Tell me, Mrs. Claus, does Santa treat you right, or should he be worried about losing you to a younger, handsome bartender?"

This was too fucking funny.

There is no way we can keep this from Amy—she would love this! Maybe I should go wake her up now and bring her here.

No, that'd be mean, she really needs the rest. She was only human, after all.

It was amazing to think that just four hours ago, the Doctor was ripping a corset off my battered and burned body. A small bout of exhaustion raced through me at the thought. Truthfully, I had not got much sleep either, and it was starting to catch up.

I let out an exaggerated laugh, leaning in slightly. "Oh, don't tempt me. Santa may have the toys, but you've got the charm."

The bartender's grin widened. "Well, if you ever decide to trade in the North Pole for a little tropical paradise, let me know. I'm moving to Tahiti next week and I make a mean mojito." He said, Russian accent thick. "And the right drink is sweet... practically juice..."

I took the drinks from him, winking at him as I backed away. Nothing wrong with a little flirting. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the drinks, cutie."

As I turned and strutted back toward where I knew the Doctor to be, I blew a playful kiss over my shoulder. The bartender's laugh followed me into the crowd. That was the fun of bartending, talking, and flirting with random people.

I would never be able to even guess the amount of people I had flirted with during my time as a bartender in this universe alone.

Two drinks in hand, I weaved through the dancers and costumed partygoers, already imagining the Doctor's face when I told him about my impromptu stories of Santa's bad habits. This party was turning out to be way more entertaining than I'd expected.

I found the Doctor moments later, standing next to Ivon. He looked hilarious. No tweed, no bow-tie.

Only a great big beard and a huge fake belly with a fluffy red costume. His boots, enormous, were a leathery black.

I came behind the Doctor, holding the glowing blue and purple drinks aloft with a smug grin.

The Doctor, who was in mid-conversation with Ivon, perked up immediately as I tapped his back and he whirled around.

As I handed the glowing blue drink to the Doctor, I couldn't help smirking. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, his eyes lighting up as he took the glass from me.

"There's my Mrs. Claus," He greeted, rubbing his hands together like some kind of mad scientist. "Took your time, didn't you? What happened—did you get lost, or were you off causing chaos?"

"Both," I replied, matching his smirk. "Also, let's get one thing straight: I'm not your Mrs. Claus."

"Of course, of course," He said, already waving me off like I hadn't just delivered an ice-cold truth bomb. He took a sip of the drink, and his face immediately lit up. "Oh, this is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Tastes like sherbet and happiness. Ivon, you've got to try this!" He shoved the drink toward the red-haired man beside him, who backed up with both hands raised.

"No, no, Doctor," Ivon laughed, his thick Russian accent rumbling. "Not strong enough for my taste. Too sweet. But tell me, how did you meet such a beauty? You must be quite the charmer."

I snorted so loudly it could've rivaled the party music. "Charmer? Him? Please. I walked into his ship and—"

The Doctor gasped. "Ridiculous, I am the most charming thing alive! And she came to me—as she always does! Can't get enough of me, I reckon..." He said smugly while taking a sip of his drink.

"He's my boss," I said, rolling my eyes. "Kinda..."

Before the Doctor could get in a proper retort, a loud voice cut through the crowd. "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. and Mrs. Claus!"

I turned to see a couple striding toward us, and my first thought was: Wow, they really committed.

The man was dressed as Jack Frost, his icy blue suit shimmering like it had been dipped in glitter and frostbite. The woman beside him, the so-called Snow Queen, was draped in a gown that looked like it had been spun from snowflakes.

"Oh, great," I muttered under my breath. "Here comes trouble."

"Santa Claus!" Jack Frost called, spreading his arms wide like he was about to sing Let It Go. "And Mrs. Claus! Care to settle a little debate? My wife here insists you're the 'most iconic couple of winter,' but I think we could give you a run for your money."

The Doctor's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Oh no. I knew that look. He was thrilled by the challenge. "Oh, is that so? Well, Jack, Snow Queen—lovely costumes, by the way, truly inspired—I'd be happy to prove you wrong. What did you have in mind? A gift-wrapping contest? Reindeer wrangling? Snowball fight?"

Is the Doctor joking? I refuse to do any of those... well, maybe the reindeer wrangling.

The Snow Queen tilted her head, a sly smile curling her lips. "Dance-off."

I nearly choked on my drink. "Oh no. Doctor, no. Absolutely not."

"Dear, yes. Absolutely yes." He grabbed my arm and started pulling me forward. "We've got this."

The thing I was slowly realizing about the Doctor is that despite his words: this guy is incredibly competitive.

The music shifted, blasting a remix of Get Low by Lil John. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, forming a makeshift dance floor. I dragged my feet, trying to resist.

"This is a terrible idea," I hissed. "They're going to obliterate us. Look at them!"

The Doctor grinned. "Have confidence."

Jack Frost and the Snow Queen went first, gliding across the floor in a waltz so graceful it looked like they'd choreographed it in their frozen palace. The crowd ooh-ed and ahh-ed as they spun and twirled, their movements dripping with icy elegance.

But also... it didn't really match the hype song playing.

"See?" I muttered. "We're doomed."

"Nonsense," The Doctor said, stepping onto the floor. "Watch and learn."

I expected a lot of things, mainly the Doctor dancing similar to how he did at the ball Pollux's parents had put on. Wildly wag his arms around and awkwardly move his gangly limbs.

What I did not expect was for him to drop to the fucking ground and started spinning on his back.

He was fucking break-dancing, in a Santa costume!

There is no way. No way this awkward TimeLord—Doctor Eleven—who can't speak without flapping his hands can fucking break dance... and yet, the proof was happening right before my eyes.

"What the fuck?!" I shrieked, nearly dropping my drink. "DOCTOR! You can break dance!?"

"Of course, I can!" He yelled, rolling onto his feet and launching into the most ridiculous robot dance I'd ever seen. "I'm the Doctor—the Oncoming Storm. I do it all!" He proceeded to do the robot before moon-walking.

Oh. My. God.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and I couldn't help it—I handed my drink to a random bystander and jumped in. If he was going to embarrass himself with the most awesome moves I'd ever seen, I wasn't going to let him do it alone.

I rolled my body and spun like three times, transitioning into a cool move I vaguely remembered learning from a drunk night in Miami. The crowd went wild as I hit the splits and popped back up into another spin.

"More spins!" I shouted, clapping like a maniac.

The Doctor didn't miss a beat. "Don't mind if I do!" He called back, dropping to the ground and spinning so fast his Santa hat flew off.

Holy shit.

At some point—I was twerking, definitely showing off my thong but getting down low and shaking my ass as if there was no tomorrow. The Doctor when he realized that, cried out for me to stop, but when I didn't listen, he did the next best thing and came up behind me to cover my ass.

Cover my ass by allowing me to twerk on him.

We might've been a little tipsy. Okay, more than tipsy.

People who were watching started screaming a songlike chant. Something along the lines of "Mr. and Mrs. Claus are loose—they're jiggy! They're loose, they're jiggy! They're loose, they're jiggy!"

The Doctor grabbed my hips, moving with me—both of us leaning against each other. The heeled boots brought me up so I was closer to his height. Our hips moved in sync with each other.

And damn: for as awkward as the Doctor was, for the fact that he had on a damn Santa outfit with a big ass stomach made of fluff; his hips certainly didn't lie when he put his all into it. Especially when he was determined to keep up with the way my hips were moving—all in an effort to stop me from giving everyone a nice show of my ass.

Okay, there is no way we're keeping this from Amy. There is also no way she's ever going to believe me when I tell her just how the Doctor was dancing tonight.

Hell, I almost don't believe it and my ass is the one currently all pressed up on his groin.

This was the Doctor for fuck's sake. The Doctor who apparently had hips that don't lie.

By the time the song ended, we were both out of breath and the crowd was chanting our names. Jack Frost and the Snow Queen were nowhere to be seen, having slinked off in defeat.

The Doctor hastily pulled my dress down causing me to laugh.

"Well," I said, grinning. "That's one way to make an impression."

The Doctor's cheeks were flushed—either from exertion or embarrassment, I wasn't sure. "Oh, PJ," He said, his voice dripping with shock. "I can't believe you didn't wear shorts under that!"

"Are you really surprised though?" I asked, taking a champagne glass from another waiter who passed by and taking a sip of it with a cheeky grin.

He shook his head with a sigh, looking downward but keeping a hand on my hip and still standing exceptionally close to me.

Protectively.

"No..." He tittered. "Unfortunately, I am not surprised at all, you crazy wayward girl..." But then he puffed immensely out of breath. "Ugh, I'm getting way too old to be doing any of those moves anymore..."

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐯𝐚, 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚
𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞
𝟐𝟏𝟎𝟓

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

I was practically carrying the Doctor, the lanky man leaned heavily against my side with his eyes half open and muttering drunken gibberish. He had on a pair of bright glowing New Year's glasses.

It was literally a reverse of how we had last entered the TARDIS. Back in 1821.

"Just ask Abraham!" The Doctor suddenly screeched, glasses falling to the ground with a clatter. I didn't bother picking them up. "He thought he was so high and mighty before I brought him down a few levels!" The Doctor claimed with a loud laugh, his words more than slurred. "Put a tiger in his tank, I did!"

"Ahaha, yeah—I'm sure that's exactly how it happened, Space Lord!" I replied with a giggle.

"It's babe to you, dearest..." He murmured, turning to me with wide eyes teeming with mischief. "Or at least, that's what you call me in the future... I quite miss it, y'know..." He coughed.

Let's rewind for a moment.

Now I am going to try to recall everything that happened after the Doctor and I destroyed Jack Frost and motherfucking Elsa—or whatever—with as much clarity as I can. But, being real, I am not sure that I can trust my own mind at the moment seeing as I am nearly as hammered as the Doctor.

I am just much better at handling my liquor.

Cue the Doctor and I winning the dance-off.

We then went on to speak with many different people as nearly every person at that party was dying to speak with Santa Claus and his wife. We told about a thousand ridiculous Christmas stories, but everyone ate it up like they were starving.

That brings us to yet another dance-off, but this time time it was me vs. the Doctor. However, he quickly gave up and called it when he realized that I was about to start shaking ass again.

TimeLord man really did not want me showing this cute ass of mine off apparently.

After that—the Doctor was challenged to a drinking contest against Ivon after he proclaimed that his TimeLord genes made his tolerance higher than anyone could imagine. He had already been tipsy from his one drink that was practically juice when he was spouting off such bold claims.

The Doctor lost the contest within minutes, but it still left him reelingly drunk.

He was throwing up in the bathroom when the clock struck midnight—I was patting his back and holding his fake beard for him as he did so. Poor TimeLord couldn't handle the horrible taste of liquor.

Once he was finished, he was somehow fine to keep going.

We gambled some—with money we didn't have. But it was fine, we lost no money seeing as the Doctor is concerningly good at blackjack, poker, and roulette.

And; well, I am the best at cheating.

We made a downright deadly team at such gambling games.

We danced some more: a spicy tango that had people screaming. After all, it's not often you see Santa Claus dancing with moves that belong on Dancing With The Stars with Mrs. Claus.

We chatted and mingled with Ivon—leading to yet another drinking contest that the Doctor lost. In seconds that time. I was left comforting him by rubbing his back and holding his beard as he tossed his cookies. Again.

I didn't mind though. This was the man who healed me of my burns, after all.

And somehow, throughout all of it, my British accent didn't slip even once.

I could not be sure how long we had been at it, but by the time we called it: over half the party was gone and the sun was starting to rise on the horizon.

The snow had also let up outside.

Hence me carrying the Doctor back to the TARDIS.

"Goodbye, my friend!" Ivon hollered from the front door while waving happily.

I still was not entirely sure how the Doctor knew him, he was too drunk to tell me the proper story of how they met.

"Would you like me to add babe to your long list of nicknames, Eleven?" I grunted, but he truthfully was not that heavy.

"Please..." The Doctor moaned. "I miss it, and I missed you... so sooo much...!" He lulled. "You're so much fun—you breathe fire into my soul!"

"Many people think that, don't try to flatter me with poetry..." I huffed, managing to jerk the TARDIS door open and shove the Doctor inside. "We need to get that costume off you..."

The console room, like always, greeted us warmly.

"Isn't it just insane..." He blubbered, suddenly standing upright with a psychotic gleam in his eye. "That I am completely hammered, but am still the smartest man ever! I am the ONCOMING STORM—and I can fly the TARDIS in any state!" He cried, pushing away from me and running toward the console before I could stop him.

"Doctor!" I screamed, going after him. "No!"

Does this count as drink driving? Well, drink flying?

I don't know considering the TARDIS usually materializes. I think dematerializing the TARDIS is fine to do drunk. Probably.

"Doctor? PJ? Where have you two been?" Amy suddenly popped up from the hallway, her brows furrowed. "I thought you guys were just somewhere in the TARDIS! Been looking for like three hours!" She said before taking note of what we were wearing. "What are you wearing—!?"

She was cut off by her own yell as the TARDIS lurched.

"Doctor!" I cried, coming behind him and trying to pull him away from the controls.

"And we are floating in space, somewhere in Andromeda in 1967! I am just that good!" He laughed, nearly falling backward if it weren't for me grabbing him. "Call me the ultimate pilot!"

Admittedly, it was a pretty impressive feat that he could pilot the TARDIS in this state better than he can sober.

"We stopped by a small New Year's party in 2104—now 2105..." I told her, the Doctor beginning to pass out in my grasp.

"What?" Amy cried. "I'd have liked to be with you guys!"

"Next time, Pond!" The Doctor slurred. "Only one charge at a time for crazy parties like that! Can only keep my eye on one of you at a time...!" He said with a chuckle.

"We're adults, Doctor!" I groaned. "You don't need to watch us...!"

"Wha?!" His voice came so British that it was nearly intelligible. "Of course, I need to watch out for my girls! I mean, look at you! You don't even have shorts on under there! That cute backside is for my eyes only!" He wagged a finger in my face.

I quirked a brow. "Are you trying to say you were checking me out?"

"Of course, I was checking you out! Do you see what you're wearing? Have you seen how you look, dearest?!" He was ranting, eyes blinking blearily.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach against my will.

I shook it off—he didn't know what he was saying, he was blasted. He probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning.

Well, actually, I am vaguely certain that TimeLords have a photographic memory or something close to it, so he might remember it.

But knowing the Doctor, he'll deny deny deny.

"Yep, alright, let's get you into bed, sir!" I started dragging him down the hallways.

"Oi! Wait up!" Amy jogged to stand next to us, grabbing the Doctor by his other side and helping me carry him. "He's going to bed? But I just woke up! Why didn't you guys bring me with you?" She complained.

I could not blame her.

What did the teens from 2023 call it again? FOMO: fear of missing out...

And it was a pretty sick party—the Doctor did things he almost never does.

My mind flashed me images of him spinning on his back, of him playing black jack, of him desperately trying to take shots and gagging while choking them down only to lose anyway.

We definitely should've brought Amy.

"Ahaha..." I laughed nervously. "Well, you were sleeping and traumatized from earlier, y'know... so the Doctor thought it best to let you rest and sleep it all off..."

She now looked angry. "I'm not traumatized! If anything you should be the traumatized one! You guys should've woken me up!"

"You'd only been asleep for like an hour when we first went to get breakfast though!"

"You guys got breakfast too?!"

"Oh shit, uhm no?"

"PJ!"

"I'm sorry!" I cried. "We'll make it up to you—the Doctor will take you to see an alien planet as soon as he wakes up, I promise! And he's a TimeLord, he won't be asleep for long. Well, actually, he did have quite a bit to drink, so maybe eight... nine hours?"

"Oh! This sucks!" Amy scowled. "Did you guys even sleep?"

I shrugged. "Kind of? I woke up in the bath like two hours after I fell unconscious and the Doctor napped during that time..."

Now, Amy looked at me with concern. "Hold on, after all that, all your injuries... you only got two hours of rest...? Are you okay, shouldn't you be bedridden?"

"Well, the bath healed me and the Doctor used some of his regeneration energy to help, so I am entirely healed. Just a bit sleepy now that you mention, it probably would've been more beneficial to just go back to sleep after I woke up... but y'know... breakfast and Russia and stuff..." I argued weakly.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Breakfast and Russia and stuff. That's your clarification!"

"It's mostly the Doctor's fault! He's the one who pilots the TARDIS!" I quickly blamed him, not hesitating in throwing the old man under the bus. "Plus he's the oldest!" It sounded more than childish.

The Doctor mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "I am the BEST pilot EVER!"

Amy and I couldn't be sure, though. Both of us looked at the TimeLord, who had his eyes closed and his head hanging.

"I didn't think he drank, how is he so plastered?" She questioned.

We continued walking through the hallways, his door came into sight as we turned a corner.

"He doesn't drink most liquors, dude is very picky considering he doesn't really like alcohol..." I rolled my eyes. "But his friend—Ivon, the guy who threw the party—challenged him to a drinking contest. I don't know why the Doctor thought that him being a TimeLord meant he could beat a alcoholic Russian man in a shot contest. Especially when he hates the taste of shots, barely ever drinks, and is in a brand new body!"

"He didn't...!" Amy gasped, but her lips twitched into a small smile against her will.

"He did..." I shook my head. "And did you know that he knows how to break dance!"

"What?!" She laughed. "He does not!"

"Yes! He literally does!" I snickered. "Out of nowhere, he drops to the floors and starts fucking spinning on his back! In this huge Santa costume!"

"What? There is no way! He's so flamboyant when he moves though!" Amy giggled in disbelief.

"You're telling me!" I chortled. "Here it is..." I nodded to his door, both of us stopping while I quickly opened the door and we dragged him inside.

Amy momentarily froze, eyes wide taking everything in.

It was the same as it had been the last time I was in here, back when I busted in to get away from Velkatron.

"Oh... wow..." She mumbled with amazement.

"Help me get him on the bed..." I breathed, both of us heaving him up and onto his large hovering bed.

He landed with a loud groan, immediately rolling onto his back.

"No, Doctor, you need to sleep on your side..." I rolled him back over till he was on his side.

I was not sure if TimeLord's could choke on their own vomit while unconscious and die from it, as it was a big concern for humans, but I did not want to find out. It would be a horrible way for eleven to turn into twelve.

So soon too.

Amy and I were quick to work on him, pulling off his boots and taking off the large red coat and stuffing from his belly. His sonic screwdriver nearly fell out of his coat if I had not grabbed it in time. With a huff, I placed it on the stand near his bed.

"No!" The Doctor wailed, still only half conscious. He made grabby hands at me. "Under the pillow!" He muttered.

I realized he wanted his screwdriver under his pillow.

"Wha—no!" I told him off. "You're not sleeping with a highly advanced scientific instrument under your pillow while you're blasted! Not happening!"

The only response I got was a mumble, followed by a smile as the Doctor cuddled into his pillow. It seemed he was dreaming of something nice.

Amy laughed at the scene.

His beard came off next followed by his hat. The bells on it jangled as the item hit the floor.

I scoffed noticing that he was still sleeping with that smile.

Clever man? More like golden retriever man.

"Okay, I think he's good‚ but I should probably grab him some water—" My statement was cut off as a large glass of water materialized out of thin on the nearby stand, "—Or not. Wow, the TARDIS really does take care of you... lucky man..." I patted his leg, eyeing the chair next to his bed disdainfully.

Someone had to stay and keep an eye on him while he slept. Even if he was a TimeLord, I really could not be sure how their biology worked when they were fucking plastered. He could stop breathing or he might roll over onto his back again.

As though sensing my thoughts, Amy rubbed my shoulder.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up and head to bed? I can keep an eye on him while he sleeps." She smiled kindly.

The Doctor may be more than grown and not human, but I seriously wasn't about to chance the reason that Eleven regenerates being because he rolled onto his back while he was asleep and he was so drunk that he choked on his own vomit.

Call me paranoid, but people die that way more than most realize!

"You don't need to do that. I was the one out all night with him, after all..." I trailed off, cringing at the annoyed look she once again adorned.

Talk about FOMO.

"Yeah, I know—next time wake me up, please. That is the type of adventure I want to be on: all-you-can-drink futuristic alcohol. Sign me up!" She joked while falling into the comfy-looking armchair that sat near the Doctor's bed.

The chair appeared comfortable enough. But if I had the choice, I would certainly choose a bed over a chair any day.

"It was pretty great..." I smiled thoughtfully.

"Oi!"

"Sorry, sorry, I promise I will wake you up next time! Even if the Doctor says not to!" I promised. "But also, remember for when he wakes up that it's mostly his fault..."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "Will do... the Doctor will definitely be getting a piece of my mind the second he wakes up..."

I was slowly edging near the door to leave the room. "I am sure that he will be looking forward to that. Those oh-so-loving words you have saved for him the second he wakes up. I wonder if TimeLord's can be hung over...?"

Amy pouted, leaning back in the chair and bringing her long legs under her. "I guess we will find out."

I saluted her. "Good point, catch you in a few hours, Miss Pond!"

Something seemed to click in her eyes at my words, but she still smiled and nodded at me. "Good night, PJ! See you later..." She waved as I left the room.

New mission: shower and then crash on my comfortable bed that I have been away from for far too long. Seriously, I haven't slept in that bed since I first hopped on board. In the like fourish days I've been with the Doctor—not including the five days I was stuck with Pollux—I have slept on my bed one time!

That needs to change.

And after I cleaned myself up, and I lay under my comforter in my soft bed falling asleep—I desperately tried not to think about how nice it would feel to have someone next to me.

I desperately tried not to think about how kind the Doctor was. How funny, how charming, how handsome.

I'd never admit it out loud though.

I tried not to think of all the fun we'd had tonight and I tried not to think about the way he squeezed my hips as he held me to him tightly while we danced. Or the way he rested his face in the crook of my neck.

Had he left a gentle kiss there? I still wasn't sure.

I refused to think about the way he made me feel when he looked at me on that dance floor with that dumb ass smile and the entire galaxy shining in his eyes.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

My beautiful, absolutely enchanting, and quite dreamless sleep was rudely interrupted by the bedroom door slamming open.

"Wake up, PJ...!" The Doctor cheered, prancing through the door. "Lots to do today, lots to do! I slept in so we're already behind schedule! I promised Amy a superior trip to make up for uhm..." He trailed off sounding embarrassed. "You and me both leaving her behind last night..."

I cracked one eye open almost angrily, wiping the drool that had been escaping my mouth. My pillow was drenched. Reaching down, I flipped my pillow over before cuddling into my bed further. I pulled the blankets around me tighter.

There was the vague sound of the Doctor snickering, having saw the drool and watched me flip my pillow due to how damp it was.

He stood at the foot of my bed, rubbing his hands together with more energy than a sun. His smile was much too bright for the dimness of my room.

"Ugh—what are you doing in my room? And you mean you left her behind? I told you many times that we should've gone to wake her up, but you were adamant about not being able to properly watch us both, even though by the end I was taking care of you!" I grumbled, my voice coming out deep and raspy and lingering with sleep.

The Doctor moved so he was standing next to my body, leaning over me. It seemed the old soul trapped in the body of a young man still had not figured out quite how to do the hair of this generation—it sat rather messy and flopping into his eyes.

If that is how he was planning on styling it—as endearing as it was—the Doctor needed to cut it. But I would allow him to figure that out on his own.

"Wait!" The Doctor gasped in realization. "Are you the reason that Pond keeps telling me that it was mostly my fault?" He cried in outrage, coming and sitting on the side of my bed. "I can't believe this!"

"How are you not hungover?" I finally asked incredulously. "How long were you even asleep?"

The Doctor smiled proudly. "Six hours! And I am a TimeLord—it takes more than that to make me hungover!" He said much too loudly.

He may be inexplicably fine, but I definitely am not. I am tired and more than hungover.

"Fuck off..." I grunted. "Fucking Space Lord..."

"Oi!"

"What even is the plan?" I sighed. "Hasn't Amy already been awake for like nine hours? When I dragged you in last night she said she'd already been awake for three hours looking for us?"

The Doctor cringed. "Yeah, uhm, well Pond took a nap on the chair while she watched me sleep... thank you for that by the way, although I would've been fine..." He waved. "I'm a TimeLord, we don't—"

I cut him off. "I know, you're a TimeLord, you have immense and convenient plot armor..."

"That's not..." He trailed off and ended weakly. "...True..."

"I'm sure," I snickered, sleepiness overcoming me again. "You may be fine and not hungover after only six hours of sleep, but I am suffering over here, Doc. You take Amy somewhere and make it up to her so she's not mad when I wake up... much later..."

The Doctor sighed and dramatically fell back onto my bed. I groaned as he landed on my legs, the man not bothering to move as he lay across my bed and over my legs.

"Fine, fine—I'll let you rest. But where should we go?" He said, talking as though trying to figure out the biggest mystery in the galaxy. "I'm not inspired and the TARDIS hasn't done her thing yet..."

"Done her thing?" I asked.

"Sometimes she just randomly appears places... helps a lot when trying to find somewhere to go..." He explained before casually waving it off, as though it was totally normal for a spaceship—no matter if it was telepathic or not—to randomly take itself wherever it fancied.

"Okay, well have you asked her to take you somewhere?" I sighed tiredly, too exhausted to bother questioning it as this point.

"Of course! I talk to her every hour!" He scoffed as though I was ridiculous before looking to the ceiling. "Isn't that right, dear?"

To literally no one's shock: the TARDIS didn't respond.

"Well, where does Amy want to go...?" I trailed.

"A planet," He immediately answered, fiddling with his bowtie from where he was lying before he turned his head to the side and we made eye contact. I could just barely make out the green of his eyes through the dark. "But what planet? I'd prefer it if you could be with us the first time I take her to a planet—you always make it a party..."

"I thought you didn't like that?" I challenged.

"Of course, I like it! Love it!" He whispered furiously, getting on his knees and crawling up until he was lying next to me. He fell onto his back, his arms crossed over his sternum as he looked upward. "I just don't like when you get particularly reckless in dangerous situations..." He said that part softly, moving his head and facing me.

We were nose-to-nose. Me, cuddled under a thick blanket and laying comfortably in pajamas. The Doctor, lying fully clothed in his familiar tweed and red bowtie. He was staring at me with an unfamiliar emotion gleaming in his eyes.

I breathed out, smirking as his nose crinkled in disgust. Not only did I have morning breath, but I also had hungover alcoholic morning breath. It smelled foul to me so I can't even imagine how it smelled to another person.

But I gave zero fucks—the Doctor was the one who crawled into and made himself at home on my bed. While I was sleeping!

"Well, that will never change..." I told him.

I was surprised when his face relaxed and he didn't move away from how close he was. It seemed he didn't care about foul-smelling breath.

Funny TimeLord man.

"I know..." He breathed right back.

His breath smelled of mint and cherries—he'd no doubt just brushed his teeth.

"Take her to a museum then. A museum on an asteroid. I hate museums so you're not missing out on anything by not bringing me..." I closed my eyes, humming as sleep started taking me under again.

I did not want to admit that it felt slightly nicer to sleep in the presence of someone else.

The Doctor hummed, bouncing and sitting upright.

"You're right! You do hate museums and I love them! I'll take Pond there—and this time, you won't be with me to steal something and nearly get us arrested!" He cheered.

"I do that?" I grumbled.

"Spoilers!" The Doctor answered, all but confirming his words as he leaped from the bed and rushed back to my side. He leaned over me and placed a fast kiss on my cheek, something that had my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Cheerio, deary! Sleep well!"

I was unable to say anything as he raced out of my room, closing the door behind him.

"Stupid, TimeLord..." I mumbled, my mind reeling as darkness overcame me.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

I could not be sure how long it was that I was asleep again, but I knew it was not for an exceptionally long time.

Maybe an hour... a little longer.

However, my eyes snapped open to the TARDIS tremoring.

What. The. Fuck?

Popping out of bed, I was quick to shove my bare feet into slippers before darting out of my bedroom. My hair was tied back into a messy bun—my body covered in large loose swaying pajama pants and an oversized shirt.

Annoyance overcame me as I raced through the corridors, determined to figure out what the fuck the TimeLord was up to that made this entire place tremor.

The second I turned the corner and came into the console room, I was greeted by an odd sight.

The TARDIS doors were open showing off beautiful space, although there was a huge starliner that began turning away from the TARDIS, preparing itself to jump into warp drive. Just beyond the open doorway of the TARDIS, the Doctor was lying on his back holding onto an unfamiliar woman.

Amy stood to the side of them, her arms crossed tightly as she saw the scene.

"Doctor?" She asked in a voice that demanded he explain.

The Doctor did not answer, not so much as sparing Amy a glance as his attention remained solely focused on the lady atop him. She sat up with a huff, blowing a stray piece of curly blonde hair away from her face.

She was physically older than the Doctor; appearing somewhere in her late 30s maybe. She was incredibly attractive with big sky-blue eyes and a womanly figure. Her hair fell in huge teeming curls just past her shoulders, her full figure adorned with a long and tight sparkly black dress.

"River?" The Doctor breathed in unabashed shock, an unreadable tone underlying his words at the presence of this 'River'.

They were both lying in a rather compromising position.

Chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose.

But, I suppose given the Doctor's tendencies to invite himself into people's personal space, this was not so shocking to see. The woman who is apparently named River seemed used to being in such a position—she barely blinked as she quickly hopped onto her feet.

I noticed right away a pair of bright red heels adorning her. She looked through the open doors of the TARDIS, the Doctor stood upright afterward—looming behind her. They were both staring at the starliner beginning to fly away, picking up speed as it went into warp drive.

"Follow that ship!" The woman demanded, no-nonsense to her tone as she turned away from the open doors and rushed to the console.

She took her tall heels off as she went—leaping up the steps and hanging them by the heel on a random hook. The Doctor was quick to close the TARDIS doors, following the curly-haired woman up the steps.

To my shock, both of them flew and bounced around the console with ease.

Flipping switches, pushing buttons, and dragging levers. A large screen flickered to life in the center of the console—a target set on the starliner that was picking up speed.

"They've gone into warp drive! We're losing them!" River exclaims while studying the screen, pumping something near the bottom of the console.

The TARDIS started shaking harder—and I nearly fell over from where I had been leaning against the corridor wall watching the scene with utter confusion.

Because who the fuck was she?

With all the respect in the world: she is a very mature and hot mama.

Deciding that I was awake enough and had played the part of viewer for long enough, I made my way into the console room fully. Amy, who was clinging to the railings like her life depended on it, noticed me first seeing as she was not preoccupied with driving the eternal ship.

Her caramel eyes were wide, the girl looking to me with an expression that read what fuck is happening?

I gave a similar look back, growling as I once again was nearly tossed to the floor. I shakily made my way up the console steps behind the Doctor and River as they twirled around and piloted the TARDIS like beautiful partners.

The perfect pilot and co-pilot pair.

"Stay close!" River called.

"I'm trying!" The Doctor snapped back.

"Use the stabilizers!" She huffed, pressing a button.

The Doctor looked at her incredulously. "There aren't stabilizers!"

"The blue switches!" River tried looking at him equally as confused.

The Doctor shook her off. "The blue ones don't do anything, they're just blue..."

"Yes, they're blue! They are the blue stabilizers!" River scoffed in disbelief at him but was too far to reach the switches herself. "Press them!"

The Doctor, for whatever reason, made no move to hit the very obvious blue switches. Even though they were right next to his hand.

He only stared at the mechanisms suspiciously.

"Ugh—move!" I finally made it up the console steps and shoved the big oaf out of the way.

The Doctor yelped in shock as he stumbled away, and I slammed my hand down on the blue switches causing the vessel to immediately stop shaking.

Looking up, I came face-to-face with River. She was even prettier up close, a total blonde bombshell.

Our blue eyes met. While mine reflected a vast and wavering ocean, hers reflected a light blue sky on a sunny day. The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement as a smirk pinched her lips. My expression portrayed something similar.

I already knew: I would definitely like this woman.

"Hello there, sweetheart..." She said, voice ever so proper and British with a sultry tone lurking underneath.

My tongue came up, I licked a line over the top row of my teeth. "Heya, hotness..." I said back, my voice holding an equal amount of sultry to hers as I matched her energy.

The only difference was the American roughness to my tone.

Her smirk turned into a happy smile.

"Oh, stop it..." The Doctor cried with a scowl as he forced himself between me and River. I looked at him in a what the fuck manner while River only looked amused. Like this was incredibly funny to her. "Now, look what you've done, PJ!" He shook his head, motioning around. River continues pressing buttons and spinning levers. "It's all boring now. They are boring-ers... they are the blue boring-ers!" He violently pointed to the mechanisms I now recognized as stabilizers.

"You annoy me, Space Lord, be gone!" I stuck a hand in his face. He went cross-eyed and scowled at the appendage in his face. "Be gone, I say!" I said and he proceeded to smack my hand out of his face with a dramatic "HiYa!"

Before I could, as the people of 2025 say, throw hands with him: Amy intercepted as she sensed one of our famous arguments coming on. She stood between us, murmuring in both our ears as River walked to the other side of the console, almost peacefully messing with the levers.

She did it with such ease, such flow—as though she was a part of this very ship. Better than even the Doctor did.

"How can she fly the TARDIS?" Amy whispered, looking between us. "I thought only you could do that..." She gave the Doctor a pointed look.

With one last long look toward the pretty and mysterious woman, I looked back to the Doctor equally as curious. Who was she? Based on her and the Doctor's reaction, they obviously knew each other. Well; they knew each other well, it seemed.

The Doctor became frantic, fumbling around angrily. "You call that flying the TARDIS?" He huffed and puffed. "HA!" He spat in mock laughter.

Now, I may not be the most sane person... but like, she was literally flying it better than the Doctor. She was fucking landing us right now and it was so smooth that the Doctor seemingly didn't even realize it!

Although, the Doctor's reaction was quite funny. He was acting like a little boy.

Ridiculous. And yet, somehow, there was something endearing about it.

I almost gaped at him as he marched to the corner console jump seat, proceeded to fall into it and... sulk.

Through it; however, his attention did not waver from the curly-haired woman. He stared at her in irritation, but there was another unmarked expression on his face as he watched her. Curiosity.

Perhaps the Doctor did not know this woman as well as I had presumed.

"Ok!" River suddenly piped, studying the screen that reflected many schematics. I made my way behind her—we were about the same height. Not incredibly tall but nowhere near short. I recognized the schematics as reflecting the outside world. "I've mapped the probability vectors, ran a fold-back on the temporal isometry, charted the ship to its destination, and parked us right alongside!" She revealed, turning back to me with a proud smile.

Hearing her narrate exactly what she had done was more than helpful. Especially given that I was trying to learn how to fly this thing and the Doctor—even if he was willing to teach me—did not seem like he knew what he was doing 75% of the time himself.

Just as I was about to voice my marvel and ask a question about the temporal isometry—the Doctor beat me to it. But voicing his opposition and skepticism.

"Parked us?" He scoffed. "Puh-lease, we haven't even landed!" He exclaimed, standing and waltzing over.

Like the annoying and attention-loving Space Lord he was, the Doctor once again placed himself right between me and River.

"Of course, we've landed I just landed her!" River countered. "Isn't that right, PJ dearest?"

Dearest?

Why the hell is she talking like she knows me?

My eyes widened in horror.

Timey wimey mumbo jumbo...

She does fucking know me, I just don't know her yet. Well, I guess technically now I do know her.

Fuck...

"What's the matter, why are you looking at me like that?" River tilted her head at me with a short laugh.

A stutter escaped me before I cleared my throat. "I-uhm-sorry, what was your name again?"

Her eyes widened in shock and she did a doubletake. "Huh?" She looked toward the Doctor who was still grumbling, not paying attention to what we were saying. "Wait? What do you mean, do you not know me—?"

The Doctor suddenly cut in loudly, having just realized what River was saying.

Why the fuck did she sound heartbroken?

What the hell is wrong with my future self? I am meant to be in this universe on a mission—not fucking around and making friendships! God forbid anything more than that!

Then again: such avoidance is easier said than done.

"The TARDIS, she didn't make the noise!" He complained bringing our attention back to him.

"What noise?" I finally turned to him, unable to get that look that River gave out of my mind.

However, she seemed fine now—having done an exceptional job of wiping it away.

"You know, the..." He glanced at all of us while making a wide motion and then the most atrocious noise I have ever heard came from his bowtie-wearing self.

Like horrible—a wheezing that sounded as though he was dying. I did a disgusted double take, blinking at him.

River scowled. "It's not supposed to make that noise. You leave the brakes on," She tutted, staring at him in a disappointed manner.

He looked to Amy for help when he saw me agreeing with River, but she only shrugged.

He puffed out his chest in defeat. "Yeah, well, it's a brilliant noise. I LOVE that noise!" He fruitlessly said before spinning on his heel and heading toward the doors. "Come along then, Pond—let's have a look!" He cheered, purposely leaving me out no doubt because I sided with River.

"Do you even know where we are? Should you really just open the doors all willy-nilly?" I nagged and the Doctor waved a hand.

"Peanut gallery!" Is all he called causing my face to turn red from anger.

"She's right, environment checks!" River quickly said before I could say anything in response.

The Doctor halted in his tracks, looking at us with a big sarcastic smile. "Oh, yes, sorry! Quite right. Environment checks...!" He nodded before whirling around, opening the doors, and sticking his head outside. "It's nice out!"

I could not stop the mixture of scoff and laughter that escaped me. My hand came up to mess with the bun on the back of my head. The Doctor stepped back inside, closing the door once more.

He met my gaze, and he grinned brightly when he noticed the smile and snorting laughter that I was fighting off.

"Alright, we are somewhere in the Garn Belt. There's an atmosphere, early indications suggest that—" River started, reading through the schematics.

I ghosted over her shoulder, reading from behind. Amy had come up on her other side.

"We're on Alfava Matraxis, the seventh planet of the Dundra System." The Doctor cut River off, his tone cocky. "Oxygen-rich atmosphere, toxins in the soft band, 11-hour day, and..." He opened the doors and leaned outside once more. I could vaguely make out the sound of waves crashing on a shore. "...Chances of rain later!"

River, Amy, and I all shared looks of disbelief as the Doctor popped his head back inside knowingly.

Okay, fine—I'll give in, that was pretty hot.

I breathed out deeply, needing to swallow harshly to get my mind out of the gutter. Especially about that TimeLord. River turned to me with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"He thinks he's so hot when he does that..." She scoffed, shaking her head.

Amy giggled but I, for once, said nothing. No snarky comment was waiting on my tongue. All I had was a tired mind that was running through really inappropriate scenarios of the Doctor.

Namely, how it would feel for him to pin me to a wall. Or, for the matter, how nice he'd feel on the floor pinned beneath me.

Alright, bitch, that's enough!

I burned those thoughts.

"How come you can fly the TARDIS?" Amy finally asked as the Doctor jogged up the steps and crashed into one of the chairs.

"Oh, I had lessons from the very best..." River smirked, eyes flickering between me and the Doctor.

The Doctor had a smug expression on his face. "Well, yeah..." He had his hands folded over his lap.

River was quick to shut him down. "It's a shame you were busy that day..."

I laughed in his face, turning away and biting my fist when the Doctor looked at me. He stood up and moved till he was right next to me, leaning down until his mouth was right by my ear.

"It's not funny..." He bit, but there was no real edge to his tone. His next words shut me up really fast; however. "...You little brat..." And while the words sounded mean, the way that he said it, whispered it, was anything but.

Everything in me wanted to blush and hide in my face in his chest. But I am no pathetic bitch.

Rather, I squared up to him and brought a hand up to pat his cheek.

"Okay, baby boy..." I mockingly cooed with a shit-eating grin.

The Doctor did not back down, only smirking and leaning closer. It was a playful face-off that bordered flirting.

It was thankfully interrupted by River speaking. She grabbed her heels from the hook, held her purse, and started toward the doors.

"So, why did they land here?" She asked, looking at us with a gleam as she trotted off.

She stole the full attention of the Doctor as he left me to race after her.

"They didn't land..." He told her as though he'd been waiting to say that for hours.

"Sorry?" She questioned confused.

"You should've checked the home box! They crashed!" He followed her to the door, speaking quickly.

River nodded as she left the TARDIS, the Doctor closing the door behind her. I had remained in my spot leaning against the console and watching the entire exchange. Amy had followed after them, giving the Doctor a confused look when he closed the door behind River and immediately turned to start back up toward the console.

Amy followed him and started firing questions. "Explain! Who is that and did she do that museum thing?"

The Doctor did not so much as look up as he spoke. "It's a long story and I don't know most of it. Off we go!"

"What are you doing?" Amy asked, coming up beside him.

I tiredly leaned against the railings and rubbed my temples. This was too much for having just woken up. I wanted at least ten to twelve hours of sleep—instead, I was gifted maybe seven.

Which technically was more than enough, but after the five days I had plus getting absolutely plastered with last walking TimeLord—a small break would be much appreciated.

"We are leaving. She's got where she wants to go, now let's go where we want to go!" The Doctor responded.

"Where do we want to go?" I asked, remembering how he was complaining that he didn't know where to go earlier.

My question was promptly ignored.

"Are you basically running away?" Amy gathered.

"Yep..." The Doctor did not even bother to lie.

"Why?" Amy demanded right back.

"Cause she's the future, my future... it's like how PJ and I have slightly scrambled timelines..." He motioned to me, he and Amy briefly making eye contact with me. I was listening to the Doctor explain with much interest. "But it's so much worse with River. We're traveling completely backward from each other, every time we meet—I'll know her more and she'll know me less, and vice versa..." He made a switching motion with his hands before furrowing his brows and crisscrossing them back which only made him more confused.

"You can't run away from that..." Amy said firmly.

The Doctor scoffed, looking at her with a shake of his head. "I can run away from anything I like. Time is not the boss of me." He began typing something random in the TARDIS controls, seemingly desperate to get away from this situation.

I wondered when the last time was that he had met River. I also wondered if something had happened the last time he had met her that made him so desperate to get away from her now.

"How many times have you seen her before this? When was the last time you saw her?" I finally spoke up causing the Doctor to freeze and turn his head to me.

He was staring with yet another foreign look in his eye. But it looked like it sadness might've been in there somewhere.

He swallowed harshly before answering. "Once, at a library..."

"A library...?" I quirked an unamused brow. "How very interesting..." I murmured sarcastically.

I was surprised when he slammed his hands against the console and looked at me almost angrily. "Yes, it was an interesting—you were there too. Or at least, you will be there, and I am sure that you will find that library to be anything but boring, PJ!" He snapped, ending the sentence with a hiss.

I hated that a feeling of hurt unfolded in my chest. An emotion that was quickly swept away as my natural defenses came back.

There was a decision to be made: either poke fun at the angry bear of a Doctor, remain silent, or make a snappy comment.

Snappy comment it is.

"Can't wait," I narrowed my eyes at him, blues colder than ice to mask any pathetic feelings of hurt I had from the inferior being who was barely considered a multiversal traveler.

Okay, bitch, calm down. I already told myself I would stop calling people who were not chosen to play in the Space Jam nor were true multiversal travelers inferior beings. If anything, they were the lucky ones of the bunch.

The untainted, as many had taken to calling those not stuck within the Space Jam or the greater multiverse.

The Doctor gave me another long indecipherable look. His gaze softened as he regarded me, and just as he opened his mouth—Amy said something, choosing to break the tense silence.

She had looked between the both of us nervously before allowing her gaze to stay on the Doctor.

"Hang on, is that a planet out there?"

"Yes," He turned to her, almost not believing she would ask such a thing. "Of course, it's a planet! What else would it be?"

"An asteroid with a restaurant on it..." I remarked snidely causing the Doctor to glare at me.

Amy squealed and shook his shoulders. "You promised me a planet. Five minutes?" She begged while putting on puppy-dog eyes full of such excitement that only a monster would say no.

The Doctor looked at her, his face twisting in pain before he sighed and gave in.

"Ok, five minutes..." He gave in and Amy yelled in excitement, starting to dart toward the doors. "But that's all, cause I'm telling you now—that woman is not dragging me into anything!"

Amy laughed as she hopped down the TARDIS steps, whirling around to face the Doctor as he quickly followed. She looked at me, motioning me to come.

"Aren't you coming PJ?" She asked, momentarily stopping.

The Doctor stopped and turned to look at me expectantly as well. I stared back him harshly causing him to cringe.

"No..." I said simply, twirling on my heel and heading back into the hallway and toward my room.

"Oh, you've pissed her off, Doctor..." I vaguely heard Amy chuckle in amusement.

The Doctor mumbled something to her before I heard his footsteps running toward me. I moved slightly faster, not quite running but speed walking to try and get to my room before he reached me. Unfortunately, that was a stupid hope.

He caught up to me, bouncing until he was in front of me and holding his arms up to stop me from walking.

"What?" I asked him through narrowed eyes.

He panted, looking at me in a goofy manner.

"Why aren't you coming?" He finally asked.

"Because I don't want to. Now get out of my way..." I demanded, attempting to shoulder past him, but he stopped me.

"Fine—fine... I am sorry for snapping, dearest. River Song..." So that was her full name. River Song. "...She just works me up..."

"Hmm, as can be seen..." I laughed humorlessly and once again attempted to leave him.

He held me back.

Staring down at me, I was surprised when the Doctor leaned his head down and rested it against my forehead. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, stroking my shoulders.

"I am truly sorry, lovely. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Will you please come with me? Or at the very least, accept my apology?" He asked before opening his eyes and giving me the biggest and saddest puppy-dog eyes I had ever seen.

Like holy shit. He was good.

Groaning, I finally nodded. "Firstly, you didn't hurt my feelings..." I said and he did not look like he believed me, but he didn't argue against me. "But whatever, I guess I accept your apology... I'm still not coming right now. I want to catch a few more hours of rest and then I need to get ready... I also need some food in my system..."

The Doctor looked disappointed but nodded his head in understanding.

"Very well..." He slowly stepped away, shoving his hands into his pockets and rolling on the balls of his feet.

I tilted my head at his awkward gesture, quirking a brow.

"Is there something else?" I asked him.

He quickly shook his head.

"Oh, no, no, off you pop to get some rest... just making sure you get to your room okay..." He sniffed, looking up at me through his lashes.

"Whatever, weirdo," I scoffed a laugh while walking past him, loose pants swaying and bun bouncing.

"You're weirder!" He called back.

I rolled my eyes, stopping briefly outside my bedroom. Looking back to the Doctor who remained in his spot watching me with that same unidentifiable emotion that was now so familiar when I looked into his eyes.

What the hell was it?

I waved before heading inside and closing the door behind me. With that, I nearly jumped into my bed, allowing my eyes to close and my mind to go black as exhaustion once again overcame me.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝟓𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

The cereal milk in the bowl was tinted with flakes of cinnamon.

As it would turn out, the Doctor seemed to have an affinity for Cinnamon Toast Crunch—an Earth cereal brand.

He had boxes upon boxes of it sitting in one of the many TARDIS kitchen pantries. The sight of it was well past hoarding behavior, but it was the Doctor, so I was not exactly surprised.

It did not even come close to the many different boxes and brands of fucking fish sticks he kept in the freezer. Nor did anyone talk about the fact that there was a secondary fridge entirely dedicated to housing copious amounts of motherfucking vanilla pudding.

I was definitely going to be asking the Doctor about his tastebuds whenever he and Amy got back.

My lips pursed as worry once again overcame me.

I could not be sure how long the two had been gone at this point.

After they had left earlier, I went back to sleep and woke up a little more than two hours ago.

I was asleep for just over three hours meaning that the Doctor and Amy had been gone for nearly six hours.

While any other time I would not find this concerning seeing as the Doctor usually stepped away from the TARDIS for long amounts of time, but it was the fact that he made it seem as though he did not want to be out for long with River Song that had me raising a brow of concern.

River Song was gorgeous and as cool as she seemed, the woman was still a mystery.

A mystery the Doctor wasn't fond of.

I only hoped that she was not capable of doing something to hurt either the Doctor or Amy. It was a hopeless thought—that woman gives killer queen vibes. She could probably shoot someone dead with her eyes closed.

But she is from the Doctor's future (and apparently mine and Amy's) and she seemed to care... so fingers crossed that means she won't hurt them.

Either way, the Doctor could more than handle himself. He'd protect Amy and be fine.

...Probably.

After waking up, I lounged in my bed for a small while before the TARDIS flickered a holographic screen to life at the foot of my bed. I had spent the better half of an hour lying down and tiredly watching a retro Earth movie from 1990.

It was about humanoid ninja turtles or something. They were kind of hot, actually.

My attraction wasn't limited to only humans, alright. That'd be kind of fucked considering I am a half-breed myself.

I now sat in the quiet TARDIS kitchen, having finished my cereal, now sipping a coffee and wearing the same patchy flight jacket that was becoming comfortably familiar and adorned in my fun mechanical space boots.

The same pair of goggles that I used when diffusing the android bomb that also went by the name of Professor Bracewell were secured tightly over my eyes as I fiddled and tinkered with my broken Vortex Manipulator.

It was about time I started fixing it in case I ever needed to make a hasty escape. My full attention was now on trying to find what the fuck was broken in it.

When it had first started breaking a few years back, it would simply activate randomly and pull me around time and space. However, it only did that a few times before fizzling out altogether leaving me stranded in Miami during the year 2020.

I had lived there as a beach bikini bartender until 2023 before moving to Chicago.

I don't like to talk about what I did for work in Chicago. It was fun though!

January of 2025 AKA just a short while ago, for me, is when I found the Doctor's TARDIS on the street and invited myself aboard.

Fun times.

Fast forward seven days of milling about Australia, cleaning up Dalek-infested 40s, spending five of those days in hell during the Victorian Age before ultimately killing a Dra'Kon and gaining the scepter (AKA Arbiter number 7), allowing the Doctor to be—well, a Doctor—and treat my wounds, go with the Doctor to one of the best breakfast joints in the cosmos, follow him to Russia where we paraded a party as Mr. and Mrs. Claus, drag his drunk ass back to the TARDIS, and finally—wake up to the Doctor scolding some woman about not needing the TARDIS stabilizers.

Yep, that about summed up the last week and a half for me.

Quite the week—even more exciting than many of the weeks I'd spent when I was part of the Time Agency.

The Vortex Manipulator lay open on the table in front of me, a tangled mess of wires and circuits that were both familiar and maddeningly foreign. I leaned closer, adjusting the goggles over my eyes as I carefully tweaked a tiny screw with the microdriver I'd found stuffed in one of many drawers of my desk.

There were many things in that desk... some of which made me blush upon witnessing. But it was also so typical of me to keep every single one of my tools—no matter the purpose—in the same area.

"Come on, you stubborn little—there!"

The device sparked faintly, and the smallest flicker of life danced across the display screen. I let out a victorious laugh, but it was short-lived. The flicker disappeared almost immediately, replaced by nothing but the mocking silence of a dead gadget.

I sighed, sitting back in my chair and crossing my arms. "You've got to be kidding me."

Glaring at the manipulator, I reached for my tablet to bring up the schematics I had been piecing together from memory and whatever data I could scrounge. This wasn't my first rodeo with tech like this—it had been a core part of my work back when I was still part of the Time Agency.

And hell, I can't even count the number of times I had fiddled with multiversal do-dads and gadgets.

But this particular device had been jury-rigged so many times that even I wasn't sure what was original anymore.

The diagnostics I ran earlier told me most of what I already knew: the temporal stabilizer was shot, the power core had degraded, and—most frustratingly—the trans-spatial relay seemed to be partially fused. How it had even managed to function for as long as it had before I was stranded in 2020 was a miracle in itself.

But here's the kicker: none of those things were the root problem. No, the real issue was something else entirely, something I couldn't quite pinpoint. And as much as I hated to admit it, I might have to ask the Doctor to take a look at it and figure it out.

Ugh.

That man might've been the undisputed king of time travel, but I hated the thought of giving him another excuse to show off. Because he would. Oh, he would. He'd wave his sonic screwdriver around, spout some technobabble that only half made sense, and then do that infuriatingly smug thing with his eyebrows.

Still, I needed his help.

Hopefully, he was back now.

I pushed my chair back, groaning as I got to my feet. If nothing else, I could at least see if the TARDIS had any of the parts I needed—or anything I could repurpose. There was no way I was going to trust the Doctor's organization system—if you could even call it that—but I could work with whatever chaos I stumbled upon.

"Doctor?" I called as I wandered toward the console room, my voice echoing faintly through the TARDIS halls. "You back yet? I need to talk to you about a little time travel problem. And no, it's not one of those 'oops, I stepped on a butterfly' problems. Although, if you've got a butterfly story, I wouldn't say no—"

I stopped in the doorway, frowning as my words hung unanswered in the air. The console room was as empty as it had been when I'd woken up. No Doctor. No Amy. Just the hum of the TARDIS, as steady and quiet as always.

"Great," I muttered, stepping inside. "Of course, you're still not back. Why would you make this easy for me?"

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling under my skin.

Six hours. Six hours was a long time for them to be gone, especially when the Doctor had insisted he wouldn't be out for long. River Song or not, he didn't usually let things drag on like this.

Not without coming back to bother me, at least.

A knot of worry tightened in my chest as I leaned against the console, tapping my fingers against the edge. My gaze flicked to the central column, its soft, rhythmic glow doing little to calm my nerves.

"I swear," I muttered to no one in particular, "if you've gotten yourself into some ridiculous nonsense, I'm going to—I don't know—handcuff you to the TARDIS railing. You'd deserve it."

All implications that it caused are being pointedly ignored.

But the humor didn't stick. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

With a sigh, I pushed off the console and started pacing. "Okay, PJ, think. He's the Doctor. He's clever, resourceful, mad, and borderline unkillable—most of the time. Amy's with him, and she's tougher than she looks. They'll be fine. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe."

The knot in my chest tightened further.

"But what if they're not? No! Of course, he is!" I scoffed. "He's the Doctor, he has insane plot armor or something crazy like..." My voice ended weakly. "Maybe they are back and they're just resting..." I nodded, turning back into the corridor and walking toward his room.

Although, even I knew that if the Doctor was back, he would have already come to bother me. If he had come back, he would either be in the console room, come to find me, or have been wandering the TARDIS.

I had not been here for long, but it did not take a genius to figure out that the Doctor truly only went into his room to sleep—and he only slept for a few hours every few days.

I checked both the Doctor's and Amy's rooms, frowning when I found neither of them. For extra measure also checked the pool room, the library, the obstacle course that had already changed itself, the kitchen again (I wasn't really checking it, I was just grabbing a Poptart), and I checked a few other rooms.

Many of which I had not seen.

Interestingly enough, the Doctor actually did have a butterfly room, there was also a movie room (I momentarily got sidetracked and accidentally ended up watching an entire episode of some reality television show), and finally on my way back to the console room—I stuck my head in another room which ended up being a fucking mechanic shop!

It took all of my self-control to not wander the large shop, find items, and start tinkering. Like every ounce of strength went into turning away and walking back toward the console room to figure out what the fuck was going on outside of the TARDIS.

To be honest: I had a feeling it was something that I did not really want to be a part of.

"It's fine..." I told myself while walking through the archway and coming back into the warm console room. The lights flickered, almost in greeting. "I can go back after I find the stupid Space Lord and company..." A loud groan slipped from my mouth and I made my way up the steps and leaned against the TARDIS controls.

I eyed the door disdainfully.

If I remember correctly then the starliner that River Song had us following earlier crashed outside. Radiation from the crash could easily be poisoning the air, or the entire thing could have exploded.

Whatever the case, it may not be safe to go outside. However, I deathly hoped that did not happen as that would mean the reason that the Doctor and Amy aren't back yet is because they are dead outside those doors.

Tremors ran down my spine—fear spiked against my will as imaginations of the Doctor and Amy lying with dead unseeing eyes filled my mind. My mind flashed: fields of bodies, so much blood.

No.

They weren't dead.

They couldn't be.

This was the Doctor; of course, he was fine. He was the King of Okay!

But even the thought felt weak.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I had watched the Doctor use the TARDIS's operations, but I hadn't had enough time to pick up how to navigate them on my own. The console loomed before me, a complex array of levers, buttons, and screens.

Very few words were written, and they were written in High Gallifreyan.

"Alright, PJ," I muttered to myself, rolling up my sleeves. "Time to channel your inner TimeLord."

Nope, it doesn't exist, I am something but definitely not a TimeLord. I am a mutt: a nasty mixture, a half-breed between human and Celestial Titan with DNA rewritten to reflect the makeup of a universe.

Good enough.

My fingers hovered uncertainly over the controls. Recalling the River Song's previous manipulations, I tentatively pressed a few buttons, bringing up the scanner interface.

"Let's see if I can access external surveillance," I murmured, slowly navigating through the TARDIS's systems. After a few attempts, and I am pretty sure the TARDIS took mercy and helped me, the central screen flickered to life, displaying a grainy outside playback video feed.

God, for such a technologically advanced ship you'd think the Doctor would upgrade her systems to have more clarity.

The footage showed the Doctor and Amy from when they had emerged from the TARDIS and greeted River Song. All three spoke for a while before another group of men literally appeared out of miniature tornado whines.

Some sort of transportation tech, no doubt.

River Song greeted the group of armed men in military attire, introducing the Doctor to them. The leader, a stern-looking man, introduced himself, though the audio was too faint for me to catch his name.

"Who are these guys?" I wondered aloud, leaning closer to the screen. The Doctor seemed to trust them, or at least tolerate their presence, as they discussed their next move.

The camera angle shifted, now showing the group setting up camp near the massive, crashed starliner—its name was scrawled on the side and I was just able to make it out. The Byzantium.

Dreadful name for a starship.

The Doctor and River were deep in conversation, their expressions serious.

"What's so important about that ship?" I pondered, accessing the TARDIS's database for information.

After a few minutes, I was finally able to find something on it. Something from the underbelly of the intergalactic version of the internet.

The name 'Byzantium' triggered a result: a starliner rumored to have been transporting a Weeping Angel.

My blood ran cold. Weeping Angels were among the most dangerous creatures in the universe, capable of sending people back in time with a single touch.

No wonder River needed the Doctor.

"Why would they go after an angel?" I exclaimed, anxiety creeping into my voice.

The footage continued, showing the group having blown through a portion of the wall of the enormous building the ship had crashed into.

They went through that hole and descended into a network of catacombs beneath the crash site, no doubt to go after that very angel.

No wonder the Doctor had been discussing in such serious tones with the group for so long. This was some sort of mission to either retrieve or destroy the angel that had been in the crashed starliner.

Another flicker of information about The Byzantium caught my attention. The TARDIS pulled up an article from a future point in time regarding the crash.

No survivors—that crash had no survivors within.

"This is insane," I muttered, pacing the console room. "They should be getting out of there, not going into it!"

There was no more footage, they were out of range for the physical viewing systems of the TARDIS. While I know the TARDIS is telepathic and can see through all of time and space, I had not even the slightest clue how to pull up that much more advanced viewing technology.

I highly doubted the Doctor did it often either—for the sake of privacy that was.

"Why didn't you just blow up the remainder of the ship from a safe distance?" I questioned the screen, frustration bubbling up. "Why risk all your lives like this?"

I already knew the answer, those softies did not want to cause more damage to an already damaged area. This planet was abandoned anyway! It wasn't like it mattered if they had just blown this area to hell—at least it would have destroyed the angel.

Probably.

Personally, I had not had many run-ins throughout my time in this universe with the Weeping Angels. Interestingly enough, this particular species was not super prominent in the multiverse. There were only a few universes they existed in, this being one of them.

They quantum-locked themselves so that when people were staring at them, they ceased to exist, essentially becoming stone. And it was incredibly hard to destroy living stone but not impossible.

A big enough explosion—KABLAMO!—and the stone either shattered or melted. Unfortunately, if the stone shattered, it did not quite kill them. It slowed them down immensely, but the angel would eventually reform itself.

If the explosion is hot enough; however, and it managed to melt the stone or even better, disintegrate it, then there was no coming back from that.

Sadly, such explosions tended to cause damage to everything else around it. Hence why the Doctor probably didn't use that method knowing how much he hated needless destruction.

Alright, so it looks like they all went into the Byzantium crash approximately threeish hours ago.

My only question was why the hell the angel would crash the starliner here? There had to be a reason.

Obviously, the angel that the Byzantium had been carrying crashed the ship: it was no coincidence that the ship went down with the angel on board. There was also no way that the angel crashing here was purely by chance, there was a motivation behind it.

But what?

My fingers moved across the keyboard of the TARDIS faster than light as I researched this planet to the fullest.

Why here? Why here?

The TARDIS immediately started pulling information from across times—across the entirety of the universe.

Throughout all of space and time.

Something popped up, the TARDIS gathered information that quickly had me reading through it.

Alfava Metraxis is the seventh planet in the Dundra System, in the Garn Belt. It was home to the Aplan civilization until they were made extinct by Weeping Angels in the mid 47th Century. By the 49th Century, it had been terraformed and colonized by human settlers. The atmosphere boasted a high level of oxygen and low amounts of toxins. It houses an eleven-hour day.

Oh. My. God!

This is why research is really fucking important! So, okay, I was wrong, apparently this planet is populated to some degree—that explains why the Doctor didn't blow this place to hell. The radiation from it would probably kill nearby settlers.

But also... if the Aplans went extinct from Weeping Angels 400 years ago... the monsters were probably still here.

However, there was about a 200-year stretch where the planet went uninhibited meaning the angels probably went into dormancy. But now, the planet is populated again, and knowing the human population... well, we spread like disease.

We mate with anything compatible and pop out children like it's nothing. AKA, that means if this planet was terraformed and populated in the 49th Century and it's currently the 51st century... holy fuck there is probably a shit ton of life now. And a shit ton of life is bound to wake up such creatures that feed on it.

The angels.

I continued to read the information that the TARDIS was pulling. Why the Doctor had not done this before he left, I would never know. That man was more careless than me sometimes!

The Aplans left landmarks on the planet, including temples, and the, Aplan Mortaria, sometimes known as "Mazes of the Dead". These are large subterranean labyrinths with tombs in the walls, adorned with statues of the dead. The Mazes have six levels, to represent the ascent of the soul.

My mind reeled—the Byzantium—that ship crashed on one of these temples.

Holy fuck, right outside the TARDIS, the crash site, it was on top of the damn temple!

Pictures popped up through the TARDIS, old pictures of the inside of the temple, of the statues. But the statues... the Aplans had two heads... and the statues recorded... they only had one.

It was not a statue of an Aplan. Those were all Weeping Angels

My heart sank... my mouth fell open.

Words—a memory, raced through my mind. A warning.

That which holds an image of an angel becomes itself an angel.

I was quick to click off the screen causing it to go black. There was no way I was going to leave those images up long enough for the angels to crawl out of the damn screen.

That temple, the one the Byzantium crashed in... it was infested with thousands of those statues... the statues that were actually angels.

The Doctor, Amy, River Song, and all those clerics went in after the angel that was in The Byzantium. They did not realize that the angel purposely crashed the ship right here, right on top of where the rest of its species lay dormant.

They did not realize that they dove head-first into a catacomb system filled with thousands of angels. Angels that would wake up the second they smelled the energy of living creatures flaunted right under their stone-cold noses.

Angels that were probably already feeding off the energy that the crashed ship provided.

How long ago had it been since they went in?

Over two hours ago? And the catacombs had what? Six levels. The was the equivalent of at least six miles. Such a trek, with that many people and that difficult of a hike, it'd take way longer than two hours.

"There is no way they're still alive..." I finally deadpanned with a deep breath. "The angels either killed them or displaced them in time... they would've sent them back most likely what? Seventy years?" I spoke out loud. "But I don't know how to pilot you...!" I pinched my nose, talking to the TARDIS like the crazy TimeLord does. "And the Vortex Manipulator isn't even close to finished! It is the 51st century though, and this planet is inhabited by humanity. Maybe I can manage to get my hands on another one here? But how long will that take? It's not easy tech to acquire...!" My breath came in frustration. "You have to have a manual, right?" I begged the TARDIS while gripping the controls.

Nothing happened. My shoulders slumped and just as I was about to start talking again—a drawer popped open on its own accord.

Excitedly, I leaped to it and looked inside.

The fact that the TARDIS actually responded in some manner was insane. Yes, she was telepathic, but she was still a ship that could not physically talk or interact with you.

Usually.

Apparently, if she felt enough pity then she chooses to help.

Shoving my hands inside the drawer, I pulled out a huge and heavy blue book.

In golden scripture, written very beautifully—in English, to my surprise—were the words "TARDIS TYPE 40 GUIDE" along with a picture of how I assumed the TARDIS control panel looked in its original form prior to changing itself.

"Ah—thank you!" I chirped, falling back into the chair and flipping through its golden pages.

There were over two thousand pages to this thing. And it was the length of my forearms. Seeing how much information went into this book, and the fact that a third of it alone was how to pilot the thing: I now knew for a fact that the Doctor barely knew how to pilot it himself.

My eyes narrowed, my brain hurting as I attempted to read circular Gallifreyan.

Seriously, fuck this language. These fucking TimeLords make this shit the hardest and most difficult for what reason?

I had managed to learn a bit of Gallifreyan in my time. In no way was I fluent.

It was like when an American student said they spoke Spanish or French, but the truth of the matter was that they had only taken a few high school courses on the language. Sure, there was the foundation and they might be able to listen and read its writing and kind of understand the intention, but it was still rather difficult.

Fuck.

I slammed the book closed in a frustrated manner. The manual was anything but simple, it was probably difficult to read for someone who was fluent in Gallifreyan, let alone someone who barely understands it!

It'd take me years to figure out what any of it was saying by myself. I either needed to Doctor to tutor me in his home language (which given his protectiveness over his culture, I doubt he would do) or I needed a good 20 years of dedicating myself to learning all the ways of Gallifrey and the TimeLords.

The pictures were kind of helpful, but seeing as I could not understand the descriptions I was only really able to understand that the blue switches were stabilizers, the silver buttons take the TARDIS into the Time Vortex, the big red lever creates a temporal implosion, and the small red lever is called the "wibbly lever" which controls said temporal implosion.

Why one would ever need or want to cause a temporal implosion, I may never know.

"No wonder the Doctor hates reading it..." I laughed without humor, not even caring that I was agreeing with the funny TimeLord. "Girl, they did not do your manual justice at all..." I clicked my tongue while shaking my head and speaking to the TARDIS.

To my surprise, the lights dimmed and the center console made a series of beeping noises that almost resembled... laughing?

Alright... so I made a telepathic starship of infinite possibilities laugh.

Love that for myself.

"Alright, the Doctor is dead then..." I said, refusing to allow emotion to run through me. I barely know the guy, why should I care if he or Amy are dead? "Never mind, that is stupid, obviously he's not dead if I have a future with him... oh wait. Never mind, that too, my future is his past meaning he is definitely dead now..." I wailed, covering my face in frustration. "That dick! Now I need to interact with his past self and keep his death a secret. What the fuck?!"

Panic started to wrap around me.

Why the hell do I care this much? It's just another death—I have had many friends who died!

But there was never a time that death didn't hurt.

At that moment, the TARDIS screen flickered to life.

I looked up, quickly standing and moving to look at the screen with furrowed brows. The TARDIS once again helped me, but this time, she went the full mile and somehow managed to bring up the live feed.

She was looking into the lives of others—seeking out where her pilot was at this very moment in time. And she found him, the Doctor was alive. Walking through the dark leaky catacombs that the Byzantium had crashed into: Amelia Pond, River Song, and the military men were all following.

It appeared as though they did not realize that the statues they walked past, every single one of them were Weeping Angels. The angels themselves were corroded and nearly unidentifiable, anyone would mistake them for a normal statue without knowing the history of the Aplans.

The Doctor was no different, they had no clue that walking through those catacombs was slowly waking up the army of Weeping Angels. None of them knew that they were completely and utterly surrounded by monsters.

But they would know, eventually, the angels would fall out of dormancy and go after them.

The feed turned off.

"You are so beautiful, the Doctor does not appreciate you nearly enough!" I groaned, placing a kiss on a random part of the console and gifting it a pat.

I will NEVER tell the Doctor that I did that. It would make him much too smug.

With that, I whirled around and raced down the corridors heading back to where I remembered that mechanical workshop to be. As it would turn out, my first time tinkering around in there would not be to fix my Vortex Manipulator.

It was going to be to do what I do best.

Creating destruction.

As it would turn out, THE POLARIS JADE, the walking-ticking time bomb herself: the best bomb-maker in all of everything was back in business.

Pushing the door open, the lights of the mechanical shop flickered and my eyes fell on a wall in the corner. A wall full of wires and explosives and other various weapons of fire. A wall that looked as though it typically went untouched.

No longer would it be ignored.

Not when the POLARIS JADE walked the TARDIS.

Grinning excitedly, nearly psychotically, my mind ran rampant with ideas and dreams. Dreams of how I was going to blow stone to hell, blow stone to hell without lighting up the rest of the crash site that was no doubt fuming with radiation.

How fun.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

Every moment there is creation, every moment destruction. There is no absolute creation, no absolute destruction. Both are movement, and that is eternal. Both are one to the eyes of those who can see true beauty.

To build a bomb is to breathe fire.

Every weapon is an artist's signature, a symphony waiting for its crescendo. To build a bomb is to harness chaos and command it, to tame destruction and shape it with precision. It is not mindless, nor cruel—at least, not when done right. No, it is an act of vision, of seeing what is and daring to dream of what could be. A dance of fire and light.

I am no stranger to the flame. It burns within me, a restless inferno of potential. I am a bomb myself, aren't I? Ticking away, wound tight with power that could annihilate or transform, depending on the hand that dares to ignite it. The Starfire

THE POLARIS JADE—a name that carries weight, an impossible history like no other. A name that promises escapism, movement, balance, and, above all, power.

I go by many different names. People know me by so many different things that I lost track.

Quite a few, many in this universe such as the Doctor and Amy, they know me as PJ.

One dude calls me Alice. Well, a few dudes call me Alice.

Not many people in this universe, but the majority in existence of the multiverse know me as THE POLARIS JADE.

There was also Jade—nothing more, nothing less. Just Jade to those who knew me as such.

Some, very few used to know a little girl, a little half-breed girl whose mother named her Cooper Haven Starre.

The mother named her little girl Cooper after her father, and then Haven after her mother, and well, their last name, Starre—it was just a funny ole' coincidence considering how that poor little girl's life would unfurl.

But Cooper Haven Starre: poor little Cooper; well, she died early on, she died the same night as her mother.

The Destroyer refers to me as Starfire. His Starfire.

Others knew me as the infinite, the eternal—the force.

And some, well, some know me as my personal favorite. The Bombmaker.

Robert Oppenheimer, that's what he had called me in private. On the quiet nights that we worked together; glasses of wine, shoulder-to-shoulder and me pretending to know far less than I did as we ran through theories, worked equations: he would whisper that name with chittering laughter.

The clever little Bombmaker.

But I was more than clever and I was anything but little.

The trick is understanding balance. There is no creation without destruction, no destruction without creation. A bomb is not merely a tool for obliteration; it is a scalpel that carves the future out of the present. To wield such power requires control, care, and a love for the art of it. Precision. Vision. One misstep, one stray thread, or a misplaced fuse, and the artist becomes the ash.

Every component tells a story. Every wire, every circuit, every carefully measured ounce of explosive potential whispers a promise: I can end this. I can remake this. Trust me. And so I do. I trust the parts to obey my will. To see the future I see.

The TARDIS has been generous, offering up treasures from her secretive depths. Materials I didn't think I'd ever see here. Appearing before my very eyes. Stabilizers, conductive gels, energy converters—items of rare quality that sang to me as I worked. She understands what I need. She trusts me with her gifts, and I won't disappoint her.

And more than anything, the TARDIS knows her handler isn't here and so she too pushes the boundaries the Doctor had otherwise crafted. She wants her pilot back alive.

Piece by piece, I weave a masterpiece of precision. A bomb that will target only the stone of the angels. No collateral damage, no accidental conflagrations. Just enough heat and kinetic force to shatter them, to break apart their dormant forms and render them harmless.

Until they manage to rebuild that is, but it'll buy us time, nevertheless.

For me; the bombmaker, to build such devices is to breathe life into death.

My fingers fly with the rhythm of creation, meticulous and unerring.

When I'm finished, I sit back, pull my goggles off, and take in the sight. A compact device, deceptively simple, gleaming in the faint glow of the workshop. Its shape is elegant, and its design is flawless. A miracle of destruction—for the Weeping Angels—wrapped in purpose.

Andy Williams is singing something poetic in the background.

He hums and fills the shop with his words about exodus: he sounds beautiful. His sweet and rich voice only made me cherish this moment—my work—so much more.

I lift it carefully, feeling its weight in my hand. It isn't big—a small rectangle no bigger than my hand.

The smooth metal casing hums faintly, alive with potential. A smile spreads across my face, wicked and full of anticipation.

There is only one, one that will target many in one go. I don't have enough time to build another one of these.

I can activate it only once, to buy us enough time for escape.

"Time to go angel slaying," I whisper, and the starfire inside me roars to life.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝟓𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

The backpack, the familiar one that I had carried with me for so many years now, was strapped tightly to my back. From the outside, nothing about it looked like anything special. Stained and faded ever-so-slightly.

A leathery faded brown.

Hell, from the outside, it almost looked like it was carrying nothing. But it was carrying everything.

For this leathery brown backpack was the very entrance into a pocket universe. The hidden small pocket dimension in which my entire force of powers currently resided. Not only was the force of THE POLARIS JADE inside, but so were seven out of nine Arbiter artifacts—I'd thrown the scepter inside just moments ago.

The backpack, being the entrance to the most powerful cosmic energy currently in this universe, allowed me to hastily return my powers to me if I ever so needed.

I hoped that such a situation would never arise—not until I was ready, at least.

Not until I had all Nine Arbiter Artifacts.

Clipped to a belt was the bomb as well as other various tools, gadgets, and weaponry.

I wore the same thing I'd been wearing: the patchy flight jacket, cargo pants, the goggles, and the beloved space boots which brought me up in height by an inch or two. After downing my favorite Red Bull flavor for a good caffeine rush, I clipped a gas mask to protect myself from the radiation that the Byzantium was wafting.

The Doctor and the others no doubt gave themselves viro-stabilizers, a nifty medication in the future that stabilizes people against radiation, drive burn, and anything that such a crash site might risk.

Unfortunately, I was running out of time and did not have any more seconds to spare searching the infirmary for a viro-stabilizer that TARDIS might have. The blue gas mask I found lying on the console will need to—the TARDIS was quite kind in providing me with such a thing.

Plus, that along with the goggles pulled over my face made me look quite cool. Not that it matters, but like, still.

"See ya' in a bit!" I said to the TARDIS, though the gas mask made my voice sound all muffly and robotic, almost like Darth Vader.

With that, I pushed open the doors and leaped onto the sandy beach. It was nightfall—the waves dark but loud as they crashed against the shore. Through the dark of the land, the crash was still very visible.

If not even more ominous with the dark.

Before my eyes sat the enormous crash—fire blazed from the top, debris, and rubble from both the temple it had crashed into and the starliner itself sat around.

Seeing it was even more intimidating, but I only tilted my head. Considering they had a good two hours on me, I had to be fast. Thankfully, they were no doubt moving rather slowly as it was a good-sized group and they did not realize that Weeping Angels surrounded them.

Hopefully, by now the Doctor had caught on that the statues only had one head and not two.

Swallowing, I was quick to start toward an opening in the cavern. It was obvious that they had blasted it open based on the unstable nature of it. I passed through the abandoned camp, this is no doubt where they had all entered.

Standing in its mouth—I sighed.

Pulling a flashlight from the belt I wore, it did the best job it could in lighting up the dark catacombs below. No statues were in sight, but I knew that I would run into one soon after entering.

"Ugh, please don't make me release my force..." I muttered before jumping down into the catacombs, falling for no more than a few seconds before landing on my feet harshly.

With that, I started at a quick-paced run, already beginning to move upward through the twisty pathways and rubble of the caverns.

Thankfully I chose to run multiple miles almost every day before I started traveling with the Doctor. All with the mindset of staying in the best shape possible. Otherwise, I would no doubt be wheezing from even just walking through this mess.

As I ran, I turned on a small electricity device. My body vibrated and I flinched as a surge of power went through me. A monocle. Fun little device—it'll send a strong wave of electricity to anyone or anything that touches me.

Nothing powerful enough to so much as harm an angel. But it makes it so that if one manages to touch me, it'll essentially reverse their powers and zero it out. AKA, they won't be able to send me back in time, it'll probably surprise them just a bit which will—fingers crossed—hopefully allow me to get away before they try to snap my neck.

I once again cursed the Doctor for not just blowing this place to smithereens.

No, girl, don't forget there are most likely fucking people living somewhat nearby who would be affected by such an explosion. But still, send out an evacuation order or some shit. It's not like living this close to a fucking armada of Weeping Angels is safe anyway.

Plus, it's the 51st Century, there is plenty of technology to protect people from explosions and radiation.

I shook it off, it didn't matter at this point: he and Amy were already in here.

It only got darker the further I went, my form moving faster than any human could ever run. I may not have the force of aureum and tenebris in its complete form surging my veins, but at my base, I am still a half-breed.

A half-breed of human and Celestial Titan. By all accounts—both of those species were not biologically compatible in the sense that having a child together was near impossible. It was hard enough for Celestial Titans to have children with their own species given their naturally long lifespans, bordering on immortal: so children were a rarity.

And everyone knows that crossbred children, for the most part, were harder to have than when species had children with their own. Impossible? Certainly not, but harder? Yes.

It was easier with some species, given the closeness of said species and their natural procreation genetics. Like some species, for instance, it was impossible to crossbreed as the genetics were too far apart.

Some species were close enough that it was easier to crossbreed.

Celestial Titan and humans; however, incredibly hard.

Celestial Titans were naturally bigger for one, far more powerful, and again—it was hard enough for Celestials to have children of their own given that naturally, there was really no reason for them to. Not when they lived for many millennia.

I imagine that the TimeLord race was similar. Perhaps not quite as hard to have children as the Celestian Titans of my home dimension, but a bit harder than humanity given that TimeLords lived much longer with regeneration and quite literally paraded time.

This is all to say that I went against the 99.9% chance of humanity and the Celestial Titans of my home dimension being able to unsuccessfully procreate. Not only did my parents manage to procreate but my mother carried me all the way until term: a 13-month pregnancy that by some miracle did not kill her.

Leaping, I jumped against a crumbly catacomb wall and whipped myself onto the next level. If the Doctor or anyone had seen that, he no doubt would have realized there was no chance that I was completely human with being able to move so nimbly.

Either not human or bionic of some sort.

I was already a mile in and I still had seen no angels.

That concerned me. This entire place was crawling with them meaning that if I still hadn't seen one then they were all chasing after the Doctor and company.

I prayed the TimeLord and Amelia were still alive.

Of course, they were, it was the Doctor—the Doctor doesn't die. He has an insane amount of luck.

I once again jumped, clicking my boots and turning on the hover-skate mechanism. Immediately air and energy pulsed from the bottom allowing me to glide through the air as though figure skating.

It caused me to move even quicker, skating air side-to-side as I practically broke all the Earth Olympic track records.

I felt like Shadow the motherfucking Hedgehog.

The tight French braids I knotted my long hair into flopped as I skidded around a crusty dusty cavern corner.

Realization hit me.

The fucking radiation.

The angels were feeding off the radiation from the crash and therefore regaining their strength ten times as quickly. The thought made me go faster.

By level three, I saw the first stone statues. Only a few, slowly having regained their form. It was obvious that they were the stragglers, the last of the lot as they were clearly making their way up toward the crashed ship.

The statues froze the second I looked at them.

No one knew what an unfrozen Weeping Angel looked like, but it was more than likely just a winged humanoid monster with leathery skin.

These angels were not worth using the bomb on—I needed to wait until I found the Doctor and use the stone-shattering bomb (that's what I named it) then. I only have one bomb so I only had one shot meaning I needed as many of these angels in one place and near each other so I could take as many out as possible.

There were too many here for me to get all of them, but I could still try and take out as many as possible.

My form passed by the angels in a blur, the rockets on my boots allowing me to go fast enough that I barely even needed to worry about the angels grabbing me. The angels may have been fast when someone wasn't watching them... but I mean... c'mon... I'm practically Shadow motherfucking Hedgehog in these space boots—no one is finna catch me!

Mere moments passed before I leaped straight past level five and landed on level six, after turning a few more corners and seeing more angels... I came upon the point where the Byzantium had crashed into the roof of the temple.

A few angels surrounded the bottom of it, frozen with their heads tilted upward and taking in the wreckage. It was obvious they had been about to jump upward given the gravity globe of the ship was shot.

The Doctor's doing, no doubt.

It was a smart move, shooting out the piece of technology along with a big enough upward leap and one would be lifted from the ground straight into the crashed starliner.

Reaching down, I was quick to adjust the setting on my boots. With that, they lifted me higher than just a mere hover and I was skating upward toward the wreckage. I was on it in seconds, eyeing the small entrance to the corridor of the ship that was sealed shut.

My head tilted, I was slightly surprised that the Doctor and everyone had managed to get this far. But I doubted that everyone who had started in the group made it, there was no doubt some losses.

Reaching to my belt, I grabbed a small device and stuck it onto the wall of the Byzantium right next to the sealed door. Pressing the side button twice, I watched it blink and slowly unseal the door.

However, before I could even move—there was a sudden hard and heavy hand on my shoulder. I screamed loudly, jumping and whirling around just as the monocle released a strong zap of electricity.

An angel stood behind me, its face frozen with its mouth wide and gaping revealing long stone teeth. The electricity protected me in the sense that it surprised the angel enough to stop it from snapping my neck—which it was no doubt trying to do. Not only did it stop it, but the pulse of electricity was strong enough that it messed with the gravity of the angel and caused it to fall from the Byzantium wall and back onto the ground.

I huffed a shocked laugh as I watched the stone statue hit the ground harshly and shatter on impact.

It was not dead, but now it would need to reform itself from crumbly stone which would take forever.

"AHAHA!" I could not stop the cackle from leaving me as I hopped into the now unsealed door and into a random corridor of the ship.

Skating forward, I quickly made my way through the corridors ship—arriving at the secondary flight deck in no time.

It was abandoned, but to my surprise, the back wall had been slid up revealing an oxygen factory.

A great big oxygen factory that looked so much like a forest.

Right away, I noticed the vast amount of angels lurking around. It was obvious that this was where the majority had congregated—each one looking healthier than any of the others I had seen down in the temple.

The lights of the oxygen factory started flickering causing me to look around.

The angels were taking out the lights.

Looking in front of me, I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sight of an angel frozen—its form having been in the middle of running at me.

"Yep, that's enough standing around...!" I said to myself, quickly leaping into the air, the space boots activating and hovering me a good distance from the ground which kept me momentarily safe.

The gas mask still covered my face tightly, although it was much safer to breathe in this part of the Byzantium. The oxygen factory was no doubt naturally battling off the radiation and providing clean air.

But I was not going to risk it. The mask and goggles would stay in place until I was back aboard the TARDIS.

The sound of... people panicking suddenly met my ears. And through the voices of men, I could hear a familiar womanly Scottish tone.

Amy.

I blasted toward the noise, trees passing instantaneously as well as angels. There were more, so many more the closer I got to the noise of people. They were running from something.

Reaching my belt, I gripped the bomb, holding it tightly and already doing the measurements in my head for where I should throw this thing.

It was beautifully crafted, engineered to only blow up living stone. As soon as I released this, it would stick to one angel and take out the nearest thirty with it.

When I finally got to the noise—I was met with the sight of Amy having fallen to the mossy dirt ground and struggling. For some reason, her eyes were strewn shut tightly. It was odd and dangerous considering she was surrounded by over a dozen angels that were turned toward her, only being frozen because I appeared and looked at them in the nick of time.

Why the fuck were her eyes closed?

"And...!" I sang loudly, pausing and hovering many feet off the ground just as I threw the bomb at the nearest angel. "KABOOM!"

The bomb landed squarely on the angel; a small, sleek device that latched onto the stone surface with a satisfying click. It emitted a rapid series of beeps, speeding up like a countdown to a heartbeat.

Three seconds.

Two.

One.

The world lit up—not with fire, not with smoke, but with an electric pulse that radiated outward in a perfect, almost artistic sphere of light. It wasn't loud in the way you'd expect an explosion to be. Instead of a boom, there was a bone-deep crack, a sound like the earth itself splitting open.

I grinned like a lunatic as the angels started to shatter.

The light washed over them, peeling apart their stone forms in an instant. There wasn't any time for drama—no slow crumbling or ominous toppling—just a satisfying explosion of rubble. Chunks of stone shot outward, pinging against the mossy floor and the trees. Smaller shards flew like glass confetti, catching the flickering light from above before skittering into the undergrowth.

The dust from their destruction hung in the air, a gritty haze that coated everything in a fine layer of stone powder. Where once there had been a cluster of snarling, frozen angels, there was now a mess of debris, piles of shattered rubble spread out like a battlefield's aftermath.

And in the middle of it all was Amy, sprawled on the mossy dirt like she was trying to become one with the ground. Her hands dug into the earth, trembling, and her eyes—still tightly shut—made my stomach drop for half a second.

I let out a shaky laugh, my voice sounding way too loud in the sudden stillness. "Well," I said, flicking a glance at the wreckage. "Guess that's one way to do crowd control." I paused. "Alright, no, that was just cringe, never saying anything like that again. God, I am starting to sound like the Doctor..." I frowned while talking, hands on my hips and shaking my head.

Disappointment in myself, in those words, unfurled within me.

Amy didn't move. Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving like she'd run a marathon while lying down. I wanted to swoop down, maybe shake her, maybe yell—What the hell were you doing with your eyes closed when those things were right there?—but I stayed hovering, scanning the shadows around us.

Because this wasn't over.

The pulse had cleared out the dozen or so angels closest to us, but I could still feel the weight of more out there, watching, waiting.

After the show I just gave them, they were being cautious. Obviously unsure if I had another one of those fun little bombs on me. We needed to move before they realized that it was a one-and-done performance.

Just like my ex-husband... we were only married for a day.

The flickering light above gave them too much cover—too many places to hide.

Still, for now, there was a lull. And in that lull, I gripped the controls of my boots tighter, glancing down at Amy one more time.

"Come on, Amy, why are you lying down at a time like this?" I tutted under my breath. "We've gotta move...!"

But even as I said it, I couldn't help the small flicker of pride blooming in my chest. This mess? I had made it. And it was glorious.

"PJ?!" She suddenly shot upward in a sitting position, her eyes still screwed shut. "Is that you?" Her voice was full of hope and another big emotion.

Happiness? Relief? Something in between.

"That would be me..." I nodded, clacking my boots together and causing the hover systems to shut down as I dropped to the floor.

"Why does your voice sound like that? All weird and Darth Vader-y?" She asked.

"Gas mask to protect me against radiation..." I rolled my eyes. "Sounds cool, right?"

"Sure..." She trailed off, but there was a small smile biting at her lips.

I looked at her in confusion. "Why are your eyes closed? You know you're supposed to look at the angels, right?"

Amy's brows furrowed in offense, but she still did not open her eyes. "Of course, I know that!" She cried out. "There is an angel in my mind using the vision center of my brain or something! The Doctor said I'll die if I open my eyes!" She sounded terrified as she spoke.

While her words weren't clear, I was smart enough to guess what had happened.

"You looked into the eyes of an angel!" I guffawed. "Why would you do that?!"

She let out another frustrated cry. "I didn't know at the time! The Doctor told me too late!"

"So it's his fault... again?"

"Yeah..." Amy sniffed, now on her knees as she tried to stand on shaky legs.

I was quick to grab her arm and hoist her upward. A few feet away there was a militaristic walkie scanner, the voice of the Doctor and River were crackling through it.

"Amy? Amy?!" They were both yelling.

I reached down, grabbing the walkie and toying with it curiously. I did not bother to reassure either one of them that Amy was alive and I was here. They deserved to sit in their panic for a few moments longer considering they just left her here.

"Where are they exactly, and why were you left alone?"

"The crack, the one from my bedroom—it's here...!" Amy slowly started panicking, not answering my question.

"Wait? The time and space one that you and the Doctor told me about?" I raised an eyebrow of disbelief. "I thought the Doctor said he closed it...?"

"He says a lot of things!" Amy coughed. "We didn't know, but it took the rest of the men who were with me! They went into the light and didn't come out! And it was horrible, toward the end they didn't remember each other... it was like... like..." She struggled.

"Like they never existed?" I guessed.

"Yeah!" Amy nodded frantically, holding onto my arm a bit tighter.

I was thoughtful for a moment. "A crack in time and space will do that to you..." I hummed almost carelessly.

However, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. The energy crackled around me—I could not see it, but I could feel it. The crack; the one that was slowly consuming all of time and space.

There was a bright light coming from somewhere behind us, and I did not doubt that the crack was not far away.

The crack's energy clawed at me, rippling through the air with a static charge that raised every hair on my body. It was an unnatural sensation—a tear in time and space, raw and hungry, its edges fizzing with the intent to consume everything it touched.

It tugged at the world around me, pulling at the edges of reality like it was unraveling a tapestry thread by thread. Amy tightened her grip on my arm, and I could feel her trembling. She didn't need to say it—I could sense her fear.

But me? Annoyance simmered just beneath my skin.

Of all the things that could show up right now, it had to be this.

The crack couldn't hurt me—not really. I wasn't tied to existence the way everyone else was. My universe was long gone, snuffed out like a candle in an infinite void. No roots, no anchors, nothing left to delete. The crack could try to take me, but all it would do was trap me in its irritating liminal space for a while before it either spit me out or I crawled out. Nevertheless, it was dangerous because my energy, my coding, might turn it into something worse than it already was.

And yet, there was another problem.

If the crack sucked me in, it wouldn't just stop there. My power—the raw, overwhelming force I kept carefully locked away in its pocket dimension—in my fucking backpack—would come surging back to me.

And that?

That would be a problem for everyone. It would light up this reality like a beacon, screaming to every power in the multiverse I was trying to avoid: Hey, look at me! I am right here, bitches!

I did not need that kind of attention.

I could feel the crack's energy circling me, testing me like a predator sizing up prey. The faint hum of its existence pressed against my mind, trying to find a way in, but there was nothing to latch onto. No memories it could erase, no connections it could sever.

Still, its presence grated on my nerves. Like an itch I couldn't scratch, a constant reminder of the chaos it would bring if I let my guard down for even a second.

"PJ?" Amy's voice broke through my thoughts, soft and trembling.

I blinked, shaking off the pull of the crack's energy, and glanced at her. She was still gripping my arm like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. The walkie in my other hand crackled with static as the Doctor and River's voices came through, frantic and overlapping.

"Amelia? Are you there? Amelia Pond, answer me now!"

River's sharper tone followed, full of urgency. "Amy! If you can hear us, say something!"

I exhaled sharply and thrust the walkie toward Amy.

"Here," I said, a touch more brusquely than I intended. "Let them know you're still breathing. Preferably before they talk themselves into a heart attack."

Amy nodded, then grabbed the walkie with shaky hands. Her eyes were still closed.

"Doctor?" She called into it, her voice still thick with panic. "River? I'm here! I'm fine!"

As she started reassuring them, I took a step back, crossing my arms and glaring into the light emanating from the crack. It was getting closer, we had to go—now.

I spun around, grabbing the walkie from Amy.

"Hey!" She yelped, but I only patted her head kindly.

"Doctor, River Song..." My voice was sharp as I spoke into the walkie. There was a stunned silence for a few moments before the Doctor's voice came through almost unsure.

"PJ?" He said, tone cautious. "Is it really you?"

"I know the gas mask makes me sound slightly different, but honestly, who else could it be?" I snarked. "An angel?"

There was a sullen pause as the Doctor answered. "Yes..." He said simply, voice tinged with regret. "It very well could've been..."

I did not bother asking—it sounded like he's had quite the day.

"Well, it's not. I came to rescue Amy and the rest of you lot considering you marched into the wreckage like idiots..." I hissed.

The Doctor was quick to respond. "Oi! And what would you have suggested?" He snapped.

"Blowing this place to hell!" I sighed. "Honestly—!"

He cut me off.

"What!" He barked humorless laughter. "Blow it up and spreading radiation to the surrounding human colonies? That would've been your plan?!"

"Uhm, yes!" I snapped right back. "It's the 51st Century, the people either leave or they use their technology to protect themselves against it!"

"Okay, well perhaps we might have considered that if we knew this entire place was crawling with angels! We thought it was just one!" The Doctor argued, his tone getting louder. "Even so, I'd hope that we would come up with a better alternative than turning this beautiful temple to fire and ash!"

My voice got louder as well—a nagging lull in it as I told him off.

"You didn't know this place was crawling with angels?! That is why you do research! Seriously, you're a TimeLord who lives in a TARDIS, the most advanced ship in the universe and you couldn't take five minutes to type in 'Byzantium Crash 51st Century' in the her matrix?" My tone had somehow gotten more American, the words coming out with extra pronunciation and roundness. "I figured it out within minutes! And I barely know how to use the matrix!"

The Doctor spoke back, but he was the opposite—his words came out extra British. Faster and less pronunciated. "Always need to hit me with the research, research, research..." He mocked, and I could imagine him doing that stupid yapping motion with his hand that he always does when mocking me. "When was the last time you did any research, eh? You only research when you know I haven't just to one-up me!"

"That is not true!" I screeched. "And if you feel that way then maybe you shouldn't be so easy to one-up!" I challenged meanly.

"Oi! Easy to one-up! Easy to one-up?!" His voice was getting tighter. "I am the Doctor! The Oncoming Storm, the last TimeLord! I'm not easy to one-up! Let alone by a woman who sounds like Darth Vader! Why do you sound like Darth Vader?" He bit back.

River Song cut us both off with a loud noise of appallment. She sounded hella disappointed.

"You two need to be joking. Are you both serious?! You guys are actually doing this now? At a time like this?! Stop acting like children!" She scolded, having grabbed the walkie away from the Doctor. "PJ, you and Amy are surrounded by Weeping Angels and a crack that is swallowing everything around. You guys need to come to the primary flight deck! And Doctor, you have minutes to figure out a different way to close that crack because I am not going to let you sacrifice yourself! So why don't both of you stop riling each other up and do as you're meant... now!"

Wow... she was really good at holding the leash.

The Doctor and I both muttered bitterly under our breaths and I heard River groan.

"Sacrificing yourself?" I asked with furrowed brows. "I mean... I guess if it's to save us all, it will be a sacrifice well worth it—"

"Oi!" The Doctor cried in the background. "You're not even going to try to fight for my life?" He sounded offended, but there was a joking undertone to his words.

My own lips pulled into the smallest of smiles as I held the walkie.

"Fine, this is my fight for your life—wait for me and Amy to get there before you do any sacrificing. Proper goodbyes, you know..." I told him. "We'll be there in a few, actually, if you can open the door to the primary flight deck now, that would be good..."

"Why now?" River asked at the same time the Doctor said. "How are you planning on coming here?"

I did not answer, handing the walkie to Amy.

"On my back, Amy, and hold tight!"

"What? You can't carry me the whole way—!"

"Girl, if you don't—!" I grumbled, grabbing her and forcefully placing her on my back.

She yelped but wrapped her long legs around my waist and pinned her upper body close to mine. It was slightly awkward since she was so tall, but I was strong and she had a good grip. It would work for the next few minutes at least.

She literally felt like nothing.

"Do not let go, I'm turning on the rockets of my boots!" I told her, voice coming out deep with the mask.

I noticed more angels suddenly beginning to close in on us, they were realizing that I did not have another bomb.

"Thrusters? Your boots have rockets—? AHH!" She screamed I clicked my boots to life causing us to not only fly off the ground but move quickly as I skated the air like a pro and headed the way that I assumed the primary flight deck was.

Well, not assumed, the walkie in my hand also worked as a scanner. It started sounding like the Doctor's sonic when we moved in the right direction.

I zoomed past the angels and basically sprayed dirt in their faces as I went.

They were fast but not fast enough to catch me.

Suckers.

Amy was screaming as she held onto me harder, burying her face in my neck and screwing her eyes shut even tighter.

My eyes set sight on an open area in a large wall—a small circular opening with River standing in its midst, her brows furrowed.

It was small, only able to fit Amy and I in one at a time.

Shit.

But the good news is that there is no angels blocking the way. I had gotten rid of a good chunk of them with the bomb and the others were currently over by the light from the crack in time and space.

River was speaking into a walkie, and I realized then that I could hear her questioning voice come through the walkie that Amy held.

"Alright, Amy, when I say let go—let go..."

"What? Why?" She demanded. "How far off the ground are we?"

I looked down the 20 or more feet we were flying as I skated. The ceiling was getting closer—this place was tall.

Uhm...

"Only a few inches..." I lied easily. "Just hovering so I can skate the air quickly..."

She relaxed slightly at the news, and I bit my lip trying not to feel guilty as I once again took in how far we were off the ground.

"I didn't know your space boots did this..." She finally told me. "And why are you gonna let me go?"

"Because the entrance to the primary flight deck is small..." I explained. "Only one at a time..." I breathed. "Can you hand me the walkie, real quick...?"

She did as I asked.

With the walkie in hand, I pressed the side button and spoke into it.

"River, I see you..."

Her brows furrowed from where she peering out of the small opening. She slowly brought the walkie to her mouth.

"What? Where are you?"

"Look up..."

She did as I said, eyes widening when she took in mine and Amy's form.

River was just as pretty as she had been when I first saw her a few hours prior, except she had changed. Her curly hair was slicked back tightly in a bun—her body covered in the same military clothing as the other men that had previously been with them.

She looked pretty badass.

Slowly, a smile lifted at her lips.

"Oh, I love you..." She laughed into the walkie.

I laughed back.

"Everyone does..." I said. "Anyway—INCOMING! Catch! Amy let go, and keep your eyes closed!"

"No!" She wailed, but despite her words, her grip was loose enough that I was able to spin through the air, grab her by her arms and fling her toward the opening.

Amy screeched louder than I'd ever heard her as she went flying.

"Don't fling yourself around!" I called, but, of course, she didn't listen. "Amy, arms by your side and legs straight!" I screamed again as she got closer to the opening, panicking.

She might break an arm if she tried to go through that opening flailing.

"This is way higher than a few inches off the ground, you liar!" She screeched in response.

Thankfully, she finally listened to me, going rigidly straight as she flew through the hole. River Song caught her on the other side, Amy landing on top of her in the primary flight deck.

"HERE I COME!" I yelled, soaring through the air throwing myself into the opening.

I flew through it quickly, coming through with such speed that the lid flung itself closed behind me. I yelled loudly, attempting to slow myself as I was heading straight for a wall. Unfortunately, I turned my boots off many seconds too late and I hit the wall harder than I'd ever admit.

The sound of my body hitting the metal wall echoed accompanied by my pained groaned as I literally slid down it and landed on the floor—the air knocked out of me and wheezing on my back.

The backpack sort of broke the fall.

"Oh my god!" I heard River say at the same time the Doctor let out a loud, "PJ!"

Not my proudest moment. Okay, that was more than not a proud moment—that was downright embarrassing. But hey, at least the bomb worked...

Upon opening my eyes, everything was spinning. My vision came into focus.

The Doctor and River Song were both leaning over me, their faces much too close for comfort. Admittedly, they looked like the real angels in this situation.

They were both so so pretty.

Nevertheless, I jumped away, but the Doctor stopped me from moving too far.

"Are you okay?" River was quick to question, worry heavy in her tone.

"Yep..." I nodded, giving a shaky thumbs-up to her.

"AGH!" I yelled as I was suddenly flush against suspenders and a button-up shirt.

The Doctor was hugging me to him tightly while burying his face in my neck.

It lasted only a moment as he had to pull away due to the mask covering my features digging into him uncomfortably. I had no doubt that I looked insane with the gas mask and goggles hiding my entire face. Nevertheless, his eyes scanned my face happily.

"Oh, PJ!" He hugged me once more, pressing a strong kiss to the top of my head. "Why are you here? I can't believe you went through the entire Aplan Temple yourself!"

River Song sat next to us, watching with an almost sad smile on her face. I did not even notice the way that she was clutching my hand in hers, nor did I notice how I squeezed it back subconsciously.

"Rocket boots..." I grunted. "I got through the entire thing in like ten minutes—just skated through the air... angels wouldn't be able to keep up if they tried..."

"Brilliant..." He once again kissed my hairline. "Amazing. Spectacular. Bright. Beautiful. Insane. Wayward. Girl." He pressed a kiss after each word.

River Song squeezed my hand tighter.

"But why?" River asked me. I broke free of the Doctor's strong hug and turned to her.

"Because you all are idiots who would've died! Who comes into a dark cavern full of angels?! I made a bomb—"

"—A bomb?" The Doctor repeated with concern.

"Yeah, targeted living rock only—shatters the angels. I saved Amy and took out a good chunk of them, but the other men were already gone when I arrived..." I told them, trying not to feel guilty about being too late to save the other men. "Sucked up by the crack..."

The Doctor and River Song both stared at me with an unfamiliar emotion. In the next second, the Doctor once again pressed a long kiss to my head before pulling away and stroking my shoulders gently.

"Oh! You are a gift... I could bloody kiss you right now!" He mumbled before leaping to his feet and quickly heading to a control panel.

"Please don't..." I shook my head and rolled my eyes, nose scrunching in disgust.

I purposefully ignored the offended and borderline hurt expression that momentarily appeared on his face. It was wiped away in the next second as he focused on the console.

River looked at me with a small smile, giving my hand one last squeeze before she slowly stood up. She held out a hand to me, I stared at it for a long second before taking it and allowing her to pull me to my feet.

I stumbled slightly, but she was quick to balance me, ensuring I did not fall. Shaking it off, I thanked her and quickly got my bearings. The soreness from hitting the wall was already fading.

We were quick to join the Doctor, grabbing Amy as we went. She clutched my hand tightly, her eyes still closed.

I eyed her clothes and felt bad that this poor girl trekked this crash site in a sweater and a fucking mini skirt. The Doctor really should have had her go back to the TARDIS and change before they set out.

Actually, he should have just had her go back to the TARDIS altogether.

I love Amy, and she really is a badass who can handle herself. But that did not change the fact that she was a young 19-year-old civilian human girl who only went off-world for the first time two weeks ago.

Hold on, wait, no—nope, I am totally wrong. I think Amy is like 21 or 22, same difference!

"All right, so what's the plan? I believe we agreed the Doctor is sacrificing himself for us ladies?" I asked with all the seriousness in the world.

Amy did not respond, likely too frightened by everything she had been through to joke around. River Song; however, she snorted loudly, covering it up with a cough as the Doctor threw her a glare.

He then looked at me—his entire expression reading: Really, bitch?

"While I am more than concerned that my own intern is so willing to throw her boss to the wolves, I am not dying today. I have another plan!"

"Well, get on with it—" I interrupted only to be cut off by him.

"—As I was about to do, dearest if you'd stop interrupting me—" He spoke only for me to interrupt him again.

"I only interrupt you because you talk so much—!"

"See! There you go with the interrupting again! And you're one to talk, you never shut up—!"

"I WILL have you know, Space Lord! Everyone loves it when I talk, I happen to be funny!"

"Telling inappropriate jokes at the worst times does not equal funny, dear! Some people might even call it obnoxious..." He trailed off quietly at the end, face lit up in an amused manner.

I hit my hand on my thighs, speaking loudly, but my voice could only sound so serious with this fucking mask on. "Obnoxious? OBNOXIOUS?! There is no way you of all people are saying that!"

"Bloody hell... PJ technically just met you and it's still this bad..." River scoffed quietly while shaking her head.

That caused the Doctor to turn to her, eyes lit up curiously. "Care to share what you mean by that, River?"

"Spoilers, sweetie..." She delivered a fake smile his way. "You'll find out when you're older..."

I laughed loudly at that and the Doctor looked annoyed.

"BAH! Always spoilers with the both of you!" He said with a click of his tongue, throwing his hands upward and shaking his head.

I could not stop myself from looking toward River, the two of us sharing a long look that spoke a thousand words I would never be able to translate. However, considering the goggles were still pulled tightly over my face to protect my eyes, there could only be so much meaning in the look.

"Do you have any more of the viro stabilizer I'm assuming you guys took seeing as you've been here for hours and haven't dropped dead from radiation poisoning?" I asked.

River shook her head, an apologetic look making its way onto her face. "No, sorry sweetheart..."

"Which means do not take that mask or those goggles off under any circumstance, dearest..." The Doctor snapped his fingers toward me, giving me information that I already knew. "You will die if you're exposed to this high of radiation,"

"Geez, thanks, Space Lord..." I said sarcastically, crossing my arms.

Before any more snappy commentary could be made, the lights started flickering and alarms began going off. The Doctor paused in his finnicking with the Byzantium pilot-control console.

"What's that?" River asked, clutching Amy tightly to her.

Amy was still shaking.

I raised a brow. River Song was rather touchy with Amy.

The Doctor spun around, quickly running from the console and pacing the length of the room.

"The angels are draining the last of the ship's power... which means..." He trailed off, standing in front of the main wall of the room that led back out toward the oxygen factory. "...The shield is going to release..." He said just as multiple whirring and clicks could be heard from the enormous wall.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I groaned as the wall slid upward, completely exposing the flight deck. "And holy fuck, that's a lot of angels and I do not have another bomb..."

"You won't need it, dearest..." The Doctor waved me off.

Standing right in front of us was about seventy—probably even more—motherfucking Weeping Angels. All frozen, all statues looking straight at us. There was even more toward the back, unseen in the brush of the oxygen factory.

River Song, the Doctor, and I were quick to keep our eyes open; not daring to blink or look away from the mass of monsters for even a second. Amy was still in River's grasp, her eyes shut tightly.

The Doctor tilted his head, stepping forward slightly. His tweed jacket was missing, the TimeLord adorned in his quirky get-up. Why he chose to wear suspenders, I would never understand.

There was nothing about his pants that warranted a need for suspenders. It was only by choice that he wore them—a fashion statement. A fashion statement I cannot get behind, but if it was any consolation, he did pull it off rather well.

Anyone else wearing such an outfit would have lost my respect immediately.

"Angel Bob, I presume?" The Doctor asked, his gaze set on the stone angel at the very front and in the middle.

"Who is Angel Bob?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

I was ignored, but the Weeping Angel apparently named Angel Bob started fucking talking.

My eyes bulged out of my head in surprise. The Weeping Angels are very intelligent creatures, sure, but they had never been known to speak.

"The time field is coming. It will destroy our reality..." The angel said.

Its voice was coming into all our minds telepathically. It had no physical way of speaking.

My mind raced and understanding filled me. The angel—this fucking angel killed one of the men out there, stripped it of its cerebral cortex, no doubt, and reanimated a version of the man's consciousness to use for itself to communicate.

Shivers raced down my spine as disgust filled me. The poor soldier that this angel killed. Not only did the angel kill him, but it mutilated his dead body and mind.

The angel transformed him and forcefully bonded them together.

The Doctor's fists were clenched at his side. "And look at you all running away. What can I do for you?" He asked, lips drawn down as he glared at the army.

There was a reason the angels had stopped running out of the crash, why they were standing amid the Doctor. They wanted something from him.

"There is a rupture in time. The angels calculate that if you throw yourself into it, it will close and they will be saved..." Angel Bob's voice wafted around.

My eyebrows furrowed.

Of course, the Doctor was a solution. A man nearly one thousand years old. The last TimeLord. The Oncoming Storm. The king of time travel himself.

In the vastness of time and space, the Doctor was more than complicated. An event that was entirely improbable and made little sense. Throwing him into that crack would close it because he would provide it with enough energy—enough time energy to settle it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I could do that. But why?" The Doctor asked, nodding his head toward the angels.

"Your friends could also be saved..." The angel said simply.

"Well, there is that..." The Doctor agreed thoughtfully.

I was concerned that he was actually planning on sacrificing himself. That fucking idiot better not.

River Song quickly surged forward, standing in the space between myself and the Doctor. She stopped till she was right behind him, looking up toward his face. He looked down at her as he spoke.

The pair looked oddly good together.

Even as there did appear to be a physical age difference between them. But physical age meant nothing—not with the life any of us immortals led.

"I am a complicated space-time event, too, throw me in!" She told him, not hesitating in offering herself up.

I blinked in surprise.

"Why the fuck do you guys keep offering yourselves?" I asked, earning a quick glance from the two of them. "I am not offering myself if it wasn't clear enough..."

The Doctor looked amused, lips quirking upward. River Song only shook her head at me in exasperation, but she too, had the ghost of a smile.

Even if I were to throw myself in, I don't think the crack would close. Not permanently.

Not to toot my own horn, but I was an even bigger complication than the Doctor. Then the whole of Gallifrey itself.

All for the simple reason that I didn't hail from this place.

As not only a multiversal traveler—I had no home dimension at all. Technically, nothing was tying me to reality.

Such an event was more than complicated, more than improbable, it was impossible. And yet here I motherfucking stood.

Because nothing was tying me to reality apart from myself.

What would happen if I went into that crack is arguably worse. It would temporarily be closed before eventually tearing back open even wider—except rather than a tear that eats space and time, it would open up a multiversal tear that would throw this reality out of wack.

Multiversal tears were much harder to fix, especially after they opened and started eating. If such a thing didn't obliterate this universe then it would heavily scar it.

"Please..." The Doctor chuckled at River's offer. "Be serious, compared to me, these angels are more complicated than you and it would take every single one of them to amount up to me, so get a grip..."

Bingo.

That is his plan.

With no hesitation, I jumped to the side and grabbed the side of the console harshly. Clicking on the rockets to the space boots; I hovered off the ground by a few inches as well. Just in case someone let go and needed a quick save.

The Doctor grinned my way, having noticed I already picked up on his plan. River Song only looked toward me confused.

"Doctor, I can't let you do this..." River told him.

"No, seriously, get a grip..." Is all he responded.

"You're not going to die!"

"No, I mean it! River, Amy, get a grip! PJ, dearest, you truly are a gift, my clever girl!"

I grunted in response, only holding the console tighter.

"Oh, you genius!" River whispered to him before running to Amy.

"Sir, the angels need you to sacrifice yourself now..." Angel Bob said, me scoffing.

Did those morons really think anyone was about to sacrifice themselves? For the angels, at that.

The thought was hilarious.

River told Amy to hold onto the console tightly, ordering her to not open her eyes and under no circumstance was she to let go.

"It's about to feel even worse than when PJ threw you into the flight deck entrance..." River informed Amy causing her to groan.

"Great..." The Scottish girl sighed.

"The thing is, Bob, the angels are draining all the power from this ship. Every last bit of it. And you know what?! I think they've forgotten where they're standing. I think they've forgotten the gravity of the situation. Or to put it another way, angels..." The Doctor sighed, a lazy look crawling onto his face. "Goodnight."

With that, the alarms of the ship blared and the gravity failed.

The Byzantium was turning off—and considered it had crashed upside down and on its side... well, it made standing quite a bit harder. Everything tilted and suddenly we were dangling as the ground left our feet.

Amy yelled, her eyes still pinched closed but her hands holding the console so tightly that they were turning white.

The thrusters of my space boots worked in making it slightly lighter from where I was holding. I watched the other three, making sure that if they fell I would be fast enough to catch them.

The angels, the statues, every last one of them all tilted backward in an instant—falling from the ground and toward the bright light. They fed the crack of time and space, the hundreds of them that had been in the forest sucked up by the bright light.

I had no doubt that all the angels from the temple had been in the forest and therefore now all eaten by the light.

The Doctor was grinning madly as he watched the angels fall into the crack.

The sound of stone shattering filled our ears—the angels disappearing. The light from the crack got even brighter as it was fed, shining so dazzlingly that I had to squint my eyes through the goggles.

Finally, the light started dimming as the crack weaved itself closed.

POWER.

My heart rate skyrocketed—adrenaline rushing through my veins as my mind suddenly turned muddy and swampy. It was hard to think, to see straight.

The power from the crack, its energy once again poked at me. Trying to lure me toward it.

It sensed the immense cosmic energy I provided—it wanted some. Wanted to taste me; to eat me as it had the angels.

Aureum. Tenebris. Life. Death. Creation. Destruction.

Gone. It was all gone, wiped away as though it had never even existed. There was no undoing the destruction of a universe no matter how powerful you were. And mine was gone.

As were the laws of the multiverse. Creation and destruction. Universes were born just as much as they were destroyed. An infinite cycle. An inescapable cycle. Stability in a never-ending state of chaos.

But I was going to fix it all.

I was going to stop the game. Create true stability.

I was going take down the entire fucking system.

THE POLARIS JADE TAKES ON THE SPACE JAM.

The crack closed itself fully, but the energy it had caused affected me negatively. Especially with the force of my power located so close to me—just inside a simple backpack. My eyes closed and my grip on the console loosened.

The crack was closed, but we were still dangling. I vaguely heard the Doctor saying something, giving orders on how we were going to crawl out of this without hurting ourselves.

I think he might've asked me something about my space boots and the rockets. Something about me grabbing them and placing them on the nearest upright ground one by one.

"PJ?" The Doctor called. "Dearest? Did you hear me?"

I desperately tried to keep my grip tight, but everything was failing as life became muddly.

River spoke a moment later. "Sweetheart? PJ?"

And like that, my grip failed and I was falling. For only a second before a soft but strong grip had me.

River Song.

She had been next to me, having released one hand to grab me before I fell who-knows-how-many feet to the ground and hurt myself.

Panicked voices met my ears, desperate calls of my name. But the energy was too much, too gross—I could not fight the aura of forced unconsciousness.

Before I went completely under, I felt another grip take my other hand.

The Doctor—he had a grip on my right hand, holding along with River who was holding onto my left.

They were not going to let me fall.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐬
𝟓𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

The sound of the crowd was deafening, even back here in the shadows. I sat on the edge of a cold metal bench, my hands clenched into fists on my thighs, staring down at the glowing lines that pulsed faintly across my spacesuit. Black and silver, sleek and seamless, it was meant to mark me as a champion, but it felt more like a brand—a reminder of what I'd become.

Or perhaps, of what I'd always been.

Out there, past the shimmering force field, the arena floor stretched wide and unforgiving, bathed in the stark white light of this doomed universe. The jagged scorch marks and shattered debris from the battles before mine told a story I didn't want to be part of. But there was no escaping it.

I could feel him before I heard him—the Destroyer. His presence wasn't physical, not really. It was more like a void, a pulling gravity that made the air colder, thicker, and harder to breathe.

"Polaris Jade."

The sound of my name in his voice made my stomach twist. I didn't look up. I didn't need to.

"You know your purpose," he said, his tone as smooth as it was commanding. "You were crafted for this. The pinnacle of perfection. My hand. Do not falter now."

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. Crafted. The word made my skin crawl. I wasn't crafted—I was stolen. Twice. Broken and rebuilt both times into things I never wanted to be.

Originally, I was stolen to be humanity's last hope. A protector. A savior. An escape route from a dying dimension.

And then, when that failed, I was stolen again and made into something even worse.

First, I was the half-breed child. Then I was THE POLARIS JADE. And now, I was THE POLARIS JADE, champion of the Space Jam. The Annihilator.

The roar of the crowd grew louder, an eager, bloodthirsty tide. Their voices melded into one, an incessant chant:

"Unstoppable Jade! The Annihilator! Watch as she obliterates them all!"

I hated that name. I hated how it crawled under my skin, how it echoed the truth I didn't want to admit. I was unstoppable. And that made me the worst possible thing for this universe.

My eyes drifted to the champions on the other side of the force field. They stood tall, their armor glowing in defiance, their presence a testament to this universe's last spark of hope. If they won, this place—this universe, B-139Z0—could be reborn. Stronger. Better.

But they wouldn't win. They couldn't. Not against me.

The Destroyer's voice slithered through my thoughts again. "Do you hear them?"

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him to shut up, to leave me alone. But I couldn't. His will was like a chain, wrapped so tightly around me that I couldn't even remember what it felt like to move without it.

The chant outside grew louder, a rhythmic pulse that matched the drums of war pounding in the arena.

"Unstoppable Jade! The Annihilator! Watch as she destroys this place!"

I stood, my movements stiff and mechanical, like a puppet on strings. My suit lit up, its blue lines glowing brighter in time with the energy that thrummed in my veins. Energy I didn't ask for. Energy I couldn't always control.

"The force! The force! It'll turn you all to ash!"

The force field shimmered and vanished, and the sleek doors in front of me slid open with a hiss. I froze for just a moment, staring out at the arena floor, its glowing gridlines stretching toward the champions like a bridge to hell.

"The POLARIS JADE will burn it all down!"

This wasn't what I wanted. I wasn't supposed to be this.

But I took the first step forward.

The roar of the crowd was deafening now, their voices a wall of sound that crashed over me. The drums of war thundered, shaking the ground beneath my feet.

Each step felt heavier than the last, but I kept moving, the power inside me burning brighter, stronger, louder. My body betrayed me, thrumming with the strength I couldn't suppress.

The cheers grew into a fever pitch as I emerged into the light, their chant ringing in my ears, echoing in my bones:

"THE POLARIS JADE! SHE IS UNSTOPPABLE! UNKILLABLE! SHE WILL DESTROY YOU ALL!"

And I hated that they were right.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

My eyes snapped open and I sat up with a gasp. The deep intake of breath caused me to panic; the gas mask was missing and so were my goggles.

"It's okay, you're okay! We're out of the temple, River and I put a viro stabilizer in you..." The Doctor was immediately in my face, cradling the back of my head.

In the next second, he pulled me to his chest and buried his face in the crook of my neck. Almost hesitantly, I reached up and hugged him back. The hug lasted only a second before I awkwardly patted his back.

"Alright, you can let go now, pal..." I told him through a huff.

The Doctor slowly pulled away, leaving a kiss on my forehead causing me to scrunch my face. Seriously, this generation of the Doctor was so emotional.

"Glad to see you're awake," River squatted next to us, looking at me with a small smile.

She briefly grabbed my hand, delivering a strong squeeze before she dropped it. It was apparent she was far less emotional and touchy than the Doctor.

I had been lying on a random piece of cloth on the beach. It was rather crisp out but a thin gray blanket had been thrown over me.

"Radiation paired with the energy of the crack got to you..." The Doctor explained. "Mask and goggles were good in keeping you protected, but still not as effective as a viro stabilizer—the flux of energy from the crack feeding on the angels and then snapping closed knocked you out..."

Made enough sense.

"How long has it been?" I asked.

River Song answered me. "Ten minutes, not long. The Doctor and I were able to get the Byzantium's teleport working and managed to teleport us all out of the crash and temple. We just got here a few minutes ago..." She explained.

I looked around, the place was crawling with more militaristic men. Amy was talking to a few, sitting on a rock a small distance away. There was a gray blanket over her.

"Ah..." I clicked my tongue before suddenly jumping up.

"Be..." The Doctor started before realizing that I was fine. "...Careful..." He ended weakly.

"Maybe once you are," I responded while brushing myself off.

"I'm always careful!" He defended.

I laughed at his words. "God, you're funny..." I chuckled, wiping a tear from my eyes. He blinked and scoffed at my motions. "Anyway, where'd my goggles go?" I asked.

The Doctor lit up like a light and patted the pockets of his pants. In the next moment, he pulled my goggles from one of his pockets.

"Deep pockets?" I raised a brow while slowly taking the goggles from him and placing them on my head.

"Bigger on the inside..." He waggled his brows almost playfully, the man obviously in a good mood considering we all got out of the temple alive.

River had smiled at both of us, placing a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezing it before she moved past and made her way over to one of the military men.

"They here to take care of the crash?" I asked, watching River as she spoke to a few.

The Doctor stood next to me, his hands resting neatly behind his back as he too watched her. His eyes shined brightly with intrigue as he gazed at the bouncy-haired woman.

"Yep..." He nodded his head. "I believe they said the operation would take a few days to completely and safely incinerate the Byzantium. The angels are all gone too, sucked into the time field... so there is talk about rebuilding the Aplan temple..." He explained, speaking but never taking his eyes off the pretty and mysterious woman. "And Amy is good as well, the angel from her mind is gone..."

"That's good..." I breathed. "It would definitely suck for her to need to live the rest of her days with her eyes closed..."

The Doctor inadvertently snorted, looking at me with amusement. "Suck is an understatement..." He shook his head softly. "Even so, if the angel in her mind had not gone with the crack, I would have figured something out. Another way to get rid of it, to ensure her safety..."

"You always do..." I nodded, crossing my arms. There was a pause for a few moments. "Is it weird?"

"Is what weird?" He asked, slowly ripping his gaze away from River Song. I looked up and met his eyes. "For her to seemingly know so much about you but for you to barely know her?" I asked quietly.

The Doctor looked back at River briefly before looking at me, his lips tilting up slightly. He shrugged. "Sure, but it's certainly not the first time something of the sort has happened to me..."

"No?" I playfully nudged him.

He nudged me back. "Not at all. See, there was this one time, a few years back—this woman appeared in my life like a storm. Completely and utterly bonkers, mind you, and a bit obnoxious..." He chuckled and I swatted at him with a scoff.

"Shut up..." I could not stop myself from snorting. "It's not obnoxious... it's my charm..."

He tittered but stared at me happily and with more of that unfamiliar emotion. "Oh yes, of course, charm..." He said sarcastically before continuing. "Anyway, that crazy wayward girl appeared, and I mean, I'll admit, I trusted you alarmingly quickly..." He shook his head. "But River, she's—well, she seems to be even more complicated than you were when I first met you. My first meeting with her..." His voice cracked toward the end, and he shook his head before looking at me with a sad smile. "Spoilers..." He ended, bopping me on the nose.

My brows furrowed, and for once, I did not try to swat at the hand that had bopped my nose. Instead, I was more than curious as to what my future held. My future—the Doctor's past. Always so complicated.

"What happened?" I asked him.

He looked at me blankly before seemingly shaking himself out of it. A mad grin took over his face as he clapped his hands together, but I could see right through him. It was a phony smile. Fake happiness.

"One day you'll know!" He told me, before reaching down and grabbing my hand. "Now, come on, it looks like the prison ship is here to pick up River!"

"Prison ship?!" I asked, taken aback as the Doctor tugged us toward her.

"Oh yes, found out in the crash, from Father Octavian—lovely man, very brave..." He said the last part sadly. "...But River Song is a Stormcage inmate, she was helping out these men to lower her sentence." He told me.

Stormcage was no joke. A high-security prison made for only the most dangerous intergalactic criminals.

"Holy shit! What'd she do?!" I asked.

The Doctor looked at me seriously. "She killed a man... a very good man, apparently..."

With that, he released my wrist and walked the final stretch until he was next to River. She smiled up at him, the wind blowing through her hair as the small amounts of sunlight that could get through the overcast skies shined on her.

I groaned.

Of course, the Doctor would leave me hanging with such information.

Of fucking course.

Biting my lip in irritation, I sucked it up and made my way over to join the two.

"You, me..." River was in the middle of speaking with a dazzling smile. "PJ..." She added before motioning to her handcuffs. "Why must it always end this way?"

The Doctor smiled, looking at her with something akin to adoration. I coughed a laugh.

"Who gets handcuffed the most then?" I asked slyly.

River quirked a brow at me before shamelessly looking me up and down. "Is that even a question, sweetheart? Obviously, it's you..."

"Nah..." I rested my hands behind my head. "I don't believe it, I'm too fast, people can't catch me..."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and poked me on the side causing me to jump and scowl at him. He only bit back a snicker.

"Believe what you want, darling, but the truth is the truth..." River sighed with a smile.

The Doctor was quick to pipe up. "What now?" He asked her, leaning down and putting his head near hers before walking forward a few steps.

"The prison ship is in orbit..." She informed us, a smile still prominent on her lips. "...They'll beam me up any second... I might've even done enough to earn a pardon this time. We'll see..."

The Doctor turned to her, his smile slipping as his voice came out quieter.

"Octavian said that you killed a man. A good man..." He told her.

I shifted uncomfortably, looking between the two.

River nodded, her face falling. "Yes, I did..." She confirmed. "A very good man, the best man I've ever known..."

The Doctor nodded before asking one simple question. "Who?"

River Song snorted, looking toward her feet. "It's a long story, Doctor. Can't be told—it has to be lived..."

The Doctor stepped closer to her, both of them sharing a long look of a thousand words. Pursing my lips, I could not stop myself from ruining the moment.

Because like... why the fuck are they tiptoeing around this shit?

Placing myself between the two, I looked back and forth—my face uncomfortably close. They both jumped, blinking to look at me in surprise.

"It's obvious that the man she killed is you..." I finally spoke while looking at the Doctor.

The Doctor gaped while River threw her head back with a loud laugh.

What? It's what we were all thinking, I don't know why the two were not saying it out loud.

It's probably something to do with 'reading the room' as many say. I was never good at that. Always a bit of a blab mouth.

Alright, maybe the Doctor was a little right. I suppose I am a bit obnoxious.

He tried to hide his own small smile as he shook his head. As it would seem, all three of us were completely and utterly mad.

Mad in different ways, of course.

The Doctor was a chaotic good, a madman in a big blue box who happily skips about the universe doing as he pleases.

River Song, from the short time I had spent with her—she seemed to trapeze across a line that represents the wild side of life.

And me—well, as the Doctor said earlier, I was completely bonkers. Utterly nuts.

However, it was apparent that all three of us were insane because we casually spoke about how River Song would probably kill the Doctor one day. And here we were laughing and borderline flirting.

Completely insane.

"No sneak previews..." River finally giggled, giving me a pearly-white smile. "Well, except for this one... I'll see you again very soon when the Pandorica opens..."

My eyes widened at that and the Doctor only chuckled.

The Pandorica was a rumor of the time and space of this universe. I had never cared enough to see if it was real or not considering I had other things on my mind. But for it to open... that sounded pretty bad.

The Doctor leaned forward, an amused smile playing on his lips.

At first, I thought he was goingq to kiss River. But he moved his head last minute and whispered something in her ear. I was standing close enough to hear; however.

"The Pandorica is a fairytale..." He tittered in her ear.

I noticed the goosebumps that appeared on her skin. I looked away with a small smile. For as confident and brash as that woman was, it was obvious she was affected and could be made to blush.

However, she was smooth, laughing as the Doctor pulled away. He had a knowing smirk, the man understanding exactly the type of effect he had.

"Aren't we all?" River finally asked him.

He stared down at her, biting his lip. His eyes were filled with nothing but intrigue. The man could deny it all he wanted, but at the end of the day—River Song was right up his alley. Cool, sexy, mysterious, space lady who was intertwined heavily in his future.

I wondered how.

I was betting on marriage or an extreme situationship. One of the two.

Annoyance pricked at my skin—annoyance at myself for feeling slightly let down at the knowledge. But why the hell should I care? If anything it helped, I had previously been nervous that the Doctor was harboring some unspoken feelings toward me. Scared my future self might've done something incredibly stupid.

While that was still very much a possibility considering it was part of the Doctor's past and River Song was still decently new in his timeline, then it helped me out immensely. Well... considering all of time and space and the many different cultures—River Song's presence either helped me... or made everything that much riskier and more complicated.

I shut those thoughts off immediately.

Fuck no.

"I'll look forward to seeing you then..." The Doctor smiled, almost in a flirty manner at her.

She smiled back, even more flirty. "I remember it well..." She turned that look to me. "I'll be seeing you then too, sweetheart... and potentially even before that..."

I gave her a long and pondering expression. Not unfriendly, simply thoughtful.

Better to keep friends from this damned universe at an arm's length. But even I knew the truth, it was much too late for that.

Smiling, I leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on River's cheek. She blushed to my surprise and the Doctor frowned, suddenly fidgeting around and seemingly almost... envious.

Of course, he would be. That man was a fiend for affection, and I did not give kisses easily.

River Song seemed to know by the look she gave me, staring into my eyes through her lashes.

"Nice to meet you, hotness... it sounds like our paths will cross again..." I smiled, beginning to take a step back just as Amy joined our small group.

She had a blanket strewn over her shoulders, and she gave us all a smile, completely unaware of the tension she had just arrived on. I threw a wink at Amy causing her to laugh.

"See you two back in the TARDIS!" I waved, whirling around and walking toward the big blue box.

I could feel the Doctor's eyes on me, but I did not give him the satisfaction of turning around. I already knew that I would be met with huge puppy eyes if I did so.

As I said, this version of the Space Lord was an absolute fiend for affection.

The TARDIS greeted me warmly as I entered her, the console lights flickering and turning brighter upon entrance.

How nice it felt to be back. To be out of those damn caverns and the Byzantium. Relief pulled at me—how long had I been gone?

Not long: two hours going on three? The Doctor and Amy were the ones who had been gone the longest, not including the museum they went to before the Byzantium they had been gone for over eight hours. Including the museum it was nearly ten hours.

Similar to how I did after we had successfully stopped the Dalek bomb, I dropped into the jump seat of the TARDIS console and splayed myself out over it.

Was this bound to become a tradition after every instance of us running for our lives? The Doctor, for all his quirks, certainly did not live any sort of boring life. It was all go-go-go!

I suppose I lived similarly. It'd only been calm for the last few years as I was stuck on Earth. I had five years of rest: five years of living an ordinary little human life in America. That was over now—it was back to constantly going and being on the move.

I liked it more than I cared to admit.

The TARDIS doors opened and the Doctor bounced inside followed by Amy.

"Ugh!" I groan loudly and dramatically as the Doctor hopped up the steps, but then paused right in front of my head.

He stood over my lying form, peering down at me curiously. I tried not to think about the fact that I was nearly eye-level with the alien's cock—thankfully, his pants were not tight.

"Yes?" I asked him when he only continued to stare down at me.

"You've never given me a kiss on the cheek..." He pouted like a child.

Man child. I swear.

"Maybe I will when you deserve it..." I tried waving him away.

"What can I do to deserve it?"

"For one: pilot us out of the 51st Century!" I slapped his thigh lightly before pointing toward the console. "Please, I actually hate it here."

"I swear you hate it everywhere!" He nagged but did as I said and twirled toward the console where he was quick to start pulling levers and pressing buttons.

Amy smiled as she moved past me, choosing to stand by the Doctor as he worked on moving the TARDIS into the time vortex. The three of us sat in a rare silence for many minutes—listening to the Doctor type into the TARDIS controls.

After the last few hours; silence in the safety of the TARDIS was more than welcome. I slowly sat upright, leaning back against the chair and bringing my leg up.

I could not stop myself from looking at the Doctor. But this time—I was not just looking, I was truly seeing him.

He was ever-so beautiful both inside and out. His tweed coat was still missing, his suspenders slightly looser than usual. His green eyes were wide as he moved, his fluffy hair swooped to the side in a sort of messy quiff. Desperately, I tried to rip my gaze away but found that I couldn't.

He was fucking adorable. Adorably handsome.

He seemed to feel me looking and slowly brought his gaze to meet my own. Our eyes clashed, and we stared at each other for a brief moment before I looked away—fighting the blush that threatened to take over my face.

How embarrassing... to be caught checking out the Space Lord.

Unable to stop myself, I looked at him once more only to find him grinning ear-to-ear as he was still looking at me. He knew what I'd been doing.

I rolled my eyes at him.

Amy looked between the two of us thoughtfully before something in her eyes clicked and she seemed to make up her mind. I was surprised by the words that fell from her mouth.

"I want to go home..." She said it softly, brown eyes suddenly glued to the Doctor.

The Doctor looked equally as surprised, as he looked away from me to her.

His shoulders slumped and his head tilted downward. I felt bad for him, but I also could not blame Amy. She'd almost died today, in like a really violent manner.

A Weeping Angel was in her fucking mind, she needed to wander through an abandoned temple and smoking crash with her eyes closed and surrounded by monsters. Not to mention, the idiot TimeLord left her behind at one point! The angels probably terrified her.

"Okay..." The Doctor breathed, words simple as they hung in the air.

I did not dare say anything, only allowing my gaze to flicker between the two. Amy did not so much as look at me, her gaze set on the Doctor with an odd sense of determination.

She nudged his shoulder with a small laugh. "No, not like that..." She shook her head. "I just want to show you something, you're running from River. I'm running too..." Her eyes were wide as she swallowed.

I quirked a brow but did not say anything. The Doctor looked at her curiously.

The way the Doctor looked at Amy was rare, and it was different than the way he looked at me or even how he'd looked at River earlier. How he looked at Amy was something unexplainable. A look of pure affection and love—a sort of peace with a person that was hard to come by. Happiness. Wonder.

There was no passion behind his gaze, and when there was no passion it usually meant that the love was platonic. He looked to Amy as one would look at a very dear friend. A very loved friend. I was familiar with the look.

He looked at Amy in the same way that I looked at one of my closest friends. My best friend. It was how I looked at Garren.

"Alright..." He nodded gently.

The ride was not long, he typed something into the TARDIS quickly before smashing a button and pulling a lever. Unsurprisingly, he avoided the stabilizers as though it was the plague.

The TARDIS shuddered before pausing—and Amy looked around expectantly.

"Are we here?" She asked unsurely.

Such quick and smooth rides were not usually the case with this guy.

The Doctor smiled at her, tapping her nose causing her to grin and look at him with stars in her eyes.

"Yep, we are right in your bedroom..." He waggled his brows playfully. "Impressive right?"

I gaped when Amy gave him a very flirty and very suggestive look in return. Although, the Doctor seemed to miss it as he spun away and headed toward the door. Amy trotted behind him—and I remained in my seat.

"Very impressive, Doctor..." She responded, voice an octave deeper and her pupils blown wide.

She was running on pure adrenaline.

Amusement bubbled inside me.

I had a strong feeling that I knew why Amy wanted to bring the Doctor back to her home if the look she just gave him was anything to go by. Unfortunately for her, knowing the TimeLord and seeing as he first met Amelia when she was an innocent little girl—I highly doubted he was going to be interested.

From what I can tell, the Doctor saw Amy as too much of a companion. In the sense that he had taken up a role as a caretaker for her: big-brother-like, in a lot of ways.

But who knows? Amy is a very attractive woman, and she can be very persuasive, she just might be able to persuade the Doctor into giving her what she wants. Into having some fun with her.

I was not necessarily envious at the thought. Along with the fact that I had absolutely no right to be—I am just not a jealous person. Concerningly to the point that I had even encouraged past love interests to pursue others... it was more entertaining to watch.

Especially when most inevitably failed.

"Are you coming, dearest?" The Doctor called from the doorway as he opened the TARDIS doors.

Amy also turned to face me, but to my surprise, her gaze was friendly and encouraging. Despite her obvious attempts at seduction, she seemed to not mind if I accompanied them.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be out there in a few... just resting my feet..." I explained lazily.

The Doctor nodded happily and Amy delivered a wink which had my eyebrows raised into my hairline as the two disappeared out of the TARDIS, the door closing behind them.

I sat still for a few more minutes, basking in the sound of silence. With a groan, I finally stood up and meandered toward the doors of the TARDIS. Exiting the place—I was greeted by the Doctor and Amy sitting next to each other on a bed.

The room was cute—a clash of Earthling childhood, angsty teen years, and the perky wonders of being a young adult. Portraits littered the walls. Well-done drawings of who I recognized as the Doctor and a young red-head little girl.

There were other photos hung on the walls. Some had Amy with an older posh-looking woman who I assumed to be her aunt.

Upon staring at a picture of her aunt, a blonde with short hair and wearing a large feathery hat: I decided that she was rather fabulous.

The majority of pictures; however, featured Amy and two others. A terror trio, it seemed.

There was Amy, a dude, and a cute girl with mocha skin and cool braids. The dude was primarily featured around her room—various areas littered with selfies of him and Amy. The mocha-skinned girl was in fewer, but still a prime character in her pictures. A close friend, no doubt.

My eyes slowly skimmed away from her filled walls and slightly messy floor to her open wardrobe. A traditional and floral long white gown was hanging with a veil.

The most classical interpretation of a wedding dress I had ever seen.

"Sounds like wedding bells...?" I finally teased, looking at Amy and the Doctor who had their gazes set on me. "Nice dress... very classy..."

Amy smiled tightly, momentarily looking at the gown with something akin to disappointment.

"Thanks..." She said, but her words sounded hollow like she didn't mean it.

The Doctor looked away from me and to Amy, his delicate brows furrowed in confusion. He blew out a long breath, eyes darting to the wedding dress. He seemed to deflate at the sight of it.

My mind worked quickly.

I was starting to understand the Doctor better than I wanted.

He was very kind. Very old. And very wise. He was usually selfless, but he was still a person, still alive. And no matter what, there was nothing—nobody—in all of existence that was not selfish even a little.

Even the last TimeLord, the Doctor was not immune to this, and that correlated to a slight selfishness when it came to his companions. When one traveled with the Doctor, his companions became very important aspects of his existence. They became the center of his concern—the center of his world. The most important things to him.

And, to a degree, the old man expected such a thing to be returned. He did not like to share his companions, he did not like when they left and had to live their boring little human lives.

I suppose I could understand him. When time and space and everything else is your backyard: who cares about a silly little 9-5 for stupid planetary currency? Certainly not the Doctor. And definitely not me.

...Unless I happened to get stuck on Earth and forced to work a crappy job in the 21st Century all in the name of affording rent for a shoddy apartment. Then sure; yeah, I cared.

"Well..." The Doctor finally spoke. "Marriage—that's a big word, ey?"

I leaned against the TARDIS, crossing my arms and watching the situation play out with curiosity.

"Yeah," Amy nodded, her eyes still wide. "It really is..."

I heard the truth of her words, it hung in the air unsaid.

Marriage was a huge word, and Amelia Pond didn't know if she was ready for it. Brave enough for it. Grown enough for it.

And running off with the Doctor; her imaginary friend from childhood, her own real life version of Peter Pan—well, that didn't help.

"Blimey..." The Doctor breathed.

And while he did not say it out loud, I knew what he was thinking. His sweet little Amelia Pond was truly all grown up, and he'd missed her entire childhood!

"I know," Amy said, her voice tinged with an equal amount of disbelief. "This is the same night we left, yeah?"

The Doctor looked down, putting up his wrist and staring at the golden wristwatch he wore. I noticed right away that the watch was not normal, it was completely alien. Gallifreyan, if I had to guess because it did not just tell the Doctor the time. It told the Doctor THE TIME, as in where the fuck he was and when the fuck he was.

He easily read through the alien scripture.

"We've been gone five minutes..." He nodded, putting his wrist down and looking back to Amy.

Even for as much as I had seen, as much as I had been through—such a concept was still amazing. The Doctor and Amy had only been gone five minutes, but in that time they went through so much. In that time I had jumped aboard.

Five minutes was the equivalent of almost three weeks for Amy Pond.

She leaned back, quickly grabbing something from her nightstand and holding it out for the Doctor to see.

A pretty romantic velvet red ringbox. She popped it open, swallowing as she looked at it was an odd look. The Doctor leaned in closer to her, his eyes squinted as he looked at the ring full of judgement.

The emotion in his eyes was obvious: was this ring good enough for his sweet little Amelia Pond?

I could not make out much from where I stood, but it was shiny, and it was diamond-encrusted.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend, so I suppose it was good enough.

The Doctor snatched the ring from Amy's hands and looked at it ponderingly before he turned that expression to Amy.

"Why did you leave it here?" He finally asked her.

Amy licked her bottom lip, stealing the ring back from the Doctor and placing it in its rightful spot.

"Why did I leave my engagement ring behind when I ran away with a strange man the night before my wedding?" She smirked suggestively.

"Yeah..." The Doctor asked dumbly.

"You really are an alien, aren't you?" Amy pushed him playfully, her tone flirtatious, and I was left gaping.

Is he that stupidly naive? Extremely naive when it comes to this stuff it seems.

Could he be blamed though? Not really, the guy was a 907-year-old alien shoved in the body of a relatively handsome young man. His 'game' was long gone. It's probably been gone since he turned 500 or something.

BUT!

Doctor 10 was also decently young and good-looking. I was not sure about any of his regenerations before that, but the man had nine others! Surely a few of them were equally as good-looking and young!

There is no way that he is this daft as to not be able to tell when somebody is coming onto him! It must've just been this generation of him that's awkward with romance.

I looked at him again and found he was staring at Amy with wide eyes and a curiously sweet expression.

Jesus fuck.

"So who is the lucky fella?" The Doctor finally asked, still confused and not having gotten Amy's earlier insinuation.

Alright—not to sound like a total scoundrel—but like... if Amy really wants to get laid before she is cuffed for the rest of her human life and the Doctor isn't willing to fulfill her desires... well... there is always me.

I am ALWAYS down for a good snog... with no strings attached, of course!

Now, I have had a few lovers myself—both male and female. And I am an expert at pleasing them all.

But like, Amy is from 2010 Earth... Leadworth, at that. I would be extremely surprised if her sexual desires vary from anything other than straight human men. But then again... just because one is straight or generally prefers one gender, no one ever said you can't have a bit of fun.

No strings attached, remember.

Besides, I am vaguely certain I heard somewhere that TimeLords don't really engage in sex. Not as often as most creatures seeing as they did not procreate as much.

They were more than capable of it, sure, but they were considered like "higher lifeforms" or something stupid like that and had mostly ascended above such "frivolous" activities.

Not to mention, the Doctor himself was the last of his kind. It wasn't like there were really other TimeLords for him to be coupling up with. Then again, species don't matter that much when it comes to sex.

If sex is compatible, then it's compatible—nothing more, nothing less. Physical pleasure is physical pleasure.

I glanced at the kooky Doctor again. It had probably been a while for him.

My lips quirked up against my will as I forced my gaze to the floor to stop the small snicker ready to burst forth.

I barely paid any mind as Amy described her fiancé and the Doctor briefly made fun of him.

Typical dude behavior—show off to the women and make fun of the other men.

"So..." Amy trailed off and I caught ahold of myself while listening back in. "Do you comfort a lot of people the night before their wedding?"

The thing about it was that most creatures were not capable of coupling without feelings. It was like a game: can you do it without falling? Without catching feelings.

Most can't, maybe once but not every time. Eventually, when you are with and around someone long enough—feelings seep in.

With Amy, I had no feelings for her other than friendly, that's why I knew with her it'd be fine. It'd just be for funsies.

A sorta: oh, what the fuck... why not!

But then my thoughts drifted—thoughts of the Doctor. I already knew deep down that he was dangerous, he was someone who would barely need to try and could successfully wind a rope around my poor heart.

The knowledge was sickening.

I was the POLARIS JADE who had not even known the Doctor for long. I was better than this. But some things—some things even I can't control. And sadly, the TimeLord was one of them.

The Doctor tilted his head, looking at Amy completely and utterly perplexed. "Why would you need comforting?"

Idiot.

Amy batted her lashes. "I nearly died, Doctor. I was alone in the dark and I nearly died. And it made me think..." She trailed off.

The Doctor still wasn't getting it. "Well, yes, naturally we all think... I think sometimes, well lots of times—all the time..." He told her.

Amy pursed her lips and breathed harshly, closing her eyes frustrated before opening them again. "About who I want..." She all but said she wanted the Doctor. "Do you understand?"

The Doctor looked at her blankly. "Oh yeah..." He said knowingly, obviously acting as to not look stupid. But then his brows furrowed. "Actually, no still not getting it, sorry..."

Amy once again closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before she opened them. Lust and admiration ran rampant in her gaze. "Doctor, in a word, in one very simple word that even you can understand..." With that, she leaned forward and threw herself on the Doctor, grabbing his face and attempting to kiss him.

His eyes lit up in recognition before flashing with concern as he desperately leaned away from her. He brought his hands up, gripping her shoulders and trying to stop her from advancing on him.

He did not struggle with holding her back, more with holding her back without hurting her. A TimeLord's strength, not that many knew, was still far superior to humans. While he was not like fucking Superman or some wild shit like that, he still had to be careful when handling a human unless he wants to cause bruising.

But holy fuck.

My hand came up to cover my mouth, stifling the snickers. The Doctor yelped and managed to jump away from her and off the back of the bed.

"No, Amy! You're getting married in the morning!" He floundered.

Amy quickly followed him and managed to corner him against the TARDIS doors.

"The morning is a long time away..." She breathed, trying to take down his suspenders only for him to fix them and bring them back up every time.

I took a step away from where I had been leaning on the TARDIS, watching them with huge eyes and my mouth covered. Amy had walled him to the TARDIS door, finnicking with his buttons to try and undo them.

I wondered how long she'd been horny for the TimeLord. Probably from the second he apparently turned up in the middle of the night, all suave and charming and inviting her to run away and see the stars with him.

Wow—the Doctor definitely sends the wrong message.

It was either that or she was just looking for comfort in the form of physical connection and her fiancé was not here.

It was probably a bit of both.

"Amy, listen, I am 907, do you understand what the means?" He asked, desperation clawing in his tone as he fought against her nimble fingers.

He managed to slip out from under her arm. Amy spun to face him, a hand on her hip and an unimpressed brow raised.

"It's been a while?" She guessed.

"What? No!" He answered rather offended.

A snort slipped from me. Amy smirked in my direction and the Doctor glared at me.

"A little help?" He motioned to his companion.

I held my hands up. The Space Lord fought monsters nearly every day. I am positive that he is capable of handling a red-haired foxy human woman.

"What do you expect me to do? The woman knows what she wants... some fun!" I piped unhelpfully and the Doctor groaned loudly, looking away from me to deal with Amy who had pounced on him again.

She spun them to the TARDIS, trapping him again the blue doors.

"Ugh, alright, Amy! Look at me! I don't get older—I just change. You get older, I don't, and this can't ever work!" He attempted to explain what Amy already knew.

She blinked and made a noise that was between a scoff and snort while staring at the Doctor as though he was just darling.

"Oh, you are sweet, Doctor... but I wasn't suggesting anything quite so..." She took a step closer to him. "...Long term..." She finally managed to pin him down and kissed him like the world was ending.

My mouth once again hit the ground as I breathed a laugh of disbelief. This was the funniest thing ever.

The Doctor released a muffled yelp, but—and I have no doubt this man will deny it until his last breath—he fucking kissed her back. Briefly, at least.

His arms flapped awkwardly, but for just a few seconds, he allowed her to kiss him and he kissed her back.

Wow, Amy was a good kisser. The sound of their smooching filled the room. The two were actually quite hot—both tall statuesque people kissing against the TARDIS doors like the world was on fire. Hot as fuck.

In the next moment; however, the Doctor got his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. He was staring at her wide-eyed before he shook his head and looked disturbed with himself.

Then I was reminded that to him: Amy was the little girl he'd met just a few weeks ago.

Nevertheless, I knew that man had to have enjoyed it a little. Let's be real, there is nobody who dislikes having the living daylights snogged out of them by an attractive person.

His eyes flicked to meet mine expectantly—searching for something. I only raised an amused brow and he wilted before his attention went back to Amy, him grunting as he once again had to hold her back.

It took me a moment before a funny thought made its way to my mind. What had he been searching for? It couldn't... no, that was a stupid thought. The Doctor wouldn't... but would he? Had he been hoping to see jealousy written across my features?

No, bitch. Of course that was not the case, the Doctor wouldn't have done that. It's the Doctor.

That would be a downright idiotic plan.

Idiotic... this guy was idiotic.

The only jealousy that I felt was the fact that Amy had not tried to kiss me.

My thoughts were answered.

"Fine then! Join us when you grow a pair, raggedy man! A threesome is even better!" She shoved herself away from the Doctor.

Now, the Doctor looked confused. I probably looked just as bewildered.

"What—?" His words were cut off as Amy suddenly spun toward me and grabbed my face between her hands.

"Always wanted to try it with a girl, figure the night before my wedding is as good a time as any? Wanna give it a go?"

My shocked expression turned into one of amusement. "Not my first go with a human girl, Miss Pond..." I laughed. "But sure..."

Amy smirked. "Good because it's mine... and I need a girl who has some experience..." With those words, she leaned down a few inches to kiss me.

Her lips were soft and they tasted of strawberry chapstick.

Human women were always softer than men. And most of the time, they smelled better too. Amy for one smelled delightful, and this was after eight hours of her running and crawling through catacombs and an entire starship crash.

I did not need to stand on my toes to kiss Amy, only needing to nudge my head up as I was quick to kiss her back just as excitedly. She really is a good kisser.

We probably looked hotter kissing than she and the Doctor did.

I hummed against her mouth, walking forward and backing her up until her knees hit the bed and we both tumbled onto it. We did not stop kissing, myself only crawling over her as I eagerly started placing kisses down Amy's neck.

Seeing as my nose was much more advanced than any normal human and my nose was shoved right up in Amy's neck, I could literally smell the adrenaline coursing through her.

"WHAT! NO!"

I did not register the Doctor before he winded an arm around my waist and I was forcefully pulled off Amy. I screeched in surprise at his strength as he literally picked me up with one arm, twirled us around, and placed me behind him.

He stood between Amy and me.

Amy got up on her elbows, raising a sharp brow. She stared at both of us seductively.

"Come on! I need to do something wild before I tie the knot! A threesome with an alien and space girl is perfect!" She groaned while the Doctor opened and closed his mouth, furiously fixing his bowtie.

"Cool with me..." I shrugged, trying to walk past the Doctor only for him to continuously block me as though a linebacker in American football. "Doctor, what're you doing?" I asked him through a bemused snort.

"No! No, no, no! Stop this!" He was stuttering in unabashed shock, a bright blush having taken over his face. "We don't do this!"

There was something else in his tone as well, I smirked. It was obvious the scene of two hot women making out rather viciously in front of him had got to him in some aspect.

"Doctor—" Amy started only for him to wag a finger at her.

"This is ridiculous, absolutely not!" He scolded the both of us as though an angry father. But given the context, he could not be further from such a thing. "We are not having a... a... a threesome!" He was explaining in disbelief. "Amelia—you are getting married in the morning! What would your fiancé think!" The Doctor asked, sounding almost like he was reminding himself of this too.

She shrugged and waved it off. "Rory wouldn't care..."

My eyes narrowed at that statement. Somehow, I did not quite believe her.

The Doctor ignored her, turning to me and shaking his head. He looked more upset than I was expecting. Like a horribly jealous ex-boyfriend.

"And you...!" He exclaimed, saying the word you in a way that took me aback. "You can't... you cannot just kiss people! Y-You're a taken woman!"

"What are you saying?" I scoffed, my tone almost humorous. "You're actually insane if you think you get to control who I kiss. Who the hell do you think you are...?" I angrily poked his chest, and he furrowed his brows in an upset manner, once again opening and closing his mouth. "I am absolutely not taken!"

The Doctor had no right to tell me I couldn't kiss Amy.

The Doctor shook his head. "Well, as my intern—you don't get to kiss other people, honestly, do you see me just kissing other people...!" He was now rambling and making no sense.

I had no clue what he was talking about. Was he insinuating that I'm only allowed to kiss him.

"You just kissed Amy too!" I laughed. "Why are you so upset?"

"No, she kissed me! And you more than kissed Amy—you were ready to pull her skirt off! Did you forget that I was standing right here, watching the entire thing!"

"What the—that sounds so creepy, Doctor! Stop being dramatic, it was just a little kiss!"

"Oh-ho, you call that a little kiss! I'd love to see what you consider a passionate kiss then!"

"I am sure you would!" I scoffed, not realizing we had both somehow got closer.

"Then why don't show you me?" He shot back, leaning down until his face was inches from my own.

Fire and tension danced between us.

"Ugh!" Amy interrupted our small spat, groaning and looking to the ceiling. "You guys argue like an old married couple! Honestly, Doctor, no need to be jealous—I told you to join!"

I looked at the Doctor sharply. He stared back as though caught with his hand in the cookie jar. With that, I took a very noticeable step away from him and his shoulders slumped at the motion.

Ain't no way. Never.

The Doctor finally closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Pond, besides the fact that you were a little girl to me two weeks ago, you are getting married in the morning. We are not doing this..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly counting to five. When he opened his eyes, they flickered between the both of us seeming lost for once.

No one said anything for a long awkward moment.

But then, realization crawled its way onto his face, and then he lit up. "No, no, no—wait! Wait, of course!" He clapped his hands spinning around. "Of course, how can I have missed it!"

"Missed what?" I asked, calming down.

Not that I approved of the Doctor thinking he could just tell me what to do; he did have a point. Amy was getting married in the morning and her fiancé probably would care if she decided to take it to third base with me.

Above all else, I still considered Amy a friend. I did not want to be part of the reason she potentially has issues with her fiancé.

And while I might be able to screw around with someone and be casual with them after the fact; despite Amy's bold words, who knows if she was actually capable of doing such a thing. Especially when I would be her first time with a girl.

She might be awkward about it afterward.

I looked at her, at the way she waggled her brows at both me and the Doctor.

Okay, never mind, she would be totally fine keeping it normal. I just don't want to be the reason her fiancé gets heartbroken.

"It's her..." The Doctor told me, pointing to Amy before addressing her. "It's you... it's all about you..."

What the fuck was he talking about?

"What are you talking about, you crazy old man?!" I finally yelled in confusion.

The Doctor hit me with a dirty look. "No more smooching from you! Now, onto the more important things—the single most important thing in the universe..." He puffed, trailing off dramatically.

"Is what?" I threw my arms in the air.

He surged forward, grabbing Amy's wrist and pulling her up. He grabbed my hand next, tugging us both behind him and into the TARDIS.

"It's that we get Amelia Pond sorted. Right now."

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

Amy bounced to the control panel and leaned against it with a smirk. She eyed the Doctor and me seductively.

I'll admit, she looked rather cute in her outfit—her mini skirt and red sweater.

"Doctor, if the problem is you having issues getting it up—because you're old—then I'm sure the TARDIS will provide—" I started, looking to the Doctor with wide eyes, only for him to cut me off by placing a large hand over my mouth.

He was blushing brightly. "I can assure you that is certainly not the reason... the reason is because it's morally wrong!"

He released me a moment afterward, strutting past Amy and giving her a weary glance while piloting the TARDIS. He looked at her as one would a villain, as though the man was scared Amy would pounce on him and steal his chastity.

Amy and I shared a look—and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, typical bloke—straight to fixing his motor..." She groaned.

I hopped up the TARDIS steps, standing beside her and looking at the Doctor. He looked at both of us annoyed.

"Yeah, that's the thing, Amy—I am not a typical bloke..." He huffed.

"Sounds like something a typical bloke would say..." I sang sarcastically.

He snapped his fingers toward me. "Enough, peanut gallery!"

My nose scrunched and my eyes blazed.

"Fucking, Space Lord..." I muttered lowly, smiling 1000% watts when the Doctor narrowed his eyes at me.

The look he gave made me feel things I would rather ignore. I shifted, rubbing my legs together while purposely looking away with a heavy swallow. I did not notice the hard way that the Doctor was watching me, his gaze momentarily raking my figure before his attention was back to Amy.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? I'm getting mixed signals here!" Amy said with animosity. "At least PJ is open to me!"

The Doctor looked taken aback. "Mixed signals? How?" He demanded firmly, walking the TARDIS controls. "And PJ isn't open you—she's not allowed to be kissing and doing those things!"

"Stop saying that, Doctor! And stop dragging me into this!" I tittered.

"Oh, come on!" Amy shook her head, sauntering up to the Doctor. "You turn up in the middle of the night, don't let me change out of my nightie for ages, and then take me for a nice and long spin in your time machine..." She told him. I quirked a brow, Amy had a point—that did seem like a signal. The Doctor himself could not stop the small smirk that attached itself to his face. "That is just a great big signal: get your coat, love, the Doctor is in." Amy ended suggestively.

He seemed to forget that he was arguing against her for a moment. Instead, he looked proud of himself—nodding his head and shooting his eyebrows upward. No doubt patting himself on the back for his own suaveness. But then reality set in, and he was quickly shaking his head.

"No! No, no, no!" He repeated, shaking his head and flapping his hands. "It's not like that! I'm not like that!" The Doctor said, desperately trying to explain something he seemed to be unable to get out.

"Then what are you like?" Amy asked.

"I don't know," The Doctor shrugged before his eyes lit up and a happy smile spread over his face. "Gandalf..." He decided. "Like a space Gandalf! Or the little green one in Star Wars..." He ended, pretending to swing a lightsaber as he mimicked Master Yoda.

Be still my beating heart.

Did my ears deceive me? Did the Doctor just name-drop one of the greatest characters from one of my favorite series of all time?

My heart skipped another beat. Gandalf.

Did the Doctor just compare himself to Gandalf?

The Gandalf?

I could feel my inner geek rising, swelling with excitement. Was this real life?

Was the Doctor about to go full wizard mode in the TARDIS? Because I would pay good money to see him try. The man already had the cryptic vibes and the over-dramatic flair. He just needed a staff, a hat, and a pipe, and voilà!

Space Gandalf.

My mind was racing. Did he know about the movies? The books?

Of course, he does, why else would he have compared himself to such a character? Don't think stupid thoughts, bitch!

Would he have a movie night with me and binge them all? Could we go to Middle-Earth!?

The words slipped out before I could stop them. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor."

The Doctor's head snapped toward me so fast I was genuinely surprised it didn't break. His eyes locked onto mine, wide and filled with what could only be described as adoration. For a brief, terrifying moment, I thought he might combust.

Then he smiled. Not just any smile, either. It was that ridiculously heart-melting, twinkly-eyed grin of his that could light up galaxies.

And then, as if this was perfectly normal for him, he replied, his voice low and dramatic: "The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!"

I lost it. Completely and utterly lost it. My demeanor? Gone. Pride? Vanished. Out the TARDIS.

I squeaked—actually squeaked—and spun in a quick circle like an over-caffeinated squirrel.

"Oh my god!" I squealed, throwing my hands in the air.

The Doctor was beaming at me, his smile so wide it looked like it might actually split his face. He looked so... happy. Pure, unfiltered joy radiated off him, and it was contagious.

I couldn't help myself. I took a step closer, grinning like a maniac. "Go back to Shadow!" I commanded, playfully wagging a finger at him.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, both of us caught in this weird, shared moment of delight. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, we said the next line in perfect sync:

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

Amy's groan was faint in the background, something about us being "actual nutters," but I didn't care. I was too busy launching myself at the Doctor.

He made a noise of surprise, but his reflexes were quick.

"Oh!"

He caught me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist as I held onto him like a koala. He gripped me to him, and I did not mind that one of his arms was under my ass keeping me steady.

"You have more than earned some of my kisses and affection!" I declared, remembering his earlier complaint.

I leaned in and peppered his face with quick, playful kisses. His forehead, his cheeks—no spot was spared.

The Doctor hummed, the sound vibrating through me, and hugged me tighter. I could feel the warmth of him, the way he held me like he never wanted to let go.

A moment later—I stopped the onslaught of kisses and attempted to hop down.

"Just a few more seconds, please, don't let go..." He murmured, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.

I froze, the tone of his voice cutting through my excitement like a knife. It wasn't just affection. It was something deeper, something I wasn't ready to face. But for him, I obliged, letting him hold me for just a bit longer.

Finally, he released me, albeit reluctantly. I slid down, my feet hitting the ground as I looked up at him, trying to shake off the odd feeling bubbling in my chest.

"Movie night later?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light and casual.

His face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Of course, as is traditional! We will start with the official first movie. The Hobbit—"

"—An Unexpected Journey!" I finished for him, practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh my gosh, we need to visit Middle-Earth soon, puh-lease! That would be so beautiful and so amazing!"

The Doctor gave me a look so soft it made my knees weak. "Anything for you, my dearest," He said, his voice like a caress.

"Wait," I said, frowning as a thought occurred to me. "You said it's traditional. Have we done this before?"

His gaze lingered on me, and for a moment, I saw something in his eyes I couldn't quite place.

Slowly, he nodded. "Yes. Your future self always insisted we watch a movie every few days. We binged the entire Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series on more than one occasion..."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "Well, I guess it's time for me to start that tradition and for you to get back on it!"

The look he gave me then was enough to make my heart stutter. For a second, I thought he might kiss me—but he held back, his hands twitching at his sides.

I turned away before the moment could get any heavier, a grin spreading across my face. "Space Gandalf," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.

I felt his eyes on me. And I realized to my horror that the feeling only made me want to spin around and launch myself into his arms again.

"Well, weirdos, now that is over. How 'bout we go back to the fact that Gandalf here is just another bloke..." Amy piped up.

My demeanor came back instantly as I turned to look at her. I shrugged carelessly. "Yeah, can't deny it..."

The Doctor looked at Amy frowning. "No. I'm the Doctor." He told her simply, confidently.

'Are you a bloke?'

'No, I'm the Doctor.'

That is the equivalent of:

'Is this the Krusty Krab?'

'No, this is Patrick.'

I shook away the thought.

With a smile, Amy only shook her head. "Every room you walk into, you laugh at all the men and show off to all the girls..." She told him.

"I do not!" The Doctor argued.

"Uhm, you kind of do," I added, scratching the back of my head as he looked at me.

"You're one to talk," He countered me.

Do I do that? No way!

Besides if the Doctor was space Gandalf then I'm like... like Ms. Frizzle!

Oh yeah: I'm Ms. Frizzle! Love that lady!

Amy suddenly added something else. "What about, Rory?" She threw the words at the Doctor, pursing her lips and bouncing on her toes.

The Doctor proceeded to snicker and quite rudely made a motion of a big nose.

A loud laugh escaped me before I could stop myself: Amy and the Doctor turned to look at me. And I had to turn away, biting my fist to quiet my laughter as my shoulders quaked.

I heard Amy gasp and swat the Doctor's shoulder for his rude actions. I only continued to laugh, unsure as to why I found it so funny. Perhaps because it was unexpected. It was an action that was so like and unlike the Doctor at the same time.

"That was actual douchebag behavior..." I finally got out through frantic chortles. "You're so mean for that..." I continued to laugh, shaking my head and trying to stop. "I'm so sorry, it's really not that funny—AHAHA!"

I heard the Doctor laughing again before Amy swatted him.

Finally, I got ahold of myself and turned back to face them. Amy was standing with her arms crossed and a pout on her lips while the Doctor was watching me with a warm smile and twinkle in his eyes.

I leaned back against the railing, biting my lip amusedly.

Happiness from our previous interaction still flowed through my veins.

"You are a bloke..." Amy finally told him. "You just don't know it."

"Now, that is just not true, Pond," The Doctor shook his head.

"You are a bloke," Amy repeated firmly before making another move on him, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him toward her. "And here we are..." She nodded in my direction, still stuck on the threesome idea.

My mouth once again fell agape at the sight of her trying to kiss him.

The Doctor was quick to shut it down, grabbing her wrists and gently pushing her away.

"That is not why you're here..." He firmly told her.

"Then why am I here?" Amy asked right back.

The Doctor gave her an almost sad look—a look mixed with frustration. A look of a lonely man who thought he'd seen it all. Weirdly, it just slightly reminded me of the old man from UP.

Y'know, that sad Pixar movie about the old man and little boy scout and the house with balloons.

"Because..." He finally spoke, looking into her eyes to get his point across. "...Because I can't see it anymore..."

Concern, actual proper concern raced through me. He sounded so sad when he said it, so fed up.

"See what?" Amy asked in confusion as the Doctor moved away from her and sprawled on one of the console chairs.

I remained in my place leaning against the railing, staring at him in concern. He did not meet my gaze, staring off into nothingness. There was a long pause, Amy and I shared a look of confusion and concern for the man who seemed to deflate.

Finally, he looked up, eyes switching between us.

"I am 907, after a while, you just can't see it!" He explained voice tinged with frustration but openly honest.

"See what?" Amy asked, moving slightly closer as she desperately tried to understand what he was telling us.

I understood the Doctor immediately, and his words hit very close to home for me.

"Everything!" The Doctor exclaimed, answering her question. "I look at a star and it's just a big ball of burning gas, and I know how it began and how it ends! And I was probably there both times! After a while everything is just stuff..." He sighed and pursed his lips. "It's all just things... and that's my issue! I make all of time and space my backyard—I make it my life, my every day, and now what do I have? A backyard." His shoulders slumped sadly, and he turned his long tired look from Amy to me. His eyes spoke of so many years, so many years of being tired. "I have a lonesome life of travel, of kicking rocks on various planets in various times. Of frittering around and wasting my time in whatever offhand way I can manage..." He sounded almost bitter, resentful.

Time will do that to you.

Also did he just quote Pink Floyd? I decided not to mention it given the man looked properly upset.

This is more reminiscent of the old man he was underneath it all—the ageless creature who wanders the universe and topples Gods, who rides on the back of danger for fun. I can relate to him, and understand exactly where he is coming from and how he feels.

Not that the Doctor knows, but I am 393, after all. Not quite as old as him, but old enough and with the promise of many more millions of years ahead of me. Still incredibly young in the vast majority of it all.

The truth of the matter is that once you have access to everything: it is hard to become excited. And while there is always something new, it is not quite the same as finding new possibilities when you understand just how possible anything and everything is.

Nevertheless, I could not relate to the Doctor because I can still see it. And maybe that has to do with the fact that I am a multiversal traveler who unlike the Doctor, is not yet edging toward 1000 years old.

But the fire—the spark, the motherfucking spice of life races through me faster than anything.

As Eminem once said: I am moving at the speed of life and I can't slow down.

Not for anything.

For me, the vast multiverse wasn't just my backyard—it was a sprawling, endless playground, one I never wanted to leave, one that nobody could leave. All interconnected by the thinnest of golden lines.

I'd seen countless stars, danced through cosmic storms, stood in the glow of supernovas, backflipped through various histories, meandered through universes where the laws of physics are fucking paint, and laughed in the face of impossible odds. And still, it amazed me. Every single time.

How could it not?

Life and death, the beauty of creation and the inevitability of destruction—it was all woven into the very fabric of existence. Each moment, fleeting and precious, carried its own unique spark. I'd seen lives begin, flourish, and fade. I'd seen the end of worlds and the birth of galaxies. Universes right at the start of a big bang and right at their end; sometimes ending naturally, the big freeze. Other times, they ended forcefully—purposefully and pre-maturely.

Murdered universes as I called them.

And through it all, the spark never dimmed for me.

If anything, it burned brighter.

Because the truth was, I loved the chaos and the calm, the wonder and the heartbreak. Life wasn't just something to endure—it was something to devour. To savor. And it is always a fight. Even death had its beauty. It reminded us to hold on a little tighter, to laugh a little louder, to love a little fiercer.

That's why I cannot stop moving. Why I refuse to stand still.

The multiverse is a symphony, each note more breathtaking than the last, and I want to hear every single one. I want to dance through every crescendo, linger in every pause, and let its music fill me until I can't take anymore.

Even now, the possibilities raced through my mind, each one more dazzling than the last. My chest felt like it might burst, the energy of it all too much to contain. I could feel my lips curving into a wide grin, my eyes shining with the thrill of it.

I could see it. I wanted it.

And then, the Doctor snapped his fingers. He snapped me out of my daydream.

"Oh—oh!" He exclaimed, leaping to his feet so suddenly that Amy and I both startled. His eyes were locked on mine, brimming with excitement. "And just look at that look in your eye. The dream! That fire, that stardust, that life, and all that excitement in those gorgeous eyes of yours! That is why you both are here, because of that!"

His words hit me like a lightning strike. My lips parted in surprise, my cheeks warming under his intense gaze. He was looking at me like I was the answer to the question he hadn't even known he was asking.

I pursed my lips, desperately trying to fight the blush that threatened to rise, but it was no use. The Doctor smirked, shooting his eyebrows upward in that maddeningly suggestive way of his.

He knew what his little praise did to me.

Amy, meanwhile, was completely lost. "What?" She asked, tilting her head. "Are you flirting right now? It's PJ's eyes—that's why we're here? Her eyes are just blue!"

The Doctor groaned, throwing his head back dramatically before spinning toward her. "No! While your eyes are lovely, dearest, and certainly the most brilliant blue I've ever seen..." He trailed off, glancing at me with a grin that made me quirk an unimpressed brow.

He didn't miss a beat. "It's not just about those ocean eyes—it's what they see! She sees it! And so do you, Amelia Pond! All of you, my companions—my beautiful, brilliant humans—you see it! So beautifully, with so much hope and wonder!"

He paused, gesturing wildly as if trying to gather his thoughts, his words tumbling out in a rush. "And when you see—when you really see—well, how can I not see it too?"

Amy still looked confused, but I got it.

Because for the Doctor, it wasn't about the stars or the planets or the wonders of the universe—not anymore, at least. For the Doctor, for the lonely old man, it was about seeing it all through our eyes. About rediscovering that spark of joy, that sense of amazement; the very thing he thought he'd lost.

And in that moment, I knew I'd do everything in my power to keep that spark alive. For as long as I had in my time aboard his ship of dreams. For the first time ever, I truly did hope that my search in finding the last two Arbiters would go on for a long while.

The Doctor was standing face-to-face with Amy, only a few inches separating them. She was staring at him with wide and wavering brown eyes. He looked back at her with something akin to ancient admiration.

I remained a few feet away and leaned back against the railing.

"And that's the only reason you took me with you?" Amy finally asked him gently, licking her lips.

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, breaking his stare with her and looking toward his feet.

"There are worst reasons..." He finally breathed, looking back up to her sheepishly.

Amy scoffed a snort, shouldering past him. "I was certainly hoping so..." She said sassily causing a grin to pull at my lips.

"So why am I here then?" I finally pitched causing the Doctor to look at me.

He floundered for a moment, stuttering over his words. I chose to take pity on him, speaking before he could come up with some bullshit answer.

"Oh, never mind, I got it now..." I nodded, sending a very obnoxious wink his way.

The Doctor; however, did not take that. Instead, he seemed to appear in front of me within seconds, leaning his face so close that our noses nearly touched.

"And what is that, deary?" He asked. "Why do you think you're here?" He breathed.

I grinned at him, bringing a hand up and patting his chest. "For fun, of course!"

Something sparkled in the Doctor's eyes, and I was surprised when he leaned forward resting his head against my own. A second later, he placed a long kiss on my head—something that made me jolt in surprise, but I did not pull away.

"Of course..." He finally agreed as he removed his gross space lips from my head, the man taking a step away. "As you put it, all for funsies, dearest!"

"Wait!" Amy cut in, whirling to face us. "So how many people have traveled with you then? You've mentioned a few in passing, but if you're 907... you've gotten around then?" She gasped, pointing to the Doctor accusingly.

He swallowed heavily before laughing nervously and waving her off.

"Oi, sure, but they were all just friends! Loads of friends!" He awkwardly tried to explain, his voice weak as he leaned against the console. "Y'know: chums, pals, mates, buddies..." He trailed off before his nose scrunched. "Actually, not mates—forget mates..." He blinked with an emotion of disgust, as though remembering something appalling.

There was no way he was telling the truth. He hasn't had any romances in the entire time he's been traveling the stars? It's an absurd thought.

"And out of all those friends—just out of curiosity—how many would you say were girls?" Amy asked, also not believing his claim.

"Ohhh..." He trailed nervously, looking between both of us. He looked especially nervous when I quirked a curious brow. "Some of them I suppose..." He said before scampering to the other side of the console as to cut eye contact with us and beginning to fiddle with the controls. "...Just a little over half... maybe..."

"Young?" Amy interrogated.

"Everyone is young compared to me..." The Doctor shot back quickly.

That was a lie. In the grand scheme, he was actually rather young. Especially when it comes to beings—from other universes, mostly—that are celebrating millions of years of life. For whatever reason, this universe did not have a whole lot of beings that lived in the millions.

The Face of Boe, someone I had not yet had a chance to encounter, was one of them.

"Some?" Amy continued.

"It's hard to tell, it's a gray area..." The Doctor claimed.

"Under half? Over half?" Amy continued to push.

The Doctor thoughtfully rubbed his chin, appearing to be in deep thought. He finally pursed his lips and shrugged. "Probably... maybe... a little over half-ish..."

"Uh-huh..." I clicked my tongue in disbelief.

The Doctor rolled his eyes at me. "Oi, you be quiet, peanut gallery. Technically this version of you has been traveling with me for less time than Amy!"

Amy smiled at that and looked down at the console. It was obvious she did not want to be rude, but it was also apparent that the Doctor's words pumped her up a bit. Especially considering he'd all but told her she was traveling with him because he was bored.

I looked at the ceiling and shook my head.

"Were they hot?" Amy continued to poke and prod.

The Doctor looked back at her and frantically shook his head.

"No. No, no, no—none of them really..." He nervously pondered, scratching at his face. "Probably not... well, maybe one or two..." He added, eyes staring off into space as though thinking of some of his previous companions. A few, no doubt. "But! I never really notice!" He clapped his hands, snapping himself out of his daydreaming.

Daydreaming about your previous hot companions... you naughty boy.

"Well! This big ole' machine must have some kind of visual records..." She said suggestively, tone dropping and a catty smirk being sent the Doctor's way.

The Doctor shook his head. "Nope, not going there, Pond. And they are voice-locked!" He wagged a finger at her.

Amy scoffed. "So I would just need to say something like..." She trailed off thoughtfully. "...Show me all visual records of previous TARDIS inhabitants?"

I allowed my gaze to flick between the two as though watching a tennis match.

The Doctor chuckled, and looked down while speaking cockily. "No, no, no! Voice-locked, that means I would need to say show me all records of previous TARDIS inhabitants..." He snickered as though Amy was daft.

In reality, he was the daft one. A genius, a TimeLord genius, but daft nevertheless. And weak in the sense that his habit of over-explaining and rambling got him stuck in situations like this.

Amy bounced up to him, stroking his arm and smiling.

"Oh, thank you..." She flicked his forehead and he scrunched his face in pain.

"OW—Oh! Wait, no!" He panicked, realizing the TARDIS was pulling in all records. "No, no, no!" He groaned, looking around at the vessel we were in.

I smirked as Amy leaned next to me, both of us up against the railing as the TARDIS flickered a holographic screen just beyond the railing to life and immediately started to pull in dozens of different women.

Holy fuck: this guy really does get around.

Almost all of these women were young, fully human, and rather pretty. Most seemed doe-eyed and innocent.

Yikes.

One might think the Doctor was Hugh Hefner and ran a Playboy Mansion of his own.

"Ugh, thanks, dear!" He complained loudly to the TARDIS before begrudgingly joining me and Amy, shoving his way between us.

There were only a few men in the mix—like such a small number of men that I could count them on one hand.

"Jesus fuck..." I was gaping at the screen, wide-eyed as all the women passed through with their portraits and various video clips playing.

"Ooh, Gandalf..." Amy gasped playfully, looking at him as though he'd done something bad.

The Doctor groaned and slapped both our wrists before turning away. Surprisingly, he did not say anything about my foul use of language. He was probably too embarrassed both at having been caught red-handed and being outsmarted by a human.

"Wow, look at the ass on her..." I pointed out one of the women, a pretty blonde girl.

The Doctor immediately turned to the screen wide-eyed. Something sad passed through his gaze at the sight of the blonde, something that went away the second he made eye contact with me.

His ears turned a furious shade of red. "Yes, well..." He said with a small chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "...It was quite—uhm—quite nice... not that I noticed!" He coughed, looking away at the snicker I released.

"Is that a leather bikini?" Amy suddenly gasped as the picture switched to yet another woman, another previous companion of the Doctor.

She was, in my opinion, the hottest woman who had popped up on this screen thus far. Short but big and wavy brown hair encapsulated her head. It was done up in the kind of wave that the 70s' stood for.

Her eyes, a twinkling blue were wide on her pretty face. Her body was skinny but muscular, that of a warrior's. And her clothing was rather revealing, all leather and entirely short.

She was fucking hot.

While she looked human, I had the strongest inkling she was not. At least not entirely.

"God..." I whistled, looking at the Doctor in a new light. "You have been busy... you're not Gandalf, you're like the Hugh Hefner of space and time..." I laughed.

The Doctor bristled at my words, seemingly not liking them as he appeared embarrassed.

"It is not like that..." He finally said before turning back to the console. "Right, anyway, that is it, enough of this. RORY! We are going to find Rory and bring him here!"

Amy waved at him, not looking away from the pictures flashing through the screen. It had moved away from the girl in the leather bikini and was now showing a cute darker-complexioned woman in a red leather jacket.

"He's at his stag night, leave him be..." She said, not really paying attention.

I looked back toward the Doctor, trying to pay attention to what he was doing. What buttons and levers he tugged on.

"Well then," The Doctor smirked and pushed a red double-headed lever. "Let's make it a great one...!" He laughed as the TARDIS shuddered, the Doctor having piloted us into the time vortex. "Now, Amy, where is Rory's stag night being hosted—?" The Doctor asked, only to be cut off by Amy squealing.

"PJ, it's you!" She gasped.

My eyes widened and I snapped my head back around to face the screen that I'd started losing interest in.

As I stared at the screen, my breath caught in my throat.

It was me.

But not entirely. Not yet.

The woman staring back at me was undeniably myself, yet subtly different. My light brown hair, usually wavy and loose, was shorter, chopped just past my shoulders, and a striking jet black. It framed my face in a way that made my features—sharp cheekbones, strong jawline—appear more defined. My eyes, the same piercing blue, seemed to hold something deeper than they did now. A knowing, an experience I didn't yet possess.

But what the fuck could it be? As someone who was destined to be alive for the long round, experiences came rather slowly for me. I should not have such a look in my eye for her being only a few years—if that—down the line.

Interesting.

At least I still looked hot.

Of course, I look physically the same. My face never changes—never ages—and I heal from nearly everything.

I was wearing the same patchy flight jacket, cargo pants, and space boots. The goggles that adorned my head looked perfectly fashionable. The woman—future me—was grinning into the camera, a smile that held everything mischievous in the world.

It bordered wicked.

He came up from behind me, moving to lean against the railing. One arm held onto the railing, the other resting on his hip.

The Doctor stood beside me, his eyes glued to the screen. His face was unreadable for a moment, his expression frozen as though the universe itself had paused. And then, slowly, emotion seeped in. A dopey and soft grin curled his lips.

Adoration.

Love.

Devotion.

It radiated off him, filling the room and making it hard to breathe. He wasn't just looking at the picture; he was looking at her. The me that hadn't come into existence yet. The me that he'd known, traveled with, and apparently, loved.

That's what it was in his eye. The unfamiliar and unspoken emotion that shined in it so often.

My chest tightened, and my mind spun.

I can't do this. I cannot allow him to feel that way about me—or for me to possibly feel it back. At some point down the line. It hurt because of the pinprick of adoration that I already felt toward him.

I was here for a reason, a mission, a purpose bigger than myself, and this... this could ruin everything.

The Doctor said something, his voice soft and reverent, but I couldn't make it out over the rush of blood in my ears. Amy, standing a little further away, looked at him curiously, but I couldn't meet her gaze.

It was too much.

I gasped audibly, turning away from the screen as though it burned me. Before anyone could stop me, I bolted down the corridor, my heart hammering in my chest.

I didn't know where I was going. My legs carried me automatically toward my bedroom, a sanctuary, one where I could finally breathe again. Think clearly.

"PJ!" The Doctor called, his voice laced with concern. His footsteps followed close behind, and before I could reach the door, his hand wrapped gently around my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

"PJ," He said again, softer this time. "Look at me, please..." He whispered, and I did as he asked.

His eyes—so pretty—searched mine and I could not keep the contact for more than a few seconds.

I closed my own eyes tightly, trying to gather my scattered thoughts and quell the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me. My mind was a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and something else I didn't want to name.

"It's okay, it's okay..." He murmured, his tone full of guilt. "Oh, I am so so sorry. It was too much, wasn't it? Seeing your future so suddenly like that?" His voice cracked slightly. "I should've known the TARDIS would pull in your record. I should've stopped it—"

"No," I cut him off, my voice hoarse. I forced my eyes open, looking anywhere but at him. "No, it's fine. You're right. Seeing my future was just... a lot. I just need a few minutes." My voice trembled, betraying the lie. "Please."

The Doctor hesitated, his brow furrowed with worry. Then, without warning, he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly. His chin rested atop my head as his hand gently stroked my hair.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered again, his voice barely audible.

I had the feeling he was apologizing for something else, but I did not want to know what.

The warmth of his embrace was both a comfort and a curse. I felt myself relax against him despite my better judgment, my racing thoughts slowing under his gentle touch. But it didn't erase the fear. If anything, it made it worse.

Because deep down, I knew that his affection—his love—could undo everything I was trying to accomplish. And the terrifying part was, I wasn't sure I wanted to stop it.

The love of the TimeLord was not for the weak.

I let myself melt into the Doctor's embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his twin hearts against my cheek. For a moment, I let the comfort wash over me, allowing myself the smallest indulgence of leaning closer and holding on tighter. His arms around me felt safe, grounding me in a way I hadn't realized I needed.

The ungrounded girl. The POLARIS JADE tied to nothing.

But I couldn't stay like this.

Slowly, I pulled away, forcing myself to step back. His hands lingered on my arms, his eyes searching mine with concern.

"Just a few minutes," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "I'll be back out in a few minutes."

The Doctor frowned, not satisfied with my answer. "PJ, you really shouldn't—"

"I just need a minute, Doctor," I interrupted, shaking my head. "I need to process this... seeing my future self, it's... weird. It's messing with my head, that's all."

It was a lie. I'd seen worse than my future self. But I had not seen worse than a fucking TimeLord, the fucking Oncoming Storm down bad for me.

But he didn't know that. He thought I was a human—a weak little human who was affected by such engagement with my future.

He hesitated, clearly torn. "Well, that makes sense, I suppose," He finally said, beginning to ramble in that way of his. "I mean, you're not really supposed to interact with your future or past self, in any form. It's all very wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. Of course, it would affect you dramatically, probably triggering all sorts of temporal dissonance, which by the way—"

"Doctor," I cut him off, raising a brow at him.

He cleared his throat sheepishly. "Right. I'll stop rambling now." He tilted his head, his expression softening. "Are you absolutely sure you don't want me to go in there with you? I could... keep you company."

I rolled my eyes, already starting to feel more like myself. "I wouldn't leave Amy alone for too long if I were you. She might find more fun things in the TARDIS control panel. Now, go find Rory," I said, giving him a playful shove back toward the console room. "Or else it might be you that ends up married to Miss Amelia."

He looked at me skeptically but allowed himself to be moved. "Five minutes?" He asked, still reluctant to leave.

"Five minutes," I confirmed with a small smile.

He nodded, then leaned down to kiss the top of my head—something so tender it sent a pang through my chest—and scampered off with his cheeks turning a deep red.

As soon as he was out of sight, my smile dropped, and I turned toward my room. The moment I stepped inside and closed the door, the weight of everything came crashing down. I leaned against the door, my chest tight with worry.

Seeing my future self, knowing the Doctor's potential feelings for me—past, present, or future—was overwhelming in ways I couldn't explain.

Maybe I was wrong? Maybe I'd misinterpreted the look.

But no... I had been ignoring the signs for long enough. It was right in front of my eyes—anyone emotionally intelligent would pick up on such a thing.

Should I ask him? No.

Because I already knew that he might just confirm it, and if he confirms it then it becomes all the more real.

My purpose here was bigger than me, bigger than him, and yet...

The way he'd looked at me, the way he'd held me...

I let out a shaky breath and bristled, running my hands through my hair. I couldn't afford to get held back. Not by him. Not by this.

But even as I told myself that, the lingering warmth of his embrace remained, stubborn and comforting.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

Five minutes lasted much longer than five simple minutes. I was surprised when five minutes on the dot passed and the Doctor did not come bursting into my room to check on me.

Color me more surprised when over an hour passed with still no sign of him.

After slapping some sense into myself and choosing to ignore the fact that Doctor may or may not have incidentally fallen in love with me back when I traveled with—or WILL travel with—ten, I decided that it should probably be fine.

The Doctor is the Doctor.

A TimeLord with secrets—a heavily traumatized and scarred man who was deathly afraid of those around him either leaving or dying. He thinks I am human, a girl who will eventually shrivel up and die.

The Doctor won't face that, he will absolutely not want to deal with such a thing which leads me to believe that he would never admit his feelings out loud. Will never make the first move—not a real one at least.

It was sad that fear would hold him back from such a thing, but in the end, it was better that way.

I was confident enough in the thought that it picked my mood up immensely and allowed me to stroll almost carefree away from the room and back through the corridors. I'd spent the better half of the hour pacing before relaxing on my bed and trying to meditate.

A solid 20-minute meditation session did wonders. And so, after dropping off my backpack and leaving it to lay at the foot of my bed—I was back at it.

When I popped around the corner, I was greeted by the Doctor sitting under the console in some sort of swing chair. Amy stood above him, watching him nervously. She was biting her fingernails from anxiety, and I quickly understood why as the TARDIS sparked wildly from whatever the fuck the Doctor was trying to fix.

A cloud of smoke came from it, electricity shooting everywhere before disappearing.

And then—the TimeLord poked at it again causing the same reaction. He giggled at what he'd done.

He was wearing a pair of goggles, silly-looking ones—nowhere near as cool as mine.

My attention quickly drifted to the new person, a lengthy male about the same height and weight as the Doctor. Except, the human man did not look nearly as eccentric.

Not ugly by any means and entirely human; he was just kind of... a dude.

He was looking around with unabashed stupefaction, appearing to be nearly in shock as his big eyes took in everything around him.

The man wore a pair of dirty New Balances' and some worn jeans. His shirt, I realized was a bright red long-sleeve but smack in the center of it was a picture of him and Amy leaning against each other and smiling.

His hair was flat on his head, sandy blonde. Yep, just an average human dude—and I love them!

I wandered further into the console room, watching as the new man flinched as the Doctor once again poked something he shouldn't have and caused a needless mini-explosion of smoke. The poor TARDIS.

Amy was awkwardly pacing, her gaze moving tensely from the Doctor to the man I assumed was her fiancé; Rory.

The Doctor started to ramble and lecture from where he sat below the console on his swing with those ridiculous goggles on.

"The life out there—it dazzles!" The Doctor was explaining, needing to yell quite loudly to be heard both from his far position and with the random tinkering he was doing. "I mean, it blinds you humans to the things that are the most important! I've seen it devour relationships and plans...!" The Doctor was saying just as another surge released from the TARDIS, it caused Rory to yell and flinch from where he stood watching the Doctor through the glass floor. "It's meant to do that!" The Doctor cried, trying to play it off, but he was looking at whatever he had just messed with worriedly. "Anyway!" He continued his rant from where he left off. "For one person to have seen it all that, to taste the glory and go back..." He sighed. "It will tear you apart..."

I mean, he isn't wrong. Who is able to live the most fantastic life of traveling wherever they want, exploring the cosmos, exploring all of time, virtually free... and then just go back to an average boring little human life?

No one, that's for darn certain.

"So!" The Doctor finally said, rocking on his swing and pulling his goggles off. "I'm sending you two somewhere!"

"What? Like a date?" Amy asked.

"Anywhere you want—any time you want!" The Doctor cried happily, hopping off his swing and moving in a crouched position as he exited the underbelly of the console.

It was obvious he was just trying to ignore whatever he inevitably broke on the machine.

"Sounds fun! A little night before the wedding trip...!" I finally said causing the attention to fall on me as I waggled my brows at Amy and wandered up the steps of the console.

I could feel the Doctor bouncing out of the underbelly and start to follow me up the steps.

"PJ!" He cheered happily, resembling a golden retriever.

"Doctor!" I mocked with a teasing smile before making my way to Rory with an outstretched hand.

"PJ... nice to meet you..." I grabbed his hand.

His hands were large and had callouses. It was obvious that this man liked to tinker in his own right. On cars and various other construction projects if I had to guess.

My telepathic nature worked in bringing me his vibe—if that makes any sense—the moment we touched. He was brilliant: he too was a person of curiosity. His was just slightly dimmer than Amy's.

With the force of my abilities locked away, my telepathic nature and other abilities were very diluted. Extremely minute. However, I had much control over myself—and being in others brains was not very fun so I often chose to ignore that ability.

"Rory," He nodded, still looking starstruck as he took me in. "And I just need to say—wow—you look awesome... like a proper Star Wars character!" He geeked in an excited tone, equally as British as the other two with a smile so big it nearly split his face in half.

Adorable.

I grinned right back. "Why, thank you! I try!"

"Oi! You're inside a police box that is infinitely bigger on the inside with your fiancé and a bowtie-wearing alien but you're most amazed by PJ?!" The Doctor indignantly huffed, suddenly inserting himself right between Rory and me. "She's just a space human!"

I yelped at his sudden proximity.

"Ugh, don't be an idiot..." I lightly hit his shoulder. "I am the most amazing thing in here!"

The Doctor looked at me and proceeded to open and close his mouth. Most likely trying to argue, but to my surprise, it seemed he did not disagree with my tone.

I snickered at that. The Doctor glowered.

"No, the TARDIS, the TARDIS is far better than anything!"

I shrugged. "Can't deny that..."

The Doctor smiled and bopped my nose. I went cross-eyed and scowled at him.

"Are you feeling better, PJ?" Amy asked worriedly, coming next to us. "The Doctor said you got some sort of time sickness from seeing a picture of your future self... said it's bad for humans to engage with our future too much..."

"Now, Amelia that is not what I said. Such a thing doesn't always happen when we engage with our future selves, but sometimes it can..." The Doctor tittered, turning to her with a single finger raised and a hand in his pocket.

Now all four of us were standing in a close square—Rory rather awkwardly seeing as he only really knew Amy.

"Yeah, I'm good, just was nauseous and my head was kinda ringing... had to lay down for a bit..." I explained, the lie seamless.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long, Amy told me not to bother you... but I would've come check on you eventually..." The Doctor pouted, bringing his hand out of his pocket and pinching my chin between his fingers. "Now, say aah...!"

"Aah?" I asked, raising a confused brow. The Doctor proceeded to pull my mouth open even wider. "AAH!"

He then popped a butterscotch-tasting candy in my mouth before closing it. He tapped the bottom of my chin.

"Mmm..." He hummed as though a parent trying to convince their baby what they were eating was good.

"Mmhmm..." I loudly hummed back before delivering a fierce elbow to his abdomen.

He grunted and bent over before glaring at me. "Oi, stop being violent! It's meant to help with the nausea, you're welcome!"

"You're really supposed to ask before dumping things in girl's mouth, Doctor..." I told him, purposely making it sound like an innuendo.

Amy and Rory both choked a laugh while the Doctor blushed brighter than a tomato. He floundered, bashfully turning away and quickly moving from us.

"Anyway!" He clapped, quickly changing the subject. "Think of this as a wedding present, you two! The only condition is that it needs to be somewhere amazing! Think big, think fun! Moulin Rouge in 1890, the first Olympic Games!"

My eyes lit up and I clapped. "Middle Earth!" I cried enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear.

The Doctor gasped, looking at me as though I held the sun. "Yes! Middle Earth!" He practically bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands flailing. "Oh, the Battle of Helm's Deep! Or maybe the coronation of King Aragorn!"

I pointed at him dramatically. "Or the Shire during Bilbo's birthday party! Cake and fireworks!"

"Yes! Yes!" He spun in place before freezing, frowning slightly. "Wait... hold on. That's not real. That's fictional. Completely fictional."

I pouted. "You're no fun."

"I'm loads of fun!" He countered. "How about—oh! The signing of the Magna Carta!"

I wrinkled my nose. "The Magna Carta? Boooring. Let's do something wild, like a front-row seat to the extinction of the dinosaurs!"

The Doctor gasped again, delighted. "Oh, the asteroid impact! That's brilliant. Oh, but what about the very first lunar landing in 1969?!"

I rolled my eyes. "Been there, done that. How about the time the moon crashed into the Earth?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You were at the moon landing?"

I winked. "Maybe. I was hiding behind a rock watching—can you imagine if they landed on the moon and found me?"

"Well, I've been to the actual moon! Not just the landing, the moon-moon! Played a bit of cricket with the Judoon!"

"Dude, everybody who travels time and space has been to the moon!"

"And who else travels time and space? Not many, dearest!"

Amy groaned. "You two are insufferable."

"Shush, Pond, we're brainstorming!" The Doctor waved her off, his attention fixed entirely on me. "Alright then, what's next?"

I smirked. "The Great Martian Migration of 3825? Martians, Martians, and more Martians!"

He beamed. "Good one. How about the invention of human time travel in 3033? Not great time travel, but funny all the same!"

"Too obvious," I shot back. "The opening of the first space opera house on Europa! Phantom of the Space Song!"

"The great asteroid ring concert of Kepler-452B!"

"The galactic peace treaty signing on the Zargoth Nebula!"

"The Supernova Parade of 4221!"

"The Big Bang!"

"The collision of galaxies Andromeda and Milky Way!"

Together, we screamed in unison, "THE END OF THE UNIVERSE!"

It was so hard not to whip out some event that happened in a different universe. I really want to go with him to a universe where everyone is a cartoon—I LOVE that place!

"Woahhh!" Amy stepped between us, waving her hands. "Down boy, down girl. Maybe we shouldn't have my fiancé nearly dying on his first trip through space and time, yeah?"

Both the Doctor and I froze, cringing simultaneously. "Good idea," we muttered again in perfect unison.

The Doctor immediately grinned, clearly delighted, while I scowled at him.

"Stop copying me!"

He practically beamed, rocking on his heels. "No, you stop copying me!"

I jabbed a finger at him. "I said it first!"

"Well, I thought it first!"

Amy groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Rory, you better get used to this. They'll be at it the entire trip."

Rory laughed nervously, already looking overwhelmed. "Noted."

The Doctor turned to Rory and clapped him on the shoulder, his energy bubbling over. "Don't worry, Rory, I'll keep her in check."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I'm the one keeping you in check."

He gasped, feigning offense. "Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Amy sighed, muttering under her breath, "So where are we going? Earth-based please, and preferably in the past... haven't been there yet, have we? Oh, wait never mind, Churchill's bunker was in the past..."

"But not by much!" The Doctor piped. "Only 80 or so years...!"

"Humans, Doctor!" I told him. "That's an entire lifetime!"

The Doctor cringed at the information, his eyes turning sad as he regarded all of us before he forced himself to perk up—his emotions guarded. "Ah—yes! Quite right! Now, Rory, I'm sure it's a lot to take in, isn't it?" The Doctor chuckled, patting Rory's shoulder—almost trying to little bro him as he passed by. "Tiny box—huge room inside! What's that about? Let me explain!"

Rory did not skip a motherfucking beat before he clapped back. "It's another dimension?" He guessed.

The Doctor seemed to not catch his words at first. "It's basically another dimension—what?" He seemed more than taken aback at Rory's immediate correct guess.

Rory did not hesitate. "After the whole Prisoner Zero debacle, I've been reading up on all the latest scientific theories. FTL travel, parallel universes—" He explained and the Doctor cut him off, slowly walking up to him as though squaring up.

"I like the bit where someone says it's bigger on the inside... I always look forward to that..." He told him, both of them looking the other up and down.

I cackled. "Ooh, Doctor, he clocked you!"

The Doctor and Rory both snapped their heads at me. Rory smiled and the Doctor scowled.

"Oi, shut up, PJ!" He called. "I am a TimeLord, I can't be clocked for anything!"

"And yet you just were!"

Before another little spat could break out, Amy interrupted loudly. "SO!" She said causing the Doctor to turn his attention to her. "This date! I'm kind of done with running down corridors! What do you think, Rory?" Amy asked.

Rory was unable to respond before the Doctor was grinning as he shoved down a random lever.

"How about somewhere romantic...?" He asked us all, eyeing me with a sparkle in his eyes extra long.

Fucking hell.

The TARDIS shuddered.

I was quick to hold a railing along with Amy and Rory as the TARDIS suddenly flipped. I SCREAMED as we all went flying.

He had broken something with his tinkering under the console earlier!

The TARDIS lurched violently again, I was thrown upward—everyone floating for what seemed to be only a moment and then hitting the ground harshly.

"DOCTOR!" I yelled, gripping the nearest railing for dear life. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing! I did nothing!" The Doctor protested, his voice somehow gleeful amidst the chaos. "The TARDIS is just... expressing herself!"

"Expressing herself?! She's gonna kill us!" Amy screamed as she clung to Rory, who looked pale but impressively steady. "I knew whatever you were doing down there didn't sound good!"

The TARDIS spun again, throwing me off balance. Before I could hit the ground, the Doctor's arm shot out, wrapping securely around my waist and yanking me to his side.

"Gotcha!" He said brightly, holding me firm with one hand while the other flew over the console, flipping switches and pulling levers with expert precision.

My heart was racing—not just from the turbulence but from the sheer closeness of him. "Are you even steering this thing?!" I managed to sputter, clutching his coat for stability.

"Of course, I'm steering! Well... mostly! 80% steering, 20% hoping for the best!"

"Doctor, those percentages do not inspire confidence!"

"Trust me, PJ! It's all part of the fun!"

"Your idea of fun sucks!"

"You love my idea fun!"

The TARDIS gave one final, mighty shudder before coming to a sudden, jolting stop that sent all of us stumbling.

The Doctor released me, looking far too pleased with himself. "And here we are!" He declared, adjusting his bowtie.

I didn't even hear him. The moment his arm dropped, I bolted for the door, flinging it open and sprinting outside.

"PJ?" Amy called after me.

Rory frowned. "Where's she going?"

The Doctor groaned and followed me out, waving a hand at the others to join him. "Ignore that! She's fine! Anyway, welcome to Venice! Venezia! La Serenissima!"

Amy and Rory stepped out, marveling at the bustling market that stretched out before them, vibrant with colorful stalls, the scent of fresh bread and sea salt filling the air.

Meanwhile, I was doubled over by a random bucket, loudly and miserably emptying the contents of my stomach. I blame the small bout of the crack energy getting to me and the earlier shock I had for my now sensitive stomach.

The Doctor winced, cringing dramatically as he approached. "Ooh, sorry, dearest! Rough landing got you that bad, eh?"

I shot him a murderous glare, still hunched over.

"She's good!" The Doctor called cheerfully over his shoulder to Amy and Rory, clapping his hands together as if nothing was amiss. "Look around! Isn't it beautiful? Impossible city—preposterous city! Founded by refugees running from Attila the Hun! It was just a collection of wooden huts in the middle of the marsh, but became one of the most powerful cities in the world! Constantly being invaded, constantly flooding, but constantly just beautiful!" He spoke quickly, motioning to everything boldly. "Ah, Venice! Got to love Venice, and so many people did! Napolean, Byron, Casanova!" He said before clearing his throat. "Which reminds me—it's 1580! Good, Casanova isn't born for another 145 years, I owe him a chicken!"

Amy and Rory exchanged a look, only half-listening before Rory asked dryly, "Should we... check on her?"

"She's fine!" The Doctor assured them, though he glanced at me guiltily. "Probably."

Finally, it was over and I was left taking deep breaths with a horrible acidic taste in my mouth.

I straightened up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Doctor," I said, my voice dangerously low.

"Yes, PJ?" He replied cautiously, his hands half-raised as if preparing to defend himself.

"I hate you!"

"No, no! You really do love me, I swear!" He called back playfully, with a nervous lilt to his tone. His words made me pale—mostly because there was a good chance he was telling the truth. He just didn't realize I'd picked up on it already. "Now, how about we go exploring?!"

My stomach lurched uncomfortably again as the Doctor's previous words he spoke to Rory and Amy echoed in my mind.

He told them this was a date—he'd taken them here with the intention of a date. And if Amy and Rory were on a date... were me and the Doctor on one as well? Was this a double date?!

Three hours ago I wouldn't have considered it as anymore than me and the Doctor being friendly tagalongs. But now, I am not so sure.

One glance at his happy face, and how he was sniffing the air made me willing to bet that he would count this as a double date. He probably would just not say it out loud.

I looked around myself. Italy—1500s.

Not impressive. I don't mind missing out this time around.

With that, I groaned and put the back of my hand against my head. My knees dramatically went loose and I slowly started going to the ground. Like unbelievably slowly.

But the Doctor believed it, for he yelped.

The moment the Doctor caught me, his arms steady and secure, I nearly broke character. I mean, I was just pretending to faint, but the way his face twisted with worry made me feel a little guilty. Just a little.

He kinda deserved this for saying I was fine when I was puking my heart out.

"PJ!" He gasped, holding me up like I was made of glass. "Are you all right? Speak to me!"

I blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off by his reaction. Okay, maybe I overdid it. "Oh, it's fine..." I waved a hand weakly, dialing down the drama. "Just a bit woozy. Must be, um... residual radiation? And, you know, time sickness. From seeing my, uh, future picture and the Aplan Temple and all that."

His eyes narrowed, and before I could say anything else, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver like a reflex. "Right. Let's just see what's going on—"

"Oh, no, you don't need that!" I swatted the thing out of his hand, and it clattered to the cobblestone ground.

He gaped at me, horrified, as though I'd committed a cardinal sin. "PJ, you don't just swat a TimeLord's sonic! What if something was seriously wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I said firmly, crossing my arms—or as best as I could while he was still holding me. "I don't need to be sonicked. I just need to rest. Maybe hang out in one of the TARDIS lounge rooms. You know, the ones with the cozy pillows in the comfy chairs?"

From the corner of my eye, I caught Amy's expression: arms crossed, one brow raised, looking far too amused for my liking. She knew I was faking. Rory, on the other hand, looked genuinely concerned. Sweet Rory.

"I'm a nurse," Rory offered, stepping closer. "If you're not feeling well, I can check you out. Make sure everything's okay."

Before I could respond, the Doctor waved him off with a tight smile. "It's fine, Rory. I'm a Doctor—I can take care of my own..." He trailed off awkwardly, his cheeks turning an interesting shade of pink. "...intern."

Rory blinked in confusion. "Are you a real doctor though? I thought it was just your name. And she's your intern?"

"Later!" The Doctor snapped, clearly flustered, avoiding my gaze entirely now.

I stared at him, my heart doing an annoying little flutter in my chest. He noticed and asked, "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," I muttered, shaking my head quickly. "I just... need to rest this off. Like I said. Lounge room. Pillows. Maybe a cup of hot chocolate."

He pursed his lips, still holding me like he didn't trust me not to keel over if he let go. "Well, I could go with you," He suggested, his voice softening. "Amy and Rory can enjoy Venice for a bit, and we'll rejoin them once you're feeling better." He paused before throwing them a suspicious glance. "Actually never mind, we can all go back in the TARDIS for a bit and come back out later on..."

Amy and Rory both gasped in unison, as though deeply offended by his seeming lack of ability to leave them alone. "What?" Amy snapped. "Why can't we be left alone out here?"

"Because," The Doctor replied, throwing them a pointed look, "you two in a different time period unsupervised? Recipe for disaster."

What he meant by that was two Earth civilians alone in an entirely different period without him was dangerous on countless levels.

"We'd be fine!" Amy argued, but the Doctor ignored her entirely, turning back to me instead.

"So how about it?" He suggested, his tone brighter, like he was trying to compromise. "We'll all relax in the TARDIS for a bit, and then we'll try Italy again once you're feeling better. There is plenty for me to tinker with on the console to pass the time or—I know! We can watch the first Hobbit movie like we talked about!"

I cringed, shaking my head. "No, thank you. I don't really like Italy. We can do that stuff once you guys have had your time here if you'd like though..."

He gasped, clutching his chest as if I'd personally insulted him. "You don't like it anywhere! I swear, where do you like?"

Without missing a beat, I jabbed a finger at him. "Middle Earth. And you still owe me a Sabrina Carpenter concert. You haven't let me pick our destinations even once!"

He blinked, scratching the back of his head guiltily. "Right. Fair point. Okay, after this, you get to pick. I promise."

"Sure, Doctor," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I wriggled out of his grasp and stood on my own, brushing myself off. His hands hovered awkwardly for a moment as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them now.

"But seriously," I added, pointing at Amy and Rory. "They need this. Let them have their romantic little Venice trip. I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about. Last time, the Weeping Angels nearly killed you."

"For the last time, that was under control," He argued, though he winced as he said it. "Mostly."

I snorted. "Amy almost died."

"Yeah, about that..." The Doctor cringed.

"What?!" Rory shouted, glaring at him.

The Doctor waved his hands defensively. "Fine, fine! We'll be back soon!" He turned to me, his expression softening again. "You'll be okay?"

I gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Go play chaperone."

With that, I turned and headed back to the TARDIS. Just before stepping inside, I glanced over my shoulder and caught the Doctor's gaze. He was watching me, his expression unreadable, but when our eyes met, he smiled. It was small and fleeting, but it warmed something in my chest despite myself.

I smiled back before disappearing into the TARDIS.

The console room greeted me warmly.

"By the Gods, what has that idiot man done to you!"

I stopped short, my mouth dropping open at who greeted me. River Song whirled around the console controls madly. When the door closed behind me, her head snapped in my direction with surprise.

However, she seemed to relax upon seeing it was just me.

"River Song?" I asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

She leaned against the console confidently, her arms crossed and blonde curls wild as ever.

"Well, hello sweetheart..."

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

As the all-powerful Polaris Jade, I really don't have much to fear.

Do I have fears? Of course, everyone does. But I realistically didn't need to fear much of anything. There isn't a whole lot out there that can cause me physical harm.

Hurt? Always. Harm? Not so much.

And yet, still, I found that women put me more at ease than men. It was an annoying and unconscious tick that I had tried so hard to break.

While I had got much better with it; admittedly, I was still working on it.

But, I knew I still had work to do based on the fact that I felt more at ease in the presence of River Song than I had with the Doctor at first.

River Song was casually perched on the console.

"So, darling..." She trailed off, her smile wide and impish as she spun the sonic screwdriver—the Doctor's sonic—in her hand. "Did you miss me?"

"River," I greeted cautiously, narrowing my eyes. "I thought you were locked up in a high-security space prison for killing someone important. Also, I just saw you like... three hours ago..."

"Really?" She tilted her head. "For what?"

"The Byzantium...?" I lulled and she only looked more confused. "You don't remember?"

She shook her head. "No, it hasn't happened for me yet... but it'll probably happen soon since you just went through it..."

Right—she keeps meeting the Doctor in the wrong order. And seeing as I am traveling with him, she'll most likely meet me in the wrong order.

I decided it was probably best not to tell her that Byzantium was our first time meeting.

"You look young-er..." She purposefully said the 'er' part. "Well, younger in the sense that you appear not to know me very well—tell me, love, how many times have we met?"

So much for that plan.

"Once..." I told her honestly, slowly walking up the console steps until I was standing near her. "And it was three hours ago... so this is practically still our first meeting..."

Her smile only widened. Holy shit her teeth are white. "Ah, so you don't know me too well, this ought to be fun!" She said sweetly, setting the sonic down and standing in a single graceful motion. "Though it's lovely to see you, PJ. You're looking well."

I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the inexplicable flutter of nerves in my stomach. River Song had that effect on people—this magnetic energy that pulled you in and left you second-guessing your own footing. "Lovely to see you again too, I guess you were serious about me seeing you very soon earlier..." I coughed a laugh. "But what are you doing here, do you need the Doctor?"

She sauntered toward me, her heels clicking against the TARDIS floor. "Oh, no, sweetie. We don't always need that old man to have some fun..." She winked, and the implication was enough to warm my cheeks. She was way more suave than the Doctor. "Now, I think you're going to want to hear what I've found."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait for the Doctor?" I quirked a brow. "Adventures are more his thing..."

River tilted her head, giving me a knowing look. "Now, that's just not true. And some things really are better handled without him. Besides," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned closer, "I thought we'd like a little adventure of our own. Just you and me, off the books."

My heart did a weird little skip, and I fought to keep my voice steady. "Fair enough... anything is better than Italy in the 1500s..." I jerked a thumb in the direction of the TARDIS doors. "So what's this about?"

"Dracula," She said simply, watching my reaction with delight. My eyes lit up excitedly—was Dracula a real person in this reality? I could have sworn vampires did not exist here. "Or more specifically, Vlad the Impaler—Lord of Wallachia, notorious tyrant, and apparently the original vampire. He's hiding a secret that even the Doctor doesn't know about. And I think you and I should be the ones to uncover it."

I blinked. "You're kidding."

"Not at all, it'll be fun to rub in the old man's face!" River said brightly, already moving to set the TARDIS coordinates. "Come on, PJ. Don't tell me you're afraid of a little bite?"

"Can't say I am seeing as I am the one that usually does the biting..." I joked.

"Oh, I know..." She drawled with a sigh as though thinking of something riveting.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. So, it seems that future me is really whoring around... great.

"So what's the secret?" I finally asked her. "And the Doctor isn't going to notice that we stole his TARDIS?"

She waved me off. "No, he never does—we'll have it back seconds after we left! But, tell me, sweetheart, are vampires real?"

Alright, glad to know that me and River Song apparently steal the Space Lord's literal home on more than one occasion.

I tilted my head. "Well, you kind of just told me they are..."

River grinned at my answer, looking at me just as she pressed the blue stabilizers and took us into the time vortex. "That's the thing, sweetie... they aren't meant to be real..."

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

Wallachia was as one would expect ancient Romania to look in the 1400s.

Fucking disgusting.

River and I had to avoid waste pots that were randomly dumped in the filthy streets. It was sometime in mid-March but it was still bitingly cold outside.

The streets of Wallachia were a chaotic mess of mud, stone, and refuse, with the occasional streak of something unidentifiable but undoubtedly unpleasant. Narrow alleyways twisted off in every direction, lined with cramped wooden buildings whose roofs leaned precariously toward each other, as though whispering secrets. The scent of rotting food and stagnant water filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of wood smoke from countless hearths. Chickens squawked and darted around our feet, while mangy dogs prowled in search of scraps.

The sight of the dogs made me frown sadly. I quite liked dogs and it was a shame that humanity treated them so poorly up until the 1940s.

River and I walked briskly, skirts swishing around our ankles. The dresses we wore were simple, made of coarse fabric in muted earth tones—mine a deep green and hers a warm, faded maroon. The garments were practical for blending in, though far from the extravagant gowns of nobility. Our hair was hidden beneath modest headscarves, an attempt to divert attention from our decidedly non-Romanian features and confident strides.

"This place is an absolute cesspit," I muttered, lifting my skirt slightly to avoid a puddle that may or may not have contained raw sewage. "I'm not even sure this mud is all mud."

River glanced at me with a playful smirk. "Welcome to the 15th century, sweetheart. Isn't it charming? And to answer your question, most of that mud isn't mud..."

"I'd say no, but I don't want to risk opening my mouth too much and breathing more of this in."

We both chuckled softly, though it was clear we were staying alert. It wasn't just the filth that kept us on edge—it was the way the men loitered in groups, their eyes lingering far too long when we passed.

"Keep your head on a swivel," I said under my breath, tugging my scarf tighter around my neck. "Two women alone in this century? That's practically an open invitation for danger."

River's expression turned serious, though her tone remained light. "Danger often finds me, but I've gotten quite good at handling it." Her hand brushed against the concealed dagger strapped to her thigh beneath the folds of her dress. "Still, you're right. Best not to draw unnecessary attention. Word is, people who wander too far off the beaten path here tend to disappear. And not in the fun, timey-wimey sort of way."

I frowned, my gaze sweeping over the crowd. Merchants shouted to advertise their wares—bolts of rough cloth, heaps of withered vegetables, strings of dried fish. Children ran barefoot through the muck, I cringed at the sight.

Gross, kids.

Behind the bustle, there was an undercurrent of unease, a tension that prickled at the edges of my senses.

"We can handle ourselves," I said, lowering my voice as we passed a particularly rowdy group of men shouting at one another outside a tavern. "But it doesn't mean someone won't try something. If they do—"

"—We deal with it quietly," River finished, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "We wouldn't want to ruin the Lord's dinner plans by giving him two more mouths to feed, now would we?"

I shuddered at the implication, glancing up toward the castle perched high on the hill in the distance. Its dark silhouette loomed over the town like a vulture, a constant reminder of the power that watched from above.

"No," I agreed. "I'd rather not end up on anyone's menu."

River's laughter was soft but warm, a momentary reprieve from the grim reality of our surroundings. "Then let's keep moving. We've got a vampire to find, and I'd prefer to do it before nightfall."

We pressed on, weaving through the crowded streets, every step taking us closer to the heart of Wallachia—and to whatever secrets waited for us in the shadows of Vlad the Impaler's court.

"I'm still confused as to how you came across this information," I said, sidestepping a particularly rancid pile of refuse. "This kind of thing feels like the Doctor's wheelhouse. Isn't he the one who searches for the strange and inexplicable?"

River's lips curved into a knowing smile. "The Doctor doesn't usually have to search for oddities, sweetie. The TARDIS tends to bring him to them."

I raised a brow. "Wait, what?"

"If there's a big enough problem anywhere in the galaxy—especially Earth, one of his favorite planets—the TARDIS picks up on it telepathically and takes him right to it. She's a clever girl, after all."

My mouth formed an involuntary O. "So, that's why he just sort of ends up in random places, acting like it's all part of some grand plan."

River chuckled, linking her arm with mine as we navigated the crowded street. "Exactly. Though, to be fair, it's not completely random. The TARDIS is designed to sense danger and anomalies, but in his case, she's a bit... faulty."

AKA everytime he intends to go to one place and ends up somewhere else, it's not necessarily on accident. The TARDIS just sensed an issue and pulled the Doctor to it.

"Faulty?" I repeated, intrigued. "I mean, I know she doesn't have proper functioning cloaking technology... and the flights are a bit shaky, but that last one might just be the Doctor's piloting..."

River laughed at the last statement.

"Yes, the cloaking tech is an issue far past the Doctor's expertise for him to try and fix. But, the other big problem—the TARDIS's telepathic circuits and personality are meant to be locked away to prevent major interference. But with his TARDIS, the barriers are more like suggestions," River said, her eyes gleaming with humor. "The Doctor rarely sees it as a fault, though. To him, it's just another quirk, like her noise or her 'old' nature."

"That makes so much sense," I murmured.

"Doesn't it?" She teased, pulling me gently to avoid a man leading an overloaded cart. "But to answer your question about how I came across this—"

She trailed off, her gaze flickering to the throngs of people we passed. Her smile dimmed, replaced by a grim line as her eyes settled on a group of ragged figures clustered near a market stall. I followed her gaze and felt my stomach twist.

Slaves.

They weren't just scattered here and there; they were everywhere. Men, women, and children moved like shadows among the bustling crowd, heads bowed and shoulders hunched. Some carried heavy burdens, while others waited listlessly, their wrists shackled or their necks encircled by crude iron collars. The air around them felt heavy, oppressive, like the very life had been leeched out of them.

"I have a friend who specializes in, shall we say, peculiar histories," River finally said, her voice quieter now. "They came across records of entire villages disappearing during Vlad's reign. It wasn't just wars or conquest—there was something... different about it. People weren't just taken; they were erased."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look back at River instead of the heartbreaking scene around us. "And that led you here?"

River nodded, her expression dark. "It's one thing to read about atrocities from a distance, but seeing it like this..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Over half the population here are slaves, sold for labor, amusement, or worse. Rumors suggest some are taken directly to Vlad's court, and they don't come back alive, they come back sucked dry of blood..."

"Blood bags," I muttered bitterly, piecing it together.

River didn't deny it. "And not just for Vlad. This society thrives on the suffering of the powerless. But something tells me it's not just human greed or cruelty at work here."

My eyes drifted over the masses again. The desperation etched into their faces, the way their captors barked orders or sneered—it was all too real, too horrible. "You think there's something more behind it?"

River glanced toward the castle getting closer, her expression unreadable. "That's what we're here to find out, isn't it?"

I nodded grimly, my fists clenching at my sides. Whatever was happening here, it needed to stop. And if Vlad was behind it—or something worse—we'd make damn sure he regretted it.

As we continued through the filth-ridden streets of Wallachia, the clinking sound of chains echoed in my ears, louder than the market haggling, louder than the carts rattling over uneven cobblestones. It was a sound I knew too well—too intimately. Chains were a language of their own, one that spoke of power stolen, lives restrained, and futures stolen away in the dark.

My stomach twisted as I watched a woman, barely more than a girl, being led away by a burly man. Her wrists were bound, her head bowed, her spirit crushed. The sight sent an ache through my chest, bitter and familiar.

I hate chains.

I hate the way they dig into flesh and tether people to someone else's will. I hate the way they rob you of your choices, your autonomy, your sense of self. I hate them because I was raised in them—stolen time and time again, caged by cruel hands whose grip I felt every single day.

Even now.

I don't delude myself into thinking I'm a good person. My past, my choices, my very existence—they're all steeped in shades of gray darker than most would care to imagine. But there is one thing I know about myself, one thing I'm certain of in the swirling chaos of my life: I cannot stand by and watch someone else suffer the way I did.

The Polaris Jade—THE POLARIS JADE, as they called me in those cold, sterile labs—was meant to be a tool, a weapon. They forged me with fire and pain, tempered me with isolation and control.

The Destroyer was the one who put the nail in the coffin. After over a hundred years of choking under his hand, he finally broke me. But in turn, by breaking me, he also broke my fear and care.

To be reborn, you must die. To be rebuilt something must break.

And so, breaking chains became my purpose. My rebellion against those who tried to shackle me. My vengeance against the forces that said my life wasn't mine to live. My promise to every frightened soul that I could save, that their freedom mattered—even if mine never truly did.

I glanced at River, who was scanning the crowd with sharp, calculating eyes. She hadn't noticed the way my fists had clenched, my nails biting into my palms. She didn't need to. This wasn't her fight—not in the same way it was mine.

But she'd brought me here, and I had no intention of leaving this cursed place until I'd done something, anything, to tip the scales. Vlad, his kingdom—they didn't know it yet, but their chains would break, too.

I did not need the force of my powers to wreak havoc on this place: I am the motherfucking half-breed. And wherever the half-breed goes, wherever THE POLARIS JADE goes, destruction is bound to follow.

River led the way with a casual confidence that belied the sharp, calculating mind behind her knowing smirks and flirty quips.

I followed, my eyes darting to every shadowy corner and suspicious glance, a constant tension in my shoulders. The air was heavy with the stench of unwashed bodies, rotting food, and something metallic that I couldn't quite place but suspected had more to do with blood than iron.

River stopped at the edge of a market square, her gaze sweeping over the bustling crowd. "You see it too, don't you?" She murmured, her voice low enough that only I could hear.

"See what?" I asked, already knowing she was about to point out something I'd missed.

She tilted her head toward a group of men standing near a wooden platform where slaves were being auctioned off. They were dressed in fine clothes, far too fine for the grime and poverty surrounding them. Their skin had an odd sheen to it, almost as if it reflected the sunlight in a way that wasn't natural. Their movements were stiff, calculated, as if they weren't entirely comfortable in their own skin.

"Look at the way they're standing," River said, her tone tinged with intrigue. "Too rigid, too precise. And their faces—no expression, no emotion, it's a disguise. They're not human."

I frowned, narrowing my eyes at the men. Now that she'd pointed it out, it was obvious. Their eyes, too, seemed... off. Too bright, too sharp, like glass marbles rather than living, breathing organs.

"Alien lifeforms," I said softly, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "Living in luxury while the people around them suffer. Classic."

River's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. "Exactly. Now, the question is, what are they doing here? And what's their connection to Vlad? Because there is no way that the streets being overrun by aliens and an apparent vampire ruling over everyone is a coincidence..."

We spent the next hour weaving through the crowd, River taking the lead in her usual charming, flirtatious way. She had a knack for drawing people in, her charisma disarming even the most wary of strangers. I let her do most of the talking, content to observe and piece together the fragments of information we gathered.

I spoke to a few and tried to copy her demeanor by giving people easy smiles and fluttering lashes.

It didn't take long to confirm our suspicions. The aliens—who no one seemed to question as anything other than wealthy nobles—were decently recent arrivals. For us, that is. As in having arrived in the last two decades. They'd come at Vlad's invitation, bringing with them exotic goods and promises of prosperity. In exchange, they'd been granted land, slaves, and a place in the upper echelons of society.

But there was more to it than that. The whispers we overheard painted a darker picture. People disappearing in the night, their families too terrified to ask questions. Rumors of strange rituals held in the castle, of screams that echoed through the walls at odd hours. And then there was Vlad himself, the enigmatic lord who ruled with an iron fist and a chilling detachment.

"He's not just a host," River said as we ducked into a narrow alley to avoid a patrol. "He's working with them. Offering up his own people in exchange for... what? Power? Immortality?"

"Both, probably," I muttered, my stomach churning at the thought. "The man's already infamous for his brutality. It's not a stretch to think he'd make a deal with aliens if it meant getting what he wants."

River's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and determination. "Whatever their arrangement is, it's costing these people their lives. And we're going to put a stop to it."

I nodded. Because if there was one thing I knew about River Song, it was that she didn't lose. And neither did I—ever.

"Let's find out where they're staying," She said, her tone brisk as she started back toward the main square. "And see if we can't get a closer look at what they're hiding."

The path up toward the castle was steep and winding, cutting through dense trees that shivered in the biting March wind. River walked with her usual effortless grace, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders. The edges of her curls peeked out, golden in the muted light. I, on the other hand, was struggling to keep my dress from catching on the brambles while also trying not to freeze to death.

"You know," I grumbled, swatting at a branch that had snagged my sleeve, "this would be a lot easier if we weren't dressed like extras in a medieval drama."

River glanced back at me, her smile teasing. "Oh, but where's the fun in that? You look absolutely charming, darling. Very... rustic."

"Rustic?" I scoffed. "That's just a polite way of saying I look like I've been dragged through a hedge."

"Well, you have," She said, her laugh light and melodic. "But you wear it well."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips.

"So," I said after a moment, quickening my pace to walk alongside her, "What's the story with you and the Doctor in the future? Right now, he talks about you like you're some kind of enigma, but he also gets this... look whenever your name comes up. Like he's excited and annoyed at the same time."

River smirked, her gaze fixed ahead. "Oh, sweetie, the Doctor and I have a... complicated relationship."

"Complicated how?" I pressed, curious despite myself.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she glanced at me. "Let's just say it's a bit like a dance. One step forward, two steps back, a spin here, a twirl there... and every so often, he steps on my toes."

I snorted. "Sounds about right. He's not exactly the picture of coordination."

"No," She agreed, her tone fond. "But he's brilliant in his own way. And infuriating. And impossible. And utterly wonderful."

There was a warmth in her voice that made my chest tighten.

"So..." I trailed off. "What I am hearing is you guys fuck a lot in his future?" I bluntly asked.

River Song choked a laugh. To my surprise, she did not blush, she only held eye contact with a shit-eating grin.

"Maybe..." She said simply though there was something else in her eye, a sparkle. "Or maybe not—you'll need to see..."

Why would I need to see who the Doctor decides to screw in his future?

"That is something that I would prefer not to see..." I shook my head.

"Are you sure?" River asked with a small snort.

I cast her a sideways look.

At that moment we passed through the large open threshold—the metal gateway to the castle. Chaos greeted us—people screaming as various guards started poking and prodding at them, forcing them in large groups through the lower ends of the castle.

River froze, she held out a hand to stop me from moving as well.

Immediately, her persona shifted to one of worry—and she looked at me with the same worry.

"PJ..." She trailed off, seeming to know what I was thinking. "Wait—!" But I did nothing but dodge under her arm and throw myself into chaos.

The disarray unfolded before me like a symphony of madness; and madness I became.

Adrenaline surged through my veins as I darted under River's arm and hurled myself into the fray. The guards were clad in dark, heavy armor, armed with sharp-edged swords and metal-tipped staffs. But they were slow—too slow for me.

The first guard lunged at me, his staff aimed for my chest. I sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing the weapon mid-thrust and wrenching it from his grip. With a fluid motion, I spun it in my hands, the weight familiar, like a long-lost friend. Before he could react, I slammed the blunt end of the staff into his gut, then swung it upward to crack against his helmet. He crumpled to the ground.

Another guard charged, his sword raised high. I blocked with the staff, the metal ringing out as our weapons collided. The strength behind his swing would have been enough to break bones, but I wasn't just anyone.

My damned half-breed blood, my cursed existence, gave me the upper hand. I twisted the staff, locking his sword in place before yanking it from his grip. A quick pivot, and I delivered a clean strike across his chest. He fell with a guttural cry.

More guards closed in, their faces twisted in anger, their movements a flurry of desperation. I relished it. Each swing, each calculated blow was like a release valve for years of pent-up rage.

I was forced to fight my whole life. The thought was bitter, burning at the edges of my mind. The arena, the experiments, the lies. They broke me, rebuilt me, and called it salvation. I was never saved—I was enslaved.

I parried a blow and swung the staff with enough force to send another guard flying.

My mother died to protect me. All in vain—look what I've become.

A guard's blade nicked my arm, and I hissed, more annoyed than hurt. I retaliated with a swift kick to his chest, sending him crashing into a stone pillar.

My world is gone—there is nothing left, nothing tying me down.

The screams of the captives fueled my resolve. The people were cowering, the enslaved ones, their eyes wide with fear, but I could see the flickers of hope igniting. The fire waiting to burn.

It was time to light it. Light the match with Starfire.

"Power to the people!" I roared, the words tearing from my throat like a battle cry.

The captives froze, then one by one, they rose. The first man threw a rock at a guard. A woman grabbed a discarded staff. Another snapped her chains with brute strength, her eyes blazing with fury. And then, like a tide, they surged forward, overwhelming the guards with sheer numbers.

The riot grew around me, chaos and rebellion intertwining in a beautiful storm. The guards were falling back, their shouts turning frantic. I reveled in the power of the moment, the taste of freedom so close I could almost feel it.

But freedom wasn't free.

A sharp sound behind me caught my attention—a staff slicing through the air. I whirled, but it was too late.

Or so I thought.

River appeared in a blur, her movements graceful and deadly as she knocked the guard to the ground with the butt of her own weapon. Her curls bounced as she turned to face me, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement.

"While I don't agree with how you just handled this," She said, her voice steady despite the chaos around us, "And the Doctor would probably kill both of us for igniting such things..." She motioned to the fury of the people around. "I always have your back, love."

I blinked at her, surprised and a little thrown off. "You—"

She cut me off with a grin. "No time for speeches. Shall we?"

And just like that, we were back to back, fighting off the wave of guards that poured into the courtyard. River's movements were precise, almost elegant, each strike purposeful. I fought with raw power, every blow a statement, every swing a rebellion.

Together, we were unstoppable, a force that refused to be broken. The night was ours, and the battle had only just begun.

And as I swung my staff and River's laughter rang out beside me, I couldn't help but think that for the first time in a long time, I wasn't fighting alone.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚
𝟏𝟒𝟎𝟐

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

Blood soaked my skin as I continued to fight against the various guards.

"PJ!" River Song's voice cut through the gore and confusion. "That is enough!" I looked at her, my blade falling from the abdomen of one of the many guards. The bodies had started to pile up, and those who had been enslaved started to run away.

"Pass on the message!" I yelled, voice hoarse but pushing through everything. "FREE THOSE IN CHAINS—POWER TO THE PEOPLE!"

I held up a sword with the battle cry.

"Come on!" River Song told me, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me toward the entrance of the castle. "The Lord no doubt knows of the violence, let's hope he has not fled..." She said as we raced through the cold drafty corridors.

I had lost count of just how long we'd been fighting, but at some point—it turned from protection to a blood bath. River was not soaked to the brim in blood as I was, she stopped at some point, stopped when she realized the guards were no longer paying attention to the large door leading into the main part of the castle.

We ran through the corridors, hand-in-hand, taking twists and turns as fast as possible.

When we arrived, the throne room was vast and eerily quiet, the only sounds the distant echoes of our hurried footsteps and the faint whistle of the cold wind creeping through the stone walls. The grand space was adorned with rich red tapestries, thick with dust, their once-vibrant colors dulled by neglect. A single, ominous throne sat on a raised dais, its intricate carvings depicting battles and victories long past. It loomed over the room like a predator waiting for prey.

River stopped suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she pulled out a compact, sleek device from her clothing. It emitted a steady beep, the frequency increasing as she adjusted the settings.

"What is that?" I asked, stepping closer, my grip still tight on the blood-slicked sword.

"Off-planet lifeform detection. This place is brimming with it," River replied, her voice edged with concern. She glanced at me, the faint light of the device casting shadows across her face. "It's not just a faint trace, PJ. This is active. We're standing in the heart of something very, very wrong."

I felt a chill crawl up my spine, not from fear, but anticipation. "Any guesses on what kind of otherworldly visitor we're dealing with?"

River didn't get a chance to answer.

From the shadows behind the throne, a figure moved with an unnatural grace. Before either of us could react, River was seized, her device clattering to the floor as a hand clamped around her throat. My heart stopped as the man stepped into the dim light, his presence suffocating.

He was tall, his long, dark hair framing a pale face with sharp features and piercing eyes that seemed to glow faintly red. His clothes were regal, dark leather adorned with gold accents, a thick fur cloak draped over his shoulders. But it wasn't his appearance that chilled me—it was the aura of control, of power, that radiated from him.

"River!" I shouted, taking a step forward, but he tightened his grip on her throat, forcing her to gasp.

"Not another step," The man hummed, his voice smooth yet filled with menace. His lips curled into a smile that revealed unnaturally sharp canines. "You've caused quite the mess in my domain. Who might you be, to challenge the Lord of Wallachia?"

"Fine, you got me—I'm the Lord of your mom's pussy..."

"What?"

"PJ!" River coughed, barely able to get out the words.

I raised my sword, a stolen one from one of his many guards, the metal trembling slightly in my grip. The wooden handle remained strong. "Now, be a good boy and let her go, or I swear I'll kill you." I paused thoughtfully. "Well, actually, I'll kill you either way, but if you let her go now then I'll make it fast."

He laughed, a cold, mirthless sound that made my stomach churn. "Bold words. But do you know who you're threatening? I am Vlad Țepeș, Voivode of Wallachia. And you..." His eyes flicked to me, his grip tightening on River just enough to make her struggle. "You are a nothing."

"I'm the one who's going to end you if you don't release her," I spat, taking another step forward. "I'm your downfall..."

"Careful, little girl," Vlad purred, his gaze sharp as a blade. "I've lived many years. Do you think you can best me?"

And I have lived nearly 400 years, does he think he can best me?

"Try me," I snarled.

But then I stopped. I wanted information. Killing him now wouldn't solve anything—not yet. So, I forced myself to stay still, my mind racing. "You're not human. What are you?"

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then, to my surprise, he spoke.

"I was, long ago..." He sighed like he was recounting a lovely dream. "Forty years ago, a crack in the heavens tore open the skies above Wallachia," Vlad said, his voice almost reverent. "From it came a ship—a ship carrying the last remnants of a great race. Not from our world. Their home had been destroyed, their numbers reduced to mere dozens. They were desperate, lost."

"And you found them," I said, piecing it together.

"Yes," Vlad admitted. "A hunting party stumbled upon their wreckage. They were fragile creatures, clinging to life. But their leader, their queen...she was magnificent. A being of immense power and knowledge. She offered me a deal."

"What kind of deal?" I pressed, my grip on the sword tightening.

Vlad's smile widened, his fangs glinting in the faint light. "I wanted strength beyond measure. The speed of a falling star. Immortality. I wanted to be a monster, the most powerful ruler this world will ever see. In exchange, I gave them sanctuary—a place to hide, to rebuild. To strengthen. And in return, they gave me everything I asked for."

I felt bile rise in my throat. "And you used it to enslave your own people?"

"Power comes at a cost," Vlad said, his tone indifferent. "The humans who serve me are tools—fodder to keep my strength eternal. Those who are not useful to me are given to my benefactors. The queen and her people have needs of their own."

"And you're okay with that?" I growled. "Selling your people, feeding on them?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked, his voice as smooth as silk. "This is the natural order of things. The strong dominate the weak. And now, I am the strongest there is."

Rage boiled within me, threatening to explode. "Let River Song go, Vlad. Now."

He tilted his head, considering me. "And if I don't?"

"I'll show you what happens when you threaten someone I like," I snapped.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed River aside like she was nothing. She hit the ground hard, coughing and gasping for air.

I lunged forward, sword raised, ready to kill Dracula.

The moment Vlad flung River aside, my body moved on instinct. I surged forward, my sword gleaming as I swung it toward his neck. He dodged with inhuman speed, his figure blurring as he stepped aside and countered with a swipe of his claws. I barely avoided him, feeling the rush of air as his hand missed my face by inches.

His speed was extraordinary, but so was mine.

Vlad's eyes narrowed as I twisted mid-air, landing behind him and slashing at his back.

The move made me feel like fucking Wonder Woman.

The blade caught the edge of his cloak, cutting through the heavy fabric but missing his flesh. He spun around, a snarl tearing from his throat, and lunged at me.

"You're fast," He said, his voice low and dangerous as we circled each other. "You're no ordinary human. No human could stand against me. What are you, woman?"

I grinned, the thrill of the fight coursing through me. "I'm human enough."

With that, I rushed him, feinting left before striking right. He blocked my attack with his forearm, the force of it reverberating through the air. His strength matched my own, and it took every ounce of focus to keep up with his speed and precision.

It was moments like these I wish I had the full force of THE POLARIS JADE in me. He would've been incinerated by now.

We exchanged blows in a blur of movement, the sound of metal clashing and footsteps echoing off the stone walls. He was a masterful fighter, his years of experience evident in every calculated move. But I wasn't just fighting with skill—I was fighting with fury.

Memories surged through my mind, fueling every strike. The chains that had bound me as a child, the lies that had shaped my existence, the endless battles fought in the arena—they all burned in my veins, giving me strength.

And then one single thought, a burst of something that came through me.

Only in death can their be rebirth. Only with Vlad's death and the death of this alien race who do not belong on Earth can the people of Wallachia rebuild into something better. Only with destruction can the creation of peace happen.

It took everything in me to not try and burn this place to the ground. To ignore the itch of pure instinct that edged to commit such vile sins—all for the greater good.

I spun low, ducking under one of his strikes and slamming the hilt of my sword into his ribs. He staggered back slightly, his face twisted in surprise and anger.

"You're strong," Vlad admitted, his voice cold. "But strength alone won't save you."

"Good thing I've got more than just strength," I retorted, lunging at him again.

This time, I aimed higher, swinging at his throat. He caught the blade mid-swing, his fingers gripping the steel with unnatural ease. He twisted, wrenching the sword from my hands and tossing it across the room.

Unarmed, I darted backward, narrowly avoiding his next attack. My heart pounded as I scanned the room for something—anything—I could use. My gaze landed on my sword, its blade glinting in the faint light. But it wasn't the blade that caught my attention—it was the wooden hilt.

Dracula lore, I thought, a spark of realization igniting in my mind. Wooden stakes. If the stories exist in the future, they must have started somewhere.

Vlad lunged at me again, and I dodged, sliding across the floor toward the discarded sword. I grabbed it, spinning around just in time to block his next attack.

"Do you think you can kill me?" He sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I am eternal."

"Let's test that theory," I shot back. "Everyone has a weakness... mine happens to be peanut butter and jelly...!"

With a surge of strength, I twisted my body, flipping the sword around in my hands. The wooden hilt now faced him, and before he could react, I drove it forward with all my might.

The wooden handle pierced his chest, sinking deep into his heart. Blood, inky groteque and infected blood spurted out of his wound and all over me. Vlad's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

"Looks like yours is just wood... oh, that sucks!"

"No..." He rasped, his voice trembling as cracks began to spread across his skin. "Impossible..."

"Looks like they didn't make you as invincible as you thought. They needed an easy way to kill you if the time called for it, but metal would've been too obvious—you would've tested that theory out. Wood though... so simple and easy that almost no one would guess...!" I told him, already knowing what the aliens had chosen to do.

They needed to ensure they could kill him if need be, but it had to be something he'd never guess. And why would Vlad ever think he could die by mere wood to his heart?

He staggered back, clutching at the hilt lodged in his chest. His body started to disintegrate, turning to ash that crumbled to the ground.

I stood there, panting, as the last remnants of Vlad the Impaler scattered into nothingness.

Gross.

River stumbled to her feet, her eyes wide as she stared at the pile of ash. "Well, that was...effective," She said, her voice breathless but tinged with admiration.

I turned to her, a grin tugging at my lips despite the exhaustion coursing through me. "I aim to please."

River shook her head, brushing off her coat. "You certainly do a good job at pleasing me. Also, remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Don't worry," I said, offering her a hand. "You're firmly on my good side."

She took my hand, and together, fingers interlaced for comfort, we stood amidst the sound of silence. The silence was interrupted by the chaos outside—it seemed people had somehow already realized the Lord was dead.

Realized that the slaves were uprising.

My lips twisted into a grin.

Only in death can we be reborn. Only with destruction can there be creation.

Only after chaos can there be peace.

"Let's go..." I tugged at River Song, the woman easily keeping up with me as we fled the throne room of the horrifying castle.

"The guards saw you kill the Lord, PJ!" River Song told me as she messed with the device. "They've no doubt gone to the wealthy, which as it turns out are the other lifeforms..." She told me.

"Always with the fucking rich being aliens—no normal human ever has that much money. But we need to figure out what other lifeforms they are! Especially if they came through the crack!" I said, mind reeling as I remembered that crack through time and space that appeared in the Aplan Temple and nearly killed us all.

Huh, that was only like four hours ago... a busy day, indeed...

River nodded, cursing loudly. "Fucking hell, they certainly did come through the crack of time and space..." She told me, easily keeping up despite holding my hand in hers tightly and reading from her device with the other.

River's grip on my hand tightened as we sprinted down the winding stone corridors. The echoes of chaos—shouts, screams, the clash of metal—grew louder with every step. I caught a glimpse of her device glowing faintly in her other hand, the screen flickering with non-Earth symbols and readings.

"Alright, hotness," I said, casting a quick glance her way as we rounded a corner. "What's the verdict? Who are these 'other lifeforms,' and seriously—why do they always have to be horrifyingly rich?"

River's eyes narrowed at the screen, her voice sharp but tinged with excitement. "Ylivad. They're called the Ylivad. Obsidian skin, glowing eyes, the whole 'we look like gods so worship us' shtick. Must have a power source that's disguising them. They're from a planet called Nyxara, which was destroyed when the crack in time and space destabilized their system. Thirty of them made it out—barely. Crash-landed here about forty years ago."

"Forty years?" I repeated, my brow furrowing as I leaped over a fallen tapestry. "And they've already set themselves up as Wallachia's elite? Enslaved the entire native population? That's gotta be a record."

River snorted, glancing at me briefly with an amused grin. "Oh, they're overachievers, darling. And they did have the help of the Lord. They used their telepathic abilities to manipulate the original local nobility and offered Vlad immortality and power in exchange for, well... an endless buffet of human blood and labor."

I grimaced, bile rising in my throat. "Because of course, they did. They didn't just need refuge; they needed a food supply. Let me guess—they're not too keen on giving up their cushy setup."

River nodded. "Precisely. And they're not just feeding on blood, either. They're using humans as replacements for a mineral their bodies need to survive—kiarite. It's why they've been so meticulous in controlling this region, making sure Vlad keeps the humans subjugated."

I clenched my jaw, my thoughts spiraling. The Ylivad. Survivors. Just trying to rebuild after their world was destroyed. But that didn't excuse this—enslaving a population, trading lives like they were commodities.

"They're parasites," I muttered, my voice low and venomous. "And worse, they're hiding behind the excuse of survival to justify it."

River shot me a quick glance. "You've read about them before, haven't you?"

"Maybe," I admitted. "Didn't think I'd ever run into them since I read about them during the 51st century in a book about extinct species. Guess the universe is just full of surprises."

We burst through another doorway, the biting night air slamming into us. Below, the town was in chaos. The uprising had begun in earnest, with slaves and townsfolk alike fighting back against the remnants of Vlad's forces. Fires burned in the streets, casting flickering shadows against the crumbling stone walls.

River came to a halt beside me, scanning the scene with her device. "This is going to get worse before it gets better," she said, her tone almost clinical. "The Ylivad won't just let their power base collapse."

"Good," I said, my lips curling into a grim smile. "Now I have an excuse to kill them all..."

River gave me a look that was half exasperation, half admiration. "You really do love jumping headfirst into bloodsport, don't you?"

"Someone's gotta do it." I winked at her, even as my mind raced with strategies. "Besides, I've got you to keep me from getting too reckless, right?"

"Don't flatter yourself," River teased, her eyes sparkling. "I'm just here for the show. The device should lead us to the power source of their disguises..."

River Song was different from the Doctor in the sense that she did not fall in the spectrum of chaotic good. No, she was like me—absurdly neutral. Morally grey... dark grey to be specific.

We exchanged a quick grin before taking off again, weaving through the narrow alleyways toward the heart of the town. Everywhere we looked, people were fighting back—grabbing whatever they could to defend themselves against guards and overseers. It was messy, uncoordinated, and absolutely glorious.

The Ylivad would regret ever stepping foot on this planet.

The heart of the town pulsed with chaos. Flames licked the sky, smoke curling like a living thing. The uprising of the enslaved had transformed the streets into a battlefield. But it was more than violent as no one could tell who was truly human and who was not.

River and I wove through the crowds, our hands clenched tightly together, navigating the mayhem as shouts of rebellion echoed in every direction.

The power source, according to River's device, was in the central square, hidden beneath a makeshift market. Its location explained the constant activity in the area—the Ylivad had ensured it was well-guarded and obscured.

"There." River pointed as we neared the square. Her device beeped furiously, its signal intensifying with every step. "It's below us. The main generator."

"Great," I said, scanning the area. The market stalls were in tatters, overturned by the riot. Guards and former slaves clashed violently. "Think they've bailed already?"

River's lips pressed into a thin line. "Not a chance. They wouldn't abandon their lifeline without a fight. They don't have anywhere else to go to."

We ducked beneath the remains of a collapsed stall, finding an entrance to the underground beneath a large stone slab, crudely camouflaged with debris. Together, we heaved the slab aside, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling into the earth.

"Ladies first," I said, motioning for River to go ahead.

She shot me a look but smirked, descending into the darkness with me close behind.

The stairwell opened into a cavernous chamber lit by the eerie glow of a crystalline obelisk.

The place was large, its surface crawling with alien circuitry. The hum of power was overwhelming, reverberating in my chest like a second heartbeat.

"That's it," River murmured, holding up her device to a large blinking mess of wires and metal casing. "This is what's maintaining their human disguises."

"Good," I said, stepping forward. "Let's smash it to bits."

"Stop."

The voice came from the shadows, commanding and cold. We both turned as a figure stepped into the light, her obsidian skin glistening, eyes molten gold.

"Who are you?" River demanded.

"I am Qlyra—Queen of the Ylivad!" She said proudly, chin tilted upward.

Qlyra, the Ylivad queen, carried herself with the grace of someone used to absolute authority. Behind her, several guards emerged. Their presence filled the chamber with oppressive energy.

"You," Qlyra said, her gaze fixed on me. "You've caused enough damage. Step away from the generator."

I tilted my head, smirking. "Or what? You'll berate me to death?"

River sighed. "PJ, maybe—"

"Not now, River," I interrupted, keeping my eyes on the queen. "You seem like the talkative type, Your Majesty. So let's hear it—what's your excuse for all this? Enslaving an entire town? Selling people?"

Qlyra's expression hardened. "You would not understand, human. We are survivors of a dying race. Our planet was destroyed by the crack in time and space. This town was a lifeline, a refuge. Without the generator, we cannot maintain our forms or survive for long in this environment. We come from a dark planet, your sun would burn us..."

"And that justifies everything?" I shot back. "Enslaving humans and using them as food? Don't play the victim—you're not."

"You speak as if you know such struggle," Qlyra hissed, stepping closer. "But you are nothing more than a child, meddling in matters you cannot comprehend."

I laughed, sharp and cold.

River cleared her throat, pulling out her sonic device. "Look, I hate to interrupt the posturing, but we could negotiate. You give up the humans, and maybe we help you find another planet."

"Negotiate?" Qlyra laughed bitterly. "Humans are no better, this planet is wasted on them."

"Maybe," I said, stepping closer to the generator. "But they're not my problem right now. You are."

Before Qlyra could react, I drove the hilt of my sword into the base of the generator. The crystalline structure cracked, its glow faltering before shattering completely. The chamber plunged into silence, broken only by the sound of shouts above ground.

"You insolent wretch!" Qlyra roared, her regal composure shattering. "You've doomed us all!"

"You seem fine to me," I said with a shrug.

River snorted, unable to hide her amusement. "Now, Your Majesty, shall we talk terms?"

Qlyra's golden eyes burned with fury as she glared at me. "You will help us find another home."

I raised an eyebrow. "Will we? And why exactly would we do that?"

"The Doctor would," She said smugly, her confidence returning. "He always does. He saves everyone—no matter who or what they are. And you—his naughty girls—wouldn't dare stray from his example."

The words hit me like a slap. The fuck?

"What the hell did you just call us?"

What the FUCK did this bitch just say?

Qlyra smirked, stepping closer. "I know who you are, PJ. And River Song. The Doctor's naughty girls, leaving chaos in your wake for the Doctor to clean up."

My blood boiled, but I kept my tone calm and dangerous. "Look around." I gestured to the shattered generator and the chaos outside. "Is the Doctor here to control his naughty girls?"

I fucking hate everything. I hate that name more than ANYTHING ever.

Qlyra hesitated, her smug expression faltering.

"Didn't think so," I said, grinning viciously. "Welcome to my game, bitch. No Doctor to restrain us—no Doctor to save you. Watch as the rest of your race burns and the humans are reborn..." My eyes narrowed: and with that, I once again grabbed River's hand, the woman's palm becoming familiar, and we ran.

The narrow stone stairs echoed with the sound of our hurried steps as River and I bolted out of the caverns, leaving the shattered remains of the Ylivad generator behind. The air was thick with smoke and chaos, the distant cries of rebellion blending with the crackling of flames. The heat licked at my skin as we emerged into the heart of the town.

I could hear Qlyra and the guards coming after us.

"'Naughty girls,' really?" I said, sparing a glance at River as we weaved through the crumbling streets. "Why the hell are we known as that? It's disgusting—insulting. Demeaning. Is that some sort of twisted nickname?"

River, despite the urgency of our situation, grinned with her trademark mischief. "Spoilers, honey," She teased, her voice light as she ducked under a fallen wooden beam. "Let's just say history has a way of remembering the most... interesting bits."

"Oh, that's reassuring," I muttered, shoving a piece of debris aside to clear the path. "What kind of legacy is that to leave behind? 'Naughty girls'—like we're troublemakers in a schoolyard brawl. Or hookers he picked up in a brothel!"

River laughed, a melodic sound that somehow cut through the chaos. "Those are on two completely different sides of the spectrum. And, we do leave a lot of chaos in our wake, darling. Might as well own it."

I couldn't argue with that.

"Naughty girls is not owning it. In fact, it was probably the Doctor himself who made sure that we were known by that! This has his name written all over it...!" I cried, and by the way that River was smirking, I knew I was right. "That asshole!"

Yet, my lips still curled into a smirk as we darted past a group of people toppling a guard tower. The Ylivad now fully exposed in their alien forms, were struggling to maintain control. Humans armed with pitchforks and torches swarmed them like a tide.

As we rounded a corner, River slowed, her grin giving way to a flicker of concern. "What are you planning, PJ?" She asked, glancing sideways at me. "You've got that look in your eye—the one that makes me worried."

"Oh, you mean the look of someone who just tore down an alien conspiracy in less than a day?" I shot back, feigning innocence. "Don't worry, River. I'm going to do absolutely nothing."

River frowned, her brows knitting together. "PJ—"

"Relax," I interrupted, my grin growing sharper. "You'll see."

The square came into view, the inferno of rebellion blazing higher than ever. The oppressive weight that had hung over the town was lifting, replaced by the fiery determination of its people. I took it all in—the shouting, the destruction, the raw energy of freedom being reclaimed. And then I spotted it: a wooden building near the edge of the square, its roof engulfed in flames.

Perfect.

Without breaking stride, I turned to River. "Stay here."

Before she could argue, I leaped upward with all the strength my half-breed nature could muster. The world blurred for a moment, my feet landing solidly on the roof of the burning building. The wood groaned beneath me, flames licking at the edges of my boots, but I stood strong, balancing against the chaos.

Below me, the town erupted into cheers as people noticed me. The rebels paused in their fight, their voices rising in a cacophony of defiance.

If the guards had seen me kill Vlad, then the word had no doubt already spread. I noticed Qlyra watching in the crowd angrily.

I raised a hand, a triumphant grin splitting my face. The world was crumbling, the Ylivad's grip disintegrating. The fire raged, but I didn't flinch. Only after chaos could there be peace.

The flames rose higher around me, the heat licking at my skin, but I stood resolute, a lone figure silhouetted against the blaze. The chaos of rebellion spread below like wildfire, the townsfolk emboldened by the sight of me on the burning rooftop. My voice, hoarse but steady, sliced through the cacophony.

"Tear them all apart!" I roared, the words rolling off my tongue like thunder. My fists clenched at my sides as I surveyed the crowd—a sea of faces twisted with rage, despair, and determination. They looked up at me, waiting, needing someone to give their anger a purpose.

And so I gave it to them.

"Anyone who is Ylivad—all those who have enslaved you!" My voice cracked, but I didn't stop. The memory of the Ylivad queen's taunting smirk flashed through my mind, her arrogant confidence that she could bend humanity to her will. "They stole your home! They stole your power!"

I could see the faces of the crowd begin to shift, their anger sharpening into a weapon. My voice grew louder, filled with a raw, primal energy that even I couldn't fully control.

"It's time to take that power back!" My pulse thundered in my ears, and I felt the aureum and tenebris stir within me, their ancient power simmering just beneath the surface. Not complete within me, but the other dimension that held its full force was never far."Rise up and take from them what they took from you!"

My words weren't just for them. They were for me. The little girl locked away in a cage, forced to fight, to kill, to destroy in the Space Jam. The girl who had been lied to, beaten, and broken—and who still stood here, whole, strong, unyielding.

Made into the finest killer there ever was.

"Slay those who have wronged you!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the burning streets. The cries of the enslaved became a roar, their energy feeding into my own. "Slay those who have made you lesser!"

I could feel the crowd surge, their collective fury boiling over into action. They moved as one, a tide of humanity crashing against the remnants of their oppressors.

"Tear it all down!" My voice cracked, and the people stormed through the streets, tearing down banners, breaking buildings. "Burn it bright and take your power back to build anew!"

I thought of the destruction I'd caused before, the lives I'd taken, the civilizations I'd helped crumble. There was beauty in this chaos, in the fire that would cleanse the earth and leave fertile ground for something better. But there was also pain. This was the role I'd been forced to play before, the weapon I'd been forged into. And yet, this time... this time, it was my choice.

But the psychotic tendencies, the cracks in my mind took over. Old habits are hard to break.

"Power to the people!" I roared, raising my hand in defiance, the flames casting long shadows around me. "Only destruction can allow for creation!"

The screams of the Ylivad rang out as the people surged forward, overwhelming their alien oppressors with sheer numbers. I saw flashes of the Ylivad, their slick skin and bioluminescent markings stark against the firelit chaos. They were powerful, but even they couldn't stand against the fury of the human spirit.

They were severely outnumbered.

"Only in death will you be reborn!" The words felt like prophecy, echoing in the churning storm of my thoughts. I felt the weight of what I was doing, what I'd unleashed. The Ylivad had been the last of their kind. And now, I had ensured their extinction.

The Doctor would never forgive me for such a thing.

I should have felt guilt, but instead, I felt a strange clarity. The Ylivad wouldn't have left Earth peacefully. They would have returned, stronger, crueler.

"Power to all, power to humanity—power to the people!"

The final words left my lips as a primal scream, and the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. Below me, the Ylivad fell, one by one, their true forms revealed, their reign of terror extinguished.

I stood tall on the roof, the world burning around me, destruction clearing the way for creation. The rain would come soon, washing away the blood and ash. The earth would heal, and so would its people. But for now, there was only fire. Only chaos. Only me—THE POLARIS JADE.

And the weight of what I had done.

I leaped off the building at that moment, landing on the ground with a thud. My hand was immediately snatched.

The fire roared around us, the thick smoke stinging my eyes as River and I staggered through the chaos. Shouts and screams of anger and pain filled the air, the unmistakable sounds of rebellion and destruction. My heart hammered in my chest, a mix of adrenaline, triumph, and something heavier—something darker.

River's hand gripped mine tightly, pulling me through the madness. "Move, PJ!" She shouted, her voice sharp, almost desperate. "We need to get to the TARDIS now!"

I nodded wordlessly, my throat too dry to respond. The aureum and tenebris still buzzed in my veins, their presence amplifying my senses, my strength, my very being. But their power didn't silence the small, nagging voice in my mind that whispered of consequences yet to come.

It was slow as it relaxed back into my being, settling with its dormancy as more than half its force was missing. THE POLARIS JADE was not in her fullest state.

The TARDIS stood just ahead, a beacon of safety amidst the chaos. The blue wood seemed almost to glow in the fiery light, its presence steady, unyielding. River shoved the door open and pulled me inside, slamming it shut behind us.

I barely had time to catch my breath before River rounded on me. Her eyes blazed with a fury I'd yet to see in her, her usually calm and collected demeanor replaced with something raw and unfiltered.

"What the hell was that, PJ?" She demanded, her voice echoing through the control room.

I blinked at her, still trying to process everything that had just happened. "What are you talking about?"

"What am I—" River laughed bitterly, throwing her hands up. "You just orchestrated the extinction of an entire species! Incited battle! Do you have any idea what you've done? What the Doctor will say when he finds out?"

I flinched at the mention of him, a pang of guilt striking deep. But then anger flared up, hot and insistent, burning away the shame. "Exactly!" I shot back, stepping toward her. "He did it too, didn't he? He committed genocide! Twice, if the stories are true! Why should he care what I do—what we do?"

River's expression softened for a moment, sadness flickering in her eyes, but her voice was steady when she answered. "Because he knows what it does to you, PJ. He knows what it takes to make that choice and what it costs to live with it."

I shook my head, my hands clenching into fists. "Those people were enslaved, River! Their lives were stolen from them. The Ylivad would have killed them all eventually, anyway. They fed on their blood! This way, it's quick, it's decisive—fewer casualties on humanity's side. I made the call."

"And that's what terrifies me," River said softly.

Her words struck like a physical blow, and I took a step back, shaking my head. "Why? Because I made the call? Because I didn't hesitate?"

"No," River said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because you're so much like him. But at the same time oh-so different..."

The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. Finally, I found my voice again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't get it," River murmured, almost to herself. "Of course you don't. You're still too new... you don't recognize just how important you are to him yet. To us."

I frowned, confusion and frustration swirling together. "How important I am?" I echoed. "What do you mean?"

River shook her head, muttering under her breath. "I shouldn't have brought you here. This was too much, too soon..."

"River!" I snapped, my voice cutting through her muttering. She stilled, and I softened my tone, taking a step closer. "Those people were enslaved. They had their lives stolen from them. They were going to die regardless. This way, they had a fighting chance—and they won. Trust me, I can see it."

River's sharp gaze met mine, searching, questioning.

"Take us to their future," I said firmly. "Two hundred years from now. I promise, you'll see I'm right."

She stared at me for what felt like an eternity, her expression unreadable. Finally, her shoulders sagged, and she let out a long, weary sigh. Without a word, she moved to the console and began to pilot the TARDIS.

The engines roared to life, and I felt the familiar lurch as we took off. I stood in silence, my heart pounding as I waited to see if my conviction would hold true. Would the future I envisioned be there, or had I just made a terrible mistake?

River glanced at me once, her eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and reluctant hope, before turning her attention back to the controls. And for the first time since I'd met her, I saw something I hadn't expected.

Fear.

Bitterness swept through my being. She should be afraid—no matter how far into the future she was, it appeared she still did not know the truth about what I was. It seemed, based on the fact that she said nothing about me being able to kill Vlad so easily, that she knows I am a half-breed.

But that's about it.

She knows me as PJ—not THE POLARIS JADE.

The TARDIS materialized with its familiar, comforting groan. When the doors swung open, the sight before us was breathtaking. The once-chaotic, fire-ravaged town was unrecognizable.

A sprawling city stretched out, a harmonious blend of nature and architecture. Trees adorned the tops of buildings, their roots weaving through walls as if the structures themselves had grown organically from the earth. The air felt clean, almost sacred, and the people moved with a sense of purpose and quiet pride.

At the city's heart stood a monumental statue. It depicted a group of people, their hands bound by chains that shattered as they raised their fists to the sky. The craftsmanship was exquisite, every detail—from the defiance in their faces to the rippling chains—conveying the story of resilience and hope. The inscription at its base read simply: Never Again.

River and I stood side by side, taking in the transformation. My breath hitched at the sheer beauty of it all. They had taken the pain, the blood, the chaos, and turned it into something extraordinary.

"They did it," I murmured, more to myself than to River. "They really did it."

River said nothing, but when I glanced at her, there was a gleam in her eye that I didn't quite recognize. She stepped closer, slipping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into her side. It was a gesture so tender, so uncharacteristic, that I stiffened for a moment before relaxing.

Leaning into her warmth, I rested my head against her shoulder. We stood there, silent, watching the people move about their lives in this beautiful, thriving city—a testament to what strength, pain, and hope could achieve when harnessed.

The moment stretched, unspoken words hanging in the air. When River finally pulled away, I almost missed the contact. She motioned toward the TARDIS, her expression unreadable.

"Come on, sweetie," she said softly, leading the way back.

Inside the TARDIS, the familiar hum surrounded us. River moved to the console, her hands flying over the controls with practiced ease. "We should probably return the TARDIS to the Doctor," she said, her tone light but edged with something deeper. "If we time it right, we'll get back seconds after we left. He'll never know."

I hesitated, then looked at her from under my lashes, my voice quieter than I intended. "Are you going to join in our travels then?"

She waved me off easily. "Oh, no, not yet. But you'll see plenty more of me in the future... I don't tend to travel with the Doctor as frequently as most companions..."

I clicked my tongue and nodded, trying not to be put down by that information. The Doctor was amazing to travel with... but so was River. All three of us would be fun, no doubt. I looked forward to what our future held; all three of us intertwined.

The question tumbled from my lips faster than I could stop it. "Want to take the long way round then?"

River froze, her head snapping up to meet my gaze. Her face lit up with a grin so bright it seemed to outshine the TARDIS's interior lights. "Oh, that is a marvelous idea, sweetie. I love the long way round."

A small smile tugged at my lips, and I leaned against the console. "Well, since we're apparently the Doctor's naughty girls—still hate that name, by the way—we might as well live up to it, right? So what the hell? Let's go have some fun."

River's laughter was rich and full of devilishness. "What the hell? We'll borrow the TARDIS for a bit longer. The Doctor surely won't mind..."

I snorted, shaking my head with a grin. "Oh yeah, definitely not..." I replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, where should we go?"

"Mmm..." River hummed. "Sabrina Carpenter?" She asked knowingly.

I nodded excitedly, jumping in my spot. "Fuck yeah! And then we just need to groove together in 1977!"

"HA! Deal!" River winked at me before pulling a lever, sending the TARDIS into motion. The lurch sent us reeling, and I clung to the console, laughing despite myself.

As the lovely and stupid Doctor would say: Geronimo!

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

❝𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚
𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫?
𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬?
𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫
𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝
𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫
𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞?❞

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

I liked to think of the past month as The Polaris Jade singing her pretty river song.

The first thing River did when we stole—sorry, borrowed—the TARDIS was show me her room. It was one of those previously locked doors I'd noticed during my first whirlwind exploration. I realized then that this was a room that even the current Doctor I was traveling with hadn't seen, because he himself did not know River that well.

He did not even realize she had a room aboard his ship.

But at the time, River had stood beside me, her hand hovering dramatically over the knob. And the door had swung open with a gentle groan, revealing a space so quintessentially her that it felt like stepping into her mind.

Her room was a masterpiece of organized chaos. Much like mine in that aspect.

The walls were lined with shelves filled to the brim with ancient artifacts, dusty tomes, and shiny trinkets from who-knew-where. A small weapons rack stood in the corner, boasting everything from sleek laser pistols to daggers that looked far too deadly to just display. On the opposite side of the room, there was a cozy nook—a chaise lounge with a fur throw and a low table cluttered with notebooks and unfinished gadgets. The air smelled faintly of aged parchment and something floral, maybe lavender.

There were some bottles of wine and other random alcoholic beverages from the cosmos on a small bar in the corner.

The centerpiece was the bed, draped in deep crimson and gold, luxurious but lived-in. Above it hung a string of lights, their soft glow casting an almost ethereal light over the room. River claimed it was a "safe haven," though judging by the number of weapons and blueprints scattered about, it was also her personal war room.

"You can stay here if you want," She joked when she saw how much I loved her room, her voice casual, but there was an undertone of something warmer, something softer. "Or we can both sleep in the Doctor's room..."

And that we did. There were nights where we slept in our personal spaces—our own rooms. But after the first week, there were also many nights where we had fun sleepovers staying up late talking in either one of our rooms or sometimes, for the hell of it, the Doctor's room.

I'd been right in my assumption, his bed felt like pure heaven.

River Song knew I was a half-breed, she did not reveal much about what it was like when she found out. But to my knowledge, she did not know the full extent of it—did not realize that I was a multiversal traveler called The Polaris Jade.

She only knew me as a half-breed girl called PJ.

A lot of time was spent in the TARDIS workshop.

River Song teased me for turning it into my own chaotic lair, but she never complained about the smell of burnt circuits or the occasional mini-explosions that came from my experiments. She occasionally helped in trying to fix my Vortex Manipulator.

She had one of her own which helped as we examined hers to try and fix mine. But mine proved to be very difficult, and we wondered if it was perhaps broken for good. I might just need to find another one.

That workshop became our place. She taught me to use her custom guns, and I showed her how to wire bombs that could incinerate a planet—or just make a hell of a lot of smoke for a dramatic exit. We built racing jetpacks together, and River insisted we make a third one for the Doctor. "He'll be jealous if we don't," she'd said with a mischievous grin.

Over the past month, we turned the universe into our playground. We saved cities, leaving chaos and a trail of broken hearts in our wake.

We started in San Franciso in November of 2024 where River Song took me to see Sabrina Carpenter.

Sabrina is hotter in person—and the outfit she wore at the concert was a baby pink one-piece lingerie set.

I have never felt more in love.

We danced on the beaches of Utopian resorts, the moons of Calaxas glistening overhead. We partied in metropolises that seemed to hum with music, losing ourselves in the pulsing rhythm of alien clubs where gravity shifted with the bassline.

Miami had also been hit more than we should've given we had the entire galaxy at our fingertips. But I swear that nothing can beat the Spring Break parties in South Beach.

We got drunk more times than I can count, though River could always hold her liquor better than me. Sadly.

But, the many bar fights we got into and won were more than worth it.

Once, in a bar on Orion-7, we conned an entire room of smugglers into thinking we were intergalactic bounty hunters. Which... we kind of are when you think about it.

We made off with a small fortune, half of which River and I promptly donated to an orphanage. The rest? We blew on matching custom space suits. We looked really hot in them, though.

We played cards, though she always cheated. Successfully, might I add.

Chess, too, though I usually won, to her eternal frustration.

She taught me how to fly the TARDIS, and while she was a great teacher, this ship was more than complicated. Immensely difficult, but she was patient and I understood more with every passing day.

I could now just barely manage to pilot the TARDIS to simpler places. River assured me that I would only get better, and soon enough‚ I would be a fine pilot for the old girl.

River Song was inarguably better than the Doctor at flying the TARDIS, she managed it like she herself was a part of the ship.

Once, we spent an entire night in a nebula just watching the stars swirl outside the TARDIS. We didn't talk much then, just shared a bottle of wine and the kind of silence that felt as vast and comforting as the universe itself.

Sometimes—okay, often—we talked about the Doctor. We laughed about his gangly limbs and his penchant for trouble. And we both became starry-eyed over him under all the teasing. Talking about that ridiculous bow tie or how much too young and handsome his eleventh face was.

An ageless God, we often called him with much affection.

I'd mimic his exasperated expressions, and she'd roar with laughter. But there was a shadow beneath the mirth, a shared understanding that we both missed him.

I felt a pang of guilt every now and then. A month. It had been a month since I'd seen him, and I'd spent more time with River than I ever had with him. But I knew my fate was tied to his in ways River's wasn't. My destiny was intertwined with his, even if I didn't fully understand how yet.

I was destined to spend more time with him than he would with River, or I would with River or all three of us would together.

Still, being with River felt... easy. Like breathing. We were two storms, colliding and creating something electric and unpredictable. Our bond teetered on the edge of something more, but we never crossed that line. It was in the way she'd sling an arm around my shoulders, the way her laughter warmed the spaces between us, the way her eyes and mine lingered just a second too long.

And somehow, it all came back to that river song. The rhythm of it, the pull and flow. I followed her to the river, metaphorically speaking, and let the rhythm take the lead.

It wouldn't last forever—we were only taking the long way round, after all. But for now, I was content to lean on her and let the current carry us.

But there was still a line I refused to cross. One I refused to cross with her and the Doctor both.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 —

"Can your conscience carry the weight of another dead race?"

The woman's voice, the voice of Signora Rosanna Calvieri, leader of the aquatic race from Saturnyne echoed in his mind.

No, the Doctor had wanted to scream. His conscience could not carry the weight of another dead race. He didn't want to—he could not do it. And yet, he had to. He was forced to.

Because it was either them—the aliens who did not belong on Earth, who were taking innocent young human women and turning them into something they were not. The aliens who threatened to sink the entirety of Venice, and no doubt, would choose to sink many more cities as their population spread across the planet.

And the Doctor; he loved Earth too much. He would not allow that to happen.

He made the decision, to sacrifice one race of people to save another. And he would bear that on his conscience with many other things for the rest of his life. The rest of his existence. Even as he knew to move forward, to keep going no matter what—the weight of it all was heavy. It was exhausting and all of those decisions, all of his history, made him hate himself.

But then he reminded himself of young Isabella and of her father. Young Isabella who bravely helped he, Amy, and Rory escape the school despite knowing the consequences that would befall her. Her father, the man, who chose to blow up his entire home with himself inside—all to take out the conformed girls.

And yes, that only made the Doctor hate himself more... because he should have been faster. Should have been quicker—and because he wasn't, now they were dead.

Pathetic hero he is.

The last TimeLord easily distracted himself, forcing his mind to keep moving forward—to push this to the backburner along with the rest of his trauma and guilt.

Because if he didn't then he would crumble.

Distraction came easy as he led Amy and Rory, feeding off their excitement and adrenaline of the entire thing. He forced himself to focus on other things, explaining what was around them and allowing his mind to take off.

He rambled to them as he always did, and the more he spoke, the easier it was to get his mind off it and on other things.

Like PJ: his pretty and fun and reckless and downright bonkers bombmaker. His PJ.

Lovely and sweet but salty in her own right.

They had agreed to watch a movie, after all. A tradition she had started when she traveled with him before—when he was in his tenth regeneration and she was a mystery woman who twirled into his life like a storm.

Shudders ran down his spine at the thought: many dazzling memories dancing before his eyes of all they'd done. Things that the PJ waiting for him hadn't yet done; however.

It hurt to think that one day PJ would need to leave him—leave him to be with ten. But it mattered not, because once that happened then the Doctor could officially start his search. His search for PJ yet again—except it would finally be a version of her that correlated correctly to his timeline.

He was serious when he said that he and PJ's timestreams were moving mostly in the same direction.

Unlike with River Song, who was still much a mystery to him, PJ did not pop up quite as randomly. It was only their meetings that was slightly backward: his first meeting with her was directly after she'd left Doctor Eleven. But then, when he finally saw her again after 2 years, 7 months, 8 days, 11 hours, and 2 minutes 45 seconds, she didn't recognize him!

But—oh—she was adorable. So bloody cute!

So new and confused and bright-eyed and for once she was not all-knowing.

Her catty nature and the random facts she knew about his future used to irritate him to no end. Irritate him but also spark such a prominent curiosity that he couldn't hope to stay away. She set him on fire—completely lit him with a passion he had never felt in all 907 years.

Which is quite amazing, but it made sense given the person in question is PJ.

There was nobody like PJ; of course, such a thing was bound to attract the Doctor. So much mystery and grace in her wild spirit.

How could the Doctor be around—travel the stars—with PJ, and not be mesmerized by her? Not laugh with her? Not fight with her? Not fall in love with her?

It was impossible. He tried not to, he really did—he reminded himself of the pain. Especially because when he met PJ, he was still partially in love with Rose, still mourning her. But somehow—the damned space human managed to reach into his chest and grab both his hearts with both her hands.

Not only that, but she took it a step further—juggling his hearts and cackling as she did so.

And it was terrifying because the last person he had fallen in love with was ripped away from him. The Doctor hated it when he fell in love with humans, it never ended well.

Sarah Jane Smith. Rose Tyler.

His hearts hurt, it made him want to scream and it would take him down an immense black hole if he thought about PJ—his PJ—being the next one to get ripped away. Yet another locked and abandoned room on his TARDIS.

No, he would not allow it—not with her. Not this time.

That's why he both loved and hated PJ's recklessness. When she dove headfirst into danger—like fighting a bloody Dra'kon—it was horrifying. Because she may have been raised in space by Ravagers, raised to be tougher than nails, but she was still human. Human. And humans broke easily.

Died easily.

No. Not with her.

He refused it.

And not with Amelia, either, never them. He refused to lose any more friends, any more lovers.

But she did not know any of that, and the PJ from his past—her future—had not been the most forthcoming on what her relations had been like with his eleventh generation. AKA, the Doctor had no clue how far he was going to get with this younger version of PJ before she inevitably left for his past.

He won't lie, he was quite surprised that she looked physically the same apart from her hair having changed. He envisioned she might have appeared a little younger whenever he ran into her younger self and took her with him through the stars.

After all, the version of PJ he first came to know had only been 26.

In all fairness, PJ had never disclosed exactly how long she had been with him as Eleven before she ended up with Ten. It saddened the Doctor to think that he must not be with her for that long given she looks the same physically now as she did in his past.

There was also that other mystery called River Song. The other woman who he still could not fully understand, truly could not put together in his mind how she fit into the puzzle of his life. How she fits into the puzzle of PJ's life.

But the first time he met River Song she whispered the word that no one else in the universe knows. His actual name, so that was something.

And yet, it was all so much fun—both of them, the biggest mystery on his plate.

His thoughts became clouded once more as he continued to lead Amy and Rory—his quick mind reeling onto something else already. Onto his Amelia Pond and how it was technically the night before her wedding.

"Next stop, Leadworth Registry Office? Maybe I can give you away?" The Doctor spoke excitedly as they walked toward where they had left the TARDIS.

Rory Williams spoke with a loud and sad sigh, releasing his grasp on Amy. "It's fine... just drop me back where you found me. I'll just say you've—" He was cut off by Amy.

"Stay..." She told him firmly. "With us. Please." She grabbed his hand with a smile. "I want you to stay..."

Both Rory and the Doctor looked at Amy in surprise. However, Rory quickly looked toward the Doctor for permission—and the Doctor already had a bright smile on his face.

Three companions at once? It didn't happen often, but he'd done it before. Simply more people to keep an eye on, a bit more of a challenge, sure. But less lonely‚ and it was like having a crew.

Oh, and the Doctor loved having a crew.

Crews are cool.

"Fine with me!" He excitedly nodded, all of them standing at the doors of the TARDIS.

"Okay," Rory nodded, his smile so happy. "Yes. I would very much like that...!" He cheered.

Amy cheered back, pulling him into a quick kiss before moving away and opening the TARDIS doors. "I will pop on the kettle then..." She waggled her brows at both men. "Got my spaceship, got me boys—ah, my work here is done!" She sighed before walking into the console room.

Rory scoffed and shook his head almost awkwardly. "We are not her boys..." He said, trying to sound cool.

The Doctor snorted, walking forward and patting Rory's shoulder as he made his way into his ship. "Yeah, we are..."

"Yeah, we are..." Rory nodded with him as they both went inside, the Doctor closing the door behind them.

The console room greeted them warmly—the lights flickering in a happy greeting as she finally saw her Doctor.

The Doctor paused, having noticed that small flicker of lights, the TARDIS only greeted him like that if it had been awhile and she had missed his presence.

It'd been about 18 hours if the Doctor had been calculating right. They arrived yesterday evening, and stayed through the night—the entire time which they were up and fighting against those fish aliens—it was now about noon.

Not long enough for the TARDIS to miss him, especially since he was never more than a mile from her.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he looked around.

Something wasn't right.

"What'll be then? Black or green—" Amy's question was cut off as the Doctor strolled past her and Rory, rushing up to the console before licking it.

"Ew, Doctor!" Amy squeaked while Rory scrunched his nose in disgust.

The Doctor only blinked, popping upright in surprise.

"What—no way..." He muttered, spinning around the console, pulling various levers, and clicking random buttons.

The Doctor's hands darted over the console, his fingers a blur as he worked, his face growing darker with every passing second. Amy and Rory exchanged a wary glance, their confusion mounting.

"Uh, Doctor?" Rory ventured cautiously. "What exactly are you doing?"

The Doctor didn't look up, his attention locked onto the monitor. "Something's wrong. Very, very wrong. Oh—what! Are you kidding me?! 67 locations spanned across the universe and 28 time periods?!"

Amy frowned, crossing her arms. "What do you mean, 'wrong'? We just got back. Looks fine to me."

The Doctor spun around, his expression incredulous. "Fine? Fine? The TARDIS has been gone. Not here, not in Venice, not in the 1500s, but somewhere else. Many places, in fact!"

Amy blinked. "What are you talking about? We were only here."

"For us, yes," The Doctor snapped, pacing around the console like a caged animal. "But for her, my TARDIS, she's been out traveling for... oh, thirty-two days, give or take a few minutes. Without me!"

Rory furrowed his brow, looking around at the familiar console room. "How's that possible? We've only been gone a day. Can it even just pilot itself like that?"

"Relative timelines, Rory!" The Doctor said, exasperation dripping from every syllable. "The TARDIS exists outside linear time. She's been traveling without us. Which, no, it isn't possible because I'm the only one who can fly her. Well, I thought I was..." He froze mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing.

"What about River? She can fly the TARDIS, can't she?" Amy asked.

The Doctor threw her a pointed look.

"Uhm, who is River?" Rory asked but was ignored by both his fiancé and the TimeLord.

"Yes, yes... but River can't... unless," He muttered, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"Unless what?" Amy pressed, stepping closer.

"Unless PJ's taken her," the Doctor said, his voice sharp and accusing. He whirled back to the console, his hands flying over the controls again as screens flickered and whirred.

Amy and Rory exchanged a glance.

"She can fly the TARDIS?" Rory asked cautiously.

The Doctor threw his hands up in exasperation. "No! Well, she's not supposed to know how to fly the TARDIS yet. She can't know how to fly the TARDIS already, it's not possible! This is her first time traveling with me and I haven't taught her!"

Rory frowned. "Then how did she manage it?"

"That's the million-credit question, isn't it?" The Doctor muttered, running a hand through his hair. "She shouldn't be able to even start her up properly, let alone take her gallivanting across the universe for a whole month!"

Amy tilted her head. "How do you know it's been a month?"

"Because," The Doctor said, gesturing wildly at the console, "The TARDIS has records of these things, Amy! She's been gone for thirty-two days, four hours, and twenty-seven minutes. 67 locations and 28 different time periods. For us, it's been seconds, but for her? She's been having a grand old time without me!"

PJ had been gone an entire bloody month! Longer than she had even been traveling with the Doctor at this point in her timeline? This was absurd! Utterly ridiculous shenanigans!

Amy tried to suppress a grin. "Well, at least she came back, yeah?"

The Doctor's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "PJ!" He roared, the name echoing through the console room as he stormed toward one of the corridors. "What did you do with my TARDIS?!"

Amy and Rory hurried after him, Amy snickering under her breath. "This is going to be good."

"Define 'good,'" Rory muttered, his voice laced with trepidation as they followed the Doctor into the labyrinthine depths of the TARDIS.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

The game room was bathed in the soft, ambient glow of the TARDIS lights, casting shadows that danced across the walls. River Song leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed under the oversized button-up shirt she wore—the Doctor's, of course, its hem brushing mid-thigh.

Across from her, I sat with my chin resting on one hand, studying the chessboard with the kind of intensity only reserved for games.

I wore another one of the Doctor's button-up shirts, the first two buttons undone revealing just the slightest bit of cleavage. My hair was tossed into two space buns—an easy way to keep the long strands out of my face.

She wore a blue-colored one of his and I wore a salmon-colored one. Neither of us wore pants.

But it was also just us two on board so we chose to be comfortable. Plus it was fun to steal his stuff, clothing included.

We'd been locked in this match for over an hour, our banter keeping pace with the game.

"Are you sure that's the move you want to make, darling?" River teased, her tone lilting.

I glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. "Trying to psych me out won't work, River. I learned from the best."

River's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Flattering yourself won't save you from a checkmate in three moves."

"Bold of you to assume you'll last three more moves," I shot back, finally making my move.

Her gaze flicked to the board, and her smirk faltered for a split second. "Touché," She murmured, her fingers hovering over her queen.

I had won every single chess game we played so far, this one was not about to be different.

Before she could make her move, a faint echo of my name reached us.

"PJ!"

We both froze, our attention snapping toward the door.

"What have you done with my TARDIS?!"

I blinked, the chessboard momentarily forgotten. "Is that...?"

"The Doctor," River confirmed, her voice light with amusement.

"But... how?" I gestured vaguely to the room, the TARDIS, the vortex outside—or at least, what I thought was outside. "We should still be in the time vortex."

River's grin turned knowing, her eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and mischief. "Ah, sweetie, the TARDIS loves her girls, but she will always love her Doctor the most. She must've missed him."

"Missed him enough to just randomly go back?" My voice edged into panic. "But you said he wouldn't notice! It sounds like he's noticed!"

"Most of the time, he doesn't," River said with a shrug, utterly unbothered. "But occasionally, when we take her out for long amounts of time... well, he's quick to pick up on it. The TARDIS greets him differently if she hasn't seen him for a while."

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Ah, shit. How am I going to explain this?"

River chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "He'll get over it. He always does."

The Doctor's voice rang out again, louder this time. "PJ!"

I winced. "He definitely sounds mad."

River made her move with a casual flourish, gesturing for me to take my turn. "Make your move, darling. We'll finish the game, and then I'll see myself out."

I hesitated, my gaze lingering on her. "You really don't want to stay?"

Her expression softened, though her smile remained amused. "I told you, it's not time yet. You both don't know me well enough."

I raised an eyebrow. "We just spent the last month together, River."

"Good point." She winked. "Well, he doesn't know me well enough. I won't start traveling long-term until you both figure out who I am."

I narrowed my eyes, still suspicious despite the warmth in her tone. "And just who are you? Or better yet, when will that be?"

River leaned forward, her smirk turning wicked. "Spoilers, sweetie. All you need to know is that I really like the way you make piña coladas..."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, clicking my piece into place on the board. "Everyone does."

River was about to respond when the door suddenly swung open.

Amy Pond stood in the doorway, her expression shifting from confusion to outright astonishment as her gaze landed on River.

"River?" Amy said, her voice half a question, half a gasp.

River's smile turned positively radiant. "Hello, Amy."

"River? Did you just say, River? As in River Song?!" The Doctor called from somewhere outside of the room."River? RIVER AND PJ?!"

The Doctor's voice thundered through the doorway, making me flinch mid-move.

I glanced up to see him storming in, his wild hair even wilder than usual, eyes blazing with the kind of fury usually reserved for Daleks or other bullshit.

Amy's face was a mixture of confusion and exasperation.

He stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the scene: River and me, sprawled out in chairs across from each other, wearing his oversized shirts and little else, a chessboard between us. His expression quickly morphed from anger to disbelief.

"Are those my shirts?" Of course, he would notice that first. His voice pitched higher as he gestured wildly between us. "What're you doing? What is this? You both STOLE my TARDIS?"

He exclaimed, voice calming as he seemed a bit flustered at the sight he was met with. I gazed at him curiously.

It had been a month since I had last seen him in person, after all. I hated that I missed him during that time—and I barely even knew the man. Had barely even been traveling with him.

But God—the TARDIS—the TARDIS was turning into my home.

I leaned back, crossing my legs and resting my chin on my hand, feigning calm. "We're playing chess."

He glared at my simple answer, his gaze momentarily sweeping over my form and pausing at the sight of the unbuttoned top pieces.

River didn't miss a beat, her smile sweet but devilish as she addressed his other words. "And we didn't steal her, sweetie. We only borrowed her. She needed a girl's trip."

The Doctor cleared his throat, looking away from me and taking in River Song.

"A girl's trip that lasts a month?!" His voice cracked on the last word, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

River and I exchanged a look, then shrugged in unison. The synchronization made Amy groan from the doorway.

As if on cue, Rory appeared behind Amy, peeking around her shoulder. His gaze fell on River, and his brow furrowed. "That's River?"

"In the flesh." River flashed him a dazzling smile, her teeth gleaming in the light.

"Who is she again?" Rory whispered to Amy, but we all heard.

The Doctor motioned to Rory. "Yeah, Professor Song—who are you again?"

She did not answer them, and I made my move, capturing River's king. "Checkmate!"

River's eyes widened in disbelief before she let out an uncharacteristic curse and slammed her hands on the board, scattering the pieces. I threw my hands in the air with a triumphant whoop.

"I beat you! Again!"

River groaned, but her lips twitched upward, betraying her amusement.

The Doctor, however, had apparently reached his limit. He marched between us, slamming his hands on the table so hard it rattled. "You don't ever steal my TARDIS!" He growled, his voice dropping into that dark, ominous tone he used when warning off enemies.

To my delight—and his obvious frustration—River didn't even flinch. She reached out and lightly slapped his arm, her tone mockingly affectionate. "What're you talking about? 'Course we do. What's yours is ours—remember? Or was that just pillow talk?" The Doctor spluttered, his face going red. River tilted her head as if something just occurred to her. "Oh, wait. That hasn't happened yet. Never mind. Well, at some point in the future, you all but give us permission."

She stood up then, and suddenly they were nose-to-nose. The tension between them was palpable, and I could only watch, biting my fist to keep from grinning.

River smirked, utterly undaunted. "Besides," She added breezily, "I already taught darling PJ how to fly the old girl."

The Doctor froze. His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. "What? But—I thought—I was supposed to do that! I wanted to do that!"

River patted his cheek, her voice soft and almost fond. "Sweetie, you're brilliant at nearly everything. But teaching someone to fly the TARDIS? Oh, no. That would've been a disaster." She paused, her grin widening as she poked his chest lightly. "You can fix her piloting skills from here, but if you'd started from scratch? Oh, I dread to think how that would've ended."

The Doctor's nose scrunched adorably in frustration. He opened his mouth, clearly searching for a rebuttal, but nothing came out. His eyes darted to me for a moment, then back to River, looking somewhere between infuriated and impressed.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he muttered, "Oh, River, PJ—you are both bad, bad girls."

My mind races: the Doctor's naughty girls.

Fucking hell—it's definitely him who starts that stupid ass name.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. A snort of laughter escaped me, and River turned to wink at me while the Doctor buried his face in his hands, muttering something about needing a vacation from his vacation.

Was he really on vacation considering his entire planet is dead and he is running willy-nilly across time and space? I think not.

Thankfully, I had the self-control to not say that out loud.

The moment stretched between River and the Doctor, charged and almost crackling. It was hard not to feel like a third wheel in their magnetic back-and-forth, and I decided to make my exit.

Well, I should not say a third wheel considering I had flirted with both of them (especially River Song) since the moment I met them.

Standing from my chair, I stretched with an exaggerated yawn before starting toward the door. My bare feet made soft taps on the TARDIS floor, but before I'd made it five steps, I heard the familiar exasperated voice behind me.

"Uhm, excuse me, dearie, where do you think you're going? I am not done speaking to you," The Doctor called, his tone equal parts incredulous and indignant.

I turned my head just enough to smirk at him, walking backward now. "You mean lecturing me?" I replied with mock sweetness. Before he could fire back, I added, "But to answer your question, I'm going to get the bottle of plum wine out of River's room before it inevitably locks itself upon her departure."

That made him sputter. "Her room?!"

River, now leaning casually against the wall, rolled her eyes. "Really love that wine, don't you, sweetie?"

I turned forward again, smirking to myself. "You know it," I mumbled under my breath.

The sound of multiple footsteps followed me, and by the time I reached River's room, the entire crew had assembled behind me—Doctor, River, Amy, and Rory. I paused in front of the door and glanced back, amused at their procession.

With a dramatic flair, River stepped forward, brushing past the Doctor to unlock the door. "Prepare yourselves, darlings," She said with a grin, "For a masterclass in luxury."

The door slid open, and the Doctor's expression was worth every moment of teasing. His jaw dropped, his eyes darting wildly around the room as though trying to take it all in at once.

River's room, now familiar, was opulent in every sense of the word, like stepping into the boudoir of a time-traveling empress. Rich burgundy and gold tones dominated the space, with plush seating, an intricately carved wooden desk covered in papers and gadgets, and a sprawling bed draped in silky sheets. The ceiling shimmered faintly with a projection of stars, and a collection of artifacts from across time and space lined the shelves—some familiar, some utterly alien.

"Wha—how—when did you even get all of this?" The Doctor managed, gesturing vaguely to the room. "This—this isn't possible! I've never seen this room before!"

River smirked, breezing past him to retrieve the bottle of plum wine from a sleek black cabinet. "Sweetie, you know better than anyone that the TARDIS is full of surprises."

"Not this kind of surprise!" he protested, throwing his hands in the air. "This is—this is absurd!"

It was obvious that Doctor knew this was more than possible, he was just bitter about it.

River handed me the bottle, her grin widening. "Well, the TARDIS knows more than you, TimeLord. Isn't that right, darling?"

I took the bottle with a small laugh. "Cheers to that," I said, raising it slightly in acknowledgment.

The Doctor continued to gape, looking more like a flustered professor than the TimeLord victorious. Amy leaned in to whisper something to Rory, who snorted, and River, as always, looked immensely pleased with herself.

"Right," I said finally, breaking the moment, "I'm off to enjoy this before the next disaster strikes."

River patted the Doctor on the cheek again as I turned to leave. "Oh, come now, sweetie. You wouldn't have me any other way. Now, all of you, out of my room—I need to change. It's back to prison with me..."

Rory spoke up in a concerned. "Wait you're a felon?"

"Spoilers,"

The Doctor groaned, muttering something under his breath about too many bad girls in one TARDIS, but I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face as I sauntered away.

The grin that fell as my back was to them. Because River Song was leaving, and I quite liked her. I quite enjoyed singing a river song. But I had also quite missed the Doctor. I suppose it was about time I started singing about how I needed a doctor.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

In the Doctor's button-up, I lay in my bed clutching the bottle of wine to my chest. It was halfway gone, the cork open as I took large gulps every few minutes.

The lights around me were dim as my eyes focused on the random television show playing in front of me. It was from the planet Atraxia—it was almost like 'Cops', but the Atraxian version. Bigger douchebags the Atraxians were.

Whether River Song was still aboard or not, I was not sure. But I am not a huge fan of goodbyes, so I would rather her just head out without saying anything. We would see each other again, after all.

I reminded myself of that and tried to use it to wipe away the ridiculous sadness I felt about River Song leaving and the slight fear I had about being back with the Doctor.

I took another swig from the bottle, the sharp sweetness of the plum wine burning down my throat, but it didn't do much to quell the storm brewing inside me. The Atraxian show played on, all bluster and bravado, but I wasn't really paying attention. My thoughts were louder than the flashing lights and growling voices on the screen.

Being back with the Doctor—it wasn't something I dreaded, not exactly. In fact, I was quite excited. I truly did miss him.

It was more complicated than that. I liked him. Of course, I liked him. What wasn't there to like? He was brilliant, funny, maddening, and utterly unique. And I cared about him, maybe too much. But caring too much had never worked out well for me in the past, especially when it came to men.

I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but trusting women had always come easier. Maybe it was because women like River and me understood each other in ways most didn't. River never asked me to be anything other than exactly what I was—a little reckless, a little chaotic, and more than a little broken. With River, there was no expectation to fit into a mold. She embraced the wild parts of me, probably because she had just as much wildness in her.

Hell, she knew I was a half-breed. And sure, it was not the full story, but it was enough to take stress off me. I did not need to pretend to be so human around her.

The Doctor, though... he was different. Not because he didn't accept me, but because I wanted him to. I wanted his approval in a way that felt dangerous. Disappointing River would've stung, sure, but she'd have shrugged it off and probably dragged me into some new adventure to make me forget. The Doctor, though—disappointing him felt like it would cut deeper.

And then there was the matter of his feelings. The way his eyes lingered on me sometimes, the unspoken things in the air between us. I wasn't blind or naive. I knew he was in love with me, in love with a future version of me—even if he didn't want to admit it, even if he tried to bury it under his nervous energy and babbling nonsense. It wasn't just in the way he looked at me; it was in the way he didn't look at me, the way he'd stumble over words when I caught him off guard or the way his smile softened when he thought I wasn't paying attention.

And that terrified me. Not because I didn't care about him, but because I did. Because I knew myself well enough to know that if I let my guard down, if I let him in, I'd fall for him, too. And I couldn't afford that. Falling in love wasn't part of the plan—not now, not ever. I'd built my life on freedom and independence, and love had a way of chaining you to someone else, of making your priorities shift in ways you couldn't control.

That wasn't who I was. That wasn't who I wanted to be. Not again.

I sighed, taking another drink and clutching the bottle tighter. The sadness I felt about River leaving was easier to understand. I'd miss her—her confidence, her mischief, her ability to make the world feel lighter just by being in it. But the anxiety I felt about being back with the Doctor...

That was harder to pin down, harder to admit to.

Because deep down, I knew the truth: I wasn't afraid of him.

I was afraid of myself.

Of what I might feel, of what I might do if I let him get too close. And I didn't know if I had the strength to keep those walls up forever.

"Knock, knock..." River's voice suddenly lilted through the door, followed by the creak of it opening before I could reply.

I looked over from my cocoon of blankets to see her stroll in, all grace and mischief, before settling herself beside me on the bed. The room was dim—only the flash of the holographic television.

"You aren't going to say goodbye, sweetie?" She finally asked me after moments of a stare-off, her voice soft and knowing.

I sighed, hugging the nearly empty bottle of wine tighter to my chest. "I don't like goodbyes—you know this. Besides, it's not like we won't see each other again."

River nodded, but there was a sadness in her expression that made my chest tighten. "Yes, I suppose you're right," She murmured. "But we still won't ever see these versions of each other again."

That made me pause. I frowned, tilting my head to look at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She gave me one of her enigmatic smiles, the kind that always felt equal parts comforting and infuriating. "Time and space," She said simply. "You and me. Me and the Doctor. The Doctor and you... all so complicated, never making much sense. My timestream doesn't flow in the same direction as yours and the Doctor's does. Every time you see me, it'll be from a different time, a different version of us interacting. Still us, just... different. So, in a way, this is goodbye."

Bitch.

Her words hit harder than I wanted them to. I turned my gaze away and took another swig of the wine, trying to push down the growing lump in my throat.

Bullshit.

River reached out gently, prying the bottle from my grip. "Alright, enough of that, sweetie," she said firmly, placing it on the stand next to my bed. "Now, darling, you need to start letting the Doctor in and fully trusting him."

"I do," I grumbled, sinking deeper into the blankets. "What's not to trust and respect about that guy? He's like Space Jesus..."

River tittered a snicker, shaking her head. "Not respect and generic trust. I mean stop being so closed off. Just... allow it to happen."

I looked at her skeptically, the words catching somewhere between my mind and my mouth. But deep down, I knew what she meant. She had a way of seeing through the walls I built around myself.

"Let him see all of you, sweetie," She continued, her voice softer now. "Your strength, your fear, your hope... everything. He'll surprise you, I promise."

I had a feeling she meant to tell him that I was a half-breed. Sure, I could do that, but it'd only add meaningless complications. Especially considering it's not even 50% of the full truth, a truth River Song seemed not to know either.

I swallowed hard, managing only a resolute nod.

River sighed, her smile bittersweet. "There's my girl," she said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. "Follow me to the river, and I promise, it'll always flow gently for you..."

The fuck does that mean?

The words lingered in the air as she stood, smoothing down her shirt. At the door, she turned back, her eyes sparkling with something I couldn't quite place. "I'll see you again, goodbye, for now, sweetie."

And then she was gone, leaving only the faint scent of her perfume and the ache of her absence behind. I sank into the blankets deeper.

She was no doubt heading to the console room to say a final and probably mysterious farewell to the Doctor, Amy, and Rory before using her working Vortex Manipulator.

My eyes once again moved to the television, desperate for anything to distract me.

Why did existence need to suck so much? Why can't things ever be simple?

Bitch, simple was never in the cards for you. Be real.

My lips; however, quirked as the Atraxian show started a new episode. The music for the intro is fucking 'Bad Boys', exactly like the American reality television show COPS. This is too fucking funny.

Laughter bubbled up and out despite the situation, eyes gleaming as I watched.

Another thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I did not need to be a TimeLord genius to know it was the Doctor on the other side.

"PJ?" He called through the door, voice gentle. "PJ, can I come in?"

I could imagine him awkwardly finicking with his hands or bow tie.

"Sure!" I hollered back, and with that, the door opened revealing a familiar bowtie-wearing TimeLord.

I subconsciously played with the button-up I still had not changed out of it. It was slightly embarrassing to be caught red-handed in the attire, but in my defense, I did not think that we were going to be seeing the Doctor today—I did not think I ran the risk of him catching me in his shirt.

In all fairness: River and I were planning on bringing the TARDIS back soon, honest!

We had intended to hit a few more places, a few more stops along the way before our journey ended. Another week at most is what we planned before heading back to Italy in the 1500s—at which point, River would have left and I would be left in the TARDIS waiting for the Doctor to return.

He was never meant to know... okay, that sounds bad. But River said she does it all the time!

The Doctor hesitated for a moment in the doorway, his curious gaze sweeping over the room before landing squarely on me. His bowtie was slightly askew—had he run here? His wide eyes immediately took in the oversized button-up I was wearing, wrapped in a blanket, his shirt hanging loosely around me. I tugged at the hem self-consciously, but his gaze had already shifted to the television.

The flickering light of the Atraxian show illuminated his bemused expression.

He stopped mid-step, a grin breaking across his face as the show's intro once again blasted as another episode started.

"Is that—oh, you're kidding. Atraxian COPS?" He asked, sitting at the foot of the bed and leaning back on him elbows. "I didn't even know they still made this rubbish."

"You mean you've watched this before?" I quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Watched it?" He laughed. "Lived it. The Atraxi are... well, let's just say they're not exactly my favorite. Bit of a superiority complex, and their idea of justice is, uh, heavy-handed at best." He waved a hand dismissively but kept chuckling at the absurdity of the scene on the screen.

Oh yeah, he and Amy had told me about the whole incident with an Atraxi prisoner hiding in Amy's house and then the Atraxi coming after it and threatening to burn the entire planet in the process. Fun times.

I laughed along, shaking my head. "Yeah, well, they make great reality TV. Look at this guy—swore up and down he didn't steal that hover-scooter, and then the cops literally find it parked outside his home... holy shit—now they're threatening to blow his entire home up? Yeah, the Atraxi do seem to overreact."

The Doctor snorted. "Sounds about right for the Atraxi, at least it's not an entire planet this time. Brilliant. Nothing like intergalactic stupidity to bring people together."

A comfortable silence fell between us as we watched the show, the sound of Atraxian squabbles and our occasional snorts filling the room. It was strange how easy it felt, sitting here with him like this. Like no time had passed.

Oddly domestic, in a way. Given the two people in question are a mad TimeLord who can rarely sit still and a multiversal traveler with immense cosmic abilities.

Finally, he broke the quiet, exhaling heavily. "One month," He said, almost to himself. "An entire month for you."

I glanced at him. "Yep. What about for you?"

He pulled out his watch, looking at it as if it would give him the answer he already knew. "About... eighteen hours? Give or take."

I stared at him. "And you never came back to check on me?"

It was not that I expected him to—it was just 18 hours is a hot second for him to not even glance and make sure his TARDIS is still in its rightful place.

He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think I needed to. In fact, I was expecting you to come find us when more than three hours passed and we all hadn't come back,"

Guilt raced through my system once again.

"I didn't..." I struggled for the right words, my voice faltering. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or ditch you or whatever it is—"

"PJ," he interrupted gently, "it's fine."

"No, Doctor." I shook my head, leaning forward. "We only intended to be gone for an extra day or two... and then time just kind of got away from us."

He smiled, the kind of smile that held more amusement than irritation. "Ah, happens to us all in the old girl, I suppose. But truly it's fine, a month is nothing to an old TimeLord such as myself,"

Another pause. I slowly nodded, glad he didn't seem too upset by it.

"Is River gone?" I asked softly.

He nodded, but he seemed relieved that she was gone if anything.

"Yeah. Told me some more puzzling words about our future and then left. Strange woman. And then Amy showed Rory to their room and..." His nose scrunched in disgust. "...Well, they're doing gross things before bed."

I laughed—genuinely laughed—and realized just how much I'd missed him. More than I wanted to admit.

"Gross things?"

"It's gross when they do it..."

"But not when you do it?"

"TimeLords don't do it like humans..."

"So what?" I quirked a brow. "You're like a doll down there? No parts?"

The Doctor floundered, face turning scarlet. "Wha—PJ!" He yelped embarrassed. "Of course, I have parts... Timelords are just not as..." He trailed off, stumbling over his words to find the appropriate phrase.

"Promiscuous? Horny?" I bluntly guessed, snickering as he hastily nodded his head, still flustered.

I'd grown used to River's flirtations this past month, myself unable to fluster her but her able to fluster me—ME!

I thought I was practically unbreakable, but River Song really knows how to use her words.

But now it made seeing the Doctor so flustered more than pleasing.

"Well, I suppose that you could put it that way... yes..." He desperately moved from touching his bowtie to pulling at the collar of his shirt.

Is it hot in here? I hadn't noticed.

"Ah..." I clicked my tongue amused. "So you weren't really getting any on Gallifrey... or anywhere else in the universe for that matter?" I giggled.

The Doctor lightly slapped my foot from where he sat, shaking his head and trying to fight the smile coming across his face. His cheeks and neck were still pink.

"Oi, I am 907 missy..." He clicked his tongue. "I have certainly been around... or as you put it, I definitely get it...."

"—Pussy or dick?" I cut him off vulgarly.

"PJ!" He once again gasped, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head. But, after many moments, he finally spoke, his words far too posh given what I'd just asked him. "Not that it matters... nor is it any of your business... plus we've already discussed this... but you might say... both?"

I smirked. "Both or all of it, Space Lord? It's a big universe out there, there's definitely more than two options..."

The Doctor groaned. "All of it, PJ. I am a 907-year-old TimeLord who can regenerate into either gender—though I'll admit I'm typically a male—and I do like being a man, but the point is that I'm a TimeLord with few preferences... no fixed personality, no fixed appearance... no fixed parts... and no fixed direction... so YES..." He finally breathed out through his rambling, "...I have done it all... but I don't do it that much because there are better and much more important things in life and I'm done with this conversation!" He said the last part quickly, and I lay watching the poor dude in an amused manner.

His shoulders slumped as he was finished and I nodded slowly, trying to fight off the smile.

His ears were turning red and he refused to look me in the eye.

Fine, I'll show some mercy on him.

"Alright then," I said, leaning back on the pillows and dropping the subject. "Can I tell you a secret?"

He tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "And what might that be?"

His voice sounded nervous, it was obvious that he wondered whether or not I was planning on telling him a not-so-innocent secret. If I was going to continue this conversation that danced the line of space balls.

But no... something far more genuine and innocent was taking over my thoughts. A realization that made me want to look down shyly and twiddle my thumbs.

Because sitting here—with him—it hit me that missed him a lot more than I'd been letting on. Then I even realized.

He wasn't so scary, after all.

He was just The Doctor. Big ole' goofy and cute Eleven. My funny Space Lord friend.

I spoke kindly, words a soft whisper. "I may have sorta, kinda, to the teeniest degree... missed you."

His entire face lit up, the joy practically radiating off him. In one fluid motion, he kicked off his shoes and slid up onto the bed, lying down next to me. We ended up facing each other on our sides, nose-to-nose, our eyes locking.

There was a hazel shade to his greens that was endearing. His breath smelled of tea leading me to believe he'd just had a cuppa.

"Yeah, well," he said, grinning, "I may have missed you too. There were these fish aliens in Venice that we had to defeat, but at first, we were positive they were vampires—"

"Yeah, well," I cut in, "River made me help her defeat Dracula. And he was actually a vampire."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "You're lying. Vampires aren't real! 907 years, I'd know by now!"

Childish in many ways for 907 years alive. It isn't a bad thing, just an observation about him.

It was hard not to notice that he seemed comfortable around me. Like even more comfortable than he was around Amy in many ways. He wasn't afraid to let his guard down around me—not afraid to show his inner teddy bear.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, he was as close to a vampire as one can get. Some alien race turned him into one, but he wasn't a fish—just a vampire. Apparently, vampires were made by aliens."

He stared at me in mock disbelief before breaking into a laugh. "You're completely mad."

"Yeah," I said, smirking. "Takes one to know one."

Maybe it's because we're both insane? Nah.

We lay there talking for hours, catching up on what had gone down.

The Doctor explained how he had to sacrifice the species of Saturnyne in order to ensure the safety of the humans. Because the stupid fish people were hunting young women and transforming them (there was a 50/50 chance a person would die in the process), and then they planned to sink the city of Venice.

I could see it clear as day. The Doctor did what he had to—because if he allowed the species to live on Earth, allowed them to take Venice—the fish of Saturnyne only would have continued to sink various cities around the planet until there was nothing left but water and humanity was but a dream.

And the Doctor loved humanity far too much to ever let that happen.

I did not need to be a genius to realize that the Doctor loved humans so much because they reminded him of the TimeLords.

Early TimeLords, at least. Before the TimeLords became what they were through immense exposure to the Time Vortex.

I had smiled at him sadly while he told me—able to sense his inner grief about what he had done.

My hand, an innocent enough gesture, came up and stroked through his hair comfortingly. His eyes had closed and he leaned into my touch.

His hair was soft. Fluffy.

And for just a moment I considered leaning just a few inches in and kissing him. Kissing him in the dimness of my room, in my bed with the glow of the holographic television in the background.

I just wanted to try to it. To taste the tea on his lips and the stars on his tongue.

Just once—I swear, it would mean nothing.

But no, such a thing is foolish.

So no, I made no such move; I only continued to stroke his hair... allowing him to bask in the comfort of it before telling him what River and I had been up to the last month.

I purposely left out the part of the story where I started a slave uprising and incited humanity to tear apart the Ylivad. The Doctor believes the alien race that created "Dracula" left soon after powering him up. He didn't realize the full extent of it.

He might understand better than I thought, now that I know he himself allowed a species to go extinct for the sake of humanity.

But some things are better left unsaid. Often secrets kept it less complicated.

His nose scrunched in disapproval at some stories I told: like the multitude of bar fights River and I began, the street racing in Tokyo, and the Sabrina Carpenter concert—but he was more envious because he'd wanted to go.

I assured him we could go to another one, preferably her Halloween-themed concert. Or better yet, perhaps we could do Michael Jackson.

The Doctor was more than on-board with that, and then he suggested about a dozen other human artists he'd like to take me to in concert.

But then as we spoke, and I told him how wonderful River Song was—he got a thoughtful expression. He did not know her well yet, but he would, and there was no doubt he'd eventually treasure her.

He was especially jealous when I told him of our various jaunts through the nicest resorts in the galaxy and our trips to shining beaches. However, not to my shock, he also had many critiques and other suggestions as to where we should've gone.

By the end of my retelling of the daring tales of the last month, I was left blushing when the Doctor told me I now seemed softer. A bit more gentle with fewer walls—and perhaps I was, maybe that is River Song's specialty. That woman was able to hammer through walls like they were doors.

He chuckled at the expression on my face, and I only rolled my eyes.

Nevertheless, he was kicked out of my room to go put on his 'jammies'—as he called them—and I set up the first Hobbit movie. He came back minutes later in his funny blue pajamas wearing that old-school hat with a big bowl of hot popcorn in his hands.

The Doctor hopped onto the bed with an exaggerated bounce, making the mattress wobble beneath us. He held the bowl of popcorn high like a trophy, grinning as he flopped down beside me on his stomach. His silly blue pajamas clashed wonderfully with the absurd nightcap perched atop his head, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Comfy?" I teased, nudging him with my elbow as he shoved the popcorn bowl between us.

"Absolutely. There's no better way to experience Middle-earth than with snacks, in my jammies, and..." He gestured grandly at me. "—Your delightful company."

I snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Doctor."

"Ah, but it's not flattery; it's a fact," He said, winking before grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing it into his mouth.

The room dimmed further as the movie began to play. The familiar notes of the Shire theme filled the air, and the sweeping imagery of green hills and hobbit holes rolled across the screen. Bilbo's monologue came next.

"Oh, I truly do love opening credits! So dramatic!" The Doctor exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "I remember this era of filmmaking. So much creativity! Look at those costumes—absolutely dreadful, aren't they? But the special effects are not bad for the time. Did you know the director originally wanted to use actual—?"

I groaned, already seeing where this was going. "Doctor..."

"And did you know that Peter Jackson made some questionable creative choices when adapting this? Like splitting one book into three films—three! Pure nonsense. I mean, one film, maybe two, but three? And don't even get me started on—"

"Doctor."

"—The absurd addition of Tauriel. I'm not saying she's a bad character, but she wasn't in the book, and Legolas—"

How can one not find this idiot absolutely adorable?

"Doctor!"

He blinked owlishly at me, mid-ramble, as I raised a hand and firmly placed it over his mouth. His eyes widened comically, and I smirked.

"Be quiet, Space Lord Eleven," I said, my tone warm and teasing.

The Doctor's eyes sparkled as he dramatically licked the palm of my hand. I yelped, yanking it away. "Ugh! Nasty!"

"Not nasty, dearest," He retorted, his grin unabashed.

I glared at him half-heartedly, wiping my hand on his sleeve. "You're annoying."

"Back at you," He said, his voice smug but softened with affection as he draped an arm around my shoulders.

I let out a mock exasperated sigh but didn't shrug him off. Instead, I leaned into the warmth of his side as we both settled in at the foot of the bed on our stomachs. The movie continued to play, the soft glow of the screen casting shadows across the room.

For a moment, it was just us: two companions sharing popcorn and watching a story about dwarves, dragons, and hobbits.

Was I technically his intern? I guess—but it was more of a running joke than anything else. Truth be told, I was a companion.

As the movie unfolded, I glanced at the Doctor many times. His gaze was fixed on the screen, his face aglow with childlike wonder. It was in these small moments, where his defenses were down and his brilliant mind wasn't racing a mile a minute, that I saw the heart of who he truly was clear as day.

A really really good man.

Chapter Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄

I woke up feeling like a fucking crackhead.

A mix of dizziness, confusion, and that awful, crackling feeling you get after one too many jolts of adrenaline. The kind of sensation that leaves you dazed and slightly resentful at the universe for allowing mornings to exist in the first place.

The fading echoes of some orchestral credits score hummed faintly in my ears, likely the end of The Hobbit, though how I managed to pass out mid-movie was beyond me.

Wait—no—not mid-movie. It had been a lot longer than that. When was the last time I'd even seen The Hobbit?

With the Doctor, we'd fallen asleep during the end credits after forcing our tired eyes to stay open during the last 30 minutes of it.

No... no that isn't right. It's been a lot longer than that... right?

No... no... something isn't right... what is it?

What's not right? Where am I? What happened?

My mind struggled to piece together anything coherent as I tried to will myself into focus.

And then it hit me: my wrist burned. Not the pleasant sort of warmth, but a sharp, familiar sting. The kind that dragged me out of my disorientation like a bucket of cold water over the head.

"What the hell—?" I mumbled, bringing my arm to my face.

My vision swam for a moment before settling on the source of my discomfort. My wrist. Wrapped snugly around it was something I hadn't seen in far too long: a Vortex Manipulator. Not just any old, fried, glorified paperweight either—it was pristine. Operational.

I was also wearing a long sleeve black shirt.

"Okay," I said aloud, blinking hard. "This... makes no sense."

The fog in my brain shifted into unease, and unease bloomed into panic. I forced myself upright, my head spinning as the world around me began to clarify.

Birds.

Chirping.

And not the mechanical kind you'd find on alien worlds, but good old-fashioned Earth birds. The unmistakable sound of tranquility.

I shot up into a sitting position, adrenaline pumping as my gaze darted around. Brick walls. Cozy, aged masonry. A backyard with a patch of struggling grass and a fence that screamed "quaint English village."

"You have got to be kidding me," I groaned.

I staggered to my feet, shaking off the lingering dizziness as my confusion tipped into irritation. Of all the places I could end up after a bout of unauthorized Vortex travel, it had to be a small town in the UK.

London was one thing—at least it had decent coffee shops, bars, museums, and energy. But the rest of England? Scotland? Wales? Northern Ireland? All one big yawn fest in my book. Not to mention, small towns had a knack for being creepy in ways that big cities didn't.

A glance at my wrist confirmed it—the manipulator wasn't lying.

Location: The Local Group, Milky Way, the Solar System, Earth, Europe, the United Kingdom, Upper Leadworth.
Latitude: 51.8900° N
Longitude: 0.7000° W
Year: 2016

It had dragged me through time and space, leaving the telltale aftermath of electric pulses crawling through my body like slimy bugs. My skin prickled, the sensation unpleasant enough to make me wince.

"Damn thing," I muttered, shaking my arm as if that would help.

The sound of voices broke through my annoyed musings. There was commotion just around the corner of the brick house I'd found myself behind. Curiosity and caution wrestled for control as I crept toward the edge of the building.

The moment I peeked around, I froze.

Standing there, not twenty feet away, was Amy Pond—a very pregnant Amy Pond, what the hell?Rory Williams with a ponytail (and looking far cooler than I would've expected), and the Doctor, bowtie and all, chatting in front of the TARDIS like it was the most normal day in the world.

It took me a second to process what I was seeing. Amy's pregnancy?

That was new and threw me for a loop. Rory's new look? Unexpected but admittedly kind of rad. And the Doctor? As usual, he hadn't aged a day—his chaotic energy was as unwavering as ever.

But he was still Eleven.

"What in the ever-loving..." I whispered, trailing off as I stared.

I hadn't a clue what was happening or why, but one thing was certain: things were about to get weird. Again.

What happened? What happened?

All I knew was it had been a while since I traveled with the Doctor. With Amy.

But... it felt like I saw him just last night...?

No, no, something isn't right... my head... something's messing with my head.

That thought had my vision blurring and my teeth clenching and I rubbed the sides of my temples in pain. Something was in my head—and it didn't like me fighting back. My eyes screwed shut and I was forced to stop fighting it as the discomfort became too much.

Screams suddenly echoed in my mind—blood momentarily appeared on my hands. I was dripping with it.

Jumping, I shook it all off, the screams and blood disappearing—and once again I focused on the three in the front yard.

The three of them suddenly turned toward the front door, and I darted back behind the wall. Something wasn't right, I needed to investigate further before hopping to them all willy-nilly.

It was like I had two semi-histories colliding: redundant and very incomplete histories. Fading and wavering... like a fucking dream.

Is this a dream? A lucid dream?

I waved one of my hands up in front of my face to test it. It did not so much as blur or pixilate meaning that it is, in fact, not a dream. Nor was I stuck in a video game.

Peeking back around the corner, I caught sight of the three heading into the house, the door closing behind them.

Alright, cool.

I trotted into the front yard, stopping just outside of where the TARDIS stood blue and beautiful as ever.

It felt like it'd been a while since I had been inside of her, but then at the same time, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Reaching forward, I grabbed the handles and the doors opened easily. As they almost always did for me, no TARDIS key needed.

Popping only my head inside, the console room greeted me coldly. She was rather chilly. Not freezing, just a little nippier than I remember it being. The feeling made me tilt my head, but other than that, nothing was amiss. Same console room—nothing had changed.

I stepped back out, closing the doors and furrowing my brows.

What had I been doing before this? Why was I not traveling with the Doctor anymore?

Vague memories, like super generic ones made itself known.

My Vortex Manipulator—I'd either fixed it or gotten a new one, I can't remember. But I had a working one, and I... I chose to leave the TARDIS. Chose to leave the Doctor because... because why?

Too big of an attachment to him? No, something seemed off about that.

To explore the universe on my own again? Hell no, fuck that.

Nobody chooses to explore the universe with a damn Vortex Manipulator over the TARDIS unless one is forced to.

What is this? What's happening—have I finally cracked. Am I going insane?

No, no: this isn't real. It's not real.

Something, from somewhere deep inside, started screaming at me. Screaming that it isn't real. A million voices harmonized, all shouting and singing and screaming: this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real.

Cooper... Cooper Haven Starre... it's not real.

No—that's not right—my name isn't Cooper. Not anymore, it hadn't been in a long long time. Cooper died with her mother. I was PJ, the Polaris Jade.

The voices in my head screamed louder, growing sharper as if trying to force me into clarity. My name. So many names—who the hell has this many names?! My reality. My mind. They all felt like they were fracturing, pieces slipping through my fingers faster than I could grab hold of them.

"Not real, not real, not real," I muttered under my breath, pacing in tight circles like a caged animal. My chest tightened as I sucked in shallow breaths. "Cooper—no. No, not Cooper. PJ. I'm PJ, the Polaris Jade. This isn't—this isn't happening."

The tranquility of the little English village grated against me, like nails on a chalkboard. The air was too clean, the birds too cheerful, the town too... wrong. Everything screamed fake. Fabricated. A façade.

Who did this to me?! Who trapped me here?! And what the hell is in my mind?!

I couldn't take it anymore. My legs moved before my brain caught up, carrying me down the narrow streets of Leadworth. My boots pounded against the cobblestones as I raced past charming little houses with flower boxes and picket fences. It was like sprinting through a postcard—one I desperately wanted to burn.

"This isn't real!" I shouted, startling an old woman watering her roses. She gasped and clutched her chest as I barreled past, but I didn't care. "Release me now!"

I needed proof. Proof that this was fake.

I skidded to a halt when I spotted him—a man holding a grocery bag. He looked innocuous enough. Too innocuous. A little too perfectly ordinary for my liking.

Ahaha, a fucking NPC!

I stalked up to him, my pulse hammering in my ears. "What are you?"

The man blinked, confused. "Pardon?"

"Don't play games with me!" I snapped, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer. He yelped, his bag of potatoes thudding to the ground.

Must be an NPC, who goes to the stores for potatoes only?

"What are you?!" I snarled, slamming him back against the brick wall of a nearby shop. My grip tightened around his throat as I leaned in, my eyes narrowing. "Tell me what you are and where I am, or I swear—"

"I'm Steve!" The man squeaked, his face turning red. "Steve Turlington! I work at the post office! We're in Upper Leadworth!"

"Liar!" I growled, pressing harder. "You expect me to believe your last name is Turlington!? What are you hiding, Steve?!"

"Please, I've got a family!" He wailed, tears springing to his eyes. "And a cat!"

"Fuck your cat!"

The absurdity of the moment almost made me laugh, but the chaos in my head drowned out the humor. I was a live wire, and poor Steve was about to get fried.

It's fine, it's just an NPC.

"PJ, stop!"

Amy's voice cut through the madness, sharp and urgent.

I whipped my head around just in time to see her, Rory and the Doctor sprinting toward me, their faces a mix of panic and disbelief.

"PJ, no!" Rory shouted, grabbing one of my arms.

The Doctor grabbed the other, yanking me away from my unfortunate victim.

Steve scrambled free, clutching his throat as he bolted down the street, screaming, "She's mad! Completely mad!"

"Yeah, you better run, you pussy!" I yelled after him, my voice echoing through the quiet village.

The Doctor spun me around, his grip firm on my shoulders as he forced me to look at him. His face was a storm of fury and confusion, his eyes blazing as he practically growled, "PJ!"

My chest heaved as I stared back at him, the chaos in my mind momentarily eclipsed by the intensity of his gaze. The voices quieted, but only slightly, leaving me teetering on the edge of clarity and madness.

But the Doctor, looking at the Doctor. Eyes green with hazel thrown in.

A really really good man.

And I remembered laying nose-to-nose with him, stroking his hair, and wondering if he tasted of stardust. Giggling with him as we retold stories of our own personal adventures with each other.

Arguing with him nearly every day—exchanging snappy comments back and forth but rarely meaning any of it.

And I remember how gentle he was when he took care of me: gave me some of his own regeneration energy to heal my burns faster.

The Doctor.

"Doctor?" I breathed, eyes taking him in frantically, and my mind calmed—almost like whatever it was forcing its way into my mind had taken fully.

I clutched the lapels of the Doctor's jacket suddenly. He looked down at me, his fury melting away for concern and confusion.

"PJ?" He said right back. "What're you doing here?"