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Chapter Text

Yasmin had always been a fighter and felt that her time on the force had given her a healthy dose of street smarts. An awareness of her surroundings that only came from being on high alert for danger. Apparently that sense goes completely out of the window when you’re in an alien marketplace surrounding by the most incredible goods that the galaxy had to offer.

The Doctor had taken them for a shopping trip as a treat and poorly disguised apology after their recent run-in with some not very friendly aliens. Not that it was out of the ordinary, they always seemed to bump into trouble. But still, Graham’s bloody lip had made the Time Lord scrunch her nose adorably and promise to get them all whatever took their fancy.

With some flicks of levers, smacks of hammers and sparks flying, which briefly ignited the Doctor, they’d skidded to a halt on the planet Artis. Team TARDIS disembarked and the Doctor strode forward with her coat swishing dramatically behind her. Surrounding them were rows and rows of vibrant market stalls all bustling with activity and noise. Ryan could already see at least four things he needed to add to his collection of alien stuff which was rapidly taking over his TARDIS bedroom.

“Welcome to Artis! Best market in the galaxy!” She turned to face the group with a manic grin on her face. “Anything you can think of is sold here, books, games, ships, reactors, food, memories - that’s the spirit Yaz!”

The Doctor exclaimed as Yaz had moved to stand in front of her and raised a hand. She beamed an gave her an enthusiastic high five. Yaz chuckled and shook her head.

“You’re on fire.”

“I’m good at lists, I can keep going if you want?”

“No Doctor…” Yaz gently patted the Doctor on the top of her head, sending a wisp of smoke into the sky. “You were on fire. ”

“Oh.”

The Doctor placed her hand on top of Yaz’s, feeling the warmth and wrinkling her nose at the smell of singed hair.

“Yaz to the rescue, eh?” She grinned, making the younger girl blush as she removed their hands from her head. “Like I said, can’t have a universe with no Yaz.”

“I dunno, I think you’d suit the bald look Doc.” Graham chimed in, eyeing up what appeared to be a miniature London bus floating between two market stalls.

“Never tried it actually, this whole woman thing is enough of a change for one regeneration. Maybe I’ll have a mohawk next time? That would be cool.” The Doctor exclaimed, glancing down at herself with a look of surprise. It always took her awhile to get used to having a different face staring back in the mirror. Not to mention the different body parts, or lack of.

“What colour?” Ryan asked as the group began to venture into the throngs of the crowds.

“Obviously a rainbow.” Yaz grinned, bumping shoulders with the Doctor and receiving a blinding smile in response.

“To match the shirt! Genius.” The Doctor paused in the crowd and shoved a plain metal card, roughly the size of a mobile phone, into each of their hands. “This should cover the cost of whatever you guys want to get, go mad! Just don’t get any pets...you lot are enough to look after.”

“Did you just call us pets?” Graham asked. The Doctor spluttered but Graham gave her a quick wink which made her relax with a little frown.

“Okay fam, meet back at the TARDIS for lunch in like, an hour?”

They all nodded in agreement and immediately split up and disappeared into the crowd.

Yaz made a beeline for the clothing section of the market. She desperately needed some new jeans because the rips in hers were possibly a bit too extreme to be called fashionable. The TARDIS had an extensive wardrobe but it seemed to favour more costumes than actual clothing. Besides, there was something more exciting in browsing the rows and rows of purely alien wares in an alien market on an alien planet.

She lost track of time perusing the wares and having fun bartering with the enthusiastic shopkeepers. She’d picked a number of items, enough for all weather conditions, including a fancy rainbow scarf for the Doctor which she had spotted and a set of fancy looking knitting needles with intricate carvings. Her Nani would love them.

Yaz shook hands, or rather claws, with the shopkeeper on their final price.

“Good choices, I'm sure you'll look more stunning than you already do my dear.” The shopkeeper purred, antenna clicking gentle as he gazed into her eyes. Yaz blushed, hand fumbling for the metal card.

“Thank you, you were very helpful.” She said politely, holding up the card with a small flourish. The shopkeepers eyes suddenly snapped onto the piece of metal, he spluttered for a moment before hesitantly taking it.

He waved it across the small scanner strapped to his wrist. It glowed a deep amber for a moment and Yaz unconsciously held her breath.

A moment passed.

It gave a vibrant flash of green and a beep.

“All good?” Yaz asked.

The shopkeeper nodded, his eyes rapidly flitting between the piece of metal in his claw and Yasmin with suspicion.

He handed over her goods in a bright blue bag followed by the card.

“Have a good day Miss…”

“Miss Smith.” Yaz supplied quickly with a false smile plastered on her face. The shopkeeper nodded curtly, all warmth from his face gone. Yaz could feel her heart racing in her chest and palmed the card from her sweaty hand into her front jean pocket.

Yasmin walked away quickly, feeling beady eyes boring into her back, soon the crowd swallowed her up.

She didn't look back, if she did, she would have seen the shopkeeper whispering hurriedly into his wrist strap with a dark look in his eyes.

Chapter Text

Yaz walked quickly through the crowds, her grip tight on the blue bag as she weaved and dodged the numerous bodies with her gaze set straight ahead. She could feel a prickling on the back of her neck, anxiety creeping into her heart and pumping around her body. Yaz couldn’t put her finger on it but everything about her interaction with the shopkeeper made her uneasy. Spotting a small side street, Yaz made a beeline for it, ignoring the disgruntled noises of fellow shoppers as she cut across them.

Out of the sun, noise and crush of the market crowd, the young police officer took a moment to breath. She leant back against the cool brick of the side street, suddenly grateful for a moment of peace. Yaz was the first to admit that she loved the hustle and bustle of alien planets, the vibrance and vibration of noise, thousands of new languages and faces would never get tiring. But this was the first time she had truly felt uneasy and wished nothing more than to have the comfort of a friend with her. The Doctor mainly, if she was honest with herself. She loved the boys like family but there was just something about the Doctor that always drew her in. She was magnetic.

Yaz dug her hand into her pocket and pulled up the contacts. Scrolling down and tapping with her thumb as a small smile graced her features.

She raised the phone to her ear, mentally rehearsing what to say without sounding like a bit of an idiot. Even now, it amazed Yaz that her phone even worked in the middle of space, let alone the fact that it worked no matter the time, be it forwards or back. She listened to the dial tone, eyes bright as memories of the Doctor animatedly trying to explain how it worked by drawing numerous diagrams on a blackboard in Einstein's office the other week. Yaz had eventually had to step in and stop the poor woman when she was coated head to toe in chalk dust. The brunette had run a hand through the aliens now-white hair and ruffled it, sending puffs of white in every direction.

Yaz could still feel the way her heart had skipped a beat at the sheepish smile the Doctor had blessed her with and the way those beautiful green eyes had gazed at her. The air between them had been heavy with the swirls of white chalk suspended between them as well as something else. Something which Yaz had been trying to hold down for a while now.

A loud voice suddenly ripped Yaz from her daydreaming.

“Yasmin Khan! Where are you? Are you okay?” The Doctor chirped from the speaker, her Yorkshire accent somehow sounding thicker than ever.

Yaz was about to reply, but the words became stuck in her throat as cold metal pressed into the side of her temple.

She drew in a stuttered breath, heart racing in her chest, not daring to move a muscle.

“Quiet.” Hissed into her ear, sending violent shivers through the woman’s body. Blood was rushing in her ears, drowning out the sound of the Doctor chatting away obviously on the other end of the line.

“Give me the device. Slowly.” Yaz bit hard on the inside of her lip and lowered the phone, hand shaking. Summoning her courage, Yaz slowly began to turn her head, so slowly that she could feel every muscle and bone moving in her body to complete the action. The cold metal of what was unmistakably some kind of gun glowed in the shadows of the alleyway as it was dragged across from her temple to the centre of her forehead, leaving an icy red trail on her skin.

Yaz swallowed thickly as the twisted smile which greeted her. The mouth was filled with slightly pointed teeth and framed by blood red lips set into a strangely handsome face of a man. He had prominent cheekbones which stretched his red and ruddy skin across his skull. Piercing blue eyes glinted as a tongue poked out to run across his bottom lip, mouth quirked upwards at one side in an unmistakable expression of amusement.

“Device, now.” He repeated, voice gravelly and deep. He raised his other hand and wiggled his fingers tauntingly. Yaz moved as slowly as she dared, vaguely aware that the Doctor’s voice had now fallen quiet. All she could hear were the distant sounds of the crowd and the forcibly slow and deep breaths Yaz forced in through her nose and out from her mouth.

Keep calm. Breath in. Keep calm. Breath out. Keep calm.

The young police officer knew from her training that staying calm meant staying alive, and she’d very much like to remain alive.  

Yaz placed her phone into the waiting hand and was rewarding with a pointy smile.

“Thank you.” Yaz could feel her blood boiling at the sheer cockyness of this alien. He raised the phone to his ear and licked his lips, face twisting into something arrogant and dark.

“Still there, Doctor?”

Chapter Text

There’s silence on the other end of the line.

They wait.

Yaz’s heart tries to climb up her throat and out of her mouth as she stares down the barrel of a gun for the first time in her life.

She nearly jumps when the Doctor’s voice finally seeps out of the receiver.

“Who are you and what have you done with Yaz?” There’s a cold steel to her voice that sets the police officers teeth on edge but does nothing to intimidate the man in front of her. If anything he seems to be soaking up the tension with relish.

“You know me.” He says casually, leaning up against the brick wall of the alley with the gun still solidly pressed into Yaz’s forehead. “Although, you were a man a few orbits ago. Neat trick for a meddler but I wouldn’t be forgetting that blue box any time soon.” His tone was light but the hardness in his eyes betrayed him. Yaz could feel the anger threatening to erupt from the calm surface. See it in the tension of his jaw, tightness of his finger on the trigger.

Yaz swallows. They’d encountered enemies of the Doctor before but somehow this felt more dangerous. More personal.

“What have you done with Yaz?” There’s a slither of something different mixing with the steel of her voice. It sounds like fear and makes Yaz open her mouth to reassure her friend.

“I’m here Doctor, I’m-” She scrambled over her words but before she can finish a light explodes in the side of her vision, pain rushing in close behind like a torrent of molten lava. Yaz cries out, the blow sending her staggering, vision reeling and legs weak. Before her knees give out there’s a harsh solid pressure as the man slams his forearm into her chest, pinning her to the wall with a thump.

Yaz tries to blink the angry stars from her eyes and gasps at the throbbing pain in her temple, nauseated as two bright blue eyes dance before her with unmistakable glee.

“I said quiet .” His breath ghosts across Yaz’s face from their proximity. She’s momentarily distracted by the minty smell of it and briefly comes to the conclusion that a concussion may be on the cards.

Yaz can’t help but sag against him, the throbbing in her head making her squint in the darkness. The man looks happy when he shifts the arm against her chest slightly, curling his wrist to hold the phone up in the sickeningly intimate space between them. Yaz is now aware of something pressing hard into her stomach and her world lurches at the realisation that it’s the gun.

He smiles at her and tilts his head to the side, listening to the shouts jumping out from the phones speaker.

“She’ll be okay, if she behaves.” He says, tongue poking out to run across his teeth in a way that incites nothing but terror.

“I don’t know who you are but if you lay another finger on her then I swear I will find you and I will-” The Doctor’s threats are cut off when the man clicks his tongue impatiently.

“That’s the idea, Doctor. Come and find me so we can discuss the price of your meddling and settle on some form of repayment .”

Yaz can seen murder in his eyes. Knows this is a trap. What had the Doctor done to anger this man so much?   

“Who are you?” The Timelord whispers, as though she can sense just how volatile the situation was and little control she had over it.

The man laughs at that. Cold and harsh, breath puffing onto Yaz’s face as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“My name is Rab, first son and leader of the Cruor Clan.” He says proudly, jutting his chin out and waiting. Whatever he was waiting for did not come.

Only silence met his declaration.  

Yaz felt the air shift around them, the arm across her chest slipped higher to press into the soft and delicate skin of her throat.

“You don’t remember, do you.” It’s barely a whisper.

Silence meets his words and the pressure against Yaz’s throat increases minutely.

Rab’s bows his head with a heavy exhale, resting the red skin of his forehead against Yaz’s. The police officer doesn’t dare to move as the heat of his skin mingles with the blossoming pain in her head.  

Yaz can’t stop the cry from escaping her lips when the pressure against her throat increases, digging into her windpipe as he presses his whole body against her. Pinning her in place.

She can’t move.

She can’t breath .

“I’ll have to remind you then.” He whispers.

Chapter Text

The Doctor was a storm of fury as she whipped around the Tardis console, flipping switches and slapping buttons with force. A phone was resting against the console with various bits of wiring sticking out of it.

The sound of footsteps and heavy breathing echoed around the room.

Graham and Ryan watched silently and listened, knuckles white and faces marred with fear and desperation, feeling helpless but not wanting to get in the Doctor’s way.

“I’ll have to remind you then.” Rab’s voice cut through the quiet and the blonde’s hands fumbled on her sonic screwdriver when a horrible choked and gasping voice began to emit from the phones speaker. The Doctor’s head shot up, her eyes wide and mouth opening wordlessly.

“What are you doing?!” Ryan screamed, racing forward to the console. “Leave Yaz alone! She’s done nothing to you.” He tried to reason desperately.

A laugh briefly masked the gasping breaths of their friend.

“She’s friends with the Doctor. That’s reason enough.” He explained simply, completely unfazed by the woman suffocating centimeters from his face. There was a gasp as he eased off the pressure. “Take a nice deep breath. You’ll get another one for each detail the Doctor remembers.”

“You’re insane!” Graham grits out as they hear Yaz gulp in as much oxygen as she can, quiet whimpers tainting her breathing.

The boys turn to their leader. Their friend. The Doctor has her eyes locked on the phone when her sonic gives a small beep. She barely glances at it before she’s ripping the phone from the console and sprinting out of the door with determination in her eyes.

The two boys are quick on her heels, they can normally keep up on their other adventures but the Doctor is running like a woman possessed, parting the crowds and charging down the market streets with her sonic held out in front of her like a lance.

----------------------------------

Yaz hears a small commotion on the end of the phone when she’s startled by a red-skinned hand coming up to cup her face. She freezes when his thumb strokes a tear away from her cheek. The police officer in her instantly notes the disappearance of the gun against her stomach and her captors now-free hands. Yaz risks a glance down, sees the shine of her blue shopping bag on the floor and the gun metal glint at her from a thigh holster.

Rab pulls his thumb away, inspecting the drop of moisture with interest.

“It’s biometrically printed to me.” He says, eyes meeting hers. “But I like your thinking.” Rab gives her a wink and licks the tear from his thumb. Yaz feels sick.

They stare at each other with an intensity and mix of emotions. Thoughts tear and stumble across the pink expanse of Yaz’s brain. Her hands are curled into the arm against her throat, nails digging into bare flesh, but she drops one down to grab the material of Rab’s shirt.

“Ready to start remembering, Doctor?” The alien says suddenly.

There’s indiscernible noise on the end of the phone before the Doctor’s voice rings out.

“Please, stop. I don’t-” She sounds panicked, breath short, but Rab cuts her off.

“Details, Doctor.”

The arm at her throat pushes down again, cutting off her air as Rab throws her a gentle smile.  Terror leaks through Yaz’s veins.

She’s going to die.

She’s going to die.

Like hell is she going to die.

Terror quickly ignites into fury like a lit match catching on a oil slick. It it ferocious and consuming. Yaz feels an idea forming from it’s fire. See’s blue and steel and blood in her mind's eye. She’ll be damned if after all she’s seen and done, her final breaths will be at the hands of this red-faced lunatic in a dark alley.

Rab mistakes her expression for shock, or fear, not detecting the fierce turning of cogs in his victims head.  

Yaz does her best to hold her breath but as the seconds tick by the gasps begin to come and smokey darkness wisps into the corner of her vision. The Doctor is rambling, talking a mile a minute, trying to trigger something.

“Rab, Rab, Rab. Cruor Clan. Rab clan. Cruor...Cruor Clan on Artis. Cruor clan on ARTIS!” She ends in a shout, triumphant and breathless. “Cruor Clan had a ship, big ship, filled with people. Slave ship. Your Clan dealt in bodies, stole and sold them across the galaxy.”

The pressure is released and Yaz gulps in a desperate breath, she lets her knees give way and slumps. Rab grins when she sinks towards the ground and he quickly crouches to pin her again.

Yaz can feel the cold stone beneath her hands and tries to slow her breathing. The aliens arm is across her throat again.

“Correct. You might want to be a bit faster with the next one. I don’t think your pretty companion will last much longer, poor thing.” Rab gives her a sympathetic smile like one would an injured animal.

Yaz smiles back and plunges a steel knitting needle into Rab’s thigh.

Chapter Text

It takes barely a moment for Rab’s face to twist from his sadistic smile into something closer to shock as a scream bubbles up from his throat.

Yaz feels a sickening sense of satisfaction when she yanks the needle from his thigh with a flourish, red blood spurts from the hole and trails behind the arc of wet metal. She hears it fall in fat drops onto the cobbled street and suddenly the pressure at her neck vanishes in favour of Rab pressing his hand to the wound, blood leaking between his fingertips in small spurts.

The word artery crosses Yaz’s mind briefly before she shoves him hard and sends him tumbling onto his backside with a thud.

Yaz jumps to action and springs to her feet. The world tilts violently as she reaches full height and a woozy, light feeling drums painfully on her temple.

Yaz staggers, hand reaching out to stabilise herself. She takes a deep breath, feels every molecule of oxygen, and whatever else this atmosphere held, slice along her bruised windpipe in a razored rush.

The young police officer goes to take a step but before she can, a red hand wraps itself around her calf, short but sharp nails clawing through the material and hooking into her skin. Yaz can’t help the scream when he yanks and tugs her back.

She shakes her leg, flailing desperately, glances over her shoulder to see those once-blue eyes replaced by two eclipses, burning with fury in their darkness.

Rab’s hand twitches from where it was pressed to his wound, releasing a spurt of angry blood, and shifts towards his hip.

Towards the gun.

Panic spikes in Yaz’s bones and she has no time to think, only act.

She shifts weight onto her injured leg, and her arms spin to the side, body coiling like a spring in a position she’d only used on practice dummies. Yaz pivots suddenly on her trapped leg, hips snapping around to carry her foot through the air with shocking speed. Adrenaline numbs the feeling of nails raking through the skin of her calf as Rab’s grip tightens, but there’s nothing he can do.

Her foot cracks into the side of his skull.

Yaz is panting when the alien slumps to the ground, blood leaking from his split ear and trickling from his broken nose, distinguishable from his skin by it’s vivid and wet redness.

Yaz is shaking, staring at the alien at her feet in shock.

Her heart is trying to escape her chest and her brain cannot process what it’s seeing. She staggers back slightly, head tipped back skywards, breathing hard and furiously blinking back the tears which burn her eyes and blur her vision. Feeling them run down her face and drip onto the stone.

There’s a rustling sound, a damp cough, and then...

“That wasn’t very smart, darlin’.”

Yaz’s head snaps back down and feels bile claw up her throat.

Rab is looking at her, lips peeling back into a bloody smile.

Yaz turns and runs.

She’s running as fast as her injured leg can carry her down the alleyway towards the markets. Towards help. It’s only a handful of painful steps away.

She hears him fumbling behind her, the clatter of metal on stone as he curses. Yaz dares not look back, eyes fixed ahead, nearly safe. Just two more steps.

She staggers, her leg is burning and her head wants to explode. Each breath is laboured but she can’t stop moving. Her brain screams at her when she glances back over her shoulder.

Rab is looking down the sights of his gun. Pointed directly at Yaz’s head.

Yaz hurls herself forward, diving from the darkness of the alley and to the side into the sunlit market.

The ground rushes up towards her and Yaz slams down, what little air she had being knocked from her lungs. The crowd parts around her and she hears their surprised chattering.

Yaz glances up, gasping for breathe, trying to warn them. Trying to ask for help but the words just won’t come.

The commotion is split by a high pitched whine when a bolt of blue light flies overhead, so close to Yaz that she can feel the static cracking the air inches above her body.

It collides with a market stall straight ahead of her, piled high with an assortment of metallic boxes, miraculously missing herself and the other shoppers. The stall shakes violently, electricity sparking in all directions.

People begin to run, screaming and shouting words which Yaz can’t quite make out. Suddenly, she is lying there alone, still gasping for breath and winded.

The market stall hisses angrily.

Yaz rolls onto her back with a groan, the sunlight blinding her briefly until a shadow falls across her.

It’s Rab.

He’s swaying dangerously, staring down at her as blood drips from his chin and rhythmically spurts from his thigh. He smiles and raises the gun.

Yaz can do nothing but stare up at him.

“Any last requests?” Rab spits at her, eyes wide and crazed.

She’s too exhausted to fight anymore.

Yaz closes her eyes and thinks of the Doctor.

Chapter Text

In a single breath, an infinity of memories and possibilities burst behind her eyelids. Faces of family, friends and the Doctor swirl with smiles and laughter. Yaz feels the warmth of it and the weight of love she has for them all. It tingles in her fingertips like the ghost of the touches she’s shared with them all. The hugs with her Nani, cuddling up with her parents and Sonya on the sofa to watch a movie when they were just children. The memories shift and she remembers a similar night with her new family.

No, not new. It feels like they’ve always been there, filling a small space in her heart that she didn’t even know she had. There’s a special piece there just for the Doctor. The incredible and wonderfully mad woman with her magical blue box that fell into her life and turned it all upside down.

The Doctor is why she’s here, but Yaz knows that she wouldn’t change it for the universe and all of it’s stars. Because the things she’s seen, the beauty and majesty of time, the lives they’ve saved and wrongs that have been righted, they shine brightly but none so brightly than the Doctor herself.

She’d taken her hand and taken her heart.

Of all the time that Yaz had seen, the young and courage police officer from Yorkshire, Earth, she couldn’t help but wish she’d had more. More time. Unfortunately, the sand in her timer was running out, grain by grain.

Yaz can hear Rab fiddling with the gun, pulling back the trigger with a click.

She wonders if this was how it felt for Prem.

The warmth of the sun, the weight of a gun pointed at her and the strange feeling of it all being over. The fear coiling in her soul at the uncertainty of it all. The afterlife. Separation of her soul from her body. Yaz feels her lips slowly form into a profession of faith.

Tears burn their way down her cheeks in angry streaks and she hears Rab hiss.

“Time to go.” He whispers.

Yaz can’t stop the sobs from shaking her body. She’s not ready, how can anyone be ready for this moment. The last moment. There’s so many more things she’d wanted to do, wanted to see, wanted to say .

Yasmin Khan squeezes her eyes closed against the tears and holds her breath. Mind tumbling with flashes of blonde hair, green eyes and the feel of a warm hand clasped in her own.

There’s a blinding flash of blue, and then nothing.

----------------------------------------------------

The Doctor hasn’t stopped running. Barrelling people out of the way as she follows the directions from her sonic. They’re not far now, she can hear commotion on the end of the phone line, screamed into it trying to get a response but only static replied.

Her legs are screaming from the punishment, she’s covered an incredible distance and left behind Graham and Ryan several streets ago.

The sonic gives a bleep and the Doctor skids to a stop to dart down a narrow alleyway, the orange glow bouncing off the cool and dark brick walls.

Her breath and footsteps are loud out of the crush of the market. She can see the distance counting down to where Yaz’s phone had been traced to. To where that insane slave trader had been choking her friend.

The Doctor spots it in an instant, glinting up at her from a red puddle of blood. Anger rears its head when the stuff gets on her fingers, beneath her nails, when she picks up the phone. Mind racing as to who it belongs to, her hearts skip painfully at the dark thoughts when she spots a long and thin piece of metal.

The Doctor crouches, trying to glean as much information as possible. Yaz wasn’t helpless, she could defend herself, maybe she’d fought back.

Before the Doctor can inspect the blue shopping bag laying haphazardly on the floor, she hears something.

Well, to be more accurate, she hears nothing.

From end of the alley there are no sounds of crowds, no hustle and bustle expected of lunchtime at a busy market of a popular shopping planet. The Doctor looks ahead, squinting hard, she can just about see the market through the dazzling sunshine. It’s empty.

The Doctor stands, taking a careful step over the red puddle and notices more blood trailing back towards the market in small but regular intervals.

Her pace quickens, hearts hammering in her chest and sonic held in a white-knuckled grip. Sweat prickles the back of her neck, dampening blonde hair.

The Doctor reaches the end of the alley, holds a hand up to shield the sun and despite it’s heat, she freezes.

There’s Rab. He’s standing over a body. A body that is unmistakably Yaz.

The Doctor can’t tell if she’s breathing or not. Rab has his gun trained on her, swaying on his feet. The blonde is running again. Is about to scream her friends name when she’s see’s it.

Straight ahead. A market stall packed high with batteries. They’re sparking and humming dangerously, becoming more volatile by the millisecond.

The Doctor barely has time to hold a hand up to shield her eyes before there’s a spectacular burst of blinding blue light than sends her staggering.

Chapter Text

It takes several moments for the blue glare to be blinked from Yaz’s vision, leaving behind a misty white smoke that coils and dances through the air. She watches it in a daze, eyes glazed and cocooned in a hum of noise. There’s lots of noise, but it all blends into one single fuzz so she doesn’t pay it much mind.

Yaz shifts slowly into a sitting position, not really having any sense of her body moving, just the shift of swaying smoke.

Her thoughts are sluggish and all focus on one thing.

Am I dead?

Yaz frowns into the smoke and lifts a hand. Her skin is red and cracked, flecks of dirt glinting like jewels in the haze. The contrast between red and white is shocking, but Yaz simply sniffs and stares ahead, wrinkling her nose. She can smell sulphur.

Maybe I’m in hell? Yaz wonders briefly, glancing around for the blazing fires, boiling water and black smoke she’d be taught of but finding only the billowing white canvas around her. The young police officer sits for a few moments more, becoming more confused by the second, until something catches her eye.

From the white smoke, there is a subtle orange glow. Faint at first, floating in the air like a firefly and becoming steadily brighter.

Yaz blinks, eyes heavy, and rubs at them with her hands. They come away wet with moisture, making the red of her hands bleed. She’s transfixed by the sight. Watching in a trance as it begins to rain in thick droplets which splash onto her hands, creating red watery rivers down the creases of her palms.

Yaz senses a shape coming towards her, the orange glow growing with every step it takes. She shakes her head as a buzzing fills her ears, but it does nothing to quell it. Yaz takes a deep breath to summon courage, fear bubbling with confusing, and looks up into the face that leaves her stunned.

“Doctor?” Yaz croaks, throat suddenly burning with the word, thick with pain. Her friend looks frantic and drops down to her knees beside Yaz. The Doctor’s eyes are wide with panic and she reaches out quickly to place two warm hands onto the young woman's shoulders.

“Yaz? Yaz, can you hear me?” She’s speaking slowly, in sharp contrast to the racing pulse ticking in her neck. Yaz blinks, bewildered. Are they both dead?  She thinks, then pauses. This could be a trick.

Yaz raises her hand to the Doctor’s cheek, cupping it softly and feeling warmth seep into her skin. She’s suddenly aware that her entire body is freezing, shaking violently with tremors and quakes, but the ground beneath them is still. The Doctor is staring at her with an expression she has never seen before.

She looks scared.

“Yaz?” The Doctor tries again, voice stopping her friend from drowning in those intense green eyes. Yaz strokes her thumb across the Doctor’s cheek, mesmerized by the reddish streak it paints on her soft white skin.

“Am I dead?” She asks softly and the Doctor feels her hearts break at the tone of it. Barely a whisper, no blame in her eyes, just confusion. The Doctor shakes her head rapidly, blinking away tears before tightening her grip and pulling the young girl into a hug. Yaz goes willingly, sinking into the embrace and burying her head into the crook of her friends neck.

“No, no, you’re alive, Yaz. You’re okay.” She says fiercely and feels the girl sag in her arms. “You’re going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

Yaz feels her confusion crack in half like glass and shatter at the words, suddenly she’s sobbing, shaking in the Doctor’s arms, as everything comes back in a torrent of panic and fear. Her hands grip tightly into her friends coat and the Doctor holds her close, rocking them both gently on the stone floor of the marketplace.

“Wh-where’s Rab?” Yaz manages to choke out, feeling the phantom sensation of his arm across her throat and shuddering. The Doctor strokes her back and hushes her soothingly, glancing up as the smoke is beginning to clear around them, replaced with a scene of destruction. Clothes, toys and all manner of objects from the various market stalls are strewn across the ground haphazardly.

Graham and Ryan are picking their way through the mess, walking over to the two of them, avoiding the motionless body on the ground, laying in a mess of limbs and a puddle of blood.

The Doctor looks away.

“He’s gone now. You’re safe.” .

The boys are both still breathing heavily after the chase and Graham is holding a blue bag in his hand.

“Is she okay, Doc?” Graham asks, worry evident on his face. She gives them a stiff nod, eyes tearful and hugging Yaz impossibly tighter.

“She’s okay. Quick trip to the med bay and a cup of tea and she’ll be right as rain, sound good?” The Doctor smiles tightly at the boys.

A commotion begins behind them as several dozen people burst onto the scene. They’re dressed in white coveralls with two red stripes down the side, large combat boots and each carrying a futuristic looking weapon. Ryan notes that they all seem to be different species, racking his brain for the names of one’s he’s met before.

One person is shouting orders and begins to walk towards the boys and the Doctor, who are standing protectively around Yaz. Police, by the looks of the insignia on their chests.The officers quickly spread across the market in an organised fashion, splitting into two groups, one surveying the still-smouldering batteries and the other approaching the crumpled body of Rab.

The officer who has been shouting orders stop a few paces away, surveying the scene with a calm sweep of their green eyes, the slits in their face fluttering as they inhaled deeply. A gentle breeze ruffles their black hair, the edges shaved but long on top. Graham assumed hairstyles must be unanimously in fashion across the galaxy.

“I’m Detective Ward, with the Artis Police. Can you tell me what happened here, please?” They, or rather she, asks. Her voice has a light and airy quality that seems completely out of place in the smoking and bloody debris of the market.

They share a look between them, a silent conversation, and Ryan is the first to move.

He crouches down slowly at the side of Yaz and the Doctor, careful not to startle.

“Hey Yaz, mate.” He says gently, “Just gonna shift you a bit, okay? The Doctor needs to talk to the Feds.” Ryan waits until he sees a tiny nod of brunette hair, then between them, they manage to shift Yaz so that she’s now settle against his side, one arm protectively wrapped around her shoulder to hold her close.

The Doctor’s face is grim when she rises to her feet and faces the officer, who had been patiently waiting after having holstered her sidearm and pulled out a electronic tablet.

“My friend was attacked by that man over there, part of the Cruor Clan.” The Doctor gestured in the vague direction of Rab, whose body was now surrounded by several officers. One of them grabbed his wrist, trying to find a pulse. After several moments they shook their head and let his lifeless arm drop to the ground with a wet splash, sending a spray of red droplets onto the white pant leg of the officer. He swore angrily and kicked Rab’s arm away with his boot, a look of disdain crumpling his face.   

Detective Ward watched the exchange with a blank expression,

“Well, the Cruor Clan’s last remaining ringleader has joined his brothers, by the looks of it.” Ward said. “He’s been causing problems around these parts since their slave trade ring was destroyed. Good riddance, I say.”

The sound of scraping causes them all to look, Yaz peering blearily over Ryan’s shoulder, as two officers have grabbed a leg each and begun to drag Rab across the marketplace. A smear of blood paints the stones in a brushstroke from his body, until they unceremoniously toss him onto the back of a small hovering flatbed trailer.

Yaz flinches and lets out a small whimper, shaking against Ryan’s side. The Doctor shucks her coat in seconds and drapes it across the young woman, her hands brushing the material across her shoulders and down shivering arms in an attempt to soothe.

The Doctor ducks down close, her and Ryan whispering reassurances.

The police officer with red splatters on his leg jogs over, giving Detective Ward a strange handshake, similar to the way Roman soldiers greet - or so Graham has seen them do when he watched Gladiator.

“Mam.”

“Prognosis, Isla?”

“Bled out, by the looks of it. Wound in this left thigh, shrapnel from the explosion, possibly? Must’ve nicked his femoral artery. Explosion blew him off his feet but wouldn’t have caused much damage, I reckon.” Isla says, pointing over to the smouldering battery stand. “Tey said they were mostly duds or the explosion would’ve incinerated ‘em.”

Ward nods, jotting down the information on her tablet. A small, broken voice speaks up.

“Did I kill him?” Yaz’s bottom lip wobbles, eyes wide with shock. Graham shakes his head, crouching down to hug her from the other side.

“Of course not, Love. It’s okay, just focus on breathing for me, alright?” He whispers, voice soft and comforting. Detective Ward looks at Yaz and then scribbles something down on her tablet.

“Thanks, Isla. Can you get this area tidied up? Clear debris, categorise anything that’s intact and get someone to spray the stones. Hopefully that’ll be the last of this we’ll have to deal with.”

Isla nods tiredly and gives another arm shake before walking off to the other officers.

The Doctor can’t help but frown.

“Does this sort of thing happen often? You don’t seem particularly bothered by it.” She asks, watching two police officers untying hoses from the truck, smiles on their faces and laughing between themselves. Ward sniffs.

“Been pretty frequent with the Cruor Clan. Hopefully, now that their last ringleader is dead, things will settle down. He’s been on a bloody rampage for months now, killed over thirty people. Most of them elderly men.” The detective pauses, eyes now fixed on Yaz. “Any idea why Rab targeted your friend? She definitely doesn’t fit his priors. He’s usually a headshot kinda guy.” She raises a curious eyebrow, clocking the bruising to the young woman’s throat, the bloody gash across her temple, as well as the deep claw marks circling her calf. “That looks personal.”

Detective Ward looks at the Doctor expectantly.

“It’s a long story.” The blonde says shortly, shoulders sagging. The Doctor can’t help but feel guilt over the whole situation. If she’d have dealt with the Cruor Clan properly then maybe all those people wouldn’t have died.

She’d nearly lost Yaz.

Brave, confident, kind, beautiful Yaz.

Beautiful? The Doctor shakes her head crossly, pulling her gaze off the young woman.

She deserves better.

“I’ve got time.” Detective Ward says firmly. “How about we get your friend seen to and then you both can tell me all about it?” The words are kind but they leave no room for argument.

The Doctor feels herself shrink at the thought of retelling the story. It was neither nice nore admirable.

A side of herself that the Doctor did not wish to share with her companions, but as she looked down at the small form of Yaz, sandwiched by Ryan and Graham and the destruction and bloodshed surrounding them, the Doctor knew they deserved the truth.

Chapter Text

After agreeing to return to the police headquarters, Detective Ward pulls some shiny white wristbands from her belt. They look at bit like handcuffs, metallic and warm to the touch when she secures one to each of their wrists. The officer crouches down in front of Yaz, who watches her with blank eyes.

“Hello there, Miss.” She says slowly, voice washing across the young girl like a wave and breaking her momentary trance. Ward smiles warmly when Yaz meets her eyes. “Hi there. We need to get you somewhere safe so my colleagues can tend to your injuries and take a statement. We’ll do this via teleport as you’re in no state to walk. Just a simple transmat, nothing fancy. You’ll need to stand though. Need a hand? ”

Yaz sniffs and wipes a few remnant tears from her face.

“I can do it.” Her voice is determined, steely, as she pushes up on shaky legs. Yaz winces when pain spikes through her calf, sucking in a sudden burning breath. Ryan and Graham remain on either side, keeping her steady. The Doctor hovers nearby, worry evident on her face.

She wobbles slightly, leaning heavily on the boys as she offers her wrist to the officer. A shiny teleport band is snapped in place.

They wait for a few moments until suddenly the oddest sensation sweeps through every atom of their bodies.

It’s a though their entire being has just exploded outwards in a firework of atoms and matter. It’s indescribable, fizzing and buzzing across space in a jumble of electrons, neutrons and protons. Just as suddenly as they’d expanded, everything draws back together to slam into its rightful place like the snap of an elastic band.

They all stagger when they materialise, bodies still vibrating with energy and eyes blurring the colours around them into a smear of greys and reds. Ryan doubles over, breathing hard as he tries desperately not to puke onto the tiles.

“Definitely prefer the TARDIS, Doc. Hands down.” Graham winces, gripping Yaz tightly now that Ryan has become intimately acquainted with the floor. Yaz glances wearily at Ryan, feeling the same sickness in her tummy churning with the pain across her body. She starts to sag and Graham gives a yelp of alarm. Before she can join Ryan on the floor, the Doctor has swooped in to wrap an arm around her and tug her upwards. Yaz groans, eyes shut tightly as everything spins around her.

Yaz feels her body growing heavy, legs about to give way and her hands reach out to clutch onto bright yellow suspenders. Her head drops forward and she takes a deep lungful of air. It burns, but the smell of chamomile and engine oil is worth the pain.

“Okay?” The Doctor’s warm breath tickles Yaz’s ear, a hand stroking through her hair. The young police officer sighs, sinking deeper into the comfort of her friend.

“Hurts.” Yaz whispers quietly into her chest, breath ghosting over the Doctor’s hearts. She doesn’t feel them break against her lips.  

They stay wrapped together tightly until a nurse squeaks over with a wheelchair and ushered Yaz into it.

She collapses with a groan, grateful to get the weight off her feet and stinging leg. Yaz watches the corridors roll by with little interest, her mind only focusing on the soft hand holding her own. She’s only really just noticed that the red on her hands is blood, hiding the brown tone beneath. It has dried now. Flaking and falling like ruby coloured snowflakes with every stroke of the Doctor’s thumb across her skin.

The nurse carefully eases the wheelchair through a doorway wide enough for one. Yaz instantly feels the cold when the Doctor is forced to let go.

Ryan, Graham are herded into the corner of the small medical bay by the nurse once they’ve helped to shift Yaz onto the soft white bed. Two aliens enter the room wearing the white coveralls similar to the police officers from earlier, except the stripes down their sides are a bright green colour.

“Hello there, I’m Kat. What’s your name?” The woman gives Yaz a bright smile and takes her right hand to gently remove the teleport band and replace it with a similar looking metallic strap. Yaz gives it a wary look. She wants to ask but her flames lick up her throat with every swallow.

“This just gives us your vitals…” She trails off expectantly, tone warm and reassuring.

“Yasmin Khan. Yaz to her friends.” The Doctor speaks up, watching the two medics carefully. A fast rhythmic beeping fills the room and it takes Yaz a moment to realise that it’s her heartbeat.

“Nice to meet you, Yaz.” Kat glances at the monitor briefly. “Can you rate your pain level from one to ten please, you can hold up your fingers.”

Yaz holds up four fingers gingerly.

“Be honest, Yaz.” The Doctor pleads.

The young woman goes to huff, but the motion catches in her throat and she coughs violently. Yaz is bent over on the bed in seconds, hand clutching her neck and tears welling in her eyes. It’s agony. She can feel her throat tearing itself to pieces as tiny specks of red scatter onto the white bedsheets. Kat snaps an oxygen mask over her head with practised ease.

The Doctor has rushed forward to rub her back, the rhythmic beep of Yaz’s heart now a relentless gallop.

Darkness begins to creep into the edge of her vision, lungs straining for air but throat refusing to allow it through the swollen airways. She’d had enough oxygen if her heart wasn’t trying to beat from her chest.

Yaz barely notices the tiny scratch against her arm, or the feeling of cold spreading through her veins. She does, however, feel a sense of calm wash over her.

Yaz surrenders to it, body relaxing into the waiting arms of the Doctor.

“That’s it, nice and easy, Yaz.” The blonde says softly. “Slow breaths. In and out. I’ve got you.” Yaz can hear the steady double thud of hearts from where her head is resting against the Doctor’s chest. The reliable rise and fall as she breathes.

Yaz tries her best to copy, aware of the sinking feeling of her body down towards the bed.

She can’t feel anything else other than the warmth beside her, the slight tickle of hair against her face and a hand gently resting against her heart. Slowly, she feels the calm surround her until sleep claims her.

Her last conscious thought is of chamomile and engine oil.

Chapter Text

The Doctor can’t help the relieved exhale that deflates her entire body when her friend begins to calm. Kat is watching the monitor intently, discarding the used needle in her hand without a second glance as the other medic prepares a tray of bandages and gauze. The blue numbers steadily increase as the beeping slows, showing that Yaz’s oxygen saturation is returning to a healthier level.  

A feeling of cautious calm settles across the room. Graham watches the bloody form of his young friend, anxiety curling in his gut from the familiar surroundings of the hospital. He swallows away the sensation of nausea when Kat begins to set up something similar to a IV. Graham can almost feel the phantom sting of the needle merging with Grace’s face smiling down at him. It’s a odd combination of pain and comfort.

Graham is jolted by his memories by a soft hand gently tugging his own. He looks down, realising that he’d been absentmindedly rubbing the back of his hand and forearm. The needle marks had faded, but chemotherapy can leave its mark in many ways.

The dark skin of Ryan’s hand is a stark contrast to Graham’s own as it snags the cuff of his red sweater sleeve and tugs it down.

“Alright, Grandad?” Ryan says softly, eyes calm and a small smile upturning his lips. Graham nods, clearing his throat. Ryan’s hand is a comforting pressure on his elbow, grounding him.

“Yeah, yeah, all good, Son.” Graham glances around the room. “Just been a while since I’ve been in a hospital, even an alien one. They all have that same smell, y’know?”

Ryan nods, wrinkling his nose.

“You’d think you’d get used to it. Reminds me of Nan in a weird way.” He smiles, eyes flickering over to Yaz’s prone form and the Doctor sat by her side. Graham makes a noise of agreement, muted memories of Grace washing over him.

There’s a clink of metal as Kat picks up a pair of scissors and steps over to the foot of the bed. She glances over her shoulder at the men and raises an eyebrow.

“We’d best go find a cuppa. You want anything, Doc?” Graham asks. The Doctor looks over at them briefly, her eyes are filled with worry but she manages to summon a small smile.

“Not for me, thank you.” Her voice is stronger than Ryan expected. He briefly wonders how many hospital bedsides you end up at when you’ve lived as long as the Doctor.

“We’ll be back soon. Look after her, yeah?” Ryan winces as the words leave his mouth. He can see them physically hit the Doctor, her green eyes turning guilty.

Ryan crosses the room in two short steps of his long legs before he’s aware of what he’s doing. He places a hesitant hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. She looks up at him from her perch on Yaz’s bed, looking a lot smaller without her coat on.

“It wasn’t your fault, Doctor. You know that, right?” Ryan glances over when Kat begins to cut a line up the leg of Yaz’s jeans, peeling them away to reveal four deep gashes winding around her calf. The Doctor feels Ryan’s hand tighten on her shoulder, his face a turbulence of emotion.

“It was Rab. Rab’s fault. If he wasn’t dead now then I’d have half a mind to kill him myself.” Ryan forces out through gritted teeth but is cut off by a shake of blonde head and a sigh from his friend.

“You’re not the sort, Ryan. Believe me.” She says, patting his hand. Ryan lets out a long breath, closing his eyes briefly.

“She’ll be okay though?” He asks. The Doctor nods and watches Kat begin to clean the wounds and then spray a white foam into four long strips, gentle lifting and maneuvering Yaz’s leg as she goes. Kat then sprays a large dollop onto the bruising around the girls throat and chest, spreading it with her fingers and snipping away her t-shirt with a gentle snick when it got in the way.

“She’ll barely have a scar on her. They’ve got great medical care in this century.”  

Kat and the other medic give the Doctor a strange look. Ryan snorts.

“Yaz’ll be pissed. She was going on about wanting a cool scar the other day. Could have said that was a tiger attack or something.”  

Ryan physically feels the shift in the room when the Doctor smiles at him, It’s a small one, but less pained than before. All eyes spin to Yaz when the young girl groans and shifts, eyes fluttering open, a tiny yawn on her lips.

“Try to stay still, Yaz. You’re okay.” The Doctor hushes gently, bringing a hand to tuck Yaz’s hair behind her ear.  

“S’stupid.” She mutters sleepily. The blonde frowns, hand paused on her friends cheek.

Ryan quirks an eyebrow.

“You what, Yaz?”

The young police officer huffs.

“No tigers in Shhfield, silly.” Yaz mumbles, attempting to roll her glazed eyes but moving her whole head instead, effectively snuggling into the Doctor’s hand and trapping it against the pillow. The Doctor doesn’t seem to mind.

“How are you feeling, love?” Graham asks. Yaz gives him a dopey smile, blindly swinging a hand out to slap into the Doctor’s shoulder and clinging onto a yellow suspender.

“Mmmm, really good.” She sighs happily. “Good good. Like, really good. Vrry good.” Yaz is slurring her words.

“That’ll be the painkillers.” Kat says with a smirk. “Only heroes get the good stuff.” Yaz glows at the comment but shakes her head, oblivious to Kat scraping off the white foam on her leg to reveal slightly pink, but otherwise completely healed, skin.

“Psssssh,” She disregards with a drunken swing of her hand, accidentally yanking the Doctor towards her. “Not hero. S’all part of tha’ polish service, Mam. Police. Pooolice. Poleeesh.” Yaz sticks out her tongue with a frown, trying to look down at it with glazed eyes.

Yaz suddenly lets go of the suspender to poke her tongue back into her mouth, making the Doctor yelp as it pings into her breast. Ryan managed to snap a picture of the scene with his phone before Graham gives him a light slap on the back of the head.

“Oh!” The young police officer exclaims, tongue now safely back in her mouth. She’s staring down at the healing cream smeared across her chest.

“What?” The Doctor asks cautiously, holding her suspenders out of reach.

“When did it snow?” Yaz puzzles, looking up at ceiling now. Kat quirks an eyebrow and glances at the Doctor, who is looking incredibly bemused.

“Maybe a bit too much of the good stuff.”   

“Come on. She’s in good hands.” Graham chuckles and begins to drag Ryan out of the room. “Let’s see if we can find some tea in this place.”

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take long for the two medics to wipe away the white foam from Yaz’s neck, removing the bruise underneath as though it were just a spectral oil spill of paint. The dark blues, purples and yellows give way to soft and undamaged brown skin, all evidence of trauma gone.

The young police officer is sitting up in her bed, eyes heavy with sleep and pupils blown. Yaz stare is fixed on the Doctor. Specifically, the Doctor’s hand, which is holding hers with interlaced fingers. She smiles dreamily, blinking slowly as the lingering sedative still drifts through her veins to weigh down her limbs. Yaz is drawn from her gazing by the tickle of fingertips skimming up her neck, pausing at her chin to tilt it upwards gently so that she is now looking at the Doctor.

Yaz hums at the sensation of a thumb stroking along her jaw, luxuriating in the feeling of it, unsure if her focus is from the medication or the newly healed skin. She can feel the soft pads of fingertips resting against the curve of her neck, the cool and featherlight touch of short fingernails leaving phantom halfmoon indents.

Yaz hears a chuckle and realises her eyes have slipped closed. She opens them to find the Doctor staring at her with sparkling eyes and a soft smile. Loving , Yaz feels her hazy mind add.

“Can you take a couple sips of this for me, Yaz?” The Doctor asks, pausing for a moment to decide which hand to use. She begrudgingly removes her hand from Yaz’s jaw, making the woman’s skin tingle as fingers ghost across skin in a way that would be difficult to describe as platonic, and plucks a bright blue plastic cup from the bedside cabinet. The blonde jiggles the cup and a clear straw jingles cheerily against the side, Yaz is quickly distracted by the way it swishes and rolls around the rim by the momentum of the liquid inside.

The police officer reaches forward to take the tiniest sip of liquid, wincing at the odd taste and quickly pulling back, taking the straw with her. The look she’s giving is serious enough to put fear into any mortal human. Luckily, the Doctor isn’t one of those. The Doctor shakes her head with a snort when Yaz’s cheek’s hollow as she sucks air in through the straw.

“Happy?” The brunette asks, the straw still held in her mouth like a strange see through cigar.  The blonde can’t help but snort.

“That was barely a sip.” Yaz goes to argue but she’s quickly cut off. “The straw’s see through, Yaz.”

Yaz’s face scrunches into a frown not unlike a child who’d just been told they couldn’t have any ice cream.

“Tastes gross though.” She mumbles.

“I know, but it’ll help the bruising inside your throat heal.” The Doctor says, biting her lip to keep from giggling, finding her companions face unbearably adorable. “If you drink it all I promise to teach you how to fly the Tardis.” Yaz’s face lights up at the suggestion and she hastily nods, the straw bobbing erratically between her lips and threatening to fly across the room.   

The Doctor leans forward quickly to grab the end of the straw and pulls before it either takes someones eye out or Yaz choked herself. The blonde is unable to ignore the sudden quickening of her hearts or hide the pink tinge of her cheeks as it slides from between Yaz’s very soft looking lips. It catches slightly to tug on her bottom lip and the Doctor can’t help but imagine her thumb doing the same.

There’s a moment of stillness until the reality of the situation crashes down like a bucket of cold water. The Doctor’s face darkens. How could she be so stupid? So insensitive to think of her companion in that way? Her companion who is not only injured but under the influence. She bites the inside of her bottom lip hard until the sobering spike of pain brings everything back into focus.

Yaz is looking at her expectantly, oblivious to the storms.

“Drink it all, I fly the Tardis, yeah?” She eyes the cup unhappily as the straw is thrown back inside it with enough force to bounce against the base. The Doctor nods, a smile forcing its way onto her face. Yaz takes the offered cup and wrinkles her nose. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and then quickly lifts the cup to her mouth and chugs the contents. Ignoring the straw completely.

The Doctor is so surprised by Yaz’s secret ability to down drinks that she forgets her inner berating and simply stares.

The police officer slams the cup down onto the side table and grins triumphantly.

There’s a clatter and the clink of cups as Ryan and Graham walk back into the office, each ladened with a tray piled high with snacks.

“Didn’t expect chugging skills from a Fed.” Ryan teases, keeping his eyes focused on the tray until he places it down on the bedside with a relieved sigh.

“Told you you could do it, mate.” Graham is there with a proud grin, gently depositing his tray of goodies as well. “We didn’t know what to get so just grabbed a load, although that server gave us a bit of funny look. Must not see humans around here.”

Yaz and the Doctor nod, but their attention is focused solely on the mountain of vibrant food before them. Each packet littered with alien languages and symbols, none of which did much to help identify what was inside.

“Did you buy the whole shop?” The Doctor asks as she dives forward to pluck a triangular shaped block wrapped in sparkling blue paper. Yaz is a little slower but it doesn’t take long before the four of them are happily munching, drinking and chatting.

“Oh, we bumped into that Inspector Ward bloke. Gave him our statements as they’re pretty short.” Ryan says through a mouthful of food.

“Ran a lot, then bang and a big flash of light.” Graham adds, taking a sip from his mug. Apparently nothing in the universe could get between Graham O’Brien and a cup of tea.

“I thought I’d died.” Yaz mutters, her fingers gently worrying the edge of the foil held in her hands. She sniffs and acid and smoke curl in her lungs.

The crinkling of foil disturbs the silence when it’s crushed into a ball.

“Rab’s dead though.” Yaz says and turns to look at the Doctor with a frown, unsure if she’s asking or telling. Graham and Ryan take a seat in the corner, sipping quietly at their drinks.

The Doctor nods.

The brunette casts her eyes down to her closed fist. She remembers the glint of silver in her hand, the cold metal and then a sudden rush of warmth spilling down her arm. Almost feel it if she closes her eyes. I think I killed him. She wants to whisper it.

“Did the explosion kill him?” Yaz asks instead, already knowing the answer. The bright blue light is still lingering at the edge of her vision as her body remembers the shockwave of energy. Air running across her skin but leaving no marks. The question leaves a heavy and acidic taste on her tongue.

Yaz starts when warmth cocoons her hand and looks up into troubled green eyes, clouded with concern. The Doctor’s teeth worry at her bottom lip in a hint of white and pink. Indecision is an emotion that the Doctor has found herself battling against frequently since regenerating into this new body. Usually the path is obvious, even if the journey is hard. But staring into the pained eyes of her companion, her friend , the Doctor is plagued with doubt. She wants to lie, to mask the sting of truth, but the expression on Yaz’s face makes her pause.

It’s something she’d always seen and admired in her young friend. An incorruptible quality as strong as her bravery, strength and compassion, but infinitely more valuable.

The need for honesty. Truth.

It had shown itself so many times on their adventures. Exposing the witch hunts, discovering the monster behind the spiders of Sheffield, breaking the news of Dan’s death to his daughter and seeking the truth about her Nani’s watch and the real history of her family. Although it had brought her pain, the drive for truth was stronger, because from truth comes understanding.

The Doctor made up her mind. She could not and would not lie to her friend. The Doctor shook her head.

“The explosion didn’t kill Rab.” She said quietly, watching the brunette closely. Seeing the way her shoulders dropped, the wobble of her bottom lip, the shine of tears in her eyes. Graham and Ryan share a confused frown between them. Yaz’s lips had just begun to shape to form sound when they are interrupted by the medical room door creaking open.

Detective Ward strolls in, tablet in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. She smiles at the group, giving the boys a nod, and walks up to the bed. She seems completely oblivious to the heaviness in the room.

“Afternoon. You’re looking much better.” Ward comments. “Feeling up to giving me your statement, miss?”

There’s a moment of silence.

Then Yaz bursts into tears.

Chapter Text

Detective Ward pauses for a moment with a frown, cocking her head to the side like an inquisitive puppy. The Doctor has scooted forward onto the bed to wrap her arms around the sobbing woman, shoulders shaking silently.

“What is she doing?” Ward asks and takes a glance around at the boys. Ryan gives her an incredulous look.

“Erm, cryin’? ”

“Oh. I didn’t know it looked like that.” The alien detective says, averting her eyes and fiddling awkwardly with her tablet.

Yaz sniffs and gives a little hiccup whilst the Doctor rubs her back, whispering reassurances. Ward coughs.

“How long does it usually last?”

“I don’t tend to time it.” Graham says blankly. Ward takes the dismissive comment with a small nod and then takes a seat next to boys. Graham can't help but wonder what sort of species understands social cues but has never encountered crying before. He makes a mental note to ask the Doctor if they can visit Ward’s homeplanet, just for curiosity's sake.

Clutching to the Doctor and nestling into her neck is a remarkably good cure for crying, Yaz discovers. The smell of motor oil and chamomile overpowers the memories of iron and the steady double beat of her two hearts acts as a calming metronome. A focal point to keep her grounded and stop the recent memories from washing her away. She never wants to emerge from the safe embrace of her friend but Yaz is all too aware that the longer she stays burrowed the longer it will be until she can snuggle into her own bed. Yaz surfaces with a squint, eyes puffy and red, to see the Doctor’s reassuring smile.

“Better?” She asks softly. Yaz considers this for a moment and is surprised to find that actually yes, she does feel a little bit better. The Doctor’s whispers of “It’s okay.” and “It was an accident.” certainly made the burden of her guilt slightly lighter.

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Any time. I mean that.”

Yaz manages a weak smile in response and sniffs, turning towards Detective Ward. She’s thoroughly engrossed in her tablet, tapping and swiping. The young brunette swallows.

“Detective Ward, I think I’m ready to give that statement now.” she says quietly. Ward’s regards her like one would an unexploded grenade.

“You sure?” Yaz is pretty sure the detective is terrified she might cry again.

“Sure.”

It doesn’t take long for Ward to arrange the medical room to her liking. Shuffling her chair over to the hospital bed and setting up a small cylindrical device on the table which is plugged into her tablet.

“Do I have your permission to record this conversation?” Ward asks and Yaz agrees, seeing their words begin to appear on the tablet in two seperate colours. She feels a spike of jealously over the technology, it would have saved her hours of transcribing interviews down at the station.

Yaz can’t help but admire Ward’s professionalism and clear questioning. She’s led slowly and clearly through the events, pausing every so often for extra details. Yaz spends several minutes trying to describe the shopkeeper she’d purchased her presents from and his suspicious behaviour.

“What did you buy?” Ward asks, reclining in the chair with interlaced fingers resting on her lap. Yaz blushes, trying hard not to glance at the Doctor who’s watching from the corner surrounded by food wrappers.

“Just some knitting needles and a scarf for my Nani. Presents for when I got home. She loves knitting and I know she gets cold so I got her a scarf as well.” Yaz says, aiming for aloof but landing closer to flustered. Graham and Ryan share a look, knowing the vibrant rainbow scarf would definitely not have been to Umbreen’s tastes. The Doctor just nods thoughtfully.

“Couldn’t she have knitted one?” Ward says with a curious frown and Yaz freezes. Now she knew why criminals sweated so much during interviews.The smirk the detective gives her makes Yaz’s face burn more fiercely when she’s caught looking at the Doctor.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Ward says and Yaz gives her a small smile of thanks. Who the gifts were for wasn’t really important to the investigation. “When did he start acting strangely?”  

“He was completely normal until I tried to pay.” Ward unfolds her hands and leans forward slightly.

“How much did it cost?” She asks and Yaz finds herself stumped.

“I don’t really know, I just handed over the card the Doctor gave us.” The brunette can feel the weight of the detectives gaze.

“Can I see the card please?”

Yaz thinks for a moment. It had been in the pocket of her jeans which had been cut off of her by the two medics, she had no clue where they were now. Most likely in a bin somewhere along with her phone...oh god her phone. The panic rises in her chest with the burn of bile as Yaz remembers Rab hissing his demands into the receiver as he choked her. The brunette closes her eyes and forces herself to take a long slow breath, grounding herself.

“I don’t know, they cut off my jeans and it was in the pocket.” Yaz makes herself say, surprised by how strong her voice sounds. “I don’t know where my phone is either, Rab had it.” She chokes a little on his name but the Doctor takes her hand quickly, stopping her from drowning.

Ward makes a hrmph sound and taps at her tablet for a moment.

“Oh, we found your phone in the alleyway but unfortunately it was smashed. It’s been taken in for evidence, again, sorry about that.” The detective does genuinely sound apologetic about the whole thing. “Jeans and their contents have also been bagged for evidence. Oh yep, card is logged there as well.” Ward gives Yaz a smile.

Graham clears his throat and pats his pockets down, then sticks a hand into his jacket and pulls out a shiny metallic card.

“I’ve got mine here if you fancy having a look. The Doc’ gave us one each.” Graham says, holding it out to Ward. Her eyes widen and mouth drops open marginally. The detective reaches over and gingerly takes the card from Graham, holding it in two hands as though it might vanish into thin air.

Ward swallows, finally managing to get her features back under control but never taking her eyes off the shiny thin rectangle of metal.

“You’ve all got one of these?” She whispers, tilting the card so that light bounces across it’s smooth surface, highlighting a series of complex swirls and patterns that Yaz hadn’t noticed before. It looks a little bit like a circuit board. All eyes swivel to the Doctor, who is sitting quietly and inspecting the nails on the hand not holding Yaz’s.

“Doctor?” Ward prompts.

“Hmm? Oh yes those old things? Gift from a friend of a friend of a friend, a King, I think. Very kind of him, but then again I did save his wives and husbands from very being absorbed by a, quite frankly, horrible —”

“Doctor.”

“Okay okay fine. I made them. On my ship. With spare parts. They have infinite credits. Copy of the original infini-card which I did actually get given as a gift by the King.” The Doctor reels off at a hundred miles an hour, hands waving about the place like she’s trying to conjure up some magic - all the while yanking Yaz’s hand around still held in her own. “But I sort of...lost the original down the back of the sofa. Pesky things sofas, definitely another dimension under the cushions.” The Doctor was flushing bright red under the withering look that Detective Ward was sending her.

“So, let me get this straight. You lost the original infini-card and so decided to forge not one, but four? Do you have any idea what these could do to the economy if you lost even one of those somewhere other than the back of furniture?”

The Doctor scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, feeling well and truly told off. Especially since there happened to be an entire pile of the metal cards in her bedside drawer. You know, for emergencies. Besides, she’d bought an entire sheet of metal to make them out of. It would have been wasteful to just make the one and the Doctor was careful about her carbon footprint, sometimes.

“Yeah that’s about right, Detective.”

“Okay.” Ward pauses and sighs. “I’ll be needing all of those back please. We’ll destroy them once the case is closed.”

The Doctor scrunches her face and nods. She digs out her own card from her left shoe - safe keeping , she’d told Yaz with a wink - and Ryan hands his over as well.

Detective Ward spends a moment taking photos with the tablet to catalogue the evidence and is so engrossed in the activity that she doesn’t noticed the gentle buzz of the sonic screwdriver wiping the cards. Not that the Doctor didn't trust Ward, it was just better to be safe than sorry. You never knew if anyone in the department might have sticky fingers.

It takes a moment to get back on track but Yaz welcomes the break to nibble on a cracker, she has no idea what time it is but is desperate to get back to her own bed on the Tardis.

“Right, now that’s all sorted we can get back on track. I’d guess the shopkeeper became suspicious because of the card, but why did he inform Rab? Seems like a bit of a weird connection.” Ward muses.

“That would be me again. When I was here before, I used my infini-card to promise purchase of a large amount of cargo .” The Doctor practically spat the word out as though she couldn’t bare it on her tongue. Yaz remembered the frantic words of her friend down the end of the phone. Rab. Cruor Clan. Slave traders.

She shuddered.

Ward nodded, keen to move on quickly.

“Okay, so recognise the card as there’s only supposed to be one, I’d assume Rab told them to keep an eye out as it links to you, Doctor. What happened next, Yaz?”

“I was walking back to the Tardis but started feeling a bit weird, like I was being followed. Decided to go into a side street and see if I could spot anything odd, maybe phone the guys to come find me.”

Yaz recounts the rest of the events as though she’s talking about someone else, she can feel herself detaching from the event when she describes the strangling in an emotionless tone. Yaz is used to this, detaching herself during interviews. It’s difficult to get all the facts when emotion wades in to make itself know, so she slips into her police officer facade, can almost feel the weight of her heavy vest on her chest.

Yaz tries her best to avoid eye contact when she reaches the point of stabbing Rab, realising now that it had been a fatal blow. The rhythmic spurting of blood pumping the life out of him to paint a grotesque picture against her hand and the cool brick of the alleyway. The room is silent other than Ryan and Grahams sharp intake of breath as, they to, realise what Yaz had done.

“Then I ran, he shot after me and hit that market stall. Next thing I know, everything’s blowing up and then the Doctor is standing over me. Rab’s lying dead on the floor. I murdered him.”

“It was an accident, Yaz. You gotta believe that mate.” Ryan says firmly, hard eyes boring into his friend across the room. “Self defence. That needle could have hit him anywhere.”

Ward is looking pensieve, staring at the tablet and the words typing themselves faithfully across the screen. She sits forward and presses pause.

“Yaz, I want you to listen to me.” Detective Ward shuffles even closer to the bed, the chair scraping across the tiled floor, until she tentatively takes one of Yaz’s hands. “Yaz?”

The young brunette takes a breath and finally looks at the detective, ready to accept her sentence.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Yaz feels the tears come in a torrent down her cheeks. “Rab was a very twisted and sick individual who has a criminal record longer than you could ever imagine. You were in a difficult position and you acted with bravery and courage. He wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you like the hundreds he has before. You defended yourself, so please, don’t for a second think that you are a murder or anything like that pathetic excuse of a lifeform.” Ward finishes in a fierce whisper, eyes ablaze with emotion that electrifies the air between them. Yaz’s chest feels tight and she can’t stop crying. Ward is holding one hand and the Doctor has the other. Looking at her with such respect and desperation for her to see the truth that she can't help but sob.

It takes barely a second for Ryan and Graham to cross the room and pile on top of her in a huge hug.

They hold her tight until the sobbing begins to hush and she can’t help but feel the physical and mental weight of their love for her. It was self defence. Yaz repeats it to herself until it feels as real as the warmth of her friends around her.