Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m back!” Yaz called out, a bag rustling against her arm as she stepped through the threshold of her flat. A faint smile peeked through her lips at the sight of her family still gathered around the kitchen table, just as they were when she’d left. She heard the chatter from the kitchen cease as she closed the door and kicked off her shoes. Feeling the distinct weight of eyes latch onto her skin, she looked up to find her parents surveying her.

“What happened to your hair, Yasmin?” Najia asked, her brow furrowed in concern. She watched her daughter reach up, confusion building into hushed panic as she felt the frayed bun on top of her head.

“Oh, um—” Yaz halted and shifted nervously in place.

“You weren’t gone for but twenty minutes. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a windy night out there,” she assured, avoiding their gazes. The unsettling silence was filled with scurried steps she made her way to the counter and set the bag down.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Yaz?” her dad asked, “You look like you’ve just gotten back from a from a three hour hike, not picking up bread.”

“She always looks like that,” her sister taunted without looking up from her phone.

“Sonya!”

“What?” she shrugged at her parents with the innocence of a child, “You always get on me for lying. I’m only trying to be more honest.”

Yaz shot her a cutting glance and sighed as she deflated into one of the empty wooden chairs. “Look, s’been a long day and I’m just tired is all.”

“Well, I’ll set to working on dinner now that we’ve got some bread. You just relax, alright love?” Her dad patted her shoulder as he walked toward the stove. Yaz returned a lazy smile and sunk further into her seat. She fished in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone, glancing at it briefly before setting it face down on the table. Cumbered by exhaustion, she found herself content to sit quietly with her thoughts, not wanting to prompt any more unsolicited comments from her sister.

Najia studied her daughter discreetly as the clatter from Hakim’s cooking bounced about the room. Strands of loose black hair fell against her copper skin as she sat tracing the grain of the table. She looked so much like her own mother at that age, Najia thought. And she was so much like her, too. Grounded and fierce and utterly unstoppable when she fixed her mind on something. Sometimes to an extent that was almost infuriating.

She looked dreadfully tired. Which made sense, seeing as they’d spent the day protecting Sheffield from a cluster of giant mutated spiders. It was a bizarre reality that Najia was still processing herself, to be fair. But she’d noticed how her daughter didn’t blink twice at the whole ordeal. She took everything in stride and carried herself with the same agency as when she was in uniform.

This only underlined the change she’d noticed within the past few days. It was small; hardly a whisper but undeniably there, as far as she was concerned. Yaz felt...elsewhere. Her mind seemed to wander when she thought no one was looking, her eyes never quite reaching their target. Much like they were doing at the present. Though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was causing it, she had an inkling.

“I’m still waiting for you to tell me who this Doctor is,” Najia prompted. The words pulled Yaz from her reverie and she shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“She’s just…the Doctor,” she huffed, clearly unable to offer anything of substance without completely unraveling. It took all the strength Najia had not to roll her eyes.

“So I’ve heard. And how do you know her?”

“We met at Grace’s funeral,” Yaz explained, willfully meeting her mother’s gaze, “She worked with her at Weston Park.”

There was a confidence in her tone that Najia hadn’t expected. She leaned back, thrown off by the legitimacy of her answer. Hearing Grace’s name reminded her that the loss was only days old and that perhaps this wasn’t the best time for prying.

“Can we please drop this now?” she begged, “I’ve already told you, we’re friends.”

At the last two words, Najia leaned forward again, her curiosity too insatiable to deny.

“Are you really, though?”

“Yes, Mum,” she snarled.

“Najia. Please,” Hakim interrupted, desperate to defuse the room, “If Yasmin says they’re friends, then they’re friends. No sense in going on about it.”

“You weren’t there, Hakim,” she raised a brow in suspicion, “Who gets that excited meeting their friend’s parent?”

Yaz threw her hands up and helplessly flopped them down on the table. “That’s just who she is! You should see her around biscuits.”

“She is a bit awkward, dear,” her dad admitted, “Noticed that when I met her. Nice, of course,” he reassured Yaz, “but definitely awkward.”

“I told you her friends are always weirdos,” Sonya interjected, miraculously unfazed by the tension.

Yaz opened her mouth in defense but was cut off by the distinct siren ringtone she had set for work and her phone buzzing against the table. She stared at it for a moment before bringing it to her ear, already knowing the question awaiting her on the other end.

“Hello? Hi. Um......yeah. Yeah, I can be there in about twenty minutes. No, it’s no problem. Okay, see you then. Bye.”

Without speaking, Yaz darted to her room and quickly fixed her hair, eager to be free from the uncomfortable interrogation.

“They need some extra hands down at the station. Be home in the morning,” she said as she emerged again, guiltily eyeing the nearly finished meal on the stove. “I’ll pick something up on the way. Sorry, Dad.”

“S’alright, love. Hope tonight’s not too rough.”

Yaz sped past the table and down the hall, barely glancing at her mother before the door clicked shut behind her.

The rest of the Khan household had blissfully drifted off while Najia leaned against the cold rail outside of flat 34. She stood in a thoughtful silence, soaking in the view of Sheffield painted by nightfall. Specs of light flickered in the distance as traffic from the nearby highway hummed and whizzed past. She couldn’t help but wonder where her daughter might be in the midst of it all. And what—or who—was on her mind in this very moment.

She hunched her shoulders and gripped heavy hands in her hair. It hadn’t moved much in the time she’d been out there, she’d noticed. Barely touched by the light breeze that swept past every now and then, as calm as it had been all day. Certainly gentle and certainly not strong enough to fray anything held in place. She sighed, wringing out every last drop of the breath from her lungs. It would have to wait. No more prying, she decided, knowing she’d brushed dangerously close to a potential truth she wasn’t ready to unearth.

And perhaps she never would be.

Chapter Text

Yaz’s night started out with the usual drunk and disorderlies, annoying and pointless and messy as always. Occasionally there would be a harmless, comical incident sprinkled in there. The kind that made for a good little anecdote at parties, though Yaz rarely ever found herself at one.

The night had taken turn when a noise complaint was handed off to her. It was meant to be an easy call. Knock on the door, tell whoever was arguing to quiet down, ensure there was no crime or injury, generate an incident report, and be on her way. She should’ve known—given the unpredictably draining week she’d had—that it would hardly ever be that simple.

A young boy peered around the cracked door. No older than six or seven, she guessed. He stood quietly, eyes timid and tears staining what she could see of his fair skin. Yaz knelt slowly to meet his gaze.

“Hi there, my name’s Yasmin Khan, but you can call me Yaz,” she said, her voice tender and soothing as she took out her badge, “I’m a police officer just checking to make sure everything’s alright. Do you mind if I ask your name?”

The boy stayed silent.

“You can hold it, if you’d like,” she offered the badge to him, “Promise I’m the real deal, got a radio and everything,” she said, tapping the radio on her hi-vis jacket. Static sizzled from the speaker as muffled voices began rambling off codes. “See?”

He reached from behind the door and took the badge, studying it curiously. “Oliver…” he echoed as he handed it back, “but you can call me Ollie.” His voice was small and gentle, every word wrapping around Yaz like a warm hug.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ollie,” she smiled invitingly, “Are you okay?”

His head twitched in a nod, looking less like an answer and more like a reflex.

“Y’know, I find that people who answer that question too fast are usually the opposite. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head solemnly, crinkling his face as he wiped his eyes dry.

“That’s alright,” she reassured, “We don’t have to right this second.” Her eyes scanned past him in an attempt to get a better glimpse of the house’s interior, but she struggled to see anything beyond the narrow opening he’d created. “Is there a grown-up around I could talk to?”

“No,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

She did her best to best to quiet the concern on her face. “You’re home by yourself, then?”

Another nod.

“Would you mind if I came in and sat with you until—”

“I’m not allowed to let strangers in.”

Give him a choice, she thought, and get on his level.

“And that’s very smart of you. What if...” Yaz crossed her legs to rest on the stoop and the cold from the concrete seeped into her clothes, “What if I sit here and you sit there?” she asked, pointing to the other side of the entrance, “D’you reckon you could open the door and do that?”

The door creaked open.

Ollie stood in the middle of the frame, his toes wiggling nervously against the white tile as he lowered himself to mirror Yaz. She smirked, finally able to see that he was wearing navy pyjamas patterned with stars and planets.

“Do you like space as much as your pyjamas make it seem?”

His eyes lit up in wonder at the question. “I love it.”

“Me too,” she grinned, “Have you got a favorite planet?”

“Neptune!”

“Oh, Neptune’s great! I’ve heard it’s got the best slush puppies in the galaxy.” she said playfully, relieved to earn a giggle from the boy.

With Ollie sitting, she was able to take note of everything previously obstructed by the door. The house was so pristine, she found it hard to believe a child lived there. The walls of the sitting room were pale and mostly bare, save for some painted landscapes hanging above the sofa. Everything seemed to be tucked away neatly into a designated spot, with no sight of any stray toys littering the floor. And it was unsettlingly quiet, not even the distant sound of the telly hummed in the background.

“Who do you live here with, Ollie?”

“My mum.”

“Do you know where she is right now?”

“She’s...out,” he said hesitantly.

“Did She say where she was going? Or when she’d be back?”

“I—I can’t remember.”

He’s lying.

“Well,” Yaz played along, “I appreciate you trying, Ollie.”

She studied him closely. The tears had subsided for the most part and his demeanor seemed lighter than when she’d first arrived. As she scanned him, she noticed something unusual about his head that she hadn’t initially spotted. Warm russet hair hung just past his ears, with the exception of some jagged, shorter tufts sticking out on one side.

“Can I ask what happened to your hair?” She gestured to the missing locks. Ollie slung his head down as his face fell into a guilty frown.

“It was tickling my ears,” he explained, “so I tried cut it off.”

“Don’t suppose your mum was too thrilled about that, huh?”

His eyes grew distant as he brushed a hand against the skin on his upper arm. “She didn’t like it very much,” he said sadly.

Yaz knew that look. Hell, she’d given that look. The one you give when you’re reliving a moment you wish you could forget. It had been plastered on her face for an entire dreadful year at one point, and her heart shattered at the sight of it worn by someone else.

“Ollie, I’m gonna ask you a question that might be very hard and scary to answer, but I need you to be as honest with me as you can, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, his voice shrinking.

“Did your mum hurt you before she left?”

Yaz waited patiently for a response. These questions needed to be answered in their own time, she’d learned. So she simply sat quietly and let the chirr of the night’s air carry them to where they needed to be. After what felt like ages, Ollie shook his head.

Another lie.

She couldn’t see any bruises or marks where he’d placed his hand, nor anywhere else visible to her, but the familiar hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. Unsure of how to continue pressing the matter, she decided to try something new.

“Could I tell you a story, Ollie?”

“Is it about Neptune?” He asked with a spark as his hand fell back into his lap.

Reinforce whatever makes them feel safe, she remembered.

“Actually, yeah. It is,” The pain in his eyes faded as he leaned forward, ready to cling to every word. Yaz sucked in a deep breath and began. “There was a girl named...er—well—I’m not actually sure what her name was…”

“You can’t have a character without a name!” Ollie critiqued in a bit of a whine.

Yaz chucked. “Well, what do you think her name was?”

“Hmmm…” He scrunched his face as he thought on it. “Yaz,” he smirked, obviously pleased by his clever answer.

“Yaz works perfectly,” she flashed a muted smile in return, “So. Yaz lived on Saturn with her family and friends—”

“I thought it was about Neptune?”

“It is! But that’s a spoiler,” she whispered before continuing. “One of her friends was named Izzy and they got on really well together. She was the kind of friend that you could go weeks without talking to, but when you were together it would feel like no time had passed at all.

“Well, one day, Izzy got cross with Yaz. Really cross. She decided she didn’t like her anymore and she started hurting her. It was just words at first. Words that made Yaz cry and feel very, very small. And she got the other kids on Saturn to start doing it, too. Eventually, words weren’t enough for Izzy, so she started to really hurt Yaz... She would hit her. And she left bruises, but they were invisible. The kind only Yaz could see and feel. Pretty soon, she felt completely alone.

“The hurt went on for so long, it started to feel normal; like afternoon tea or watching your favorite show before bed. She was afraid to tell anyone ‘cause she didn’t know what would happen if she did, so she stayed quiet for a very long time. One day, her mum and dad finally found out. They wished she’d told them sooner so they could help her. And now that they knew, that’s exactly what they did.

“They decided that maybe Saturn wasn’t the best place for Yaz. So, they decided to go Neptune. The people on Neptune were much nicer to her and Izzy wasn’t there to hurt her anymore. Once she was there, she could be herself again and do all the things she wasn’t able to do on Saturn. And now, Yaz travels all across the universe, protecting others and stopping people like Izzy from hurting anyone else.”

His face curved into a dull grin as the last words hung in the air. Yaz sat silently, wringing her hands and making every effort to keep her composure. It was never an easy story to tell, but it would be worth it if it helped him feel safe.

“I just need to ask you one last time,” she said gently, “Has your mum ever hurt you?”

And to her dismay, he nodded one last lie.

Yaz had to report it no matter what he told her. She knew that. But the frightened look on Ollie’s face when more authorities arrived on scene rendered her thoroughly defeated.

“I want my mum...” he whimpered.

“I know, love,” she reassured as she rubbed the arm clinging to the side of her trousers, “See that man over there?” She knelt beside him and pointed to her supervisor, “That’s Ramesh and he’s very good at his job. He and everyone else are here to help find her and make sure she’s okay. And make sure you are too.”

Just as the words left her mouth, another car screeched to the curb. Ollie immediately recognized the figure stumbling out of it in a frenzy. Taken aback by the scene, his mum ran over and smothered him with a surprisingly warm hug, stroking his hair and relentlessly reassuring him that she was there. She treated to him with all the care and tenderness that a mother should, and Yaz found it hard to discern whether or not it was because there was an audience or whether she was genuinely worried. Or maybe both.

Questioning seemed to take ages and she was thankful Ramesh was with her now, so she wouldn’t have to take the lead completely alone. Normally, she would’ve insisted on it, but there just wasn’t enough room in her brain after the week she’d had. She listened intently as the mother rattled off her story, unconvinced that any reason was valid enough to warrant the state she left Ollie in, or to even leave him at all.

Yaz stayed with him for as long as she could; doing her best to comfort and encourage him as they went through the motions of assessment. Eventually, their work was done for the night and social services took over the case.

“They’re opening an investigation,” Ramesh said, looking over at the social worker sitting on the stoop with Ollie, “The kid’s far too young to be left alone like that. And you’re right, there’s probably something more going on. Harder to prove without bruises or the kid talking, but they’ll find it if there’s something to find.”

Yaz clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. Her stomach churned at the thought of his life being uprooted with each passing second. The fear in his eyes left her feeling horribly powerless and it was hard not to consider herself in some way liable, knowing he’d likely end up in a system where she couldn’t promise no more hurt would reach him. Her thoughts pulled her every which way and sent her tumbling into the depths of her own regret; both knowing she’d done the right thing but still struggling against herself to believe it.

“He seemed to really take a liking to you,” Ramesh said, patting her shoulder as they made their way to the cars, “Good work tonight, Khan.”

“Yeah,” she said numbly, “Thanks.”

Chapter Text

That morning, Yaz trudged into her flat, wilted and weary. The air inside was sedate and she was beyond thankful for the fact that everyone was still asleep. She plodded to her room and lazily shed her clothes, throwing on a weathered t-shirt and joggers in their place. With a deep sigh, she collapsed onto her bed and melted into her sheets, relieved to finally be alone.

She hadn’t gotten any proper rest in...thirty-six hours, maybe? Possibly more. Time had become a jumbled puzzle since she started traveling with the Doctor. Her parents thought she’d been gone for just twenty minutes, but for Yaz, it had been three incredibly long days.

They’d tried returning once, only to be re-routed by the TARDIS to a bizarre planet with no sign of sentient life.

Or so they thought.

Yaz shuddered at the memory of the creature‘s breath hot on their skin as it snarled at them, nothing but hunger and hurt in its eyes. She had defiantly followed the Doctor as she tried to lure it away from the ship, speaking to it with compassion and yearning to understand what it needed.

When it lunged, Yaz didn’t even think. Her body propelled itself forward and crashed into the Doctor. Tangled together, they plummeted into a strange bush with prickly leaves that clung to mercilessly them. The Doctor frantically yanked them free and Yaz felt a sharp tug at her scalp as a branch was twisted out of—

Oh. That’s how her hair got so tattered.

She rolled over and burrowed further into her blankets, both kicking herself for not checking her appearance before returning and desperately trying to shut the rest of the trip out of her mind. They had ultimately managed to help the creature and leave mostly unscathed, but conflict lingered close behind. As much as she tried to evade it, flashes of the aftermath kept seeping back in.

“You absolutely cannot do that ever again,” the Doctor scolded as the TARDIS doors swung shut. Graham and Ryan exchanged uncomfortable glances as the team gathered around the console. Yaz remained at her friend’s side, shoulders squared and ready to fight her on every word.

“It was going to hurt you!” she shrilled.

The Doctor avoided her gaze, furiously shaking her head as she began tinkering with switches on one of the control panels.

“I’m like a lizard, Yaz. My tail will grow back. Yours won’t.”

“Oh, so we should just stand by and watch while you’re torn to pieces, then?”

She chewed on her upper lip and glared at the ceiling until her eyes locked on Yaz. “I never want to see you put yourself in danger for my sake,” she said sternly, “Do you understand? Never.”

“It’s literally in my job description.”

“And it’s in mine to protect you the best I can. You’ve got a family to go home to at the end of the day and I’ll do whatever it takes to see to it that you do.”

“I can make my own choices, Doctor,” Yaz crossed her arms, “And I’ll save people where I see fit.”

As she spoke, a glint of something she hadn’t seen before flickered across the Doctor’s face. There was a tacit shift that seemed to ripple outward and nearly sent all of them stumbling backward. Her voice became so scaldingly frigid that everyone—even the Doctor—struggled to recognize it.

“You’ll let me keep you safe, or you’ll not step through these doors again.”

Yaz’s eyes widened at the threat.

“But—”

“No,” she snapped, “I told you lot I couldn’t always keep you safe, but you at least have to let me try. You stay behind me. At all times. Or you can’t stay at all.”

“What about—“

“Drop it, Yaz.”

“But Doctor—”

“ENOUGH!”

Her voice echoed through the room until it fell unbearably quiet, with nothing but the dismal hum rising from the heart of the ship staining the air. Yaz relented, lips trembling in shock as she dropped her gaze and tugged awkwardly at her sleeve. Ryan and Graham looked restlessly between each other and the women, suffocated by the stillness.

The Doctor stood rigid, mouth tight as her chest heaved, each breath a violent wave amidst a storm. Her eyes flitted rapidly around the room, disoriented by her own words. She shot one last glance at Yaz before turning back to the console, making every attempt to ignore the hurt pooling in her friend’s face.

“Think we best try to get back to Sheffield again,” she mumbled.

“W—Wait. I was supposed to pick up bread. Never did,” Yaz stammered.

“I’ll find coordinates for the nearest shop and drop you off after.” She began tapping away at the navigation screen, each movement mechanic and hollow; a glaring contradiction to the animated woman they’d come to know.

“And I—I still don’t know how to explain you to my mum...”

“Well, she’s the Doc, right? Tell your mum she worked with Grace,” Graham chimed in, taking a cautious step forward, “Chemo nurse... Doctor... Makes enough sense. You could’ve met at her funeral.”

Yaz nodded swiftly, fighting a losing battle against the tears threatening to race down her cheeks. Graham offered a warm smile that somehow managed to say everything she needed to hear in a single look and she felt her chest flood with gratitude. That thoughtful old man. They really didn’t deserve him.

Following his grandad’s lead, Ryan sucked in a deep breath and padded over in between the women, resting his hands on their shoulders.

“I think we’ll all feel better after we get some proper rest,” he added, “Let’s just focus on getting back, yeah?” He gave Yaz’s shoulder an extra squeeze, his eyes unbelievably soft with understanding. Sweet, compassionate Ryan. They didn’t deserve that boy either.

“Right,” the Doctor said as she gripped the dematerialisation lever, “Hold tight, gang. I’ll have you home in a few.”

Yaz tossed onto her back again and groaned as the scene replayed on a loop in her mind. She wished she could bury herself under her blankets and just evaporate, letting all the awful events from the week trickle away into nothing.

Longing for a distraction, she raised an arm and pretended to trace the glow in the dark stars she’d plastered on her ceiling when she was younger. She wasn’t much different back then, just a tinier version of her stubbornly independent self. So stubborn, in fact, that she insisted on tucking herself into bed every night. This was to her dad’s disappointment, seeing as he quite cherished that ritual with her, so they reached a compromise.

It became a new ritual in and of itself: her dad standing in the doorway, blowing her a kiss before turning off the lights. They eventually fell out of the habit as she got older, but when he found out about how Izzy Flint was treating her, he picked it up again for another year or so.

Yaz loved nestling into her bed and anticipating the magical moment her room went dark and the ceiling transformed into the night sky. She would squeeze one eye shut and let her vision fall out of focus, tricking herself to believe she was floating among the stars. Their glow only lasted for a few minutes, but they served as a precious constant during a time plagued by uncertainty—a comfort she found herself returning to on her own even in recent years. How freeing it was to know that, for a fleeting moment, she could be somewhere else.

Achingly defeated by the week, she felt herself slowly sink into streams of empty and calm only to be yanked back into the world by another pang of guilt. It was all too much, until she finally drifted off and settled into a peaceful void.

And then, it was nothing at all.

Chapter Text

Pages quietly scraped against each other as Najia curled up with a book on one of the dark blue sofas in the sitting room. It was half ten and Hakim was at work while Sonya had disappeared with her friends for the day. Her foot twitched underneath her as she read, feeling restless now that her job at the Robertson hotel had fallen through. There was a sense of freedom in not working, but the freedom itself was almost a burden. She’d become so seasoned to staying busy that each minute she spent sitting with herself bordered on agonizing—smudged by guilt as if it were a waste.

Though she did her best to lessen the crushing static of each moment, her efforts only got her so far. She continued to drag her eyes through the words in front of her but kept having to retrace her steps as her focus faded. This cycle went on for longer than she could stand until it was finally broken by sluggish steps emerging from the hallway.

“How was your shift, love?” She perked up, tilting her head back to catch a skewed glimpse of her daughter as she neared. Yaz plopped down beside her and sighed before reciting a phrase that made Najia’s heart sink.

“It was...a lot...”

The words were like a siren. It was a code they’d invented during the era of Izzy Flint, and one she knew all too well. She set the book aside looked up to find Yaz’s eyes lost ahead of her, the skin underneath swollen and tinged with fatigue. Najia blinked through the realization, unable to filter her concern.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Yaz murmured, “but, Mum?”

“Yes?”

“I love you,” her voice begged for reprieve as she shifted to face her, “And I’m sorry for last night.”

“Come here, Yasmin.” Najia hummed, pulling her into a tight hug and planting a soft kiss in her hair. “I love you too. And I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t push. I believe you.”

Yaz let out a small, relieved breath she hadn’t realized she was even holding in. She sank into the embrace, basking in her mother’s ability to pull so much back into place with a single touch. They stayed this way for longer than either of them realized, suspended in a moment of reassurance neither of them knew they needed until they were inside of it.

When they parted, Najia fell into routine and walked to the kitchen while Yaz stayed put and waited for her to return. She heard the clank of a kettle against the stove as she pulled out her phone, checking it quickly before stuffing it back into her pocket.

“Adventure or comedy?” Her mum asked as she neared again.

“Think we’ve had enough adventure for one week,” she joked, “Comedy. Definitely.”

Without hesitation, Najia turned on the telly and Yaz scrolled through films until she settled on one. These were familiar motions they ran through frequently during her year from Hell with Izzy. Whenever Yaz came home from a particularly unpleasant day—which was most days—they simply turned their minds off and turned the telly on. They sometimes talked, though Yaz rarely ever felt the need to divulge every detail of her troubles. For the most part, she sat quietly, feeling that her mother simply knowing they existed was comfort enough.

After the kettle whistled, Najia littered the coffee table with dishes and food before settling back onto the sofa. As the film played, Yaz’s eyes wandered from the screen down to her mother’s favorite teapot resting on the table. It was a birthday gift that she and Sonya had given her back in secondary. It was well-worn at this point and was chipped on the bottom, right where the earthy brown glaze met the exposed bisque.

“I can’t believe you still have that thing.”

Najia followed her gaze and smirked, “Yup. Don’t plan on getting rid of it, either.”

“It’s broken. I didn’t even realize it until after we bought it.”

“Might be a bit different, but it’s still a teapot. Works just as well as any other,” she said, eyeing the chip as she picked it up to pour more tea, “Do you remember what you said when you gave it to me?”

“They don’t accept returns, so I hope you like it, ‘cause you’re stuck with it,” Yaz recited. They leaned into each other and giggled at the memory.

“Always so honest, you are.”

Yaz offered a playful shrug. “Well, someone’s got to be.”

There was a beat as the mention of truth lingered. She could hear the dreaded question on the edge of her mother’s lips and braced herself. But when Najia stayed quiet, Yaz relaxed and nuzzled against her shoulder, swaddled by the sweet scent of jasmine drifting from her skin. The film began to blur as she found herself slipping in and out of consciousness. A sense of calm washed over her just being near her mother, her presence like a soothing lullaby that never lost its touch. Within minutes, her mind saw nothing but darkness and her heart knew nothing but safety.

“The film’s over, love,” crooned a familiar voice in the distance. A deep breath scraped against Yaz’s throat as the room came back into focus.

“Oops,” she mumbled drowsily as she raised her head.

“Enough adventure is right, you were knackered,” she said, tucking stray strands of hair behind her daughter’s ears, “Glad you got some rest, though.”

Her eyes held Yaz’s tenderly for a moment until she turned and began tidying up the remnants of tea and food on the table. Yaz continued to stay put on the sofa, jaded and fighting her drooping eyelids with each blink.

“I’ve got to run a few errands before your dad gets home,” Najia said as she gathered up her belongings, “Want to tag along?”

“Not today,” she yawned.

“You’ll be alright on your own?”

She questioned her daughter’s nod with a dip of her chin and twitch of her brow.

“I will, really,” Yaz assured.

“Well,” she fumbled through a cluttered drawer and clinked two small bottles of peppermint and tea tree oil down on the table, “Keep these close. Just in case more of those nasty spiders turn up.”

Yaz chuckled under her breath as her mother winked.

“I’ll be back soon,” Najia said, keys jingling in her hand as she leaned over to place one last kiss on her cheek.

“Be here when you do.”

After her steps faded and the door snapped shut, Yaz kneaded her eyes and slumped onto her back. Unsure of what else to do, she lay wordlessly for a while before resorting to checking her phone once more.

Nothing.

She wasn’t entirely sure what she was expecting, but part of her hoped to see Ryan or Graham’s name light up each time she unlocked it. When the Doctor dropped them off, they hadn’t discussed when she would next stop by, or if there would even be a next time, for that matter. Regret tugged on her chest at the thought of those being their final moments together. She sighed, scrolling aimlessly through her messages until finally pulling up the last text Ryan sent before they left:

we wanna go with her. you down?

Yaz had wasted no time in responding:

Already on my way.

She read the words over and over, reliving a moment that happened just last night but also several days ago and found it hard to wrap her brain around how fixed and flexible time could be at once. It was a feeling she experienced regularly within the past week, but she marveled at every instance that forced her to reconsider everything she thought she knew.

Yearning to hear from someone—anyone—who might understand, she typed out another message to Ryan:

heard anything?

Before she could press send, delicate knocks at the door pulled Yaz from her phone. Her eyes narrowed as she walked toward the entrance. Probably another parcel or something, she thought. She tugged awkwardly at her shirt and ran her hands through her hair, doing her best to groom her undoubtedly unkempt appearance before turning the doorknob.

As it opened, she was met with familiar hazel eyes that stopped her in her tracks. Blonde hair gracefully framed the pale face of the woman standing before her. Yaz blinked as she recognized the unmistakable hints of rainbow and varying shades of blue in her shirt and trousers, all sandwiched between a long grey coat and weathered brown boots.

They stood frozen at the sight of one another before a single word flew from Yaz’s lips.

“Doctor?”

Chapter Text

The Doctor’s chest was vacuum tight; her skin dipping into her neck as if all the air had been sucked out. She stood with her hands balled into fists at her sides, white knuckles squirming as nails dug into her palms.

“Hi, Yaz…” she began, “Sorry to drop in like this, but d’you want to come for tea at mine?” Nervous eyes glanced past Yaz as her words became more hushed. “Thought maybe we should talk.”

“Oh. Um. Wanna just come in? Everyone’s out,” she asked, stepping aside and gesturing toward the hallway. The Doctor stilled for a moment as their gazes locked. Eventually, she nodded and crossed into the space, letting her friend lead her silently to the sofa.

The Doctor sat mindlessly fidgeting with the hem of her coat while Yaz put the kettle on. She looked around the room and continued to take in all the tiny gems scattered around the space. The room was sleek and modern but was peppered with history everywhere her eyes landed. Each surface was stuffed with literature, framed photographs, artwork, and seemingly random knick knacks. It was an eclectic collection of organized clutter, but everything felt intentional. Humans were like that, she’d learned; messy but brimming with purpose in the most fascinating ways. She memorized as many objects as she could, knowing she would want to ask Yaz about each of them when the fog between them cleared up.

Well, hopefully cleared up.

Shuffles against the concrete floor caught her attention as Yaz neared and set two steaming mugs down on the table. The Doctor watched her friend slump beside her on the sofa, making a point to keep a cautious distance. The negative space was deafening, but she tried to ignore it as she gnawed at her lip and reached for her tea.

“Thanks,” she said, awkwardly holding it up before taking a sip. Yaz could only manage a vacant nod in response. Each censored movement sliced through the Doctor, leaving gashes of guilt in their wake. The woman beside her was a muted echo of the vibrant soul she’d come to know, and she felt culpable. Before she could find the right words, she heard a small sniffle and watched Yaz turn away, attempting to hide as she wiped her thumb across her cheek.

“Yaz?” the Doctor stammered, instinctively stretching out her hand but jerking it back before she could reach her, “Are—are you alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Just...give me a minute…”

Despite her efforts, tears continued to trickle down. Yaz tried so desperately to rein them in, but she could feel every inch of the wall she’d built whittle away with each labored breath.

“Is it ‘cause I’m here? I didn’t mean to… I can leave if you need—“

“No,” Yaz interrupted, finally turning to face her completely, “It’s not you. I mean, not completely. It’s just...so much happened this week. First Grace, then all those close calls, and then Ollie…”

“Ollie…?”

“A boy I met on my shift last night.”

“I thought you had the night off?”

“Perks of the job.” She shrugged blankly.

“So, what happened...?”

Yaz told her Ollie’s story, unloading every aching detail about the night. About the guilt in his eyes and jagged tufts of hair. About the love and the hurt that somehow sprouted from the same soil. About Neptune and Saturn and the all the invisible wounds in between. Her voice grew strained and she slowly folded into herself, having to pause every so often as she hiccuped fragmented breaths.

The Doctor looked on helplessly. Yaz, who was usually so steady and composed, was unraveling before her. At a complete loss for what to do, she reluctantly slid closer and hovered her hand over her nearest shoulder. Before she knew it, Yaz was leaning into her, whimpering as tears dampened her coat. The Doctor abandoned all hesitance and pulled her into a hug so tight, it promised to keep Yaz from breaking apart as long as she stayed inside of it.

“I know I did the right thing,” she said with a quiver, “but it doesn’t feel like it. I became an officer because I wanted to do good in the world, but sometimes I wonder how much good I’m actually doing, y’know?”

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

Though Yaz was unsure of exactly how she understood, the weight behind her eyes told her that the Doctor may just be the only person who truly did. She had a way of doing that; radiating comfort and understanding that bathed Yaz in a light she’d never known. The woman had a warmth to her. Sometimes it was a spark sizzling with every movement and sometimes it was a gentle, crackling flame. But it was always there—even in her coldest moments.

Even last night.

Guilt flooded Yaz’s chest as her own understanding clicked into place. There was still so much she didn’t know about this woman: where she’d come from, what she’d seen, who she’d been, and everything she’d lost. The bite in her words still stung as they resounded in her ears, but Yaz could finally hear everything the Doctor hadn’t said, too.

As an officer, rules were the structure that routinely framed her life. She knew they were born when lapses revealed them as a necessity. The important ones existed for a reason. There was a warmth nested beneath the numbing cold she saw in the Doctor last night. Of course there was.

No one becomes so adamant about getting you home if everyone before you always made it back.

Yaz knew finding out why wasn’t what mattered in this moment. Realizing the reason existed was all she needed to feel the gravity of the incident. Slowly, she lifted herself from the Doctor’s shoulder. A quick glance to where her head had just been revealed dark splotches seeping into the light grey fabric.

“Sorry,” she muttered. The Doctor followed her eyes down to the damp stains and bunched her face into a puzzled squint.

“You’re apologizing to me? For...that?”

“And for everything else.”

The Doctor responded with an insistent shake of her head. “Yaz, it’s me who needs to apologize. I got away from myself last night and what I did—the way I acted—that’s not who I want to be. I’m sorry,” she said, giving her shoulder a heartfelt squeeze, “I want you on board. I really, truly do.”

Suddenly, the grip disappeared as her hand slipped away.

“But, also… I—I can’t have you taking risks like that on my behalf. I need you safe, Yaz. The universe, well, it just wouldn’t be the same without you in it.”

Her last words chimed in Yaz’s ears and she wanted to wrap herself up in them and stay there forever, but now wasn’t the time. There was still a nagging concern in the back of her mind and she wouldn’t rest properly until it was resolved.

“I know you want us safe, Doctor… but it’s not just you who feels that way. You’re so eager to protect us, I think sometimes you forget someone needs to have your back, too. You can’t keep going off on your own like that. ‘Specially after what happened with Krasko.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” she dismissed, waving her hand to brush it away.

“He. Tried. To. Choke. You.”

“Yeah! Tried! But that’s the thing, he couldn’t.”

There always was a warmth to the Doctor, and sometimes it was a stubborn candle that wouldn’t blow out no matter how hard you tried. Yaz rolled her eyes, growing increasingly impatient and almost annoyed that she needed to spell it out.

“He doesn’t have to kill you to hurt you, you know.”

“It certainly wouldn’t be anything I haven’t seen before,” she deflected as she turned away and leaned back into the sofa, arms crossed. There was a frustrating arrogance in her tone, as if Yaz couldn’t possibly offer up any new and useful information. But it made sense, considering.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Her head snapped back to Yaz, eyes reaching around the room in search of an answer she couldn’t see.

“Get what?”

“You’re a woman. You might not have been safe as a man, but now...and especially when we go back...”

The Doctor’s face grew soft as realization painted it. Yaz’s voice had become so small and narrow, it almost broke her.

“Oh,” she managed under her breath as her ignorance slapped her in the face.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t even think…I didn’t even think to think...”

Yaz collected herself in a deep breath. “There’s a lot we have to think about that we shouldn’t. I know you’re not used to it, but that’s why we stick together. Look out for each other, in case no one else does,” she paused, taking the woman’s hand in hers, “Whatever happens out there, Doctor, I’m with you.”

Yaz held her gaze so sincerely, so intently, she quite literally swallowed all sense of pride and nobility at the sight. She humbled her, that girl. Stripped away everything she had been and fueled everything she could become; taking lifetimes of turbulence and putting them to rest with a single, shining look. No matter where they were or the hour, stars she’d never seen before gleamed in her eyes, and it made the Doctor feel infinitely small and vast and vital all at once.

There were many things in the cosmos she believed herself undeserving of, and right now, Yaz and everything that accompanied her presence topped that list.

This was territory that new and strange and honestly, she wasn’t very accustomed to not winning arguments. But she wasn’t losing this one either, and neither was Yaz. It wasn’t even a proper argument, really. It was a conversation and it felt like a shared breath of fresh air. They hadn’t landed on any particular solution, but they both seemed content to just float along together openly and honestly—a sigh of relief now that what needed to be known was known.

And relief was exactly what washed over both of them as Yaz pulled her into another embrace. They stayed like this for a while, almost as if it were a competition to see who would break away first. The Doctor lost as she leaned back, but Yaz’s grasp kept her from straying. She melted back into her touch and stayed there for as long as she was wanted. Centuries upon centuries of wonders had been burned into the Doctor’s mind, but few scorched her hearts like a hug that wasn’t ready to end.

They resurfaced from each other’s arms anew, and the Doctor was eager to resume where they had left off.

“You never did give me a proper tour, y’know,” she said, curiosity tugging at her thoughts as she skimmed the room.

“Oh. Uh, sure. There’s not much else, but I can show you the rest.”

They both hopped up from the sofa and Yaz began making her way toward the hallway. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she could sense the Doctor’s absence and turned to find that she had wandered into the kitchen and was studying the back wall. Yaz laughed under her breath as she trailed behind and paused at her side.

“What’s this?” the Doctor asked, staring up at a large frame filled with patterned squares and rectangles of varying sizes stitched together. Deep, earthy tones of red, orange, yellow, and brown had been woven into the designs and the Doctor could tell at first glance that it was handmade. It was a stark contrast to the modern space it resided in; the patterns warped and stretched to connect the patches and she was fairly certain there wasn’t a straight line in the entire thing, but it felt all the more special as a result.

“It was a blanket we made for my dad’s mum when she got sick a few years ago,” Yaz explained, “We all made different patches and my nani stitched it together for her. After she passed, each of her kids got a piece of it instead of fighting over who got the whole thing. We put them in frames so they would last.”

“That’s very clever.”

“It was Sonya’s idea, actually. One of the few good ones she’s ever had,” Yaz joked.

“Your family seems quite lovely,” she said as she brought a hand up to trace the fabric, mesmerized by the shapes.

“They are, I mean, at least half the time. They drive me completely mad the other half. But I’m lucky to have them, in the end. I know I am.”

“They’re lucky to have you, too,” the Doctor said, grinning as she turned back to her. Yaz returned a timid smile before taking her hand to lead her around the rest of the flat. There truly wasn’t much left to show, so Yaz showed her the bathroom and two other bedrooms before pausing in front of the closed door that led to her’s.

“It’s, uh, pretty messy… Long week, y’know? Maybe I should go in and tidy up first,” she said reluctantly.

“Oh, nonsense! You should see the TARDIS on a bad day,” the Doctor’s eyes grew wide as she leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t ever tell her I said that, though.”

Yaz chuckled, finally conceding as she swung the door open and led her inside. The Doctor’s mouth fell agape as she stepped in. Yaz was right, it was messy, but the Doctor didn’t seem to care as she wordlessly marveled at every inch of the space. A violet duvet tangled in light grey sheets with tiny specs of floral patterns engulfed her bed and a fuzzy amber blanket spilled off of one side. Mismatched throw pillows had been tossed to the ground and lay on top of geometric dhurrie rug in the center of the room. Wrinkled clothes littered the concrete floor and various mementos, trinkets, and photographs were strewn throughout each surface and wall.

“Can I?” the Doctor asked, eyeing the bed as she neared it. Yaz nodded awkwardly as the Doctor flung herself sideways onto the mattress. Yaz used this opportunity to scoop up the timeworn stuffed rabbit off her end table in the hopes of burying it under something before it was noticed.

“Stars?” the Doctor blurted out, oblivious to her friend’s movements as she studied the ceiling.

Yaz felt warm blood rush to her cheeks and attempted to shrug it off. “Hung them when I was younger,” she said shyly, “Never did take ‘em down.”

“Good!” she beamed, “They’re brilliant!”

Yaz’s lips curled into a relieved smile as she set the rabbit down in its original spot and plopped onto the bed beside her. The Doctor lay in a thoughtful silence, chewing on the inside of her lip before finally rolling on her side toward Yaz.

“Can I ask just one more thing?”

“Always,” Yaz said as she turned to face her.

“When your mum asked if we were seeing each other, did she mean what I think she meant?”

Yaz’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I suppose that depends. What do you think she meant?” she asked coolly.

“Dating? Humans still call it that, right? Honestly, you change the words so often, it’s hard to keep up.”

The puzzled look on the Doctor’s face as Yaz chuckled told her this probably wasn’t the best time for laughter, so she did her best to stifle it. “Yeah, that’s what she meant. She asked Ryan and I the same, too.”

“Oh. Are you...?” the Doctor squeaked, trying to quiet the urgent curiosity in her face, though subtlety wasn’t her strong suit. Yaz noticed and promptly shook her head.

“Definitely not. Think we fancied each other a bit back in primary, but that really just meant sharing our crisps at lunch. He’s more like a brother now. He can get his own crisps,” she joked.

The Doctor grinned at her answer, but faltered as Yaz’s eyes grew distant and sank into dread.

“She did look happier about the idea of me and him than me and you, though,” she murmured, her voice narrow and quiet again.

“Is that something you’re worried about?”

The silence answered for Yaz as she let out a long, shaky breath and her trembling eyes found the Doctor’s once more. The words were there, clawing their way up and boiling on her tongue, but they weren’t ready. Not yet.

“Well,” the Doctor said, her face soft with understanding as she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “Whatever happens, I’m with you.”

And maybe the words weren’t even needed, because whatever this was, whatever they were—both of them were fairly certain all of it was already happening.

Chapter Text

Yaz was relieved to be back aboard the TARDIS now; back to the magic and chaos of jumping between time and place and helping everyone they bumped into along the way. Though she never drank, she felt like she could chase this uninhibited existence until the end of time itself. It was intoxicating, having the entire universe at her fingertips—everything that ever was and is and could be all at once—but she was beginning to realize that so many of its wonders were synonymous with suffering.

The gunshot kept echoing and echoing in Yaz’s ears and she was convinced it was the only sound she would ever know from this point on. It felt like Prem’s face has been carved onto the inside of her eyelids, relentless as she tried to mute her surroundings with each long blink. It shouldn’t have this kind of power over her, Yaz knew that. In fact, it was one of the first points Ramesh had stressed during her first week on the job.

“No one wants to hear it, but you can’t save everyone. And you’d do well to remember that after a long day.”

It was a truth she’d always listened to, one she pounded into her brain over and over until it became part of her. But as the blast from the rifle hacked through the air, she realized the words never held any proper meaning until today. She really couldn’t save everyone. She saw that now.

Sometimes there were victories and sometimes there was...this…

She regretted ever having pushed the Doctor into taking them to the Punjab. It was a well-intentioned idea, nipping back in time to see her nani, but she certainly hadn’t meant to crash her wedding. How was she meant to know Umbreen had been married more than once? The answer was simple: she couldn’t have. And quite frankly, it wasn’t her right. Now that she did know, each breath felt drenched in guilt and she was suffocating under the weight of it all.

None of it was fair. None of it was right. Prem hadn’t even existed to her before today and now, he was part of her family, part of her history. He was real and then he was gone, while—for some reason—she was still here.

Yaz tried her best not to collapse as she dragged the weight of her body through the weathered blue doors of the TARDIS. Her mind was screaming to slam them shut behind her, but instead, she forced herself to close them with a delicate click. It was the very least she could do, she thought. Tenderness felt like something she owed the world in the face of violence that stained so many lives. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And if there was one thing she’d learned in her line of work, it was that something was always better than nothing on days that tried to paint you powerless.

She watched Ryan and Graham file in ahead of her like a small funeral procession. They gathered by one of the crystal arches around the console while Yaz’s legs hauled her over to the edge of the room. She couldn’t stomach the thought of standing there with them. Truthfully, she didn’t feel like she deserved to be standing at all, but she had precisely two goals until she could be left alone: stay upright and keep quiet. If she couldn’t, her sorrow would surely become snow rolling down the side of a mountain, and that simply wasn’t an option at the present.

As Yaz drifted, the Doctor exchanged a somber, knowing glance with the boys. She equipped herself with a deep breath and buried her hands in the pockets of her trousers before slowly orbiting the console and lumbering over to her. She placed herself across from her; close enough to assure her presence but enough distance to assuage any discomfort the proximity might cause.

Yaz’s head had been turned away as she silently mulled over the day’s events, but the scuffs of the Doctor’s boots against the metal floor pulled her from her mind. Her gaze danced around for a moment before settling on the Doctor’s eyeline, her expression blank with defeat as if to admit, “You were right.” The crystals and walls bathed her dark skin in diverging light, illuminating half of her face in a warm, soothing glow while the other half reflected a cold tinge of blue.

“She made it out, right?” Yaz asked, almost begging for reassurance, “She got to Lahore. She lived.”

“She made it,” the Doctor choked out, barely a whisper as she tried to focus past heavy rhythm of her hearts drumming in her ears.

Silence hung in the air as Yaz dropped her gaze to the brown suns dyed onto the skin of her palms. She stood motionless, thinking about all the intangible things that humans were expected to hold; concepts and feelings so vast, they could never fit inside a dimensionally transcendental phone box, let alone her own hands.

When she lifted her eyes again, the Doctor’s own flickered between them, grief weighing her lips into a straight line as she watched mournful beads drip down Yaz’s cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to pull her into the safety of her arms, but she could feel the boys’ stares dissecting them in the distance; a glaring reminder of the worry looming over Yaz. She knew the implications now, so she settled for holding her gaze with all the quiet comfort she could muster.

Yaz thanked her with a deep breath, her chest deflating slowly as the gunshot continued to ricochet through every corner of her mind. Her eyes felt foggy; lids heavy with remorse as everything beyond the thoughtful figure in front of her was lost in a haze. The pair stayed like this for a little while longer, finding that simply existing in the still presence of one another was healing in a very distinct way that words failed to be.

The moment ended when a reluctant hand found its place on Yaz’s shoulder and spurred a small jolt. She looked up to find that Ryan had somehow made his way across the room unnoticed, with Graham trailing closely behind. His face was taut with the same grim expression he wore after Grace’s death, the umber skin on his jawline flexing as he tried to bury his own residual grief. He had an intimate relationship with loss, one that only kept accumulating as the years went on: first, the heart attack that took his mum, then his dad retreating, and now, he’d lost his nan, too. Yaz couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as she struggled to keep more tears from falling in front of him. She hardly knew Prem. It certainly wasn’t the same.

But Ryan could hear Grace’s voice ghosting his ears, reminding him that someone else’s sadness was a companion, not a rival. So he reached to pull her close, pausing for a moment to let her stop him, if she wanted, before fastening his arms steadily around her shoulders. She leaned into him, plastering her eyes shut as her tears pooled in the crook of his neck. Her breaths teetered between long and short as she tried to ground herself in his grasp. The boy smelled like a soft breeze laced with whiffs of lavender and the fluffy crumb of freshly baked bread, and she found herself extremely grateful for the quiet understanding he somehow always managed to extend.

Without lifting her head, Yaz felt Graham’s arms drape over them, like a gentle shield between them and the world. She could recognize him anywhere, that man, always radiating the soothing quaintness of aged spices, dusty piano keys, and chamomile tea.

And finally, she heard the signature scuff of old boots once more, and felt the Doctor’s hand find her waist as she settled into the open side of the embrace. The woman carried with her all the harshness of charred wood mixed with the lasting, honeyed comfort of vanilla; a crooning paradox that rang through every one of Yaz’s senses.

She relaxed beneath the refuge surrounding her. All of their distinct comforts fused together, creating a new one that felt oddly familiar, though she found it hard to discern exactly why. It was almost like walking through your doors for the first time after a long holiday and learning all at once what home smells like.

Home.

That’s how it was beginning to feel—suspended between the stars in this little blue box, with three vastly different beings who somehow managed to nestle their way into the same chamber of her heart and soothe the aches that ailed her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, though she was sure they had heard the words before they ever left her lips.