Chapter Text
When Willow came to, the first thing that met her blurry vision was a searing white light. She whimpered and turned away from it, instinctively curling up the way she did when greeted by the sun every morning.
In response to this came a familiar voice.
"Ah, good. You're awake."
Willow hid her face beneath her arm, head still foggy with sleep. She was blissfully unaware of the events that had occurred before she had apparently passed out, at least for now. However, the fact that she wasn't in her bed began to make itself known, as some aches and pains started to creep through her body and the surface she lay on did nothing to alleviate them. It also occured to her that the light bothering her was, in fact, artificial.
Incredibly reluctantly, she opened her eyes
A bright lamp come into focus, something you might see in a doctor's surgery. She grimaced at it.
"Good morning, Starshine! The earth says 'Hello!'"
Startled, Willow looked around for who was speaking to her, her eyes falling on a masculine figure standing a few feet away from her. She was horribly near sighted, but could see well enough to know what was what for the most part.
It was...
No.
It was someone she hadn't seen in years, and certainly would have never seen again had she not started sticking her nose in places it probably didn't belong. He was dressed a bit strangely, but she would recognise her father anywhere. She simply stared at him, unable to form words.
The man chuckled at her speechlessness before taking something out of his person and placing it on her face. Her glasses. She clutched them gratefully.
Now that she could see properly, she looked him over. He was wearing a purple waistcoat over a white dress shirt paired with a belt and smart black trousers. The suit she always remembered him wearing was nowhere to be seen. The strangest thing, however, was the startling length of his hair. It reached down to his waist in a side swept chocolate cascade and then some. Even her hair unbraided didn't compare. Daddy would never have kept his hair that long, it was unbecoming of a gentleman- or at least, that's what he told her when it grew out past the carefully tamed hairstyle that rested on his neck. This didn't look unbecoming though. Even so, she couldn't help but feel an overwhelming feeling of wrongness.
He patiently allowed her to take him in. "Oh, my hair? Do you like it?"
She nodded, still rendered mute. She was far too polite and British to say "No," anyway.
"You know, dear, I'd never forgive myself as a host if I couldn't stir up a decent conversation." He teased. "Joking aside, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, I think. A bit sore, but fine." She replied, hesitantly.
"To be expected. I did my best to make the extraction as painless as possible, but interdimensional travel will always be a bit painful until we can make it a bit less, ah, crude, for lack of a better word. Not to say that it wasn't a brilliant first attempt, of course! I'm very proud of you!"
She did her best to follow what the man who, evidently, was her father was saying. He was visibly excited, his body language moving with every word. She was overjoyed to see him, to be sure. Despite that, she knew this very situation was quite impossible. Her father had died years ago.
This meant that her life's work had been a success. Which was absolutely astounding. Unfortunately, she was a bit fuzzy on the events that had led up to said success. As if picking up on this, her father spoke once again.
"Do you remember what happened, darling?"
"N-No. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He said warmly, stroking her hair. She flinched involuntarily. Not because she disliked it. But because it had been such a long time since he'd shown her any sort of affection. Because, well, he'd been dead.
"Allow me to elaborate. You built a functioning gateway that led to here, tried to cross it, and got stuck. Our realities aren't very fond of letting their residents leave and will try to close in around you to prevent you from doing so. That's where I come in." He said, placing a hand on his chest proudly. "I saw you trying to come through and helped you out. It isn't glamorous, but I thought one of the tools I use for dust processing would fit around you quite well, and used it to pull you out. Then I brought you here, to my surgery, to look after you."
Willow looked down at herself, trying to remember at least some of this chain of events. Yes... the door. It had been the first one that had been large enough for someone to go through, and stable enough to actually do so. Her previous attempts had been very small, with windows that flickered about discordantly. Despite this, she had tried each time to send something through to the other side, with varying degrees of success. It had all been small things- A few mugs, some of which shattered. One which appeared to have been cleaved cleanly in two. Others disappeared entirely, which she had been immensely pleased with. Once, she tried to send through a spare pen, which broke and splattered ink all over her.
She had been working with her close friend Cyrus, and- Yes, she remembered now, her father, from the other world! She had managed to establish contact with him and had been communicating with him for weeks. But this was not the man she had been speaking to.
"Um, pardon me, er... Sir?" She didn't really know what to call him. She knew he was a professor, but she couldn't bring herself to call him that, and she wasn't ready to refer to him as her father. She settled lamely on 'sir.'
"Forgive me, but you don't quite look like my father. I've been speaking to him, and he doesn't look like you."
His eyes flashed, expression hardening before quickly dissipating back into a friendly demeanour. "Oh, please don't call me "Sir," darling, I simply won't have that. We're family, after all!" he said cheerfully. "If you absolutely must, I will permit you to call me by my title, Dr. Sycamore. I would rather you didn't, though."
He quickly looked through a leatherbound notebook that had been laying on a desk in the corner of the room, jotted some things down, then snapped it closed. "Since I'm satisfied with your recovery, why don't we continue this chat over some tea? I'll have Raymond prepare something special."