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Three— two— one— Yaz is standing, stock-still, on a pedestal— Swarm’s finger twitches— Yaz watches in horror as the Doctor jumps, pulling Dan with her— and then—
Yaz is on a date. She doesn’t remember how she got here, but she recognizes the place: it’s in Sheffield, a little cafe downtown. She came here with the Doctor once, and Ryan and Graham. They had a lovely lunch before setting off on their next adventure.
The Doctor— the Doctor. Yaz remembers, fleetingly, the Doctor’s leap, Swarm’s point— is this what all of time coursing through her feels like? Has the Doctor done something to make it more bearable? Yaz looks at the woman sitting across from her. For a moment, she can't quite place her, but then she remembers: Jolene being assigned Yaz's partner on the force. The two of them getting closer through their work. Getting coffee together before work. Lingering after. Jolene finally asking her out one day. It all tumbles into Yaz's head as if it's always been there. She blinks. She could swear that a second ago, she was twenty-two, standing in a strange space station. But that can’t be right. She’s twenty-five. She’s been back in Sheffield for three years now. She remembers the three years. She’s moved up in the force, made new friends, gone new places. She hasn't seen the Doctor in ages. But— something is off.
“You all right?”
Yaz jumps. Why was she thinking about the Doctor? She’s not with the Doctor anymore. She hasn’t seen the Doctor in years. She’s here, at a restaurant, with Jolene, who’s looking at her with mild concern on her face. Yaz must have zoned out.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, stabbing at her salad with a fork. “Sorry. Just tired, I expect.”
“Long week?” Jolene asks sympathetically.
Yaz nods. And then she blinks, and suddenly it’s dark and she’s standing outside her building, Jolene next to her. It’s dark out. For a second, she thinks something is wrong— didn’t they take Jolene’s car to the restaurant? Hadn’t Jolene picked her up outside of the flat she moved into two years ago, and hadn’t Yaz gotten Jolene’s text and rushed out to greet her, sliding into the passenger seat? She must have misremembered. She looks at Jolene next to her and speaks over her nerves to ask, “D’you want to come up for a drink?”
“I’d love to.” Jolene takes her hand, and Yaz feels something warm and hesitant in her chest.
And then she blinks, and suddenly she’s sitting next to Jolene on the sofa in her living room, a drink in her hand and Jolene’s arms around her shoulders. She looks around, trying to remember walking up the stairs, pouring the drink, sitting down on the sofa… but she doesn’t. She looks at Jolene, who’s looking at her.
“Can I kiss you?” Yaz blurts. The moment seems right, after all— they’re all nice and cozy in Yaz’s flat after a successful date. There’s not exactly a better moment.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Jolene says with a smile.
All of a sudden, Yaz is nervous. She’s kissed people before, of course; she’s twenty-five, for goodness sake. But it's been a while, and something still feels off. That's to be expected, she decides. She really doesn’t want to mess things up with Jolene. She sets down her drink on the end table, already feeling her palms starting to sweat. She turns towards Jolene, who is still smiling at her, and she leans in.
There’s something magical about a first kiss. Jolene’s lips moving against Yaz’s, pulling Yaz closer, Yaz shifting to face Jolene fully, resting a hand on Jolene’s waist, Jolene’s hair brushing against Yaz’s cheek, and Yaz pulls her closer, kissing her harder, and Jolene is kissing her back— until she realizes. Something's not right. Jolene’s hair is buzzed close to her head; it can't be touching Yaz's cheek. Frowning, Yaz opens her eyes to see— pale skin? That’s not right either. Jolene’s skin is a deep, dark brown. And her eyes are definitely not the hazel Yaz is looking at now. But Yaz would know those hazel eyes anywhere. She jumps back.
“ Doctor? ” she yelps. “What are you—”
And then it’s Jolene again, with the same buzzed hair and dark brown skin as always.
“Yaz?” she asks. “Are you all right?”
Yaz looks around. The Doctor is nowhere to be seen.
“Yeah, sorry,” she says. “I thought I saw something.” She shakes her head. “Sorry.”
Jolene gives Yaz a wary look, but when Yaz leans back in she doesn’t protest. She lets Yaz kiss her, threading a hand through Yaz’s hair, and Yaz lets herself get lost in the moment again, thinking about nothing but Jolene’s breath against hers, the softness of Jolene’s lips. This time, Yaz is on alert, and when the change happens, she feels it immediately: the Doctor’s face shape is different, she realizes, her jaw wider, her cheekbones lower. Her lips are still soft, of course— softer than Yaz would’ve expected. Not that Yaz has thought about it. She jerks back.
“ Doctor! ”
“Yaz!” The Doctor’s voice is high-pitched and desperate. “I’ve been trying to get through—”
And then she’s gone, replaced with Jolene again.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” Jolene asks. “You seem kind of out of it tonight.”
Yaz tries for a smile. “Just nervous, I suppose.”
“If you say so.” Jolene still looks skeptical. “You’re sure you’re ready for this?”
“‘Course I’m ready!” Yaz insists. “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready.” She’s not sure Jolene is convinced, but when she leans forward again, Jolene meets her in the middle, so she can’t have screwed over her chances that badly. She rests her hand on Jolene's waist again, feeling Jolene's hand against her cheek— until she feels Jolene shift and change into the Doctor again. She snaps back, pressing her lips together and ignoring that the Doctor tastes distinctly like custard creams.
“Seriously?” she groans. “C’mon, Doctor, I was getting somewhere here!”
The Doctor ignores her. “Yaz, listen,” she says, staring Yaz down with characteristic focus. “I’ve hidden you in your own time stream. I’m working on getting everything back in order. Stay put.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Yaz asks. Suddenly it comes back to her: the Mouri and the Doctor leaping onto the pedestal, Swarm snapping his fingers. She blinks, disoriented. It’s been three years— but it’s also been three minutes. And now the Doctor is here, crashing Yaz’s date. “Doctor, tell me what’s happening.”
“Not sure how much time I have. I’m spreading myself thin.” The Doctor leans forward, and then she’s Jolene again.
“Yaz, what—”
But then Jolene flickers, and the Doctor is back.
“Sorry, too much going on.” She stands up, pushing a hand through her hair. “Too many time streams happening all at once. Can’t be everywhere, can I? It’s been tough to get through to you, too. Harder than the others.” She stops and looks right at Yaz. “Something is wrong with your time stream.”
“My time stream?” Yaz shakes her head in disbelief. “What’s wrong with my time stream?”
“Don’t know yet.” The Doctor tilts her head to one side, then the other. Yaz tries not to look at her lips. “Been trying to figure it out, but I’m a bit busy. Got all of time running through my head, you know. Harder than it looks.”
Yaz opens her mouth to reply, but before she can she hears a static noise coming from her TV. It shouldn’t be on— she and Jolene weren’t watching anything— but when she turns she’s met with the glow of flickering black and white dots on the screen. Her TV is secondhand, but it’s not that old. It shouldn’t be staticky like that. Yaz blinks, and the image crystallizes into a statue of a winged figure with hands over its face. She looks at the Doctor, who’s staring down the statue.
“Don’t look away,” the Doctor says, her voice low, her gaze fixed on the TV. “Don’t blink. The angels are messing with your time stream.”
Yaz looks back at the statue— the angel? It’s flickering on the screen.
She blinks.
The angel is right in front of her, arms spread. Its eyes are blank stone. Yaz didn’t see it move. She shrinks back in her seat.
“Yaz!” the Doctor yells. There’s only one thing Yaz can think to do. She grabs the remote off the end table and pushes herself to her feet. It takes two long steps to get around the angel to the television, and then with her back to the screen she shoves the remote through it. She hears it shatter, and the angel disappears, revealing Jolene, staring at her with raised eyebrows.
“Yaz?” she asks.
“Sorry,” Yaz says, rubbing her forehead. How is she supposed to explain this? “I think I’m just tired.” Inwardly, she groans. She’s beginning to think she’s messed up her chances with Jolene.
And then the world falls away.
The light in the Mouri’s chamber hurts her eyes, and she closes them against the light, stumbling. She hears the Doctor’s voice protesting— asking to be sent back into the time streams— that can’t be right. Without even thinking, Yaz rushes to the Doctor’s side, holding her by the shoulders and telling her everything’s okay. Her other time stream already feels like a dream, something she half-remembers… but she can’t shake the feeling of the Doctor’s soft lips on hers, even as the Doctor wrests herself away from Yaz, even as she snaps at Dan. Yaz steps in time with her to pilot the TARDIS, sneaking glances and wondering— what does the Doctor remember? What did she feel? Did she mean to kiss Yaz back?
But the Doctor is clearly in no mood to talk, so once they drop off Vinder Yaz retreats to the steps of the TARDIS, watching the Doctor move around the console room. Part of her wants to ask the Doctor about it, but she knows the Doctor would never tell her what she really thinks. Besides, the whole universe is unraveling; it’s not exactly the time to chase down a crush. Yaz leans back with a sigh. She might never get the answers she wants. But that won’t stop her from wanting.