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It starts with a dream.
Long after Yaz and Dan have gone to bed, but hours before they will wake, the Doctor takes a micronap on the mattress in the console room. She just hasn’t gotten around to removing it, is all. It’s not like she needs it there. After all, she has her own bedroom that she could very well be using right now.
A bedroom full of memories of people and places that are long since gone, just like one day soon Yaz and Dan will be, and herself—
No, her bedroom is fine.
The mattress in the console room is just convenient.
But even in her micronaps, she dreams. Tonight it’s flashes of two vases standing on pedestals in front of what may or may not be the original devil. An impossible choice. Let the devil out, or sacrifice a friend?
She sacrifices the friend.
The Doctor wakes with a gasp. She hasn’t had that particular dream in a long time. It’s disorienting. This is why I hate naps, she thinks. But she promised Yaz she would try. According to Yaz, lack of sleep results in a mardy Doctor, and the Doctor has promised to be better.
Carefully, the Doctor straightens out the blankets on the mattress to make it look like no one slept there. She’s not in the mood to explain to Yaz why she won’t just use her bedroom. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
—
Until it’s not.
The Doctor is standing on the beach with Dan, eating ice cream, when it happens. Yaz is running along the edge of the water, collecting shells.
The Doctor’s ice cream falls to the ground.
“Your ice cream!” says Dan, alarmed.
But the Doctor barely hears him. She sees something—a mirage? A vision? A hologram?
But it can’t be. It’s not possible.
Unless it is?
“What’s wrong?” Yaz is in front of her suddenly, looking between the Doctor and the spot she’s looking at—empty now.
“I thought I saw something,” the Doctor murmurs, trying to see past Yaz. There’s nothing there.
“What was it?”
“Nothing, apparently.”
Yaz looks doubtful. “Are you sleeping enough? Drinking enough water? Are you too hot?” Yaz reaches up to feel the Doctor’s forehead.
“I’m fine,” the Doctor snaps, brushing Yaz’s hand away. She sighs. “I’m sorry. I did sleep last night. I really am fine, I promise.”
Yaz looks at her for a long moment. “Okay,” she says finally.
The rest of the visit passes without incident. Aside from the giant sea monster, of course. But that’s to be expected.
—
The next time the Doctor takes a micronap, it’s the same dream again. And the time after that.
She stops sleeping.
She sees her more, now. Flashes in the corners of her vision. Some memories, some not. She doesn’t know why. Is she dying? Is this what Time meant?
And then, one day, it happens.
The Doctor is standing in the console room, talking to Yaz and Dan about where they’ll visit next, when the universe collides into her. She gasps as her eyes momentarily fill with gold.
Something has changed.
“Echoes before the storm,” she murmurs, putting the pieces together.
“What happened? Are you alright?” asks Yaz.
The Doctor blinks the gold away. “I’m fantastic,” she says. “Something big just happened—good big, I hope—and I need to drop you both off for a mo’ so I can go check it out.”
“Okay,” says Dan.
“No,” says Yaz.
The Doctor turns to Yaz. “I’m going to come back,” she says. “I promise.”
Yaz shakes her head. “Whatever you’re doing, we’re in this together. I’m going to help you.”
The Doctor bites her lip, debating whether to fight Yaz on this. On the one hand, it could be dangerous. But on the other hand… she doesn’t really want to be alone.
“I could also—” Dan starts, but Yaz gives him a look. “I could go home for a bit,” Dan amends.
“Okay,” says the Doctor. She pilots to Liverpool.
—
The Doctor doesn’t quite explain the situation to Yaz. It’s not that she doesn’t want Yaz to know, or that it would be too painful to talk about—although it might be, honestly—it’s just that if she says it to Yaz, it feels like she’s really getting her hopes up. And she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Because the universe has never been particularly kind to her.
She pilots the TARDIS with her eyes closed, both of them reaching out for that thread—the other end of the storm that unlocked inside her when it happened. But it’s hard, because the thread is timey wimey, and the other end keeps moving.
They’ve been at this for weeks.
“You’re not sleeping,” Yaz says one day.
The Doctor doesn’t want to lie to her. So she doesn’t.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Can’t sleep,” the Doctor says. That not-lying thing certainly didn’t last long.
“Would you at least lie down for a little while?” Yaz asks. “I could read to you.”
The Doctor looks at her in surprise. All of her stored-up sleep defenses fall away into her subconsciousness. “Okay.”
Yaz looks as surprised as the Doctor is by that response.
“Do you um, have a bedroom, or…?” Yaz asks.
The Doctor shakes her head. It’s not lying if she doesn’t say it out loud, is it? “Console room mattress?”
—
It’s pleasant, lying on the mattress with Yaz beside her, reading. She’s been so exhausted lately. She lets her eyes slip closed as she listens to Yaz.
“I spent all that time trying to find you. I’m not going back now.”
But she has to.
The Doctor doesn ’t want to say this. She watches the words leave her mouth like a river of poison, powerless to stop them. “He was born in battle. He committed genocide. He’s too dangerous to be left on his own. Remind you of someone? That’s me, when we first met. And you made me better. Now you can do the same for him.”
“But I’m my own person,” she says. “I don’t exist to make someone else better. And you’re going to be all alone.”
“I’m better off alone,” says the Doctor.
“That’s a lie. Don’t leave me here.”
“I have to. He needs you.”
“But I need you! And you need me too.”
“But he’s me.”
“Don’t do this.”
“But I have to. This is how it goes.”
“I’ll never forgive you.”
“Doctor!” Yaz is shaking her shoulder.
The Doctor opens her eyes to a blurry Yaz’s face above her. Yaz sits back down, looking unsettled.
The Doctor takes stock of her situation for a moment. Hearts pounding, heavy breathing, and her face is wet. That’s not ideal. She pushes herself to a sitting position, then winces as her head spins. “Sorry,” she says. “Must’ve fallen asleep.”
“You were having a nightmare.” Yaz says it like the Doctor’s in trouble.
“Yeah, well, I can’t control my dreams, Yaz,” she says.
Yaz huffs and stands up. “Is this why you haven’t been sleeping?”
The Doctor doesn’t answer. Her head is still spinning.
“What were you dreaming about?”
Yaz lets the silence stretch out after her question until it becomes unbearable.
“An old friend,” the Doctor finally mutters. “Saying goodbye.”
Immediately, Yaz’s face crumples. This is exactly why the Doctor hadn’t wanted to tell her.
“I don’t want you to worry,” she says quickly. “Nightmares are normal for me.”
“Do you realize that makes it worse?” asks Yaz, sitting back down on the mattress.
“Sorry, I’m—” The Doctor sighs. “I am trying.”
Yaz takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “Thank you.”
“Can you read to me again?”
—
Yaz has been watching her from the doorway for fifteen minutes. She probably thinks I haven’t noticed, thinks the Doctor. But actually, she’s pretending not to notice so she doesn’t have to answer any difficult questions.
“Will you ever tell me what you’re looking for?” Yaz asks finally, breaking the silence.
The Doctor tries very hard not to show her irritation. She almost succeeds.
“It’s just,” Yaz walks further into the room. “We’ve been looking for five weeks, and I don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
The Doctor hears the unspoken words: or if it’s really out there.
“I want to help you, like I said, but…”
“I can take you home,” says the Doctor. “Come back after.”
“Don’t threaten me,” says Yaz.
The Doctor flinches, and blinks back sudden tears. “I’m not—”
“You’re not well,” says Yaz. “As your friend, I have to tell you that you need to take a break. You’re not eating enough, or sleeping enough, and you’re doing it again where you won’t tell me what you’re looking for. This is just like before.”
The Doctor stares at the console, hard, trying not to cry. It’s too much. She doesn’t know what to do with these emotions.
“I am going to go take a walk,” says Yaz. “I’m sure the TARDIS will lead you to me when you’re ready to talk.” With that, she turns around and leaves.
The room shifts to blue.
The Doctor sinks the ground, shaking.
This is just like before.
But she’d promised.
She told Yaz she’d tell her everything. And now she’s telling her nothing.
But this is different, isn’t it? They’ve been looking, but she hasn’t been putting Yaz in danger, has she? Not like before.
Of course, any day can be dangerous.
Don ’t threaten me.
Who is she?
No, that question’s too hard to deal with right now. She shelves that one.
The question to ask is: does she keep looking? Should she keep looking?
If she tells Yaz who she’s looking for, will Yaz still help her? Or will she leave?
Would she be better off on her own?
Does she deserve to be on her own?
—
It’s a long time later when the Doctor finally drags herself off the floor and goes to find Yaz.
Yaz is in one of the TARDIS’s garden rooms, set to night. Above them is a fake night sky with fake constellations that the Doctor designed herself, many years ago.
“Hi,” the Doctor says, from the doorway.
Yaz looks at her and pats the spot on the bench beside her.
The Doctor goes over and sits down. “I’m sorry,” she begins.
Yaz releases a breath, shoulders dropping slightly.
“I had this friend, once,” the Doctor continues, pushing ahead before she has a chance to get too scared to say it. “And because of things that happened, I had to leave her in a parallel universe with another version of me, so they got to be happy together while I—” She takes a breath and grips the edge of the bench seat with her hands. “But recently, I started having… dreams. And some visions. Or hallucinations. And then that day in the TARDIS, I felt something change in the universe and, I can’t explain it, but I know she’s back in this universe. I’m chasing the other end of the thread that connects her to me and the TARDIS and I have to find her, no matter how long it takes.”
Yaz’s hand slides down the bench to rest next to the Doctor’s. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks softly.
The Doctor opens her mouth to say it was personal—or that she was worried that Yaz would be jealous—or that she was scared, but none of the reasons are quite right. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “I think that… it’s just hard for me to tell people things. I have so many things locked up in my mind that if I let one out it feels like it’s all going to come crashing out, you know?”
Yaz nods, as if she knows. The Doctor shelves that away to ask her about it on another day.
“We can keep looking,” says Yaz. “And I’ll help you. But you have to take care of yourself. Because you’re my friend, and it hurts me when you don’t.”
The Doctor finally looks her in the eyes, and resists the urge to apologize again. “I will,” she says. “Promise.”
“I’m holding you to that,” says Yaz.
“I believe you.”
—
It’s seven weeks into the search when it happens. The Doctor and Yaz have just split up—the Doctor to check some areas for traces of artron energy, Yaz to get them some food—when she sees her.
Rose is walking down the street, holding a dimensional canon under one arm and what appears to be a sonic screwdriver in her other hand.
The Doctor stands in the middle of the street, not sure what to do or what to say as Rose continues scanning, slowly making her way toward her.
Finally, Rose frowns at some readings and glances up at the Doctor. “You’ve got a lot of artron energy on you, mate.”
“Yeah,” says the Doctor, not sure what to do with her facial expressions, not even sure what emotion she’s feeling right now. Elation? Guilt? Shock? “I do a bit of traveling,” she says.
“Yeah?” Rose asks, walking closer. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Maybe you’ve met him?”
The Doctor lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I never should have left you on that beach.”
Rose’s smile falls as her eyes widen.
“It wasn’t your responsibility,” the Doctor continues. “I should have let you make your own decisions, and not have pressured you to help him, just because you could—”
“Doctor?” Rose whispers.
“And also, I—” she tries to make herself keep going, say it, dammit, before she gets too scared. “I loved you. And I’m sorry I never told you.”
The dimensional canon slips from Rose’s fingers—carefully, she places it on the ground—and then Rose’s arms are around her, holding her tightly. The Doctor hugs her back.
It’s a long time before they step apart.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” says the Doctor. “What happened?”
“Turns out I made myself immortal, with that whole Bad Wolf thing,” says Rose.
“Oh, god,” says the Doctor. “I mean, no I’m—I’m so happy to see you, but I’m so sorry that you have to—not that I would ever want you to die, but—”
“It kind of sucks, doesn’t it?” says Rose, smiling sadly. “Everyone you love, dying.”
“…Yeah.”
“I won’t, though.” Rose reaches forward and laces her fingers through the Doctor’s fingers.
The Doctor smiles. “Would you like to travel with me again, Rose Tyler?”
“Always.”
There’s a gasp from behind them. “You found her?” asks Yaz, appearing with fish and chips in hand.
The Doctor just nods, too happy for words. Yaz and Rose do their introductions and make small talk on the way back to the TARDIS, but all the Doctor cares about is the fact that she’s holding Rose Tyler’s hand.
—
They do their catching up and eating of fish and chips on the console room mattress. It’s comfy, and Yaz might disapprove, but the Doctor doesn’t mind the crumbs. And she’s very tired.
She lies back on a pillow between Yaz and Rose and sighs happily.
“Tired?” Rose asks, putting her food aside to join her.
“She hasn’t been sleeping for the past few weeks,” says Yaz, and the Doctor is too tired to be annoyed about the betrayal.
“I reckon,” she says, interrupting herself with a yawn, “I’m finally about to have a nightmare-free nap.”
The words are barely out of her mouth before she sinks into a deep, restful, and blessedly nightmare-free sleep.