Archive of Our Own

The Doctor had promised she’d find Yasmin Khan, and it was a promise she intended to keep. 

When her friend faded from view in broad daylight on that Sebastopol battlefield, the Doctor’s hearts clenched so hard it took her breath away. Genuine panic coursed through her veins when she was left alone, but worse than that was the idea that Yaz might be alone. She never wanted Yaz to be alone, especially not when the Kasaavin realm still gave her nightmares. Sometimes the Doctor heard them, late at night on the TARDIS, but the next morning Yaz would insist she’d slept well. 

It pained the Doctor to see Yaz going through such anguish, but neither of them was very good at talking about their feelings. The Doctor rarely talked about what was on her mind, which exasperated Yaz and often led to friction between them. Case in point: her response to Yaz’s concern during their last moments on the TARDIS. 

“Doctor, are you all right?”

“Stop asking me that.”

It had all happened so fast. One minute, the Flux had enveloped her ship; the next, she’d woken up on a battlefield. Waking up was a bonus, the Doctor thought, because she’d been so convinced her time had run out. She’d felt the universe breaking, and she’d been given another chance. She’d lost count of how many second chances she’d received, and she was still unsure why she’d been given them. It was as if an unseen hand was doling them out. One person couldn’t possibly be as lucky as she had been: it was against all the odds. Yet, despite those statistics, the Doctor wasn’t sure if she believed in fate. Maybe she was just incredibly lucky. And clever. And something of a natural leader, which meant she was surrounded by good people. People like Yasmin Khan, who lent the Doctor unwavering support even as she dragged them into danger. That didn’t seem like a fair trade.

Regardless of what had kept the Doctor alive this time around, what she did know was that one day, she would not get a second chance. Yaz might not, either. But she deserved one, and the Doctor needed to fulfil her promise. Because, as the Doctor had feared, Yaz was alone. Dan and his trusty wok had been in Liverpool, which meant that whatever had hijacked the TARDIS was, presumably, leading them to Yaz. The Doctor had a very bad feeling about it all.

Her concerns were well-founded because the moment she stepped out of the TARDIS, her head flared with pain. Was that the lingering effects of the Flux? The Doctor breathed deeply and tested her boundaries. No. It felt more like psychic energy. On top of that, she had the strangest sense of deja vu, even though she had no idea where they were; spatio-temporal readings had been spectacularly uninformative. The Doctor had always been prone to a head wonk, but when another stab of pain lanced across her brow, she had to stop walking until it passed. 

“Argh,” she groaned. She ground the heel of her palm into her forehead and ignored the concerned look Dan shot her way. She couldn’t explain what she was thinking, or what she was feeling. She’d never been all that good at the latter in this regeneration; if anything, she’d gotten worse. In those first few hours, her senses had been muddled, and they’d straightened themselves out in the end. But the fear, the uncertainty…those lingered. At least now she knew why. The Doctor wasn’t who she thought she was.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just…thinking,” the Doctor muttered. Regardless of what else was on her mind, she wasn’t about to admit to Dan that she was incredibly worried. That much was probably obvious, and it’d just make him worry even more if she said that aloud. Much better to keep a lid on that, Doctor. You’re good at that. 

Except she wasn’t actually that good at it, not with everybody. Yaz had learned how to ease the lid open, to tug at what lay beneath. The Doctor, an award-winning champion at tug-of-war (although she’d since lost her trophy), wasn’t quite so good at the emotional kind. She snapped when Yaz got too close, which happened more often than it ever had. But she didn’t want Yaz to know what was within, because…well. The Doctor knew she didn’t really have a good reason for that. She wanted to be kind, and hopeful, but what she’d learned on Gallifrey made that difficult. Yaz deserved kindness and hope, and the Doctor didn’t want to disappoint her. But the way she was trying to minimise the disappointment wasn’t very kind. Even she could see that.

“Doctor, are you all right?”

“Stop asking me that.“

The Doctor’s jaw tensed as those words came back to haunt her.

“Well, what are you thinking?” Dan said. 

He was persistent, but in a different way to Yaz. They both persisted out of genuine concern, but where Yaz could be brittle, Dan was less emotionally invested. Yaz knew more about her than anyone else, but Dan provided a fresh perspective because they’d only just met. And here was the Doctor, about to lead him into danger. The Cloister Bell tolled in her mind, an ominous sound that proved hard to shake. 

“That I have to find Yaz. She’s here. She’s got to be.”

What if Yaz wasn’t there? What if she was too late? What if…

It didn’t bear thinking about and to even contemplate it made the Doctor feel downright nauseous.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Doc.”

The Doctor nodded grimly. Dan had succinctly summarised her underlying worry.

“Which is why you’re going to stay here.” She turned and gave Dan a solid push on the shoulder, sending him back into her ship. He recovered quickly, and the Doctor braced her arm against the door, refusing to let him out.

“No way, I’m-“

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” the Doctor retorted. Her temper was fraying, but this time, it was solely out of concern for Yaz. “I do.”

She didn’t really have that much of an idea, but she definitely had more experience than Dan did. He hesitated, and she capitalised on his uncertainty. 

“I’m not putting you in any more danger than I already have. Stay here.”

His protests were cut off as the Doctor closed the TARDIS doors on him, instructing her ship not to let him out. And not a moment too soon because when she turned back to the hallway, Azure was standing at the end of it, beckoning.

The Doctor’s hearts were loud in her ears as she walked. She could feel her brain fizzing with anticipation, but not the good kind; not the kind she got from an opportunity to win. She couldn’t think like that while Yaz was in danger. 

Except Yaz was nowhere to be seen when the Doctor turned the final corner. Something wasn’t quite right, starting with the place - and time - they were in. Wherever they were shouldn’t even exist. But Swarm was there, and he was real - no longer an interloper in her mind, as he once had been. He also looked very pleased with himself as he stood in the centre of a circle, around which several podiums were placed. On those podiums stood women in ceremonial dress. But not all of the podiums were occupied, and the Doctor’s sense of unease grew.

“Ahh, Doctor. At last.”

The Doctor stood at the foot of the steps, unwilling to move any closer. She needed to assess the danger she was in, and she needed to keep Swarm talking while she tried to figure out where Yaz could be. 

“Who are they?” The Doctor indicated the podiums, looking for signs of her friend.

“These are the Mouri, Doctor. The creatures who hold Time together. But they’re failing, and Time is running wild.”

The Doctor had a premonition, of sorts, as Swarm raised his hand. The empty podium looked more menacing than it had before. 

“Get on with it,” she said, tired of Swarm’s theatrics and deeply worried about Yaz.

“So impatient.” Swarm sighed. “As you will. Time is of the essence, after all. Come closer.”

It was so blatantly a trap that the Doctor could have laughed at her own stupidity for walking into it. Maybe this would be when her second chances finally ran out. But there was no possible way she could leave Yaz. Not again. She strode into the inner circle from which Swarm conducted proceedings like a conductor leading an orchestra. This particular orchestra had a bit of a morbid feel to it, thought the Doctor, as she glanced around them. It was eerily silent as it waited for Swarm to start proceedings. 

“The Mouri are failing, Doctor. So I made a repair.”

With a grin, Swarm clicked his fingers and Yaz abruptly materialised out of thin air, much like she’d faded into it in Sebastopol. Instantly, the Doctor knew something was wrong. Yaz looked different. Her face was covered in markings, just like the other Mouri. But the podium was no longer empty; on it stood her best friend, and the Doctor ignored any and all danger to close the gap between them. Yaz’s eyes widened as she watched but she was frozen in place, imploring the Doctor to keep her distance through words alone. 

“Doctor! Don’t come near.”

It took all of the Doctor’s strength to keep her composure and to listen to Yaz when all she wanted to do was reach out. She could already feel herself cracking. That was frightening in itself.

“She’s right,” Swarm said. “Try to rescue her, and I’ll reduce her to ash.” 

“Why?” The Doctor struggled to tear her eyes from Yaz’s terrified face but she had to see what Swarm was up to. He’d stepped right into her personal space, trapping her, and he turned slightly to indicate Yaz as he addressed the Doctor. He wanted to maximise their distress. 

“Hardly equipped to be Mouri, is she?”

The glee on his face soured the Doctor’s stomach. He wasn’t even negotiating. He just wanted to see how much pain he could cause, a hypothesis that was proved correct when he turned to Azure.

“Will you count?” 

She nodded. “Five.”

Far too low a number, and one that sent a chill down the Doctor’s spine. The Doctor had never liked that number. It was too easy. Too unimaginative. It also didn’t give her long to come up with a plan, and Swarm was still talking. For the first time in a long time, the Doctor’s mind went blank. When Yaz was in such peril, it was frustratingly hard to concentrate.

“When I click my fingers, Time will blast through Yasmin Khan. How long do you think she’ll last, Doctor?”

“Four.”

The Doctor didn’t answer him and looked to Yaz, only to see that she’d understood the jeopardy of her situation. If Time was to pass through Yaz for more than a few seconds, she’d die. 

“Three.”

“Tell me what you want,” she hissed, but deep down, she was panicking. Yaz had never been in quite so much danger before, and the Doctor was scrambling to come up with a plan that would save her life.

“Two.”

“All in good time, Doctor.”

“One.”

Swarm looked delighted as he pressed his fingers together, ready to snuff Yaz out like a flame. She was so vulnerable, so unable to protect herself, and her expression was one of sheer terror. That expression was what finally galvanised the Doctor into action. She had to protect Yaz from Time, and her brains kicked into action. She hadn’t thought fast enough; her plan was short-term at best, but it would have to suffice for now. Yaz came first. Time running wild, Mouri failing…she’d deal with those issues once she knew Yaz was safe.

“I’m sorry, Yaz. I’m so sorry.”

The Doctor leapt onto the podium and pressed her fingers to Yaz’s temple just as Swarm clicked his fingers. 

Contact.

Do you trust me?

Yasmin Khan knew that voice, but she couldn’t see who was speaking. She was surrounded by a void but its boundaries were shrinking. She could feel it happening, even if she couldn’t see it. She felt strangely empty. Devoid of substance, and weight. Even her thoughts felt like they’d been spun out of cotton candy. 

“What?” Her voice worked, at least.

Do you trust me, Yaz? I don’t have much time.

Something about that disembodied voice was oddly reassuring, despite the urgency of it. It was a familiar voice. Yaz nodded, although she wasn’t sure the person speaking could see her, either. 

“Yeah. I trust you.”

Will you allow me to stay with you? 

A name came to Yaz’s lips and she spoke it on instinct. 

“Doctor?”

I need to keep you safe. 

“Safe? Why?”

Yaz’s confusion mounted as she tried to pinpoint where the Doctor’s voice was coming from. She was frightened, she realised. Terrified. The sensation hit her like a ton of bricks and she froze in place, paralysed by fear. That light sensation evaporated and instead, she felt heavy and full of dread.

You’ll be okay, Yaz. I promise. 

But the voice was fading, growing weaker with every word, and Yaz didn’t want to be left alone in this strange place. She didn’t want the Doctor to leave. 

“Don’t leave,” Yaz pleaded. “Stay.”

I won’t leave you, Yaz.

Yaz got the sense that the space she was in was shrinking, faster and faster, caving in on itself as the Doctor’s voice echoed in her mind.

Yaz. 

Yaz. 

“Yaz!”

A soft shove brought Yaz around with a bump as her head thumped off the window she’d fallen asleep against. 

“You fell asleep, mate.”

Yaz blinked at the woman sitting in the driver’s seat. She was in a police uniform. As was Yaz, when she looked down. She was on duty, and she’d fallen asleep. 

“Oh. Sorry.” Yaz frowned as she tried to piece together what had preceded her unexpected nap. She came up short.

“Are you all right?”

In truth, Yaz felt a little out of sorts. It took her several moments to place the other woman’s name. Lisa. Lisa Bowery. Her partner for this shift. The moment that piece of the puzzle snapped into place, the world seemed to become a little bit more tangible. Reality solidified. That had been one hell of a nap; she felt like she’d woken up in a different dimension.

“Sorry. Had a late one last night,” Yaz offered, which seemed about right. She felt very tired indeed. 

Yaz hid a yawn with her hand as the tell-tale squeal of metal announced the impending arrival of the next train. She rubbed at her eyes. Her shift had passed quickly; so quickly that she had essentially blinked and missed it. But here was her train, on time and ready to take her home. 

The carriage doors opened and Yaz took a seat in a group of four. Only one other seat was occupied, by a blonde person with their head buried in a broadsheet newspaper. Once Yaz sat opposite them, she did a double take. Those petrol blue trousers and brown boots seemed familiar. But then the sense of deja vu passed, and Yaz looked away as the newspaper flicked and she caught a glimpse of the woman reading it. Yaz had probably seen her on this train before, that was all. Her mere presence was calming, though; she casually flicked the pages and the subtle rhythm of her movements helped put Yaz at ease. Her head nodded as the train continued to move, rarely stopping. They seemed to be the only people on the carriage, which was strange, but it also didn’t feel strange at all. 

She didn’t realise she’d nodded off again until a voice spoke quietly in her ear. 

“Time to wake up, Yaz.”

With a jolt she did just that, only to find that she was already at her stop. Falling asleep twice in one day had to be some kind of record and she leapt to her feet, fighting the fug of sleep, as she legged it out of the doors just in time. As she glanced back at the train there was no sign of the woman in petrol-blue trousers, but Yaz was sure - somehow - that it had been her voice she’d heard, telling her to wake up. But how? How did she know what she sounded like if they’d never spoken?

The walk home seemed never-ending. With each step, Yaz’s head pounded, but despite the extra sleep she’d snatched, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed. As soon as she made it home she did just that. The moment her eyes closed, the dreams started. 

“I’m sorry, Yaz. I’m so sorry.”

A man stood in front of her, but he looked like no man she’d ever seen before. His hand was raised, poised and ready, as if he was about to strike.

Next to him stood a woman dressed in rainbows. She looked at Yaz with such fear in her eyes that Yaz could feel it, too. She was in danger, terrible danger, and-

There was a shrill sound coming from her pocket. Yaz blinked. 

“You gonna answer that?”

The man in the seat next to her looked at her with an amused expression. She was sitting at a desk, but she’d just been in another room entirely, one decorated very differently from the office at the station. There had been other people in that room, dressed in strange clothes, and they’d all been looking at her. But as Yaz tried to picture them, the visual faded from view and she gritted her teeth as she fought off a heavy wave of fatigue. If she thought too hard, everything went a little out of focus. Just like when she zoned out at work and her eyes focused on the middle distance, she seemed to be training her vision on a point in the middle of everything and not actually looking at anything. Reality had a rather vague quality to it, and she felt equally woozy. She must be more sleep-deprived than she thought. 

A glance at the clock showed it was nearly 5am. Night shifts. That could explain why she was so tired. She had no idea how she’d forgotten she was on nights -  she’d been on them all week. Hadn’t she? 

The phone kept ringing. 

“Yaz?”

“Right. Yeah.” Yaz shook herself out of it and pulled out her phone.

All the screen told her was that an unknown number was trying to reach her. Bemused, Yaz answered, if only to stop any further questioning from the man next to her. Gary. That was it.

“Hello?”

“Yaz. It's me.”

The voice was familiar but Yaz didn’t know where she’d heard it before. It also sounded like it was coming from very far away, and she frowned as she tried to listen more closely.

“Sorry, who is this?”

“I can't quite explain.” Static crackled in her ear. “But I promise I'll get you out of this. You just have to try and stay calm. Let your brain do what it needs to. You know, go with the flow.”

“You’ll get me out of what?” Yaz had no idea what the caller was talking about. She was exactly where she was meant to be. “My…brain? Is this some kind of prank?”

No sooner had she finished speaking than a high-pitched squeal, similar to that of her train, erupted down the line. Yaz dropped the phone in surprise. 

“Shit!” She cursed as it hit the floor, thoroughly unsettled by the strange call and by the sound, which was still ringing in her ears. 

“Yaz? What’s going on?”

It was a reasonable question, to which Yaz didn’t know the answer. She busied herself recovering her phone instead. It hadn’t cracked - thank god, she couldn’t afford a new one - but when she opened it, Yaz was confused to see that there was a grey background, rather than wallpaper, on her screen. There were no photos in the camera roll or events in her calendar. No WhatsApp messages. No identifying features at all. Yaz wouldn’t have known it was her phone if she hadn’t already been carrying it, and then she wondered if it was even her phone. Perhaps the mystery caller had somehow planted it in her pocket. 

The hairs at the nape of her neck prickled like she was being watched. She shivered. 

“Yaz, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Nothing, I…just a joke, I think.” But Yaz was dazed and more than a little confused. It certainly felt like a joke, one she was excluded from or being made the butt of. That voice…she’d heard it before. 

“We’re nearly done. I’ll finish writing this up if you want to get out of here,” Gary said. “You look a bit peaky, Yaz. You should get some sleep.”

Gary was never normally that nice, but Yaz did feel a bit rough. Feverish, almost; her brow felt warm and her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. She was constantly one step behind and, to make matters worse, she was dead on her feet. Some more sleep wouldn’t be a bad idea. She closed her eyes, just for a second, trying to ease the pressure inside her head.

“Stay with me, Yaz. Just hold on a little longer.”

There were lights, the sensation of movement. Yaz felt weightless, but she was moving. It seemed like she was being carried; one of her arms swung lightly as she moved, but she didn’t have the strength to lift it.

“What happened?” A man’s voice, with an accent. A thick accent, one that made her feel at home. “Let me help.”

“I’ve got her.” The grip around Yaz tightened. She felt safe. Secure. “Let’s just get her inside. We need to get out of here.”

Metal squealed. The train was pulling in. When Yaz opened her eyes, she was at the station, already waiting for it. Numbly, she pushed herself to her feet. Had she fallen asleep on the bench? It didn’t seem beyond the realm of possibility, and it’d go some way towards explaining how drained she felt. Even her legs felt heavy as she boarded her usual carriage, near the front, and immediately spotted a familiar pair of boots. In a daze, she took a seat opposite the woman in the petrol-blue trousers. She was getting some serious deja vu; no matter what time of day Yaz caught the train, this woman always seemed to be on it, in the same seat, reading the paper. 

That routine was something of a comfort. All around her, Yaz could feel her grasp of reality slipping through her fingers, but this woman and this train were a constant. As was the smell of engine oil. She couldn’t tell if it was coming from this woman or from the train, but why couldn’t she smell anything else? It was frustrating: as soon as questions materialised, her mind seemed to shut down. She was unable to interrogate her surroundings as she normally would; it felt like she was a passenger, or an observer, to her own life. It felt like she was being held captive by her own brain.

But the quiet rustle of the newspaper reminded her she wasn’t entirely alone. This time, when she looked at the seat opposite, the woman was looking up at her with a soft smile. Yaz felt a prick of something sharp and tangible in her belly as their eyes met. This woman was beautiful, that much was obvious. But she was also more than that; she was an oasis in a sea of confusion. Everything felt a little off-kilter, but this woman…this woman felt safe. Yaz desperately wanted to talk to her, and she indicated the newspaper in her hands.

“What are you reading about?”

“Horoscopes. Want to know yours?”

That voice. Yaz knew that voice, but as soon as she tried to place it, her mind went blank. 

“Let’s see, let’s see….Virgo. ‘Find comfort in the people around you today. Try not to take things too seriously. You may find conversation with new people to be extremely stimulating and rewarding. Keep your guard up, but don't let it block you from new experiences.’ That seems very apt, actually.” The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise, as did Yaz.

“How did you know when my birthday is?”

The woman ignored her question in favour of frowning at the newspaper. 

“That’s very on the nose,” she muttered. “But look out, Yaz. Your stop is coming up.” 

She hadn’t even looked up from the paper, but she was right. They were pulling into Yaz’s station. The train slowed to a halt, as if on cue, prematurely ending their conversation. All Yaz wanted was to keep talking to this strange woman. Her head didn’t hurt so much when they talked

“Oh. Right. Yeah…thanks,” Yaz replied, fumbling for enough words to keep talking. She didn’t want to get off the train just yet, but she didn’t have much of a choice. “I’ll see you around, though?”

With that, the woman shot Yaz a serious look over her paper.

“That you will. But first, you need to get some rest. Take care, Yaz.” 

The doors beeped urgently, diverting Yaz’s attention from the unexpected concern. Maybe she looked as tired as she felt. She glanced back, a response on the tip of her tongue, but to her alarm, the woman had already gone. It was like she’d vanished into thin air; only her newspaper remained on the now-empty seat. 

“Right,” Yaz muttered to herself. “You’re losing it. Proper losing it.” 

People didn’t just vanish into thin air, and she’d only glanced away for a second. Yaz’s worries about her sanity were substantiated when she returned to an empty flat, and to a bed covered in sheets she was certain she’d gotten rid of several years ago. Except…no, she hadn’t. She’d treated herself to some new bedding when she started probation a few months ago. 

Just thinking about that passage of time made her head hurt, as if it was protesting the mere process of thought. Yaz downed some painkillers and decided to take the advice she’d been given; some sleep would help. As her eyes drifted closed, she could lucidly feel herself slipping into dreams. She could already hear people speaking before she was even fully asleep. She was just…so…tired. 

“Is she okay? She doesn’t look good.”

“She will be. She has to be.”

“You don’t look good, either. I should have come with you.”

Something cool was on her head. It was blissful, and soothing. She was burning up. Someone was touching her head and she wanted to lean into it, prolong the contact for as long as possible, until-

Yaz almost fell out of bed, reaching for something that wasn’t there. She caught herself just in time but the motion left her heart in her throat and her head reeling. 

She’d had the strangest dream that somebody was touching her head, and she raised her hand, trying to replicate the sensation. It didn’t work, and Yaz huffed in frustration. 

Was she recalling a dream or a memory? It was impossible to tell because whatever it was. She was craving something she couldn’t have, and couldn’t even name. Her brain seemed to be sabotaging her at every opportunity, even when she was asleep. It left her feeling restless; it felt as if she wasn’t quite where she needed to be, but she couldn’t figure out where she needed to be, either. It didn’t make much sense, given that the only place she really was most of the time was at work.

There was a potential solution to that, one that Yaz could always rely on when she was at a dead end. Her brain might not be playing ball but her body would and she dug out her gym gear, ready to burn off some steam and get her head straight. A spin class was just what she needed, and Yaz signed up for one of the last slots. But as she waited for the class to start, a flash of blonde caught her eye. Across the floor was the woman from the train, dressed in her too-short trousers and brown boots, and she was looking at Yaz. Yaz did a double take when she saw her. That wasn’t gym gear; a trainer wouldn’t wear clothes like that to work, either. She looked out of place. 

Yaz knew, without a doubt, that the woman was there to find her. It was either a sixth sense or a gut instinct and both of those had been in short supply over the past few days. Yaz grabbed onto that sensation and ran with it. 

“That does it,” she muttered. Spin could wait. She crossed the floor, picking up the pace when the woman abruptly turned and left the building. A strange sense of panic gripped her. She needed to speak to that woman as a matter of urgency, even if that woman didn’t want to speak to her. She needed to understand why she was missing chunks of her life, and she had a feeling that woman knew. She looked at Yaz like she knew who she was, better than Yaz knew herself. 

“Wait!” She called out, not caring who was watching. “Hold on, don’t leave!” 

To her relief, the woman stopped just inside the doors, tilting her head skywards as if Yaz had just uttered the magic words to stop her in her tracks. As if she was aware she’d been caught.

“I keep seeing you on the train, and now you’re here. Are you following me?”

To Yaz’s surprise, the woman actually laughed. 

“Are you sure it's not the other way around? You just chased me to the door, after all.”

Was she flirting? Yaz wasn’t sure if she believed in fate, but it must be a sign that they kept bumping into one another. And every time they crossed paths, Yaz felt a prickle of something. This woman was really very attractive, in a way that Yaz could recognise instantly. Those feelings were far less confusing than the others buzzing around her head, and Yaz could take comfort in those feelings because they felt like something she understood, innately. She could definitely trust her gut there. She hoped she could because she was running out of options.

But something about this woman also seemed a little too familiar, and Yaz wondered if that was partly to blame for the sensation. She’d read about that, once: frequency bias. Now that she’d seen this woman once, Yaz kept seeing her everywhere, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Or maybe she reminded Yaz of someone else. An ex? Whatever it was, there was something about her that Yaz couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“It’s time to go, Yaz.”

The woman held open the door, inviting her through it. Without question, Yaz walked through it, and into her living room. 

She blinked in shock. When she turned, the woman had gone. These slips in time kept happening, but not normally when she was awake. Something had changed. The proverbial rug was being pulled out from under her feet, and Yaz felt unsteady. Mentally unsteady. 

What the…

“Yaz! Hurry up, we’re going to be late.”

Sonya was rushing, that much was apparent, but Yaz had no idea what she’d just walked into. One minute, she’d been in the gym, and the next, she was home. She thought of the mystery caller telling her to remain calm, but it was hard to do that when she was losing track of such large chunks of time. A strange aura permeated everything, and it was growing so thick that Yaz worried she was losing sight of what was real. 

“I’ll order an Uber while you get ready. Do you need food?”

Yaz wasn’t hungry, but she also couldn’t remember when she last ate. She did have a headache, though, and while her sister sorted their transport to…wherever they were going, Yaz searched for some painkillers. There were none in the flat, including where she’d left them. She was certain there had been some left, and that had only been a few days ago. At least, she thought it had only been a few days.

“Yaz, come on! The car’s outside.” Sonya seemed frantic, and that was starting to stress Yaz out. She was still in her gym clothes. Had she spent that long looking for painkillers, or had she lost time again?

“I’m not ready,” Yaz protested, but her sister was already grabbing her hand. 

“We don’t have time. The gig starts in ten minutes, you’ll be fine.”

A gig…Yaz racked her brain as she tried to think who they were seeing. She came up short, yet again, but she did at least recognise the venue they pulled up in front of. She’d been there several times before and as Sonya made her way to the front, she volunteered to get them some drinks. 

The band started while she queued, but the music wasn’t anything Yaz had heard before. That was strange, but at least she wasn’t missing out on anything interesting while she was at the bar. She tried, in vain, to flag down a bartender. In the process, she saw a flash of blonde hair. 

Surely not.

But it was. The mystery woman was there, at the other end of the bar. Their eyes met and, for that split second, Yaz felt a physical connection, one that left her feeling like she’d been punched in the gut. She abandoned the queue. She needed to make her way to the other side of the bar. She needed to find that blonde woman, and this time, she wasn’t going to let her slip away. The repetitive nature of the chase was starting to become stressful but Yaz didn’t have many other options. She needed to narrow down this lead.

The venue was small, dark, and busy, but the number of people in it seemed to have multiplied in the last 30 seconds. It shouldn’t have been physically possible for that many people to be there, but there were, somehow, and Yaz had to deploy her elbows to try and get through them when they refused to move aside. It was a veritable sea of bodies, and her distress started to rise as she found herself drowning in it. She wasn’t normally claustrophobic but she couldn’t breathe, surrounded as she was by so many people. It felt like she was being crushed. 

Panicked, she flung out an arm. She needed to know there was an end in sight, that there was space waiting for her. When someone grabbed it and pulled, the crowd immediately parted. Yaz knew who’d grabbed her hand, without even seeing them: her rescuer, her saviour, her oasis of calm. But as she emerged from the crowd and pushed through the doors, the grip around her hand disappeared completely and she found herself alone, gazing back at the building. 

Outside there was a poster, advertising the band who were playing, but the letters moved as she tried to read them. Even the venue seemed unstable; the sign wasn’t lit and the paint was flaking, as if the building itself was crumbling. It was hard to reconcile the interior with the exterior, which looked abandoned. Had she just been inside it? That didn’t feel right. The woman had gone, too.

Yaz blinked and found herself somewhere else.

That was happening with alarming frequency. Was it normal to lose track of time that badly? It seemed to be speeding up or slowing down, at random. Either way, it felt more fluid than it should because in the fraction of a second it took for Yaz to blink, time had shifted; when her eyes opened, she was standing in a circle in a fluorescently lit room. 

The man’s hand was raised. Next to him stood a woman dressed in rainbows. She looked utterly terrified.

The image flashed into her mind and went, just as quickly. Deja vu. But it wasn’t deja vu, because the scenario she was in was far removed from the one she’d just glimpsed. Today, Yaz was standing in a different kind of circle. Everybody was looking at the floor, rather than at her.

On the floor was a dummy, on which someone was demonstrating CPR. Her boss, Sunder, was standing to one side. As were Lisa, Gary…most of her colleagues, now that she observed her surroundings. Yaz was at work, and they were doing first aid training. She’d forgotten that was happening today. And she’d zoned out because, apparently, they were reaching the end of the session. 

“Now that Doctor Chapman has given us a rundown, let’s see what you’ve all learned,” Sunder said. 

But what he said was lost on Yaz, because the word ‘doctor’ hooked onto her consciousness and yanked, hard. It was a perfectly ordinary word, one that was part of Yaz’s standard vocabulary, but it felt overly familiar. Like she used it a lot…but that made no sense. Was she ill? Was that why she felt so out of sorts? Yaz didn’t come across many doctors in her day-to-day life, but the word stuck nonetheless. As she recited it to herself, images flickered to life in her mind’s eye. 

You’re like the best person I’ve ever met. 

My person’s a bit different. 

Why won’t you let me in? 

But it wasn’t just words that sprang to mind, trickling through her consciousness, teasing at her memory. There were feelings attached to those words, feelings so vibrant that Yaz couldn’t ignore them. In a grey world of uncertainty, they were concrete, colourful, and borderline painful as they echoed in her mind. And they were all evoked by a word that clearly meant something more than a title. That word was important. 

Yaz’s gaze was fixed on the woman on the floor. She had blonde hair, and she was a doctor. Yaz started to grasp something that she’d been struggling to get hold of for as long as she could remember. There was a connection there, buried deep. She tried to dig it out and as she did, she said the word aloud, as if she could conjure up a manifestation. As if she could make it real.

“Doctor?”

But when the woman looked up, Yaz was disappointed. She looked different to the person she expected. Who was she expecting?

The woman from the train, her mind supplied. She felt light-headed at the realisation.

“Sorry,” Yaz muttered. “I thought I…”

“You’re really losing the plot, Khan,” Gary whispered. “Think you’ll pass the test?”

“Test?” Yaz repeated, faintly. She was annoyed at Gary for giving voice to her fears, but then she forgot her frustration because the doctor was on her feet, passing out papers. And pens. Oh, no. The next thing she knew, Yaz was going to be naked or something. This was like a nightmare come true. 

Of course, Yaz failed the test. She didn’t know the answers to any questions, but the words seemed to swim in front of her eyes when she looked at them, much like they had on the band poster. Her head hurt something fierce and by the time the results were totted up, Yaz was so stressed that she just wanted to go home. She wanted to see her mum, most of all. She ignored her colleagues, who were going out for drinks, and made her way to the train station. 

She always seemed to time her arrival perfectly, although she was reaching the end of her tether and the fact that her train was just pulling in didn’t please her as much as it once might. She was starting to feel rather frazzled, and desperate for something to hold onto. Something she could understand. Because although she could recognise her life, she didn’t feel like she belonged in it.

As always, the woman was already on the train when Yaz boarded it. This time, Yaz sat next to her, rather than opposite her. Her patience was running thin, and she had the impression she was running out of time. The jumps in her life were starting to become more frequent. More abrupt. More chaotic.

“Hello,” she said. Sitting there already felt better. She longed to be close.

The woman lowered her paper, startled to see that Yaz wasn’t in her usual seat and was instead sitting beside her.

“Oh! Yaz. Are you-“

Yaz shook her head.

“I’m not okay, if that’s what you’re asking. Even if it isn’t, I’m not okay.”

The woman looked worried, but Yaz ploughed on regardless. She wanted to at least get to the end of a conversation before they ran out of time. She didn’t have much control over that - or anything, really.  

“Look, call me crazy but I can't get you out of my head. It’s like you’ve been in there for so long that I can’t remember when it all started.”

The woman’s jaw dropped open in surprise, but Yaz kept going. She was probably being rude, but she didn’t much care. 

“I don't even know your name, but I get this feeling of deja vu whenever I see you. Like we've met before.”

The woman frowned. 

“We have, on this train.”

“No, I mean before that. It feels deeper than that, somehow. What I feel is deeper than that.”

The woman seemed to be wrestling with something and as she did, her eyes dipped to Yaz’s lips. That frisson of tension that Yaz had picked up on previously erupted into something tangible. She grasped it. It was a thread, a lifeline, as her life was falling apart in front of her very eyes. 

She put her hand on the woman’s knee. She was pretty sure she wanted to kiss her. As soon as she thought that, Yaz knew she wanted to kiss her, and had done for some time. Everything else might have been too confusing to understand, but this woman felt right. She was the only thing that made sense. 

But as Yaz leaned in, the woman pulled away. 

“I’m…I’m sorry, Yaz. We can’t do this. Not now.”

Yaz yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned. The woman looked apologetic but the damage had been done: Yaz had made a fool of herself. 

“I need to go, Yaz. But it won’t be for much longer. Just hold on. Hold on for me.”

Embarrassment trumped logic and Yaz didn’t even think to question what she meant. She’d grabbed for a lifeline and instead of being saved, she’d started sinking even further. 

She said nothing as the woman disembarked, but as the doors started beeping, she decided she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by. They might not get another. She got to her feet and ran after the woman, desperate to understand. How did she even know Yaz’s name? Her birthday, even? As embarrassed as she was, Yaz needed to understand why the pain in her head eased only when they talked.

The platform was empty when she stepped off the train, so Yaz jogged to the end of it, turned a corner, and found herself on a roof. 

She was still running, and ahead of her was a man in a hoodie, clutching a bag. A perp. Being in motion made it easy to continue moving, even if Yaz couldn’t quite remember how she’d got onto a roof. It was a strange place to be chasing someone, but she could deal with this situation; she’d chased many a person in her time on the force, she was fit, and she was fast. 

She was also not alone because as she vaulted over a vent and fixed her gaze on the suspect, she could see someone standing in her peripheral vision. 

Someone blonde. 

Yaz didn’t know how or why the woman was there, nor why she looked like she was waiting for Yaz. 

She slowed to a halt, confused. Now that she thought about it, how had she actually gotten there? One minute, she was running off a train; the next, she was running on a roof. She’d never chased someone on a roof before; that was something cops did in movies. And who was she running after, anyway? The man had disappeared from view as if he’d never been there in the first place. Yaz wasn’t even out of breath.

“Do you trust me, Yaz?”

Do you trust me, Yaz?

There was an echo, and Yaz shook her head, trying to clear the mental fog that came rolling in along with it. The sense of deja vu was now so strong that it set her on edge. Something felt…wrong, but also right. Like she was meant to be there. That what was about to happen was meant to be.

Do you trust me, Yaz?

The echo resonated. When Yaz turned her head, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from, the woman was already standing next to her. She moved quickly and silently, and Yaz took a step away, alarmed by the speed with which she’d moved. She must have done that on the train, she thought. Her movement was unnerving. Unnatural. 

“What?” she said, unable to think of a more sensible question. Her head started to hurt again, a throbbing, dull pain. It had been hurting for days, now, but it was growing worse. Normally, being in this woman’s company made it hurt less, but now…now her presence seemed to magnify it. 

“Yaz, do you trust me?” The woman seemed so unnaturally focused that Yaz took another step back, uncertain of her intent. Could she trust her gut? Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“How do you know my name?” 

“It's a very long story. But you need to trust me.”

Yaz shook her head. The incident on the train had put her guard back up, even though she knew she should trust this woman. It was a complicated mix of emotions to deal with. She focused on the practical.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” 

As she looked for the perp, Yaz realised she’d taken a step closer to the edge of the roof. She was several storeys off the ground, high enough to give her slight vertigo when she looked over the edge.

“Not for much longer,” the woman replied. She seemed apologetic like she had on the train, and Yaz’s gut clenched. Something felt very wrong. All those instances of deja vu paled in comparison to the premonition that she was about to die. Strangely, that sensation didn’t scare her as badly as it should have.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Yaz. I’m so sorry.”

I’m sorry, Yaz. I’m so sorry.

That echo was so loud that it made Yaz gasp in pain. Her hand automatically went flying to her head as she tried to ease it, but that meant she didn’t see the woman moving. It also meant she didn’t have time to protect herself because two hands landed firmly on her shoulders and shoved.

There was enough force behind the shove that Yaz knew she was going to take a tumble. Her stomach lurched when she realised this tumble was going to take place off the edge of the roof, and her heart leapt into her throat as she started to fall, at the mercy of gravity. It all happened so fast, but she experienced it in slow motion nonetheless: she saw the ground rushing up to meet her and her mouth opened in a silent scream, her eyes screwed shut as she braced herself for impact. 

And then she woke up. Fully, properly woke up. 

Someone was screaming. 

“Yaz, you’re all right. You’re safe.”

She was Yaz. And she was screaming - her throat ached from it. She blinked fast, trying to clear the tears from her eyes. They made it hard to see.

“That’s it, Yaz. Take it easy.”

Her heart was pumping so fast it made her chest ache, and her lungs strained as she tried to catch her breath. She’d just been running, but her need for air derived from the sheer terror of falling from a roof, not from exercise. There was gentle pressure around her torso, and Yaz looked down to realise there were arms holding her, presumably to stop her lashing out. Those arms were clothed in white sleeves and Yaz followed them upwards, joining them to the person’s shoulders - a rainbow t-shirt. Braces. Yaz looked up: blonde hair, and a worried smile. The woman from the train.

“Blue trousers,” Yaz muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. “Those trousers.”

The Doctor. 

She was safe. She was with the Doctor again. She’d been dreaming, and now she was awake. 

The haze plaguing her mind finally started to clear as Yaz struggled to put the pieces together. She’d just been falling off a roof, she’d been about to hit the ground, and now…she looked around, trying to orientate herself. The TARDIS. She was in the TARDIS, on the floor. On the mattress, to be precise, but she was still on the floor, which was why the Doctor was crouching next to her. She looked deeply concerned and Yaz gasped as a cool hand pressed against her forehead. 

It was a soothing touch and she let her eyes close, just briefly, to enjoy it. A brief respite from the chaos inside her head.  That touch…she’d felt that touch, in her dreams.

“Take it easy, Yaz. You had a lot going on in there.” The Doctor’s voice was hushed as she guided Yaz back to the mattress. Even the background TARDIS hum was quieter than usual, and Yaz appreciated that because anything louder would probably overload her. It was all a little frightening, after being asleep for what felt like days.

“Doctor? What happened?” 

Speaking was surprisingly difficult, but then, perhaps she had been asleep for days. The gentle pressure against her head took the edge off the pain, but Yaz didn’t see the pinch of the Doctor’s brow as she alleviated it. The Doctor knew she could bear a little more pain if it meant Yaz didn’t have to experience it. 

“I pushed you into a Time Storm, and then I got you out.”

Yaz had no idea what a Time Storm was. She had no idea what preceded it, either, and that was worrying. 

“What do you remember? Take your time.”

Yaz’s hands clenched uselessly at her sides. She wanted to understand what was going on, but everything required so much more energy than she currently possessed. She wasn’t sure she even had the strength to sit up unaided.

“I remember….dreams. Really vivid dreams. They felt real, but they didn’t make much sense. I don’t remember what happened before them, though.” 

Yaz made a frustrated sound. She wished she could understand what had happened to her because it felt significant. The Doctor tried to reassure her.

“It’ll come back to you, eventually. But the short version is: we were in Sebastopol, with Mary Seacole. And then you fell, through space and time, to the Temple of Atropos. You were used as a substitute for one of the Mouri.”

The Doctor was speaking English, but very few of her words made sense because Yaz didn’t recognise the key ones. 

“Atropos…Mouri…? Why can’t I remember?” 

Not remembering was one of the most frustrating things Yaz had ever experienced. She wanted to grasp what was right there in front of her. 

“Your mind is still protecting you. Give it time. It’s very resilient.” 

As they talked, glimpses of Yaz’s dreams resurfaced. The longer she was awake, the more she felt like she was coming back to herself. It was something of a relief, although the Doctor’s expression was worrying. Yaz got the impression she had been in some serious danger, and that neither of them had emerged unscathed. 

“You protected me, too, didn’t you? That was you, in my dreams. Looking out for me.”

“Ah. Yes. That.” 

The Doctor looked a little awkward, and something niggled at Yaz because she thought she knew why. She just needed to let her brain catch up. 

“I had to keep you in a time stream, so I could keep an eye on you while I got the Mouri back in place. You ended up in a time before we met, one where you weren’t meant to know who I am. But you could still remember me because…well. It was complicated.” 

The Doctor’s face was tense and Yaz wondered what she was holding back. 

“It isn’t something I wanted to do. I tried to let you know what I was doing before I tucked you away. I tried to let you know I was keeping you safe, but there wasn’t enough time. I had to act quickly to minimise the damage.”

“The damage?” Yaz echoed, worried that her memory loss was a symptom of something more sinister.

“Humans aren’t built to withstand that kind of force. I had to make a telepathic connection to shelter you.”

“A telepathic connection?” Yaz frowned, and then she finally remembered something helpful. Her synapses fired and supplied a memory that helped her make sense of what the Doctor was saying. “Was it actually you who was talking to me? In my mind. You asked if I’d let you stay with me.”

“Yes.”

“I asked you to stay. I wanted you to stay.”

The Doctor nodded. 

The emotions Yaz’s dreams sparked were still there, lurking beneath the surface. She remembered how safe she felt when the Doctor was there. How she tried to find the Doctor. And how she’d pushed Yaz off a roof.

“I remember falling. You pushed me.” 

It felt strange to talk like that - to state the obvious - but it helped Yaz to put things together. 

And the Doctor was patient as she talked her through it all. She knew that Yaz needed a little extra time and help to gather her thoughts, and she was still worried that her attempt to protect Yaz hadn’t been entirely successful. It was promising that Yaz could remember some things, but she would need more time to recover fully.

“I knew your brain would wake you up before you hit the ground. In dreams, you’ll always wake up before you hit the ground, and what you were living through would have felt like a dream. It was a mix of memories and illusion. It had to be because I wouldn’t have existed otherwise. I couldn’t have stayed with you without carving out some space. Took a fair bit of brain power, that did,” the Doctor joked, but her attempt at a smile dropped when Yaz didn’t laugh. “Once I got you back to the TARDIS, it was safe to wake you up.”

What the Doctor didn’t mention was that there was still a trickle of psychic energy connecting them. The connection between them was so deep that it’d take a while to sever completely. It was a lot easier to ignore it when there wasn’t quite so much going on, though.

“You were always there, even at the end,” Yaz murmured, as she mentally ran through what happened. She’d been at work a lot, but that made sense; before she’d met the Doctor, all she did was work. 

“I didn't want you to be alone.”

“The train…” Yaz recalled. “I knew I’d see you there. I liked getting the train because I’d see you. But…” 

Oh no. 

She’d tried to kiss the Doctor on that train. Even though she hadn’t fully remembered who the Doctor was at the time, she’d kept her feelings for her. Those were impossible to forget. 

“Wait a second. Could you hear my thoughts? Did you know what I was feeling? If you were in my dream, too. If there was a telepathic connection.” 

“No. That would have been a breach of trust, Yaz. I compartmentalised everything. But it meant that you did end up on that train a lot. I didn’t quite have the capacity to conjure up something more imaginative. I thought you might like a familiar environment, though. Given that we met on a train, and all.”

Yaz was reeling. The Doctor was, without a doubt, the smartest person she’d ever met, but she hadn’t ever grasped just how powerful her mind was. She’d struggled to maintain a sense of reality inside her dreams; how had the Doctor kept on top of that while she tried to fix the problem at hand?

“Yaz, what happened in there...none of it was real. I was just trying to protect your mind. It was a dire situation. An emergency, really.”

But it felt so real, and the Doctor was wrong. Yaz’s feelings weren’t a figment of her imagination. They’d carried through into her dreams. Into her time stream. Wherever she’d ended up, it didn’t really matter because her feelings persisted regardless. Yaz understood why she wanted to kiss that woman: she knew, subconsciously, that it was the Doctor. And despite her embarrassment, Yaz could tell that the Doctor felt bad about how the situation had panned out. Even though she’d saved Yaz, and probably put herself in danger in the process. Concern about the Doctor’s well-being temporarily pushed Yaz’s self-consciousness to the side. 

“What about your mind?” 

“I’m fine, Yaz.” The Doctor automatically allayed her concerns, but she didn’t seem fine. Not to Yaz. In fact, the more she looked at the Doctor, the more exhausted she seemed.

“You’re such a bad liar.”

The Doctor sighed. She did need to be more honest with Yaz but, all things considered, she had come out of the experience relatively unscathed. She didn’t want Yaz to worry about her. 

“I’ve had a bit more practice. And entirely different biology.” 

But that reminder - and the fact the Doctor had telepathic abilities in the first place - was sufficient to spur Yaz into action, despite her exhaustion. Mind over matter. She hadn’t wanted the Doctor to find out like that, and although she knew it wasn’t her fault, Yaz wasn’t sure she could be around her. Especially not after she’d been rejected in her dream. That didn’t bode well for the real world.

“I don’t know if I can be here right now. It’s too much. You’ve seen things, and…it’s…” 

Yaz sighed, her shoulders rising and falling. There was no point in trying to pretend it hadn’t happened. If she tried to pass those feelings off as a fabrication, that would do both of them a disservice. If the Doctor was going to reject her, Yaz wanted her to know the truth about how she felt. She had nothing left to lose. 

“That’s how I feel about you. You know that, right? I didn't just make it up while I was dreaming. I might not have recognised you, not fully, but…I knew how I felt about you. And how you make me feel. I felt safe with you there. I wanted to find you because you made me feel safe, Doctor. But I didn’t want you to learn about my feelings like that.”

Yaz managed to sit up but the Doctor put a hand on her shoulder, preventing her from moving any further. She’d hoped they could have this conversation later, but Yaz was quicker on the uptake than she expected after such prolonged contact. On the plus side, it was a promising sign that her impromptu psychic shelter had worked. 

“You should really get some more rest.”

“I can do that somewhere else.” Yaz craved her bed, and to be alone. She was feeling rather sorry for herself, and the lingering headache didn’t help matters.

But the Doctor didn’t want Yaz to leave. She wanted to keep an eye on her while she recuperated, and she also didn’t want to leave their relationship in tatters. It was already in a bad way, before the Temple, and she needed to try and fix it. She thought fast, and this time a solution materialised quickly - it helped that she’d already tried it, although it had left them in this position to start with.

“Here, take my hand.” The Doctor removed it from Yaz’s shoulder and held it out.

“Why?” It was only one word, but the Doctor could hear Yaz’s hurt and confusion. Her hearts longed to repair the damage.

“Just take my hand. Please. I can’t explain it in words, but I can show you how I feel. I can make contact with you again. I promise it won’t hurt.”

To her relief, and after only a brief pause, Yaz did as the Doctor asked. Despite all that had happened, Yaz still trusted her. As their palms touched, the Doctor picked up the remnants of the telepathic thread that lingered between them. Already exhausted by her mission to simultaneously rescue the Mouri and shelter Yaz, the Doctor tapped into her dwindling reserves. She concentrated, channelling all of her thoughts and feelings for Yasmin Khan into a one-way signal. She shaped it carefully, sending out a wave of love as gentle and warming as she could make it. It was difficult, but she needed Yaz to understand and Yaz deserved every ounce of energy that required. 

Yaz gasped as she let the wave breach her mind. She was subsumed by a sensation that was difficult to put into words. It felt like summer afternoons and sunshine and laughter and all of her happy memories with people she loved, all rolled into one. It was pure, uninhibited joy. Her mind was so overwhelmed with happiness that she didn’t quite know how to process it. All she could do was let it wash over her, which was exactly what the Doctor intended. 

Eventually, it passed and Yaz reluctantly opened her eyes. She wanted to live in that feeling for as long as possible.

“What…how…”

“That’s how I feel about you, Yasmin Khan. You felt something in your dreams because that feeling is shared. That connection you felt with the person on the train…that was there because you could feel a little bit of what I feel, too. Compartmentalising can only go so far. I didn’t want to kiss you in your dreams. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you.”

They looked at one another for such a long time that Yaz was reluctant to speak. But she needed closure. If that was how the Doctor felt about her, they’d been wasting time. And if the events in that Temple had gone any other way, they might not even be having this conversation. She’d nearly died, but she was here, and she wasn’t going to waste a second chance.

“Kiss me, then.”

The Doctor blinked, surprised by the request, and her eyes widened as she understood why Yaz was asking. 

“What I feel for you is real, too,” she reiterated. “This isn’t a dream.” 

The Doctor leaned in, bracing her hands on the mattress as she brought their mouths together and kissed Yasmin Khan, something she’d been wanting to do for quite a while. As she did, that wave of love she’d sent out came rolling back at her, amplified tenfold. Love was always a good investment, she mused, and she’d been storing hers for too long. It was only right that Yaz shared it. 

For Yaz, who had been on something of a mental rollercoaster, that kiss was exactly what she needed. A reminder that what she felt was real; that she was no longer dreaming, even if this was a moment she’d been dreaming of for years. She was kissing the Doctor, and she could feel how the Doctor was experiencing it, too. It was like there was an echo of it within her mind, but this time, the echo didn’t hurt. Quite the opposite. 

“Do you feel that?” she whispered, marvelling at the sensation even after the kiss had ended. 

“Yeah. I do.” The Doctor smiled, but she looked pale. 

In relief and exhaustion, Yaz slumped back onto the bed. She’d been hanging on by a thread and it had been cut in the most tender way possible. Her mind and body were drained and rejuvenated, all at once.

“You need to rest, Yaz. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Maybe. But you have, too. You look knackered. No offence.”

The mood lifted as the Doctor took mock offence to Yaz’s words. She dropped the act when Yaz patted the space next to her. 

“Just for a little while? Before we figure out what to do next.”

There was still the Flux to deal with, but a nap wouldn’t hurt. They had an uphill struggle ahead, and this could be the last chance for some decent rest. The Doctor did feel very tired. She’d stretched her mind to capacity.

“All right. Just for an hour or two,” she agreed, and she toed off her boots. Behind her, Yaz yawned. 

“What is Atropos, anyway? It sounds like something ancient. Greek?”

“Gold star for Yaz.” The Doctor smiled lopsidedly as she regarded her companion. Even half-conscious, Yaz was firing on all cylinders. “Atropos is one of the three Fates in Greek mythology.”

“Tell me about them?” Yaz was desperate to stay awake just a little longer. Tired though she was, she wanted to make sure the Doctor had joined her before she fell asleep. 

“Atropos was the Fate who decided when people died. Today wasn’t the day for that to happen, Yaz.” 

“Because you saved me.”

The Doctor was quiet as she slipped into bed. Yaz wondered if she would ever admit how much she’d done to protect her that day. 

“You’ve been trying to do the same for me for a long time, Yaz,” she eventually replied.

The conversation had taken a deeper turn and Yaz was surprised by the Doctor’s unexpected honesty. Still, despite her exhaustion, it was an easy sentiment to respond to. She could speak from the heart.

“And I’ll continue to. For as long as necessary.”

The Doctor shifted closer and Yaz moved into her arms, sighing happily as she was wrapped in them. They slotted together so easily that it felt like she was meant to be there. That they were meant to be there. 

“Tell me about the other Fates?” Yaz requested. 

The Doctor did just that, stroking Yaz’s hair while she lulled her to sleep. As she did, Yaz thought: it was fate that had led them there. It had to be. She hoped it would let her stay in the Doctor’s arms for a long time to come.

The last thing she remembered before slipping into a deep and dreamless sleep was the Doctor’s voice, telling her about destiny.