Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The street was quiet. A brisk winter breeze whispered through the tops of trees in the distant forest, carrying the chill that kept most of the neighbourhood snug in their homes.

Along came the stranger to break up the peaceful silence. He confidently hopped up to somebody's porch and gave the door a series of sharp raps to the rhythm of ‘Shave and a Haircut’ punctuated by a ring of the doorbell for good measure. After about a minute, a rather confused resident answered the door to find a tall, thin man with wildly spiked-up hair and a cheery grin that spread from ear to ear.

“Afternoon!” he greeted them. In a blink, he reached into the pocket of his tan overcoat and flashed open a small, thin wallet with an ID of some sort in it that certainly looked professional. “John Smith, here with the electric. Had some calls about surges in the area, just checking in to make sure all's on the up and up.”

With the homeowner thrown for a loop, the man stowed the wallet and slipped casually through the threshold to have a look about. Something about that John Smith completely disarmed them, so they answered all his strange questions and allowed him to come in and scrutinize the electronics. He seemed harmless enough, and somewhat official-looking in his blue suit (though the bright red Converse high tops did give them pause).

Half an hour passed quickly, and Smith admitted that all seemed up to code and he'd found nothing out of the ordinary. With an unceremonious, “Ah well. Bye, then!” he sauntered back out the way he'd come.

The resident was left slightly reeling from the unexpected, yet strangely unobtrusive interruption to their day.

When he reached the pavement out front, the man who actually called himself the Doctor rather than John Smith paused. He turned to give a long stare up and down the space between two houses, his gaze sharp and almost expectant. Then he shrugged and strode right up to the next house over.

He introduced himself similarly to the next neighbour, but got caught up chatting in the doorway with them. No matter how hard he tried to steer the questioning toward any bizarre sightings or unexplained surges and outages, the woman found a way to swing the conversation back to busybody gossip about various people up the street. That took up about twenty minutes before he managed to come up with an excuse to end the conversation and got her to close the door.

With an exasperated sigh, the Doctor once again glanced down the walkway between the two houses. Nothing there.

The next two houses down the line yielded nothing; one shut the door in his face before he could even finish his spiel, and the other didn't answer at all. He didn't bother to wait for more than five minutes before circling back around to the first house. This time he was tense from head to toe, growing agitated each time he looked in the same spot and found nothing.

Brow furrowed deeply, he glanced up and down the street before reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket to pull out a small silver tube with a blue bulb at the end. He cupped a hand over the bulb to hide the way it glowed when he pressed a button on the side. It gave a strange warbling buzz as he slowly panned it along the street before him.

His left eyebrow arched as he somehow derived meaning from the sound, only for the other to quickly join it when a few short whistles rang out from behind him.

The Doctor quickly put away his device and straightened his coat, looking down at himself to regard his right shoe. On the off chance that someone noticed him through a window, he made a point of ‘noticing’ his shoe had gotten untied and crouching down to do it up again.

“Thought you were in trouble,” he murmured under his breath as he pantomimed tying his shoe.

Well hidden behind his hunched frame, a small figure jogged out of the shadows alongside the first house and sidled right up to his shoe. An extremely small, young-looking woman who stood only a few inches high. Having just burst out into the cold again, she frantically tied up the fastenings of her dark, fitted coat and adjusted the single strap of her knapsack to a more secure position than being hastily thrown over one shoulder.

“Got tied up with the locals, sorry!” she called up to him as she clambered onto the back of his hand in a well-practiced motion.

His shoulders slumped in a huff to feel her slight weight start to hike up his forearm. He did his best to keep still otherwise, but as he glanced toward her to make absolutely sure that she was alright, his eyes narrowed.

“Your pack is more full,” he pointed out the noticeable extra heft she seemed to be carrying in her knapsack. Her climb up the fabric of his coat sleeve stuttered briefly as tiny violet eyes cut in his direction. He continued, growing a little more indignant with each question. “Is that what took you so long? Did you go borrowing in there, Zepheera?”

“No!” she insisted, full of indignation to be accused of wasting time. One miniscule hand let go of his coat sleeve so she could brush back her short brown hair and look him in the eye as she informed him, “The family was just…hospitable, that's all. Of course I look like a kid out on my own to them, so they refused to let me leave without giving me something. I took some granola to be polite, alright?”

He couldn't argue with that, so Zepheera carried on with her climb. “Find anything?” he asked.

“Nah, nothing unusual,” she shook her head as she pulled herself up onto his shoulder. “You?”

“Not a blip.” The Doctor reached up to adjust his collar to stick out a little more from his coat and jacket. “Can't even pick up anything on the sonic.”

Zepheera was quick to duck underneath the collar once his hands fell away; though she had on extra layers to stave off the cold, she'd never complain about having a warm hiding spot. Being smaller than a finger made it quite easy for her to crouch low enough to remain perfectly out of sight, without even a wrinkle to give the borrower away.

“Think we need a new approach,” she commented, clinging to the fabric beneath her as the Doctor rose to his feet.

“Yeah, I agree.” Tugging thoughtfully at his earlobe, the Doctor glanced around and found the road as empty as it had been all day. “Let's try the next street over. Stick together this time?”

“Definitely. Dunno if my pack can handle any more hospitality.” Though she rarely had cause to use it for its intended purpose whilst traveling with the Doctor, Zepheera felt naked without a bag to carry out and about. Hers was relatively compact compared to what other borrowers would carry; she mainly needed it to hold her climbing supplies. Even while traveling with a Time Lord out in the wide universe, there was always something that required climbing for a person who barely stood over 3 inches tall.

With that decided, the Doctor shoved his hands into his coat pockets and made his way to the other side of the neighbourhood. He passed by a police box standing on the street corner that did not belong there, running an almost affectionate hand along its blue wooden finish as he sauntered down the road.

Unbeknownst to them a tiny pair of green eyes peered down from above, watching from the old outstretched branches of an ancient oak tree. He was sat up on the mossy bark, one leg dangling over the edge whilst the other was propped up on it, clutching a mini pair of crudely-made binoculars in leather-gloved hands.

The outdoor borrower’s skin was a warm shade of almond, his dark brown hair slicked back smartly to frame his sharp features. He wore a pair of rectangular glasses crafted from thin wire that held two concave lenses in place to correct his near-sighted vision. The forest green collar of his undershirt peeked over the neckline of the lighter-colored green sweater, a fur cloak hanging over his shoulders to keep him warm in the frigid air.

“Hmm… I don't recall there being a police box there… Aren't there only 15 left in the UK?” He lowered the binoculars, turning his gaze upwards and meeting the intense golden gaze of the common buzzard perched beside him. She let out an agreeable croon, narrowing her eyes at the blue box as if she too had been reading up on the topic. 

“Peculiar… Well, I cannot deny that it is there now. I will have to add it to my maps once I have finished these rounds.” With a hum, Oliver looked back down towards the newest odd addition to the landscape. Recently in order to make the city feel less dull there had been a lot of changes; signposts, lampposts and letterboxes being painted with colourful flowery patterns by artists all over the area. Ornate graffiti coated the sides of large buildings, and Oliver had to agree that it gave the city a much more lively atmosphere.

Pushing himself up to a stand, the man brushed off his green sweater and straightened his collar. He readjusted his wired glasses before taking hold of the reins attached to the bird of prey and pulling himself elegantly and effortlessly up onto her brown speckled back with a low but short whistle.

“Come on then, girl.” He received an affirmative squawk in response and pressed his body down against her feathers to avoid being dismounted by the wind, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he kept a tight grip on the reins, waiting for the feeling of rushing air to hit him. The buzzard flapped her wings experimentally before diving off of the tree branch, two broad wings each far longer than Oliver was tall snapping outwards a moment later as she soared over the pavement, heading straight for one of the few semi-detached terrace houses with a tree in the fenced-in garden.

Landing smoothly on the dormant grass after circling to check for humans that may be watching, she leaned down to allow her fragile passenger to climb from her back onto the ground waiting below. The man obliged, and once he was off of her back he leaned his forehead against her beak affectionately, cradling the sharp appendage in his gloved palms and closing his eyes.

“Thank you, Gail. I will call for you when I need you. You know the drill, my friend.” He pulled back after a moment only to chuckle as the bird leaned in and pruned at his already mussed up hair as a goodbye. He backed away whilst trying his best to straighten his wind-swept hair and waved, one hand holding the strap of his pack which was full to the brim with supplies— not to mention the ones on his back that were previously strapped to Gail’s sides.

Cupping one hand over his eyebrows to block out the low winter sun, he watched as Gail ascended and flew off into the empty blue sky. Once she was out of sight he turned and began approaching the same crack in the wall he had used every year to start off his rounds.

“Alright, Oliver… This year should be relatively smooth,” he muttered to himself determinedly, pulling out a notebook sewn together at the spine with golden thread and labeled as ‘Inspection Ten’, flipping it open to page one. The notebook was empty so far but with hundreds of pages to fill, not to mention an extra notebook just in case that wasn’t enough.

“If there are no changes, move on. This city keeps expanding, and I do not have time to do thorough checks of places that do not need it anymore…” he reminded himself, pulling out a tiny lantern he had made using wires and a small LED connected to a battery slung over his back. It was still a pretty clunky device, but it made travelling in the dark much easier.

He hummed as he inspected the derelict state of the tunnels, holding the handle of the lantern between his teeth as he pulled out a piece of lead and began to take notes.

“First Zone, House One, still uninhabited by borrowers… Due to the toys in the garden I am led to believe this is because of the young children in the house, same as last year. No changes.” He underlined the last line before closing the notebook, putting it back in his pack and continuing along the tunnels with a healthy level of caution; wary of any potential predatory bug infestations that may have developed due to the lack of borrower habitation.

He held the lantern out in front of himself, knowing the route to the next house by heart at this point due to this being his tenth year of doing this exact thing. He always started at the same house and followed the same path every year in order to keep track of the borrowers and humans in the area, trading along the way. It was now simply another part of his routine, and though he took the time to make note of any potential damages to the structure of the house, or suspected critters living in other parts of the walls, he continued along his route without much fuss.

Usually there wasn't much to report during his rounds, but he still believed it was necessary in order to make the city safer for borrowers. Sure, it wasn't the biggest city in England, not even close, but it was expanding year by year, and with cameras becoming much more common in human homes Oliver just wanted to check in with his fellow borrowers to make them aware of whether the house they were residing in was no longer safe to borrow in.

It was cameras that got his cousins caught after all. He had never found them since then; just left with the remains of the den he was raised in and a lot of unanswered questions that still burned in his mind to this day.

At this point, almost every borrower along his route knew who he was and didn't mind what he was doing; rarely did his people ever turn down the company of another of their kind. The first few houses never had much to report on due to being uninhabited by borrowers— but Oliver always checked, just in case a new family had moved in and wanted help settling or making sure the tunnels didn’t hide any nasty surprises.

He took off his backpack and pushed it through first to get through the next crack, shimmying though the tight space after it without much issue due to his lean figure. He threw it back over his shoulder as he walked across the uneven dirt ground between the first house and the next. He was wrapped up well for the weather so the winter air didn't bother him too much, although the cold nipped at his hooked nose. He let out a small sigh which turned to steam as it made contact with the frigid air, looking up, up, up at the brick foundation ahead.

“128 new houses…I have a long couple of months ahead of me…”

“How can nobody be affected?” groused the Doctor, shaking out his fingers from the light shock he'd received from the wiring he was poking at.

Zepheera, sat more openly on his shoulder now that they were alone in someone's basement, sighed and offered, “Maybe it's a good thing? Y'know, if people aren't seeing any effects, then it could just be harmless.”

“I don't see how it could be,” the Doctor insisted. “A signature potent enough to trip an alert on the TARDIS should have some kind of effect! And even if it were benign, I would still rather know than leave it to chance. Or else it's gonna bug me for the rest of time.”

“I see that.”

Despite her patient approach to the Doctor's gripes, Zepheera was beginning to feel just as restless. Sticking to his shoulder while he asked around the last handful of houses hadn't been any more rewarding than when they decided to split up. It had seemed like a good idea to check in with the local borrowers before, since there were certain things that humans could overlook. Small signs or changes in the air, anything that might occur outside of the notice of human beings.

Zepheera had very few opportunities to chat with other borrowers face to face. Not just because she spent all her time with a human look-alike of an alien, zipping around time and space. Even before then she'd been more of a recluse and found it difficult to relate to others of her kind, let alone grow close to them. 

Traveling with the Doctor sparked something new in her, however. His inability to pass by anyone he could help was starting to rub off on her, and she found that all the traveling allowed her to feel a certain degree of separation in these situations. The likelihood that they would run into the people they helped again was incredibly slim, all but eliminating the chance of forming any lasting connections. Somehow that made it much easier for Zepheera to throw herself into helping out any way she could.

She felt a bit bad about lying to the locals earlier, even if it was to earn their trust. They couldn't know she was involved with the Doctor, or they'd assume that it was a trick or a trap. Being just about twenty times bigger than borrowers, it was all too easy for humans to take advantage of the smaller folk. Zepheera still had a healthy caution toward any new humans and people of a similar scale out in the universe, but she knew that most borrowers went so far as to keep up a fearful mythos of humanity. It was better to be vague when interacting with her people than to cause unnecessary panic. 

Thankfully, it was easy for borrowers to accept one of their own simply passing through, and wouldn't be too thrown by a curious question or two. Though she had to admit, people in this area seemed particularly receptive. Expectant of it, even.

“Should've built a detector from the start,” grumbled the Doctor, interrupting Zepheera’s thoughts. “Soon as this is done, I'm going back to the TARDIS and doing just that!”

“Sounds good,” Zepheera said as she pushed herself up to stand at the edge of the Doctor’s shoulder. Even though she knew very little about wiring, she could tell he was nowhere near done, so she took a running start with what room she had, and leapt to a nearby shelf. “I'm gonna try another look around, just in case.”

The Doctor squawked indignantly. “What? You're gonna leave me alone with this?? ” He gave a nod toward his hands, and the aftermath of a battle between his fingers and a roll of electrical tape.

“Well, I'm hardly of help just sitting here,” Zepheera pointed out, tossing her hands up. “And I'm not the one who promised that bloke I'd fix his flickering lights.”

When he didn't have an argument against that point, Zepheera gave a sharp nod and began climbing down the side of the adjustable metal shelf.

“Don’t stay for tea this time,” he pressed, wrestling one hand free from the tangle of tape with a painted grunt. “I want to start on that detector right away.”

Zepheera rolled her eyes and assured him, “I won't. Meet you outside!” With that, she slipped into the shadows.

“What makes you think there's gonna be people here, anyway?” the Doctor called after her.

A slight pause came before she answered. Zepheera hadn't been in a position to notice any glaring signs of habitation from her perch on his shoulder, but given the way the previous family of borrowers not only expected company but assumed she was with someone who often came around this time of year…

“Call it a hunch!” rang out from the darkness out of the Doctor's sight.

Chapter Text

Waiting had never been the Doctor's strongest suit. Too much of his life was fast-paced and action-packed for a thing like patience .

Fixing the most recent homeowner's electric had been a welcome distraction, a way to feel like he was doing something for these people. He half-hoped that being allowed a closer look at their wiring might reveal something that was simply unnoticeable anywhere else, but that was a bust. The fella was grateful for his fixed lighting, especially when the Doctor insisted that he wouldn't be charged for the work, so that much was worthwhile. 

Now that the work was done, and with no immediate sign of Zepheera just outside the house, the Doctor was left to wait for her.

Rather than wander off like before, he ducked to the side of the house and crouched to be out of sight of the windows on either side of the small grassy walkway. With any luck he would go unnoticed until Zepheera finally joined him, and they could leave right away. 

He slunk down to sit and lean his back against the house he'd just left, unable to help the agitated way his leg bounced. It was hard to shake the feeling that they'd wasted so much time already, and hadn't found a single concrete sign. Uncertainty about things like this made him incredibly uncomfortable, nearly as much as waiting around did.

The first seven houses had nothing new to report, as expected. Oliver stopped in briefly with one older couple, trading them some herbs for a metal bottle cap. They offered more bits and bobs after he did a once over and confirmed there was nothing dangerous lurking in the tunnels or cameras in the house, and even though Oliver politely refused they insisted…so he had agreed despite himself.

It made his backpack heavier for the time being, but that wasn't much of an issue. If his supplies got heavy enough he simply left them at a point that was easy to retrieve, marked it down on his city map, then on his way back he would collect them with Gail.

Supplies like bottle caps and other metal or manufactured human things were very useful to bring with him. They helped with making and reinforcing furniture, latches, dishes, all sorts. If he was going to fill the other hollowed out trees surrounding his own so that other borrowers could one day comfortably move in he knew he had to take whatever he could.

Oliver always made sure to bring his own freshly grown and well-tended herbs, berries and seeds with him to trade, as well as things he made himself— like jam, butter, cream, all things that were difficult to stock up on safely as a borrower. By now he had a reputation across the city and some people would even collect a pile of borrowed things specifically to trade with him during the winter.

He brought knitted blankets too, for the families who were just moving in, or people who had lost their things and needed the extra warmth to survive the winter. It definitely made traveling difficult when he was carrying so much, but Oliver was physically in shape enough that it didn't bother him so long as he took regular breaks.

As he left through one of the exits and into the winter air again he looked over to the next entrance, only to pause when he noticed a well-dressed human seated right beside it. He stopped, scanning the unfamiliar human over with furrowed brows. He does not look like the people that live in this house…but he doesn't seem to be breaking in either. What is he doing?

Oliver stayed where he was standing amongst the dormant blades of grass, neither approaching nor retreating.

The person in question huffed a misty cloud of a sigh as he tossed his head back to bang on the exterior of the home. His fingers tapped erratically against his knees, gaze wandering up to the sky. Not that daylight was necessary for what he was meant to be searching for, but losing it was still a less-than-fun feeling.

“Urgh, come on,” the Doctor murmured, leaning forward to twist around in his cross-legged seat. Intense brown eyes scanned up and down the foundation of the building behind him, only to linger on the few weak points to be found very close by. The slightest cracks in the brickwork, gaps just large enough for people of incredibly small stature to squeeze through.

Staring at them did nothing to make the seconds tick by any faster, nor did they manifest his borrower friend suddenly appearing through one. The Doctor shook his head at himself for being so on edge when she went off on her own. He knew she could take care of herself, but when there were other unknown factors involved, he couldn't help being nervous for her. If he couldn't protect her…

Nope. Not going there .

His gaze cast to the side, hoping for any kind of distraction from his spiraling thoughts. And he froze when he found it.

Beside a similar crack along the foundation of the building opposite stood a tiny figure. This one was unfamiliar to the Doctor, dressed in green and staring right back at him.

“Oh,” the Doctor breathed. Since he met Zepheera, he didn't usually get caught alone with one of her kind. All his diplomacy skills got put to use as he leaned further down to be slightly closer to the little man’s level as he said, “Ah…hallo?”

As Oliver locked eyes with the human he stood up straighter, not with fear but just a subdued sense of surprise, eyeing their body language with a sharp gaze. His eyebrow raised at the almost casual greeting, noting that there was an element of shock but not in the way most humans reacted when finding out tiny people exist. In fact, the larger man didn’t seem thrown off by his existence at all, just his presence.

His eyes flickered downwards to the space in the grass between them, making certain that he wasn’t within arms’ reach. With him sat down as he is he wouldn't be able to grab me without moving closer first. I would have time to draw my quill… With that thought he managed to relax his hands at his sides, folding them behind his back as usual and tilting his head as he regarded the stranger diplomatically.

“Hello.” His tone wasn't as warm as usual when making a new acquaintance but there wasn't any obvious hostility in the simple greeting either. His green eyes looked up and met with the human's once more, inspecting his expression with a healthy dose of suspicion.

He's seen a borrower before, that much is clear. Is he a friend, or is he one of those humans that go around capturing and selling our kind? They seem to be popping up more and more nowadays.

Clearing his throat, Oliver didn't take a step closer but instead shifted his weight to his back leg, staring back up at the giant figure like he was a puzzle to solve.

“You are not either of the humans living in that residence you're leaning against. What is your intent?” he probed. Whether he got an honest response or not, Oliver would take any clues he could get— and if it happened that there was a borrower hunter in the city he would take care of the problem swiftly.

The Doctor's brow jumped up nearly to his hairline. He'd been prepared to deal with a frightened or wary borrower, but this one threw him for a loop by being so straightforward.

“Me? Oh, I'm just…waiting on someone,” he answered at length. As surprisingly calm as this person seemed, the Doctor was still reluctant to outright say he was with another borrower. He knew as well as Zepheera did how people might take that if not addressed appropriately, and well… the Doctor wasn't always the best with his words.

Waiting on someone… Oliver glanced towards the ground for a moment, his fingers resting thoughtfully against his chin. The borrowers living in that home don't strike me as the adventurous type. If I recall they were more…traditional in their beliefs and methods. I doubt they have started networking with humans.

Slowly the Doctor began to sit up in place. He would look odd no matter what, sitting between homes like this; leaning down only drew more attention to the borrower, and he reckoned neither of them wanted that. Tilting his head in an unintentional mimic of the tiny man before him, he asked curiously, “How long have you been standing there?”

Locking eyes again, Oliver hummed.

“Not very long. I left to find you sitting there.” His hand separated from his chin and he instead folded his arms across his chest, brows furrowing with suspicion. “I recall seeing you going door to door earlier. You clearly already know what I am. Based on where you are positioned, the one you're waiting for is likely not a human…”

His tone became firmer, not outright accusatory but definitely more serious considering the potential implications of the human’s presence. He pressed further.

“So I ask again, what is your intent?”

The Doctor's first instinct in the face of such a tone change, even from someone so much smaller, was to throw his hands up in surrender. He kept it subtle with the borrower around and simply lifted them slightly above his knees. Wouldn't do to put the fella off any more than he apparently did just by sitting there.

“Just passing through, honest,” he said more evenly in the hopes of conveying sincerity. “My friend and I were curious about the area and thought we'd check in with the locals. She should be back any minute now…”

His eyes wandered back to the tiny entrance, once again willing Zepheera to return quickly. He couldn't rightly tell how well he was convincing this other borrower that he wasn't a threat. Was he being entirely truthful? No, but was he being dishonest? Not completely…

As the human's hands raised Oliver's suspicions didn't waver, although he recognized the gesture as non-threatening. Oliver could see that the man wasn't outright lying, but he was also experienced enough in speaking with others that he knew he wasn't telling him everything either. Human body language was much easier to read given how even the smallest of their movements were noticeable to a borrower’s eyes.

Oliver hummed to himself, gaze shifting to the side again as he pondered the situation further. I have never met another borrower willing to converse with, let alone travel with a human… It isn't impossible but I cannot ignore the more likely possibility that this ‘friend’ may be luring other borrowers into capture. Or they are not a friend at all, but an unsuspecting potential victim.

He let out a sigh.

“I don't mean to accuse you falsely if your words are true, but even so, I'm going to have to insist that I stay here until I see your friend. There are not many borrowers willing to become friends with humans, and I feel it is my responsibility to ensure you are not a threat.” He toned down the sharpness in his voice, choosing not to be too aggressive when he wasn't certain about the situation.

Leaning back against the brick foundation of the building behind him, Oliver crossed one leg over the other but remained on his feet. He looked the human up and down again.

“Danger from humans has been increasing as of late, what with cameras and other modern technology. I have heard of humans using captured borrowers to lure in more of us. Of course, if that's not your intention then you have nothing to worry about. But if it is…” He let out a small hum, still watching for a reaction. “Well. I'll have to deal with you.”

Something about this borrower’s voice commanded attention, and the Doctor's slid right back to him the moment he started speaking again. The more he listened, the deeper his frown grew– not exactly surprised to hear of humans treating borrowers in such a way, but quite disappointed.

Obviously his friendship with Zepheera was an exception to the rule, she'd made that much clear. And he'd seen enough of humanity over the centuries to understand that they were capable of great cruelty and incredible kindness in equal measure. Even so, it still burned something in him to think of it happening under his nose to the point that he'd only just started hearing of such things after meeting a borrower for himself.

“I'm sorry that's happening,” he whispered. “Really, I am. Nobody deserves that, least of all your lot. Maybe when we're done here, we can–”

Then the Doctor blinked as the borrower’s last statement sank in, and a small grin tugged at the corner of his lip before he could stop it.

“Hang on. Now, when you say ‘deal with me’... How exactly does that look?”

He truly meant no derision in the question, though his amusement at the mental image did slip through in his tone. After what felt like countless years of facing powerful, nigh on undefeatable enemies in his travels, he couldn't help being slightly tickled in the face of a finger-sized man with a mean-looking porcupine quill at his back.

The levity in the human's response was plain as day, although Oliver couldn't say he expected anything else. Given the difference in stature, even the kindest of humans could be unintentionally belittling for a start, falsely attributing power to size and presuming he had no power as a result. The corners of his own mouth twitched upwards at the question, folding his arms once again and shaking his head.

“If I told you how it worked, my methods wouldn't be nearly as effective. Let's just say the last nefarious human I met had much more trouble capturing borrowers without the use of his eyes.” It was stated matter-of-factly as he tapped his temple for emphasis, not intended to scare or threaten, but simply speaking the truth. He then nodded his head in the human's direction, gesturing largely to him with one gloved hand.

“But, seeing as you claim to not be a threat, you have nothing to worry about so long as that is the truth. So far you have not made any attempts to capture me either, so consider that a point in your favor.” He let his hand return to resting in the crook of his elbow, his posture relaxed and unintimidated.

“Right,” murmured the Doctor, his grin falling into more of a wince as his mental image shifted. “That was a bit rude, wasn't it? Sorry. I, er, do rather appreciate being able to use both my eyes- I quite like these ones! Brown, but a good brown. Could be worse–”

A quiet cough by his knee cut his rambling short. When he looked back to the nearby entrance, a familiar brown bob slowly leaned out of it. The Doctor's posture visibly relaxed as Zepheera stepped out into the open with care.

“Hiya,” she greeted as she assessed the situation she was walking in on. With a glance between the Doctor and the other borrower across the way, she asked the giant among them, “Making friends?”

“Ah… well, sort of,” said the Doctor, a bit sheepish. “I was just talking to…” His eyes glazed over before they cut back to the fellow. “Actually, I don't think I ever got your name.”

Oliver's leaf green gaze flickered towards the borrower who had just shown up through the crack opposite the one he had exited not moments ago, making note of how no other borrowers followed behind her. Not only that, but she didn't seem afraid of the human— in fact, she greeted him casually like one would do to a friend.

The interaction immediately reminded him of how he and James would greet each other; something he hadn’t been able to imagine repeated simply because others of his kind seemed to mythologize and fear humans so much.

His gaze lingered, head tilted minutely to one side as he processed the unfamiliar but refreshing sight of another borrower being unafraid of their larger counterparts.

Another borrower…like me?

Chapter Text

Judgement quickly made, Oliver pushed off of the wall and approached with steady steps despite the cracked dirt beneath his boots , stopping just within arms’ reach of the human and offering his own hand up towards him with a polite smile. Any sense of wariness faded with his eagerness to meet the interesting duo properly.

“Oliver. A pleasure… And it would seem you were telling the truth.” His eyes cast back over to the other borrower with intrigue, curious about how such a relationship came to be— though he doubted it was in the same manner as his own.

“I have never met another of my kind actually willingly traveling and being friends with a human. What are your names?” he asked, glancing between the two.

‘Technically you still haven't’ lay on the tip of the Doctor’s tongue, but he bit it back as he offered a genuine smile and his little finger to meet Oliver's hand.

“I'm the Doctor,” he said instead, seeing no need to keep up with the ‘John Smith’ alias with a borrower. “Charmed.”

The Doctor? I believe I've heard of ‘Doctor’ as a first name before but still, it's quite uncommon, Oliver thought as he gave the outstretched finger a shake.

“Oh, you're Oliver!” Zepheera exclaimed, jogging along the Doctor’s side to meet him in the middle. Once the much larger hand lifted away, she stepped right up to offer her own to shake. “Zepheera,” the seemingly young woman introduced herself, violet eyes shining with fascination. 

The Doctor's brow quirked at her remark. “You know him?”

Casting her gaze over her shoulder, she explained to them both, “Well, no, but… The folks here and in that place down the road assumed I was with an ‘Oliver’. I didn't exactly tell them I wasn't.” She turned back to face Oliver fully. “Hope that doesn't mess anything up for you. Sorry if it does. They send kind regards, though!”

He smiled warmly at Zepheera's introduction and shook her hand with a firm but gentle grip as it was offered. Noticing her lack of gloves, he courteously placed his free hand on top of hers as he held it and met her strangely violet gaze.

He wasn't surprised that she had heard his name before— whether that be due to living in the area or speaking with borrowers that did. Based on her explanation, it seemed the latter was the most likely explanation. He shook his head politely and patted her hand.

“Not at all. Although they may be confused by me stopping by after you, they likely expected it anyway seeing as you are not carrying my trade supplies,” he pointed out, gesturing towards the large backpack he was carrying which was practically full to bursting at the moment, juxtaposed by her singular pack.

Retracting his hand s to position them at his sides again, Oliver took a small step back so he could see both the Doctor and Zepheera easier without having to crane his neck up.

“Doctor and Zepheera. I must say, y ou have very unusual names. What brings you both to this area ?” he inquired with a tilt of his head. His remark about their names was clearly spoken with more interest than judgement; if anything Oliver seemed excited to meet the two. “If there's something you're in need of I may have it in my pack, or my burrow. Far be it for me to ignore the needs of travelers crossing my path, no matter the size. ”

“Oh, we'll be fine,” the Doctor insisted. Though meeting a borrower with an attitude like Oliver's was quite interesting, Zepheera's return reminded him of the urgent situation. “Just passing through, like I said. Should be well on our way before too long, and we really ought to get going. Right, Zepheera?”

The Doctor automatically lowered an upturned hand near her, but instead of hopping on like she usually would, she held up a hand to brace against a hovering knuckle. That was enough to stop him in his tracks, though he did give her a questioning stare.

“Hold on,” she protested, taking on a firm tone similar to the one Oliver had used earlier. With a light push off from his hand, she looked back to Oliver and eyed his mass of supplies curiously.

“If everyone knows you, and actually expects you to show up…then you must check in on them,” she inferred. “Fairly regularly, is that right?”

Oliver nodded, eyeing the hand that now rested on the grass beside them. His green eyes met Zepheera's again as he expounded further.

“That's right. I visit all the houses in the area annually…to trade and to check in on people, how houses are operating, updating my files and notes and whatnot.” He seemed quite content to talk about his work since he didn’t get the chance to very often. His records were something he was proud of since he had spent a decade compiling everything at this point, but other borrowers were usually unsettled by it all. “Why do you ask?”

Zepheera gave a shrug. “Just seems that if something out of the ordinary might have shown up or happened lately, you might have taken notice.” She shared a glance with the Doctor, whose confusion gave way to a begrudging understanding of her point. 

“Could be worth a look,” she said almost in an aside to him before regarding Oliver once again. “If you don't mind, of course.”

Smiling, Oliver shook his head and waved a hand dismissively.

“Not at all. If you'd like I can bring you to my burrow— that's where I keep my files. So far I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary but on one of my recent more impromptu check-ins I might have something,” he offered, before bringing his fingers to his lips and whistling sharply through the gap.

“You're free to join as well, Doctor. I don't think I have a room large enough to accommodate you, but your company is still welcome.” A moment after the words left him the sound of Gail’s grand wings flapping distantly made him look up, smiling at the sight and waving his hand as he whistled again. “Down here, Gail!”

The buzzard landed beside Oliver, staring intensely at the Doctor with feathers ruffled, which made the already large bird of prey look even more threatening. She was on edge and poised to attack until Oliver reached up and gently pulled her reins down so that he could reach her beak. He lightly petted her beak, unbothered by her presence despite the fact that she was almost five times his height when standing upright .

She relaxed in sync with his reassuring touches , seemingly understanding that meant the larger man was not a threat. Her golden gaze instead shifted towards Zepheera, curious, but more focused on leaning into Oliver's gentle motions with a croon of satisfaction.

Slowly, the Doctor’s hackles lowered in time with Gail’s. He couldn't help but bristle at the sound of her wings as she came down, The hand he previously laid flat near the borrowers snapped up to cup over Zepheera's head– not closing over her, but prepared to shield her from the initially aggressive-looking buzzard . She ducked back under its protection instinctively.

It quickly became clear that Oliver had some command over the bird, and the Doctor and Zepheera could relax. After sharing a look with her to make sure she felt safe, to which she gave a distinct nod , his hand retracted and came to rest on his knee again.

Oliver looked over at the pair again with a soft grimace, realizing too late that he should have given more warning about Gail’s appearance.

“She's friendly, don't worry. If you'd like, Zepheera, I could give you a ride back with her— she can fly low so the Doctor would have no trouble finding his way.” He scratched at the buzzard's shorter feathers under her beak affectionately.

Zepheera looked to Gail with no small amount of caution, but a great deal of intrigue . “I suppose if you're offering…and she doesn't mind the extra passenger,” Zepheera conceded as she straightened her dark fitted coat, taking a few steps closer with her focus sharply on the bird. Then she lifted her chin to meet the Doctor’s gaze. “You gonna be alright?”

He waved off her concern. “Go on without me. I'll only slow you down.” With that decided, he began to carefully shift his feet under him, going slowly to disturb the buzzard and the borrowers as little as possible. He reached a hand down once he settled into a crouch, and he nudged Zepheera's arm with a gentle knuckle.

“I'm gonna head back and work on that…thing,” he reiterated vaguely. “Shouldn't take longer than an hour. Well . Maybe two, depends on how much trouble it gives me.” A thoughtful frown slipped into his features before he shook it off and refocused on his friend. “Anyway. Back in a couple hours?”

Zepheera reached up to give his finger a reassuring pat. “I'll see you then,” she nodded. 

He gave a soft grin, lifted his hand away, and sat back on his haunches, letting the smaller folk make the first move. With a nod of his own to acknowledge the other borrower, the Doctor said, “Good to meet you, Oliver. And your…buzzard.”

Oliver watched the interaction, expression softening at the sight. He hadn’t realized how hopeful he would feel watching one of his kind interacting with larger folk in the same friendly manner he did with James. The only times in the past decade that he had ever seen other borrowers interacting with humans was usually a result of capture and so there was nothing hopeful about it.

His expression perked up as the Doctor addressed him directly and he nodded.

“It was a pleasure meeting you too.” He whistled again, this time in a slightly lower pitch and for longer. Gail lowered herself down at the signal, making it significantly easier to get onto her back; though Oliver was helped by being tall for a borrower anyway. He attached his larger backpacks to the straps around her waist, making sure the weight was evenly distributed so that it wouldn't cause trouble flying.

He hoisted himself up first before holding a hand down for Zepheera to pull her up if needed. “Would you rather sit in front of me or behind me?”

“Oh, definitely behind,” Zepheera emphasized, sidling up to Gail like a human might do for a skittish horse. Even so, her grin belied an undercurrent of glee. “First time flier, I wouldn't know what to hold onto otherwise.”

Once she was close enough, she took a short hop and clasped her hand tightly to Oliver's, thankful for the help up. Settling in along the bird’s back was such an odd feeling; to catch a ride on a living creature was hardly new for her, but one with wings was quite literally a different beast. 

Her hands ended up tentatively bracing on the back of Oliver’s shoulders. She'd only just met the bloke, it felt a bit forward to cling to him right away. Even if it was to keep from falling off in the air. “This alright?”

Oliver didn't mind the contact, knowing from experience that it was difficult to get the balance right when riding a bird for the first time. He could recall several incidents when he first experimented with riding Gail in which he almost fell off due to not knowing where to sit or what to hold onto; the reins made falling to his death significantly less likely.

“Whatever position feels most stable,” he assured with a curt nod. Leaned down he patted Gail's feathers again in order to call her attention , causing her sharp gaze to look up slightly. “Go slow this time, alright girl? No fancy tricks.”

With a stifled squawk of understanding she shook out her still-ruffled feathers slightly before standing up straight. Oliver took the reins in turn, and after glancing over his shoulder back at Zepheera to make sure she was settled he let out a short whistle and flicked the reins outwards. On cue, Gail's wings snapped open and she took to the sky.

The Doctor kept his eyes glued to the buzzard during their ascent, pushing himself to stand as she soared above the rooftops. When they got far enough to appear as little more than a speck against the sky without anyone visibly falling off, he slowly let out the breath he'd been holding.

“She'll be fine.” He ran a hand through his already wild hair and scratched at the back of his neck, nodding decisively as he echoed, “She’ll be fine .”

Shaking out his hands of any leftover nerves, he shoved them into his coat pockets as he marched down the pavement in the direction of the police box. 

He didn't often trust strangers alone with Zepheera so quickly, but another borrower was a safe enough bet. She could hold her own if it came down to it. Plus, if there was one thing that was made clear during their relatively short chat, it was that Oliver prioritized the safety of his fellow borrower quite highly.

Seemed a nice enough chap, too. So long as one wasn't deemed a threat to him or others.

As the ground fell away from beneath Gail’s beating wings, any social trepidations Zepheera had were left behind.

She had no idea when her hands detached from Oliver's shoulders and wrapped tightly around his waist like a seatbelt, but that was where she found herself when she finally began to process her surroundings. Wind whipped her short hair in all directions and made her eyes water as she dared to look around. The sight of the treetops and households much farther below than even she was used to made her heart flutter in her throat, and filled her with such a giddy thrill. All she could do was giggle uncontrollably for a moment.

“You do this all the time?” she shouted, unsure of how well Oliver could hear her over the wind even though she'd all but plastered herself to his back.

Oliver smiled at the sound of the laughter from behind him. It was always a mixed bag how people responded to being up in the air, and he was always pleased to find like-minded people that enjoyed the wind rushing through their hair. He was so used to flying at this point that his posture was entirely relaxed as Gail cut through the air with her tawny feathered wings. He chuckled, holding onto his glasses with one hand and the reins with the other.

“Yes! It's a very convenient mode of transportation— and Gail loves to stretch her wings..!” he called out, knowing that it was a little harder to hear whilst going at such speeds. He leaned forwards slightly, able to pinpoint his home even from there after so many trips to and from his burrow on Gail's back.

“Not too long now— keep your head down and hold on tight..!” he urged as he took the reins and whistled sharply again. Gail squawked in response, flitting up briefly as her speed dropped suddenly in midair before diving down. She didn't fly completely vertically downwards, mindful of the newer passenger on her back, but it was still incredibly fast.

Moments later they were already slowing down as Gail passed the treeline and opened her wings again to land on the grass. She smoothly descended to the ground and Oliver sat up straight again once she had fully planted her talons into the dirt, brushing his dark hair back as he turned to look at Zepheera with a sheepish expression.

“Are you alright?”

Zepheera peeled herself off of Oliver once she felt they were on solid ground, though her hands found his shoulders again as she recovered from the slight woozy feeling of all the changes in elevation and speed. A stray giggle or two bubbled up while she got her bearings, combing her fingers through own wind-swept hair to tame it.

“That was fun! Ah, I needed that,” she sighed, scooting herself back in preparation to dismount from Gail. “It has been a day. ”

Chapter Text

Once Zepheera was able to focus a little better, she took a look around. Her brow jumped up to find trees surrounding them on all sides, and she remarked, “Oh, you're an outdoor one! Makes sense in hindsight, you did say burrow. And the bird kinda gives it away, I suppose.”

Oliver nodded with a hum of acknowledgement at her words , carefully hopping off of Gail's back and helping Zepheera down.

“Yes, I suppose it does— though I did live as an indoor borrower for eight years. I'm sure you'll understand when you see my burrow that I'm a bit of a mix between the two…” He gave Gail a gracious scratch under the beak before gesturing for Zepheera to follow as he strolled over to what appeared to be a normal oak tree; the bark covered in moss and the roots surrounded by delicate wildflowers , which Zepheera paused to admire as they passed by.

The closer they got the easier it was to make out the slight indentations on the bark that made up a door, although it was something a human would likely never pick out on their own. Oliver, instinctively knowing where the entrance was , reached forwards and pulled the door open with only minor strain, revealing the darkness past it. He strode into the shadows confidently, leaving the door open for Zepheera to follow as he felt around to the left of the door. There was the sound of a switch— then the whole place lit up with warm light.

The hollowed out tree was filled with string lights that accentuated the colourful greens and flowery patterns strewn about the space . Miniature pieces of furniture were carefully arranged around the main area; obviously hand made, every pillow and cover meticulously stitched and embroidered , all of the wood hand-carved. There were even tiny paintings put up on the walls, propped up on shelves or hanging from the walls in a wooden frame.

The hollowed interior was split into a few sections, with the curve of the back wall partially obscuring the wooden stairs that led to a separate floor, and a short set of stairs just below that leading to an underground storage area made with slate walls to keep supplies cool . Right beside the door there was even a little standing coat hanger, where Oliver removed his fur cloak and hung it over the top.

He pulled off his leather gloves next, setting them aside on the coffee table.

“You'll have to excuse the mess. I was checking through my notes from last year's rounds before heading off and neglected to organise it all before leaving.” He picked up some of the papers scattered about on the coffee table’s surface, straightening them before standing up straight again and tilting his head as he met Zepheera's violet gaze. “Would you like tea, coffee?”

“None for me, thanks,” she said as she unlatched her coat and set it to hang alongside Oliver's cloak. She was rather tea’d out from her previous visits with borrowers, though she'd managed to politely turn down the latest ones. Easy to forget how hospitable her own people could be. Smoothing down her vest made from a candy wrapper, she insisted, “And don't worry, I'm used to a mess. It hardly bothers me. I’d say ‘don’t tell the Doctor' but…well, he knows what he's like. I tell him often enough.”

Relenting at her refusal of a beverage he sat down on the cotton-stuffed sofa and started organising the papers where he was, only needing to skim the pages to know which piles they should be in.

Zepheera’s eyes wandered around the place, fascinated by every detail. Almost reverently, she stepped up to a chair to run her fingers over the carved finish and the stitching of a pillow in the seat. All of it was carefully and meticulously made, and she resisted the urge to have a look at it all. They were here for a reason, after all, and she ought to stay focused.

“Big place,” she commented, slowly meandering back toward Oliver. “Did you do all this yourself?”

“Ah— yes. I started working on it when I was sixteen, so I've had a long time to expand and build. This oak tree has been in my family for generations, and as such I thankfully did not have to hollow it all out myself, though I did add the upstairs and kitchen and…all of the present furniture.” After gesturing vaguely at all of the interior, he cleared his throat, letting his hands rest in his lap now that all the files were sorted accordingly. “In more recent years I've started hollowing out and furnishing other trees nearby in the hopes that other borrowers will move in some day. It would be good, I think, to have our own little community.”

Letting out a hum, he turned his attention back towards his guest; although his mind was still entangled in all of his grand plans for borrower kind.

“That's why I've started keeping track of things. It gives me something to do but… it also helps keep people safe. There are humans and borrowers alike in need of help all over the place, and I figure that wherever I can help I should .” He paused briefly, as if contemplating his own words. “The world is quickly becoming less safe for borrowers. I would like to remedy that.”

Zepheera took all this in silently, sinking into a nearby chair. It was more information than she'd asked for or expected, but she would have asked at some point anyways. Each word he spoke drew her in even more than the last and felt incredibly important to hear. Another thing she was quite familiar with.

“It’s a noble cause,” she said gently as she regarded Oliver and his piles of extensive notes. Over the few hours she and the Doctor had spent in the area– in a time zone slightly ahead of the world Zepheera left behind in favour of her travels– she'd felt the difference a decade or two could make. More than enough time for technology to develop and cultures to change. Borrowers were nothing if not adaptable, but it had to be difficult to simply exist knowing that the room for error was shrinking fast.

Hearing and seeing it all laid out before her was sobering indeed.

Offering Oliver an encouraging smile, Zepheera added, “I'm impressed by your dedication to it all.” Then a few of his words sank in properly, and she leaned forward with an even wider grin. “You said ‘humans and borrowers’. And you mentioned before about being friends with them. Is that how you do it? Got one of their own to help with things on their end?”

Oliver blinked at the unexpectedly direct question, as if only just recalling that he was actually able to discuss humans in a less ‘scary giant monster’ light. It was the first time anyone had asked him about his own interactions with humans without an underlying trepidation or judgement.

He smiled fondly , sitting up straight again with his hands furled and perched on his knees.

“Yes. His name is James… We met about a year ago now. I was doing my rounds when I saw a human breaking into a woman's home— I recalled that there was a police officer living close by, so… I told him about the situation.” His gaze flitted to the side, reminiscent. “We’ve been friends since then. He comes to my aid when a situation requires more resources than I have at my disposal.”

Zepheera's expression softened as she listened, curiosity giving way to a quiet admiration.

“Sounds like you lucked out,” she commented. It took far more than dedication to approach a strange human, let alone for the express purpose of helping another one. There was a special kind of fearlessness that Zepheera recognised in it. That James could have just as easily ignored Oliver or, worse, done him harm simply because he had the power to do so. Yet he took that risk, banking on an officer being willing to jump into action to save an innocent. A worthwhile gamble, if the way Oliver spoke about James was any indication. “Tough to find ones that’ll take you seriously and do what you ask.”

Glancing over Oliver's papers, Zepheera gestured vaguely toward them and wondered, “And, does he know about all this? All that you do ‘round the place for borrowers, too?”

Oliver nodded, his gaze following Zepheera’s gesture and focusing on his notes once more.

“Yes. Once I had determined it was safe to share such sensitive information. In the wrong hands it would be a disaster…but James is a good man. A bit clumsy, but well-meaning.” He let out a soft chuckle, knowing that if James was listening in he would probably protest the ‘clumsy’ label.

“He helps me prepare my supplies for trading and gives me things that most borrowers would struggle to gather themselves. He's definitely a gift-giver… Every time I visit he has something new he's excited to show me.” He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before looking over at Zepheera again.

“And in cases that need human intervention, he's always willing to step in. In the past I got injured more times than I can count by standing against some…less than savoury humans. Now I know James has my back so I don't have to take as many risks.”

“Glad of that,” sighed Zepheera. Though she tried not to let it show, she couldn't completely hide the surprise and concern that came over her to hear about Oliver confronting humans so brazenly. She glanced briefly at the quill he'd carried with him since they met and understood how he could have made it out of such dangerous situations, but it was still impressive to be able to fight against the larger folk alone. Especially with injuries minor enough that he could recover so well.

Zepheera was no stranger to injuries herself, but her relationship to them was unique to the rest of her kind. While all borrowers could recover more quickly than a human might from a similar injury, her wounds were usually healed in a matter of minutes, hours at the longest depending on how badly she was hurt. All her life she'd never seen so much as a scar left behind. And even with that fact in mind, she'd never been one to go looking for a fight so stacked against her.

“It's kinda the opposite for me, I suppose,” she mused before she could think twice about it. “Taking risks wasn't something I was overly keen on doing ‘til I started traveling with the Doctor. Or helping people much. These days, it's hard to imagine just hiding away or standing by if there's something I can do.”

The shift in topic reminded Oliver of his earlier question, and he perked up, leaning forward with interest.

“How did you and the Doctor meet, may I ask?”

Zepheera's brow shot up ; despite being the one to turn the conversation toward herself, she wasn't quite prepared to go into the details. Still, it was understandable that Oliver was just as interested in her odd friendship as she was in his with James.

“Oh, y'know, I was…minding my business, when the two of us sort of fell into each other. In a manner of speaking.” Running a hand through her short hair, she admitted, “Took a bit to warm up to him, eccentric as he is. I wasn't exactly friendly with anyone back then, much less with bigger folk. Had a bit of an old-fashioned upbringing, see– I grew up still hearing ‘Humans are for borrowers what bread is for butter’, how's that for traditional? But…when I got to know him, it turned out we had more in common than we thought .”

Her expression softened as she met Oliver's gaze warmly. “We're quite similar to you , really. The Doctor and I, we often try to help out however we can, wherever we go, no matter who. Only our way of doing things tends to be more…chaotic. Definitely less organized,” she conceded, glancing down at Oliver's papers. “It's rewarding, though, isn't it? Makes everything else worthwhile.”

Oliver listened attentively to the tale, and he couldn't say he was surprised. He would have been significantly more surprised to find another borrower actively approaching a human as he had— usually when borrowers and humans met it was accidental or it was a ‘human catching a borrower' situation. The fact that someone previously avoidant of humans was now friends with one… well, that was remarkable.

“It certainly does. It is nice to meet kindred spirits… although at first I wasn't sure if Doctor was a kindred spirit or an enemy. Seeing the trust between you both was reassuring. It’s obvious you care for one another. ” Oliver had always wished humans and borrowers could simply get along. Now that he was older he understood why it wasn't that simple, but getting to see his dream realized through someone other than himself made it feel less…impossible.

He fished absentmindedly through some of the files with a hum, searching for some things that may include ‘out of the ordinary’ occurrences.

“Chaos is sometimes what is needed to get the job done. I've had a few chaotic moments myself when dealing with bad humans or wild animals. It is its own form of order at times , I believe.” Finding a few files in particular that he remembered marking down as suspicious or out of the norm he picked them up and looked to Zepheera again.

“What sort of information are you searching for specifically? Most of this is about suspected criminal behavior… There are a few notes about other things though, like infestations, worrying child behavior, medical things…” He flipped through the files, eyes narrowing in confusion as he happened upon a particularly perplexing incident . “I saw some children eating glue recently. That was certainly odd.”

Zepheera wrinkled her nose at that last bit. “Yeah, not quite our kind of odd. Definitely weird, though.”

Leaning in for a closer look at Oliver's selected notes, she clarified, “We don't know exactly what we're looking for here, but anything or anyone new to the area could potentially be important. Especially if they're unusual somehow. Other than that, we thought maybe unexplained electrical disturbances, people in a particular area going missing or falling ill for no reason, strange lights spotted in the sky…”

“Hmm…” Brows pinching together in thought, Oliver browsed the files in his hand to see if anything stuck out. “New people move here all the time, but if someone seemed unusual I might have notes about it. People falling ill without reason… I can't say I've seen much of that. And well…people have gone missing, but that was years ago.”

He put the files he was holding back down, picking up another set; this one containing details about newer arrivals, whether that be borrowers or humans. It went back a few years so he flipped to the more recent pages and scanned them with a sharp and efficient gaze. Oliver was a fast reader so he had no trouble skimming and somehow retaining the words he skimmed through, always finding exactly what he needed.

“Hm. It's mostly been families moving into the city, or people moving out from their parents’ house lately. Only a few true newcomers. If you'd like to, you can look through my notes here, but this year hasn't been any more odd than the last, you'll find.” He offered the pages to her, open to ones that were specifically new people in the past year.

She took them, looking over each name before glancing over the other records Oliver had laid out in case any of their notable actions stuck out. As Zepheera contemplated how they might even begin to narrow it all down, she chewed at her lower lip.

“It's a bit tricky, this. We've only just got here, so it's hard to know when exactly something might have been triggered. For all we know, whoever or whatever we're looking for might have been here for years,” she admitted to Oliver at length, watching him carefully for a reaction. 

It was perhaps a little soon to consider being more truthful about the kinds of things she and the Doctor dealt with. Most people would think she was mad if she told them a fraction of the things she'd seen and done. Oliver, though, seemed open-minded and hard to shake up. 

Deciding to take it slow, Zepheera began with the more relevant information.

“The Doctor’s got some…pretty sensitive tech,” she explained. “When we arrived, it picked up on something that shouldn't be here. An energy signature radiating from somewhere in the town. We couldn't identify it, and its signal was too big and erratic to pinpoint, but we assumed that something so powerful would leave its mark.”

Looking back down at the pages in her hand, Zepheera gave a small sigh. “What's baffling is that there seems to be nothing to go on. Nobody we talked to seemed to notice anything off at all. It really shouldn't be possible…”

Oliver listened to the more detailed explanation with intrigue, tapping his fingers against his knee as he thought the new information over.

“I see. I'm not very good with human technology, and I only really keep track of cameras at the moment. But if it may have happened years ago…” He met her gaze more seriously. “A human went missing three years ago. I thought he must have run away but he turned up dead later on. That was along with a few borrowers going missing from the same house… I'm not sure what that may have to do with technology, but still it was very…strange.”

Choosing not to mention his own relationship with those missing borrowers for the sake of not complicating the search, he looked down at the papers again.

“Hm… there is a man called Ryker who appeared around the same time. He struck me as odd, because despite being an apparent doctor he simply runs a launderette…and no one else ever works there.” He met Zepheera's gaze. “But…once again. I'm not sure how that would connect to an energy surge, besides that his electricity bills always seem unnecessarily high . I’m sorry that I can't be more helpful.”

“Oh, don't be!” Zepheera insisted, gesturing to all the notes Oliver had laid out. “This is all fantastic information, more than the Doctor and I have been able to get all day. We just need more context, we've gotta narrow it down.”

She paused for a moment as one leg bounced anxiously. It was a lot, what she was about to ask of Oliver, but she knew they'd be in the dark without his rather extensive knowledge of the area.

Passing the papers in her hand back to him, she gave Oliver a rather serious look. “Would you be willing to come with me? Back at our, er, place, the Doctor’s trying to put together something that can track down the signal we're after. I think if we find the source, we're gonna need all the information we can get so we don't just go in blind.” 

The intensity in her violet eyes lessened in the hope that she wouldn't apply too much pressure on him. “It's up to you, of course. You don't have to be more involved in this than you want to. We're not even certain that what we're looking for is dangerous, but we'd rather know than be sorry we didn't look into it.”

That offer gave Oliver pause as he thought everything over. He could tell that Zepheera was being vague, but he didn't suspect that it was done maliciously; they were strangers after all. After a few moments spent pondering he nodded slowly.

“If there is something potentially dangerous in the city and I'm able to help then I would like to be involved.” He pushed himself up to a stand, readjusting his sleeves and brushing any dust off of his green sweater. He placed his hands on his hips once his shirt was all straight again, looking down at Zepheera with a curious expression. As far as the Doctor had said, they were from out of town. “Where is this ‘place’ though? Is it very far?”

“It's, ah, actually pretty close to that neighbourhood we left. Should be easy enough to spot from the air,” said Zepheera with a sheepish chuckle. She followed Oliver's lead and stood, carefully considering how much preparation she could give without overwhelming him.

She hesitated for a second before gently asking, “Would it be alright to take these notes with us? Dunno if we'll have time to run back and forth if we need them again.”

“Ah.” Oliver nodded. Perhaps this place is a van or a hotel then…I suppose I'll find out. He smiled and nodded to her question too, picking up the files they had been looking at, as well as some others that he had recently collected, placing them carefully in his bag to prevent wrinkling and folding . Once he was certain that everything was secure he walked over to the door again, taking Zepheera's coat and politely offering to hold it whilst she put it on. Once she was sorted he put on his own cloak and gloves.

Pushing the door back open and turning off the string lights, he held the door for Zepheera, seeing that Gail was still standing outside waiting expectantly.

Chapter Text

Zepheera brightened up again as she gingerly stepped closer to the front of Gail rather than her side. Though she'd emphasised some urgency in the situation, she knew they were still a bit early in the Doctor's estimated timeline for finishing his detector. And she couldn't help being fascinated by a tamed buzzard.

“Can I…?” she breathed, lifting an ungloved hand where the bird could plainly see it. She wasn't sure if Gail preferred to know her scent before she'd allow Zepheera to touch her the way Oliver could . The last thing she wanted was to upset their ride in her curiosity.

Closing the door behind him, he watched Zepheera approach the common buzzard with a soft expression, pleased once again to see someone who wasn't fearing or judging his way of life; if anything she seemed curious about it.

He smiled apologetically at Gail’s straightened posture and ruffled feathers. After so many years watching her he could tell she was just confused by the new borrower's unafraid approach since usually Oliver got her to stay away from other borrowers. A giant bird of prey like herself caused a panic around most of his kind.

Reaching up, he pet her beak reassuringly to help her relax again, chuckling at the wary reaction. Gail leaned into his gentle hand but kept her predatory eyes focused almost unblinkingly on Zepheera. She let out a curious coo.

“Gail isn't used to other borrowers not being afraid of her… I recommend you move slowly, but you can pet her.” Oliver instructed, stepping away once her feathers had settled to allow them to interact. He smiled, clasping his hands behind his back and watching fondly. “A few scratches under the beak and I'm sure you'll become best friends in no time.”

Glancing between Oliver and Gail, Zepheera stepped closer to follow his directions. “That's alright, I guess,” she said as she reached up and gave the objectively sharp and dangerous beak a gentle stroke or two. “I'm not used to birds not looking at me like I'm a snack.”

Her awed grin only grew as she shifted to scratch under Gail's feathers without trouble , and she turned all that amazement back to Oliver. “How'd you get her trained up? Didn't think birds would be all that keen to listen to the likes of us, if I'm honest .”

Letting out a huff of laughter from his nose , Oliver shook his head.

“Well, I definitely wouldn't suggest walking up to random birds without a healthy dose of caution… but Gail fell out of the nest when she was a baby, and she was abandoned. I found her, nursed her and fed her— though I wasn't expecting her to get attached as she did, as much as I'm happy with how it turned out.” He hummed, folding his arms as he reminisced about those days. He had been hesitant at first but his fascination with birds sparked the more time he spent with Gail in those days.

“I suppose I have the benefit that she imprinted on me, and from there our friendship grew. But it actually isn't difficult to train birds like pigeons or crows with the right supplies. Pigeons are especially food motivated.” He hummed, looking up at the sun filtering in through the mostly bare branches. “I have trained many birds over the years . They all understand that not eating me is mutually beneficial, as I give them food and enrichment. In return they listen to some of my commands.”

His gaze focused back on Gail and Zepheera, pleased to see that Gail was quickly warming up to the other and leaning into her touch, eyes closed in satisfaction. She let out a low croon, shifting on her talons to lean down more and tilting her head to get the tiny hand to scratch at different angles.

Zepheera obliged Gail, adjusting her positioning as seemingly desired. She took in all that Oliver said, but couldn't help being slightly distracted by the odd sight of bliss coming across the bird's body language. Now and then she'd let out soft affirmations under her breath like “Hiii,” or “That's it, good girl.”

When she'd had her fill, Zepheera reached up to gently smooth down Gail's feathers before stepping back. She looked to Oliver with an intrigued tilt of her head.

“You are definitely an interesting one, Oliver,” she commented on her way around to the side of Gail's wings. While she waited for him, still not confident in her ability to mount the bird on her own, she rubbed her hands together for warmth.

“I like to think so,” he agreed.

Seeing that Zepheera had finished , Oliver gave Gail one final pat before whistling for her to lower herself. Once she did so he hopped up and helped pull Zepheera up like he had done before. She opted once again to hang onto Oliver's cloak at the back of his shoulders. This time she made sure her grip was solid, as she wanted a better look around during the upcoming flight. Couldn't do that easily whilst plastered to Oliver's back like she was before.

Once she was settled, Zepheera ventured to ask, “Erm… Sort of a random question, but do you know what a police box looks like?”  

The question made Oliver hum.

“I do. In fact, I read about how there aren't many left in England since they're no longer very necessary— but I noticed today that there is one in town. I was going to ask James about it next time I see him, since I wasn't sure if it was just for display or not; like how lots of telephone boxes have been turned into mini libraries,” he responded, rambling slightly. It was becoming increasingly clear that Oliver was the type to spill his entire internal dialogue when asked a simple question, but at least he stayed on topic.

“Is your place near that police box then?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Zepheera and waited for her to get situated.

“Actually, it is that police box,” she replied, glad that she didn't have to go through a more detailed description. She hardly minded hearing more of Oliver's thoughts on the matter; if rambling was a bother, then she'd never have a moment's peace with the Doctor. “It's kind of hard to explain, but you'll see when we get there.”

Now that caused Oliver's eyebrows to raise, but rather than pressing the matter he shook it off.

“Alright then. Well, I would find it interesting to see a police box in person for the first time.” He took the reins and gave Gail another stroke on her feathered head. “Come on then, girl.”

He let out a short whistle and flicked the reins just as he had done the first time they took off. Gail pushed off of the grass as her powerful wings flapped and quickly carried them into the air. She flew at a similar pace as before, though when Oliver spotted the police box and signaled for her to go down she didn't dive like she had done to get to his burrow, circling the box to ensure it was the right spot.

As Gail landed beside the box Oliver noticed that she was tense again , looking at the box with a sharp gaze like she was trying to intimidate it. He made a mental note of the reaction as he hopped off and offered up a hand to help Zepheera get down too. Well…I suppose Gail also gets defensive about cars so it's not too shocking. It's just new.

He looked up at the police box with fascination, adjusting his glasses to make sure they were positioned correctly on his nose.

“It looks rather old… I'd guess the 60s?”

“Ah, yeah, I think so. Give or take…” said Zepheera as she took in the sight of the looming blue box. Considering the amount of reading Oliver claimed to have done on the subject, for whatever reason, it wasn't overly surprising that he was able to identify an exact era. “Good eye.”

Pausing under the doors, she muttered under her breath, “Okay. How do we go about this…?” 

Getting in wasn't a problem at all, but introducing someone new to what lay inside was something Zepheera never really got to do on her own . The Doctor didn't invite many people in even for a brief visit, outside of emergency situations and rescues, and in those times there wasn't much room to process it all.

Zepheera felt she owed Oliver at least some level of preparation. It wouldn't do to overwhelm him after he'd offered his help.

“Erm… Oh!” she exclaimed as an idea occurred to her. With a wave for him to follow, she stepped right up to the wood side. “C’mere. Before we go in, you should know that it's actually not just a police box. Here.”

She placed her hand against the door and nodded for Oliver to do the same. To a human or someone of a similar size, what she felt under her palm might seem so subtle that it was barely there. A borrower, however, was small enough for the slight vibrating hum of the box to be plenty noticeable. Not an intense rumble by any means, but it gave the distinct impression of something much more than a simple wooden structure, idling softly in place.

Oliver gave an incredulous look at that statement, both confused and incredibly curious about what that meant. He doubted there was very much one could do to make a police box more than that without it being visible from the outside… Well now I'm even more curious .

He stepped forwards and followed Zepheera's lead as he rested his gloved hand against the wooden exterior. His fingers twitched slightly the moment he felt the faint rumbling, intrigue only growing. What is it? An engine of some sort? Or a generator perhaps?

His eyes raised up the side of the large box again, trying to see if there were any visible tells or clues to what was causing the reverberations under his palm. But alas, it just looked like a regular police box; no different from what he had seen illustrated in human books before.

“If it isn't just a police box, what else is it?” he asked, gaze not straying from the blue painted walls for the moment.

“Something…bigger.” Unsure of how to better explain it, Zepheera decided to just show Oliver.

Gently ushering him to stand back, Zepheera reached back up to give the thick wood of the doors three firm knocks. There was a pause and perhaps the distant sound of a snap of fingers from within before the door swung inward with a loud creak.

No one was there to fill the space, as though the door had opened of its own accord. That afforded the borrowers a clear view up the gently inclining slope that led up to the central structure in the middle of a dome-shaped room.

All of which far exceeded the space an ordinary police box would allow.

“Just…breathe. Nice deep breaths,” Zepheera advised as she took Oliver’s gloved hand and led him inside. She knew from experience how overwhelming it could be to see from a borrower's point of view. Though they were used to distant ceilings and all the big, empty spaces that humans usually filled, nothing on Earth could compare to this. No human would surround a room in dim dots of light, or build structures so organic as the coral supports circling it all.

That said nothing of the pillar gently glowing a blue-green in the very centre, or the bizarre series of panels around its base covered in switches, levers, and buttons.

As the door opened and revealed the immense space within, Oliver couldn't help but bristle at the sight, stopping where he was to process what he was seeing. What? But that's… His thoughts were running a mile a minute, questions appearing one after the other. It was definitely just a box. There's no illusion so this is…real. But how?

The reminder to breathe was definitely helpful as he had been subconsciously holding his breath since the door opened. He didn't react much to his hand being taken and allowed himself to be led inside, simply looking around. His expression was painted with fascination, slightly overwhelmed but mostly in awe.

“This…is not what I had in mind. How on Earth is it—? It doesn't— It was just a police box outside so how did it just…?” He kept trailing off, unable to fully articulate his questions due to the initial shock of the sight. Though, if the twinkle in his eye was anything to go off of, he found this discovery more exciting than unnerving.

Turning and meeting Zepheera's gaze he continued to follow her, his body going into autopilot so he could focus all of his attention on his spiralling thoughts.

“What is this?” 

Zepheera couldn't help a grin, relieved at least that Oliver didn't seem to be freaking out. Gesturing widely with her free hand, she announced, “This is home, away from– and to – basically everything.”

“That was fast,” the Doctor's voice piped up from the center of the room, drawing Zepheera's attention. The catwalk-like floor surrounding the console had been littered with various bits of metal and wiring. A familiar spiky-haired head poked out from around the back of the console as the Doctor, sitting on the floor amongst the gadgetry, spotted the pair of borrowers in the entryway.

“Ah, you brought bird-boy,” he commented, his fingers hard at work twisting something against an ovular metal frame to attach them. “Has he said the thing yet?”

“ Oliver, ” Zepheera reminded him pointedly. “And no, not yet.” 

Now that she was sure Oliver would be okay, she let go of his hand and waved for him to follow her up the ramp.

“It's called the TARDIS,” she explained, muttering for him to mind his feet as the solid floor transitioned into one with significantly more gaps; no problem at all for the Doctor or any other human-sized folk, but much more work for a borrower to keep their footing on. “It's initials, and they stand for ‘Time and Relative Dimension in Space’.”

Oliver followed Zepheera up the ramp, focusing on the floor as he noticed the change in consistent footing. Despite the hazard , his gaze was consistently drawn upwards anyway, trying to take everything in. He listened to the explanation and his mind immediately got to work interpreting what that might mean.

“Time and Relative Dimension in Space… That is either a very randomly selected name, or it would suggest that this place operates independently from time and space..? Or maybe the opposite, I'm not sure—” He shook his head, finding the concept too confusing. He didn't have as much knowledge about time travel and dimensional travel as most other things, mostly because it had always been a theoretical concept to him.

Or…perhaps not. This doesn't exactly look or act like any place I've seen before.

“How is it bigger on the inside? Is this some sort of pocket dimension? Suddenly I wish I had read more books on theoretical physics…” He wobbled unsteadily on the grated floor, almost losing his footing after looking away to examine his surroundings again. He quickly reestablished his balance and kept walking; this time paying attention to where he was stepping even more than before after getting a look of the drop below.

“Wahey! He said it!” crowed the Doctor. He bent down to be within sight of the borrowers, sending a big grin and a wink toward Zepheera, who shook her head good-naturedly. For four such simple words, they did bring him some joy. To drive the point home, he emphasized, “ Love when they say it!”

Mindful of the borrowers traversing a precarious surface, the Doctor slowly pushed himself up to sit at the edge of the weathered yellow seat near the console. He could track their progress better from up there, and made sure to keep one eye on them as he continued attaching doodads to his little machine.

“Good questions, too, Ollie-boy. And to answer them: it's basically…” The Doctor trailed off as Oliver's assessment of the TARDIS’s bigger-on-the-inside state actually registered. His eyes glazed over for a moment before he murmured, “Ah…actually, ‘pocket dimension’ isn't too far off.”

The Doctor's hands dropped into his lap, taking his work along with them. Then he gave a sharp sniff and a tilt of his head. “Well, it's a bit of a crude analogy, doesn't exactly encompass everything that goes into a ship like this. Still, can't argue if it helps you comprehend it all.” With one more glance Zepheera's way, he got right back to work. “Doesn't miss a trick, does he?”

“Not that I've seen,” Zepheera agreed. She couldn't hide a small smirk to see the Doctor even slightly thrown off his spiel. She further clarified for Oliver, “ It's how the Doctor and I travel. We just happen to…go ‘round space, and through time.”

Oliver seemed to be holding it together, so Zepheera took the opportunity to jog ahead to the console. A string dangled down from the very edge overhead, tied up at the very base where it could stay out of the Doctor's way while remaining within Zepheera’s reach. She pulled it free and gave it a tug, and it began zipping up and away. At the same time, a tiny rope ladder unfurled from a pulley at the edge of the console.

“He gets testy about the technicals because his lot apparently invented the whole big space, small exterior thing,” she told Oliver as she rejoined him to wait for the ladder to roll out.

“Not ‘apparently’, we did ,” interjected the Doctor.

Zepheera tossed her hands up, her point proven. Then she looked back to Oliver and remembered that he had a very different idea of just who and what the Doctor was. “Oh, right. Probably should get this out of the way, too. The Doctor's not exactly…human.”

Chapter Text

Oliver blinked at the praise from the Doctor that was immediately followed by pedantics…which he thought was fair enough when talking about something so extraordinary. He couldn't help but feel internally pleased that his guess had been at least close to the truth.

The conversation only continued to get confusing when Zepheera mentioned his ‘lot’ making this space. ‘ Lot’ meaning family or ‘lot’ just meaning humans in general? He was about to ask, but was instead shocked to silence at his fellow borrower’s statement. Nothing could have prepared Oliver for the bombshell that this man, a very human-looking man at that, wasn't human at all.

…I suppose I shouldn't be surprised whilst standing in a pocket dimension within an old police box. On second thought, this should not be a shocking revelation at all.

Recovering from the brief surprise, he watched the ladder unravel all the way and tried to do the same with his dozens of questions.

“I see… What are you then, Doctor? If you don't mind my asking, that is. You must be something impressive to have developed this kind of technology— it's fascinating, ” he remarked.

Now that he had had time to collect his thoughts more he was finding it easier to articulate his words as he usually would. His eyes couldn't help but wander once more, exploring everything he could see— mindful not to slip through any gaps in the floor.

“Oof, don't call him things like ‘impressive’, he'll get an even bigger head about it,” Zepheera quipped with an affected wince. By then the ladder had fully extended, and she hurried to steady it.

Ignoring her snark, the Doctor answered, “I'm a Time Lord. Not exactly from ‘round these parts, it's…” His focus wavered as he struggled with the next attachment to his device. After a few distracted stammers, he nodded to the other borrower. “Zepheera, can you do the explaining? I'm busy.”

“He's an alien,” she stated bluntly. “Great big space race from a distant planet that decided they were all important enough to put ‘Lord’ in their name. And happen to look human enough to pass.” Satisfied with the stability of the ladder by then, she waved Oliver over. “C'mon, let's go up. It's solid up on the console , at least.”

Listening with great intrigue Oliver held his chin in his hand as he nodded along.

“How curious that two completely separate life forms from different planets ended up looking the same… That must be rather convenient for keeping on the down low, I suppose.” At Zepheera's urging Oliver began to climb up the ladder, making his way up relatively quickly. The top of the ladder was fixed to a sort of raised barrier between control panels that curved over the edge of the console and gently sloped up toward the centre column. It was as solid as Zepheera claimed, but had a slight roughness in texture that allowed the borrowers to have a surprisingly steady footing despite the odd angle. There were still a few odd attachments to this fairly wide platform that resembled levers or switches, but the smaller folk had plenty of room to move as they pleased.

Having gotten his bearings, Oliver returned his focus to the Doctor again. His eyes were drawn to whatever he was tinkering with, though he recalled Zepheera mentioned making something to track the signal.

He blinked, the thought only just occurring to him.

“So this energy you are both searching for… am I right to guess that it is of alien origin rather than a simple power surge?” he asked. Alien energy…I wonder what that could be. Opening his pack, Oliver removed his notes, now wondering if he had somehow missed alien activity in the town. Well…if they look human too I can hardly be expected to tell the difference.

“That's the idea,” Zepheera confirmed. With the both of them up on the console, she leaned down to take hold of the end of the rope she'd used to release the ladder in the first place. As she pulled it long through a miniature pulley system, the ladder started to roll back up. She knew the Doctor would offer them a lift if they needed to get anywhere, which they likely wouldn't for a good while. Better to keep the ladder she'd worked so hard on safely rolled up where it couldn't be easily bumped into or broken.  

As she worked, she continued to explain, “Certainly not from Earth, he says. Powerful enough for the TARDIS to pick up on it, but apparently obscure enough that it can't be identified. And honestly, that's what's got us really worried.”

“I see. Hmm… Well you're the experts, certainly more than me so it does sound worrying. I'm not sure if I'll have many…alien related notes though. Then again if aliens can look like humans and alien technology can look like a police box, maybe I do without knowing it.” His brows furrowed with concentration, as if he could simply will a eureka moment to the forefront of his mind.

Zepheera double checked that the ladder was secure before stepping back and brushing her hands off. That made her look down and realize she was still wearing her coat, which she hurried to take off. “Oh, ah, where are my manners?” she fussed as she caught up with Oliver. “I can take your cloak. We might be here for a bit.”

“Ah— yes, thank you.” He removed his fur cloak and held it out to her. He then took off his gloves and put them away in his pack before sitting cross legged on the console— carefully avoiding anything that looked like a control. He hummed again as he looked through some other notes he had brought that he hadn't skimmed through earlier.

“That missing man couldn't have been an alien, right? Well…he showed up dead…but I suppose that could be faked. But then why…” He rambled under his breath, scribbling some notes to the side of blank pages, writing just to help him keep track of his own thoughts and feelings. He scratched at his ear with the piece of lead before looking up at Zepheera.

“Actually…I believe it was two murdered men? Or more. James said it was a high profile case since it involved a public official, even though he wasn't very well-known in the city…” His brows furrowed as he tried to pinpoint any solid clues…but he was grasping blindly at straws, not knowing what to expect in this situation. He was mostly just speaking his thoughts aloud to try to process it.

“That murder was more recent. I believe it was only a month ago. What was odd was that both victims were shot in the head with a gun— but I have not come across a gun on any of my rounds…” 

Zepheera found herself getting quickly sucked back into the font of information Oliver had in his files. She gave a small shrug, which drew attention to the way she stood there holding their coats.

Unlike Oliver's burrow, she didn't exactly have a hanger for them.

“It's hard to narrow it down at this point,” she assured Oliver as she sat down nearby, letting their outerwear drape over a flipped-up switch. “Like you said, there seems to be plenty out there that either closely resemble or are able to accurately mimic human beings. Even public figures aren't an exception. An old friend of the Doctor's once became Prime Minister of the UK. That did not end well.”

Though he wasn't paying full attention to the borrowers, the Doctor did glance up briefly to see that they'd safely settled down. Right on time, too, as he needed another part for his detector. Now he didn't have to worry about shaking anyone up too badly as he set down his work and got up from his seat.

It was only a matter of finding the necessary part out of the myriad he had scattered across the floor. Frowning at his own lack of organization, he scrutinized each piece at his feet, stepping carefully around things as his search continued around the console.

Zepheera, accustomed to ignoring the Doctor's movements and the light tremors that translated up through the console with each one, noticed how deeply focused Oliver already was. He fell right back in that clue-finding mode they'd been in back at the burrow. Given what she knew about his attitude towards helping people and doing what he could for their benefit, it was hardly a shock. Even so… She scooted close enough to lay a hand on Oliver's shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze.

“You're taking all this really well, by the way,” she said with a small grin. “Wasn't quite expecting that, honestly, considering…” Her free hand waved to indicate the room at large to punctuate her thought.

Oliver bristled at the contact, snapping out of his investigation-focused train of thought. He lowered the notes into his lap with a smile. I suppose she's right. It would be better to save all this energy for once that tracking device is complete. He sighed softly.

“Thank you. I'm just used to dealing with very…chaotic situations. Since I was a child. I find it's much more productive to focus on the reality of the situation than to get lost in my own head. That is how you make mistakes.” He leaned forward, resting a cheek on his palm, shifting his own thoughts away from clue-finding.

“I have plenty of experience dealing with larger folk. Not aliens, as far as I'm aware, but even so. I already made the judgement that you and Doctor are trustworthy, so whilst it's all very surprising… In the grand scheme of things this hasn't changed my life much.” Despite the fact that pocket dimensions exist now and that's very interesting and I have a million questions.

He tilted his head and asked, “How did you take all of this? When you found out?”

“It was certainly baffling at first,” Zepheera admitted with a sheepish chuckle. She took her hand back to brush her hair out of her face and sat across from him and his notes . “Not every day you get to see things like this, especially for someone like us. But it's like you say, keeping a cool head keeps borrowers alive. All told, I think I did alright. And look at us now! Gone all domestic.” She gestured to the ladder mechanism she'd installed to illustrate her point.

Her smile turned retrospective as Oliver's question brought up memories. “It was sort of a chance meeting. I was in a bind, needed someplace to hide, and he happened to leave the door open.”

“I did not leave the door open,” objected the Doctor, shooting her a sidelong glance as he crouched down to retrieve the part he sought. He didn't seem irritated exactly, though it was clear from his tone that this was something they'd gone over at length . Zepheera held her hands up in mock surrender, more amused rather than intimidated .

“Fine, old man,” she conceded as the Doctor returned to the old seat and got back to work. In a quieter aside to Oliver, she said, “The way he tells it, the TARDIS isn't just a machine. It's at least partly alive, though you wouldn't think it based on looks. The Doctor reckons it– well, she – must've wanted me safe, and let me inside.”

Now that was a bit of a shock, though it wasn't visible in Oliver's expression. He looked around the giant room once more, inspecting all of the unfamiliar and strange looking supports and lights. It was difficult to fathom that he was technically inside of a living thing in that case… and perhaps a thinking being too if it wanted to keep Zepheera safe.

Humming, he leaned back on his hands and looked up, addressing the TARDIS with a polite nod . “Well then I ought to thank you for your hospitality. And for opening your doors to Zepheera in the first place. You're remarkably pretty, by the way.” 

Zepheera blinked, not quite expecting Oliver to jump right to complimenting the TARDIS after such a revelation. A glance toward the Doctor, who looked for all intents and purposes to be lost in his work and not paying the smaller folk the slightest bit of attention, showed her the smallest tug in the corner of his lip and a sparkle in his eye. He wouldn't stop what he was doing to say so, but he was quietly pleased by the gesture.

Oliver looked over at Zepheera again with an inquisitive smile. “Perhaps she knew you would be friends? Although that would imply fate exists, and me and fate have some…issues.”

Oliver loved to think and philosophise over many topics, but the concept of fate was one thing he avoided. It was one of the few things that made him feel truly helpless— especially considering fate seemed to specifically have a vendetta against him based on the kind of life he had endured. His smile faltered as his mind flashed with various memories of traumatic and distressing incidents, but he was quick to shake it off.

That little slip didn't go unnoticed, however. Zepheera caught it right away and recognized it for what it was. In the short time she'd known him, Oliver had appeared nearly unshakable. She dreaded to think what he might have gone through or seen that would cut him deeply.

“You and me both,” she acknowledged, hoping to at least reassure him that he wasn't alone in his point of view regarding fate. Aside from meeting the Doctor, there were few kind things she could say about the happenings of her life.

The notion did bring up thoughts Zepheera had almost given up pondering in the hectic new flow of life in the TARDIS. Her expression turned pensive as she let her elbows rest on her bent knees.

“I think the way you were starting to guess how the TARDIS works was sort of right. On both counts. When we're in here, it is like we're outside of space and time as we know it. Time does pass out there, but it’s almost as though it…can't touch us in here, if that makes sense. And at the same time, all of time and space seems to exist within this place. Like the TARDIS has seen it all, and we're the ones catching up.”

Zepheera ran a hand down her face before turning a small smirk to Oliver. “Gives me a bit of a headache to think about. But I think it might explain your reasoning. It's not so much fate or destiny , just…a very old box remembering things backwards.”

Oliver hummed with interest at the explanation, quick to latch onto a new topic without seeming desperate.

“Fascinating… Do you still age from inside here? Does time pass differently, or not at all?” he questioned, temporarily distracted from the thought of his cousins as he tried to understand this technology instead. That did give him another question though… “Do Time Lords have similar life spans to humans, or do they live longer?”

He hadn't really thought about how old the Doctor may be until now— and assuming Zepheera was a normal borrower like him she didn't look old at all. Although if time doesn't affect them in here then she may be a few years older than expected.

Zepheera's brow rose as she took in Oliver's questions, some of which gave her pause. She decided to work backwards through them, since his last inquiry was the easiest for her to answer.

“They definitely live longer,” she confirmed with a nod. “From what I understand, aging takes a hell of a long time for them. Centuries, probably. And even then…when they die, they don't die . They've got a way to come back, but it changes everything about them. Like they're a whole new person, only it is still fundamentally them .”

Zepheera glanced to the side as her hands began to wring one another in her lap. “As for time, I'm pretty sure it passes normally? I mean, it's all relative, I suppose, but so long as it's passing outside, it's passing here. And…for aging, I'd assume it works the same.” With a deep, slow breath, she brought herself to meet Oliver's gaze again. The smile she offered didn't hold the mirth it had before. “I'm afraid I wouldn't know.”

Oliver tilted his head, seeing how her expression had changed, if only slightly. Her statement wasn't too questionable but the tone with which she said it implied there was something deeper. He thought it over for a few moments, but ultimately decided to simply ask.

“Why wouldn't you know?” There was nothing accusatory or suspicious in his tone, mere curiosity.

Zepheera held eye contact for a breath or two before she confessed, “It's…not something I've done for a long time.”

At first it shocked her how easily she was able to say it. The topic of her age rarely came up during their fleeting adventures, and even before she met the Doctor, it wasn't something she discussed with her own kind. Any borrower would think she was mad or making it up, probably both. And even if someone could believe her, she wouldn't allow herself to grow close enough with anyone to find out.

Oliver was a surprise in many ways. He seemed accepting of each and every bizarre notion set before him. Zepheera supposed that anything she had to say about herself couldn't be overly shocking beyond all the reality-bending stuff around them. Her focus lowered to the notes he'd pulled out, reminded of how forthcoming he'd been amidst all the madness. It only felt fair to be open in return.

“I– well, he… We think that I must've had an encounter with an alien when I was little,” she stammered, recovering her composure as she tried to recount what she normally put to the back of her mind. “Something that bonded to me when I was a baby , but I never even knew existed . Long story short, it's probably not there anymore. But because it was there, I've sort of…stopped aging.”

“Ah.” Oliver's gaze also dropped to his lap, brushing his hand against the smooth paper for a moment as he processed that revelation. “Immortality, then. I didn't think it was possible…then again, Time Lords seem to also be functionally immortal.”

His brows furrowed, a thoughtful frown on his face as he looked up again and inspected Zepheera's expression. She's not bringing it up lightly. I would guess this isn't a new discovery… How old is she?

“That must be…difficult. Immortality makes relationships notoriously complicated.” He didn't want to overstep, so he didn't press much further than that. A delicate smile twitched at the corners of his lips again. “It's very good you have found a friend who understands, at least somewhat.”

Zepheera gave a soft chuckle to herself, a bit more light returning to her smile. Oliver's insight on the matter was sharp as ever. It did lift a small weight off of her heart to hear such understanding of her situation, without a hint of judgement.

“It is nice, yeah,” she agreed with a slow nod. “I think…we both needed something like that.”

Chapter Text

A sharp, whirring buzz pierced through the air, breaking Zepheera out of her drifting thoughts. Her attention snapped over to the Doctor, holding his impromptu device in one hand and his sonic screwdriver in a tight-fisted reverse grip in the other. With his brow furrowed in concentration, he kept adjusting the distance at which he held the sonic apart from the machine as the pitch of its warbling wavered.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered under his breath, giving the device a firm shake. Then the tiny screen in the middle of it suddenly lit up with a pink light and started to pulse aimlessly. “That’s it, there we go! Molto bene! ” 

The Doctor’s expression brightened significantly, and he gave his screwdriver a triumphant flip in the air before returning it to the inner pocket of his jacket.

Startled by the sharp buzz, Oliver's attention quickly shifted over to what the Doctor was doing again. He watched with curiosity as he pointed some strange object that looked like a pen at the device he was making. Whatever he was doing seemed to work….somehow. Alien technology, I’m sure.

“Finished?” Zepheera guessed, lifting her chin to follow the Doctor as he hopped to his feet.

“Nearly,” the Doctor sighed. He had to step around the unused mechanisms at his feet on his way around the console. Not far from where Zepheera and Oliver had settled, the Doctor clipped a few wires to each end and let it sit amongst the controls. Fingers longer than either borrower was tall flew over a series of keys while he explained, “Just gotta program the signal into it and Shazam! We're in business.”

Pushing herself to stand, Zepheera asked, “How long?” 

Brown eyes flitted between his fingers, the borrowers, and the big monitor mounted slightly to his right. With a somewhat uncertain groan, he estimated, “Somewhere between five minutes and… ten years? No .” He knocked on the screen, and the odd series of concentric circles swirling across it flickered into a slightly different shape. “Fifteen minutes, max.”

“That's good… if I were to wait here for ten years I'd be pushing middle age,” Oliver remarked with a small chuckle to himself. I'm patient, but not that patient.

He also stood up from his cross-legged position, stretching out his stiff limbs. Stars. Maybe I'm already pushing it, if I'm getting stiff from sitting for five minutes. His eyes inspected the tracking device, stepping a little closer with curiosity…though his thoughts were more drawn to that ‘pen’ from before.

“What was that…tool you were using before? The one making that noise?” he asked, meeting the Doctor's gaze with an inquisitive tilt of the head. The tool hadn't touched the device and yet it seemed to do something to it.

The Doctor, who had settled a half-step back from the console seemingly content to stare intensely at the monitor with tightly crossed arms as though it would will the programming to go faster, blinked at Oliver's question. His face lit up again and his posture relaxed to allow him to reach into his pocket once again.

“Sonic screwdriver!” he announced as he brought it out, tossing it from one hand to the other in his excitement to show it off. “Handy-dandy li'l thing, in't it? Dunno what I’d do without it.”

Leaning down, he held it out for Oliver to see. He kept his hand open and let it lay across his fingers to ensure he wouldn't activate it accidentally, knowing from experience that certain frequencies could be quite uncomfortable to borrowers at close proximity. The blue bulb lay near his fingertips, and the dark rubber back end by his wrist.

At 6 inches long, it was nearly twice Zepheera's height (though the Doctor had seen her haul the thing around before with less effort than it seemed she would need to use). He could extend it to be longer, but for the moment it lay in its default position. 

“Comes in useful for all sorts of things,” the Doctor was happy to boast. “Opening locks, cracking into security systems, meddling in most electronics. Makes toast at a decent pace. Anything you can think of, really!”

“Except wood,” Zepheera piped up. She kept back to gather their coats and the notes Oliver had been looking over, handling them with incredible care. With the Doctor on the move, she preferred to not risk losing something so important to their guest. “Doesn't quite do wood.”

Rolling his eyes, the Doctor relented, “Right, yes, it doesn't do wood, but what's wood gonna do, anyway?”

Oliver moved closer as the sonic screwdriver was held out on the edge of his fingers, inspecting the odd tool with a twinkle of interest. He didn't touch it, just in case he accidentally turned something on that he wasn't supposed to. Looking the linear object over, he readjusted his glasses.

“Fascinating… Considering the name and earlier sound I would assume it does all this using sound waves? That is definitely a handy tool…regardless of its aversion to wood.” Once he was done scanning the tool he stood up straight once more and took a step back.

“All of this is so technically advanced… I hardly understand human technology, let alone alien technology.” Humming, he looked down at his hands, recalling the times James had tried to demonstrate things to him but…it was difficult to keep track. “Even looking at something as widely used as a phone, I feel lost. Me and my friend communicate with a walkie talkie instead— not as many controls and easy to replace batteries.”

The Doctor’s brow jumped up. “Ah, now that's an idea–!”

“No , Doctor,” Zepheera cut in.

“I didn't say anything!” he protested.

“You already know where I sleep, I do not need your chatter at odd hours, too.”

Biting back a pout, the Doctor straightened back up to put his sonic away now that Oliver seemed finished with his look. “ Anyway, not to worry, Ollie-boy, you can leave the doohickeys to me. All you need to worry about is that fount of local knowledge you've got.” He glanced toward the screen to check on it before his attention turned back to the borrowers. 

“About two minutes til it’s done. Up to you if you'd like to come with us, Oliver. We'll likely come back before we just run headlong into the unknown, so don't feel pressured.”

Chuckling at the nickname, Oliver couldn't help but recall how the same name had been used towards him before. “Ollie-boy… That's what my uncle used to call me.” He shook his head at the fond memory, and expertly fought off any of the disturbing images that followed.

He nodded along to the offer, straightening his clothes to make sure his appearance was still as neat as usual.

“I'd like to come, if that's all well and good. If it ends up leading somewhere I recognise I'll know exactly what notes to look at,” he explained, looking between the two of them. “Although I will be quite shocked by how I haven't ever noticed any alien energies before, whatever it ends up being.”

“ Well, that's just what's been bothersome about this whole thing,” the Doctor took the opportunity to gripe. “Whatever 's causing this , it's powerful, practically screaming out to the point that the TARDIS couldn't ignore it! Yet it's apparently completely imperceptible. Even the sonic couldn't properly scan for it, and that's one of the things it does really well! What could possibly be so loud and leave absolutely no trace at all…?”

Zepheera came up alongside Oliver, passing him his files. “Do you travel with that James of yours?” she asked, partly out of curiosity and partly practicality. “Got a preference for a seat? My go-to is usually the shoulder, but he's got a chest pocket that should fit us both just fine. Bit more secure, and warm enough that we wouldn't need our coats in there, as well.”

“Occasionally. The shoulder is also where I usually catch a ride, but I really do not mind whichever way…” He hummed in thought, quickly finding himself in a dilemma. “Although, I suppose considering we are heading towards an unknown energy source, being secure is preferable.”

Thinking it over for a few extra moments, Oliver raised his head with a firm nod. “In that case, the pocket would be my choice.”

Nodding in return, Zepheera turned her attention upward. “Right, Doctor, you heard the man,” she called, pulling the Doctor out of his thoughts. “Pocket for us, might as well get settled while it finishes up.”

The Doctor's eyebrow arched as he smirked. “Your wish is my command,” he said with affected deference, holding out an upturned hand as a platform for the borrowers.

Zepheera hopped on immediately this time, offering her own hand to Oliver to help him keep steady in an unfamiliar hand. Making sure to pack his notes, Oliver took her hand as he stepped onto the outstretched palm. Once they had their balance, the Doctor carefully lifted them away from the console. He went a little slower than he usually might if it were just Zepheera he was holding. Two borrowers in one hand felt a touch more precarious.

With his free hand, the Doctor tucked the flap of his chest pocket inside it before using two fingers to hold it open as wide as the tight-fitting suit jacket would allow. He took a quick peek to make sure it was empty, then drew his occupied hand closer to be level with its opening.

“There we are,” he murmured. “Climb on in.”

Oliver noticed the care with which the Doctor was carrying them both— after being held in many different ways by many different humans Oliver had learned easily how to pick up on the most minute movements… not that it was particularly minute when put to scale.

“Thank you, Doctor.” He took a moment to peer into the opening the pocket provided to gauge how deep it was before dropping in. He raised his hands up to catch Zepheera so she could have a bit of a smoother fall— not that it was particularly rough anyway. Once she was inside the pocket with him he settled down, trying to take up as little room as possible to avoid cramping the space.

He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and wariness about what to expect. He was giddy because it was new; and Oliver would never say no to learning about new things…but he was also keeping an air of caution in his thoughts, considering neither he nor Zepheera and the Doctor knew whether this signal was leading to something dangerous or not.

“How often do you two…do this type of thing?” He asked, before expanding his analysis further. “You seem fairly experienced— there's not much hesitation from either of you in how to proceed with things.”

“Oh…practically daily,” replied Zepheera with a shrug. In her own space-saving endeavor, she stood as far to one side of the pocket as possible, holding onto the inner seam to keep upright. It left a small area at the bottom of the pocket for her to let both their coats lay since they weren't being used. “Never a dull moment. You get used to it after a while. Mostly I still follow the Doctor’s lead, he's the one who's been at this kind of thing for centuries.”

An almost cartoon-like ding rang out from the console.

“Right!” The Doctor's slightly muted exclamation came rumbling from the chest behind Zepheera and Oliver. On cue, her grip tightened on the seam as they weathered his every movement. She peeked over the lip of the pocket, watching his hands reach down to pry the detector free from the wires. Its screen still gave a vague pink pulse, but the Doctor didn't seem deterred. His grin, though unseen by his passengers, could be heard quite clearly. “Now we're talking.”

Then the Doctor was on the move in earnest. Faltering steps at first as he navigated the mess he'd made of the floor, then long strides toward the door. He paused briefly to snag his long overcoat from one of the coral supports that framed the entrance to the TARDIS, and donned it while remaining ever mindful of his occupied pocket.

“Hang on tight, you two,” he muttered as he threw open the door and stepped back into the chilly afternoon air. “ Allons-y! ”

Even with the borrowers hidden safely in his pocket, the Doctor still took care to navigate the streets primarily through back alleys and side routes where he'd be less likely to be spotted. There was still every chance that whoever or whatever they were dealing with had assimilated amongst the locals, and it really wouldn't do to tip them off that their cover might be blown.

“We're getting close,” he murmured for the benefit of his passengers. The screen on the device in his hand had shifted to a purplish glow, with a yellow dot that pulsated to one side of a center mark to indicate direction and proximity. In time with the dot’s blips, it gave a soft beep at regular intervals, occasionally going beep-beep when the Doctor angled it the exact right way.

Peeking out of the current alley, the Doctor scrutinized the street before them. They'd left the residential area behind and had ended up in one that was more active, more prone to pedestrians ready to do some window shopping or whatever ordinary people did at three in the afternoon.

He gave the detector a slow pan and determined that the signal was coming from up the street. “About a hundred twenty meters that way,” he inferred based on the strength and frequency of the device’s beeps. With a quick glance down to his pocket, where Zepheera was coaxing Oliver to peer out the top with her, he prodded, “Any of this seem familiar?”

With her prompting, Oliver lifted his head above the pocket lip and scanned his surroundings with a hum. He muttered under his breath— mostly incomprehensible, with occasional directions mentioned— going over the map he had made of the city mentally. He had been all over the place so many times that it didn't take him long to land on the location. He blinked.

“A hundred and twenty meters that way… It's a fairly quiet street, a mix of small businesses with houses on the top floor. There's a corner shop, a little cafe and bakery, a sandwich shop and a launderette.” His brows furrowed and he brushed a hand through his hair as he thought that information over. Then, as if he had been zapped from static shock, he suddenly recalled something that happened only a few weeks ago. His eyes widened briefly before he began to search through his pack for something.

“Actually, the man living above the launderette— I…found a concerning note he left out a few weeks ago and decided to copy it. Based on observations I believed he was suffering some kind of episode. I even asked James to call in a wellness check… But perhaps it's related?” Rummaging around he finally took hold of the hastily scribbled note. He couldn't see the writing very well so he held it up to the light, squinting.

“‘He’s gone. Just gone. I didn't know it wasn't sealed properly, I just assumed it was and now he's gone. I tried to do something but it was too late. It looked just like the first Eschaton. He looked so scared and I just couldn't do anything. I am a monster.’” Oliver read the note aloud verbatim. His hand lowered to his chest level again as he held the note tightly, mind swirling with possibilities. Given more context, it made the note considerably more concerning.

In spite of the warm pocket, Zepheera bit back a shudder to hear such a grim account. It was hardly detailed, but that almost made it worse. Left the imagination to fill in the gaps. 

She leaned back to see (as best as she could from the steep angle) what the Doctor made of it. Even with only a sliver of his expression visible to her, Zepheera could tell he'd scrunched up as he thought hard . It quickly became clear that he'd latched onto something very different.

“ ‘The first Eschaton’,” he echoed under his breath. “Eschaton, Eschaton… I know that, but where have I heard it before?” 

Zepheera watched him run a hand through his hair, making even more of a mess with it than before, and recognized what was happening in his head. That frantic search through ages and ages of collected memories piled on top of the one thing he was reminded of and looking for among all the dust.

When he seemingly had no luck, he huffed a sigh and stepped out onto the street with a confident stride. It was how he normally went about, trusting that humans in particular would take very little notice of passing oddities. Sure, some might spot the strange device in his hand or hear its insistent beeping, but they more likely than not would simply shrug it off. If he held it casually enough, most would assume he was walking and staring down at his mobile, same as the rest of them.

Traveling with someone like Zepheera offered the Doctor a little more insight into such things that he tended to write off as ‘the way humans are’. It came with being at the top of the food chain, a blanket sense that everything was in order and small, fleeting curiosities were probably nothing to be concerned about. Borrowers, on the other hand, had plenty to worry about and needed to remain vigilant to the slightest of changes. Even a human coming home earlier than expected could be the difference between peaceful freedom, and potential disaster.

As he walked onward, Zepheera tapped Oliver on the shoulder. “This man above the launderette… He doesn't happen to also be the one who runs it? What’d you call him, erm…Ryker? You said he was newer in town.”

Oliver turned his attention back to Zepheera, dragging his concerned gaze from the note and nodding.

“Yes. His name is Zorro Ryker. He moved to this city just over three years ago. Like I mentioned before, he's a doctor…but for some reason he only seems to work at the launderette. I assumed that it was for medical reasons because he seemed to have a very…turbulent mental state.” He let out a sigh, glancing down at the note once more. “Bad enough that I marked his home as not safe for borrowers to live in.”

Oliver had seen so many instances of mental illness during his rounds or other check-ins, and he regularly had to call for wellness checks on humans. But Ryker had always been a more extreme and unexplained case. Wellness checks always came back saying he was completely fine, but from observing Ryker's behaviour later at night it was every night that he would break down.

“I thought he was showing signs of schizophrenia. There was once where he wouldn't stop drawing eyes all over the place— specifically green eyes.” At this point Oliver knew he was just spilling every single thought and memory that popped to mind, but he continued. “He had a lot of religious delusions too… About angels. He thought there were people after him.”

Going silent for a couple beats, Oliver bore a deep frown.

“Apologies, sometimes I'm thinking too fast and struggle to keep my mouth closed. Does anything sound familiar?” he asked, tilting his head.

Though the Doctor kept his focus on the tracker and the buildings ahead, he listened closely to every word coming up from his pocket. It was all he could do to keep from muttering aloud to himself about all he heard.

“Rings a bell,” he admitted as he ducked into another alleyway. From there he could continue following the signal from behind the notice of the street as they drew closer and closer to its source. With a frustrated scowl, the Doctor turned over everything Oliver had laid out. All of it tickled something in the back of his mind, and it quickly grew maddening. 

“Zorro Ryker… Gah, I know that name! Why do I know it?” The Doctor’s free hand flew up to slap his forehead a few times as though it would knock anything loose inside. Zorro Ryker…angels… “Think think think… Urgh , I need more space in here, there's too much stuff…!”

The tracker’s beeping grew louder and faster, and when the Doctor glanced down its screen blared a bright red. He twisted a knob along the side to lower the volume so as to not alert anyone nearby. Then he slowed his pace down, turning another corner to start back toward the street. 

He murmured a warning to the borrowers to hang on as he ducked into a crouch and sidled up to a larger trash bin near the front of the alley. Peeking around it, he could indeed see the facade of the Laundry Spot. Bang on, Oliver …

The Doctor held the tracker up behind the bin so its light wouldn't be as noticeable, then panned it up to the flat above the launderette. To his confusion, the readout grew weaker as he did so. Arching his left eyebrow, he gave the device a quick tap against the opposite palm before noticing the way it fluctuated in response. He held it steady once more, then slowly aimed it lower. And lower.

“Now here's the question,” whispered the Doctor, watching the screen glow more orange and blip even more rapidly. “If where he lives is above the shop…then what's he got down below…?”

Chapter Text

Oliver bristled at the Doctor’s implication of something more hidden beneath the Laundry Spot , wracking his brain for any explanation and finding nothing. That…doesn't make sense.

“Below? I've mapped out the walls of this building. There is nothing below. Or…well there shouldn't be.” He peeked out of the top of the pocket again, squinting ahead at the sign of the launderette. “He did go missing occasionally. Every day he would just disappear. I thought he had just left the building without my notice, but what if there's some secret basement?”

Ducking back into the pocket again, Oliver frowned and folded his arms. During all of his research the fact that he hadn't found something so big was frustrating. Oliver prided himself on his ability to pick out and make note of information, so this just made him wonder how many other things he had missed.

“ How have I missed a secret basement?” Frown deepening, he shook his head at himself. “Well, it seems extremely likely that Ryker is responsible for this energy. His car is not parked up so… What is the plan?”

Zepheera blinked at Oliver, concerned for how hard he was taking the revelation. Her hand just began to reach over to give his shoulder a reassuring pat when the Doctor got to his feet and threw off her balance. She prioritized clinging to the top of the pocket to stay upright as the Doctor snuck closer to the end of the alleyway and glanced up and down the street. Then he pointedly flicked a switch on the tracker to shut it off.

“The plan…” he rumbled quietly while he pocketed the device, “is to make a new plan.” Stepping out onto the pavement, he muttered, “Get down.”

Recognizing the Doctor’s tone and body language even from the pocket, Zepheera grabbed Oliver by the crook of the arm and yanked him down to the bottom of the pocket alongside her. “Tight grip, he's gonna run!”

And he did so right on her cue, taking off in a sprint back toward the TARDIS. Though the Doctor did what he could to run smoothly, it was still a drastic change for the borrowers in his pocket. Zepheera learned from experience that it was best to not even try to stay on her feet.

Oliver had been through a few chases whilst traveling with James, and he was used to high speed because of Gail, so the moment Zepheera gave the warning he did the very same; holding onto the inside of the pocket tightly to keep himself steady. All things considered, the movements were nowhere near as chaotic as James’s were, but he couldn't say the same about the situation.

Now that he knew where he was going, the Doctor was able to make it back to the police box before long after a run, but it was not an ideal distance if they needed to get in and out of the launderette in a pinch. So the Doctor went straight for the console, pressing and flicking at its various controls without pause.

“Gonna make a quick hop, just to get us a little bit closer,” he said as a warning for the borrowers still nestled in his pocket. He circled the console, doing his best to not trip over the junk on the floor as he pressed and flicked at its various controls.

With a final lever thrown, a tremor rumbled through the TARDIS. The central mechanism began to oscillate up and down in time with an all encompassing wheezing groan. Light turbulence continued for a few seconds before the Doctor threw the lever back, and it all began to settle. The echoing groan faded as the room fell still. 

Oliver wasn't exactly sure what a ‘hop’ meant in the context of the TARDIS but considering all the noise and somewhat nauseating tremors it definitely didn't mean stay in place. He was slightly shaken from it, but not for long. His glasses lay slightly askew on his face and he cleared his throat lightly as he let go of the pocket walls and put them straight again.

The Doctor checked the monitor to confirm their current coordinates, then paused to open his pocket again to check on the borrowers inside.

“Alright in there? Didn't get too shaken up?”

“I'm fine, thank you.” Oliver glanced up to scan Zepheera over, though considering she said they did this kind of thing ‘almost daily’ he expected she would be fine too.

True to form, Zepheera was already making the effort to stand and brushing herself off as she caught her breath.

“Easy does it.” She offered a hand to Oliver to help him find his feet with a sheepish smile. “Forgot to mention that the TARDIS can actually…move like that. Usually a lot more than this, too,” she admitted.

Zepheera started to climb out herself, but the Doctor apparently decided it would waste time. Before she could even think of grabbing their coats, massive fingers dove in to scoop her and Oliver out of the pocket in one smooth motion. They fell into each other in a heap as the Doctor's hand closed securely around them and changed angles a few times, and when it unfurled the borrowers were all but tangled together.

“Don’t know how much time we've got,” he said by way of a distracted apology , seeing them quickly detaching from one another. It was still odd to have someone besides Zepheera around. “No telling when he might be back, and we've gotta be prepared for anything he might have down there.”

The Doctor deposited the borrowers on a small sill at the bottom of the monitor once they had recovered , and he began typing furiously just below it. “We're a few doors down from the launderette now, tucked behind the bakery. He shouldn't spot us if he does come back. And if I can get this right, then… Ha!”

In a flash, the screen behind the borrowers changed from bizarre circular symbols to four separate cameras’ feeds along the street, divided into quadrants. The Doctor nodded, satisfied that he'd set it up perfectly, and then turned a serious look to the smaller folk as he pointed to the screen.

“Oliver, you know what he looks like. You and Zepheera keep your eyes peeled, and if you see him coming up the road, you shout .” The Doctor gave one more poignant nod when he was certain his instructions were understood, and then he dashed around the console out of their sight once again.

Accustomed to all the handling and movement from her giant friend, Zepheera glanced between the monitor and Oliver. Her expression softened as she took the opportunity to check in on him properly. “How’re you holding up?”

Oliver had dealt with chaotic situations before— lost children, trapped borrowers, rat invaders, so he had learned to adjust quickly to whatever was happening. Being scooped out of the pocket was surprising, but it took merely a second to remind himself of where he was and whose hand was picking him and Zepheera up.

He looked towards the screen, already inspecting it as he scanned the small crowds for people he recognised, and of course that was most of them. He was immediately focused, only to blink and snap out of it as Zepheera asked that question. His green eyes flickered over to her for a moment, then back to the screen.

“I'm having a lot of thoughts. Going over random details and notes in my head, wondering if I've missed things about other people. It's difficult to process all at once so I'm just trying to focus on what I can do.” He explained, taking the time to settle himself and speak slowly again. He met her gaze after taking a breath, offering a soft smile.

“But I am okay. I just find it difficult dealing with the wholly unknown, as we are. I keep things in order, and when something disrupts that it feels like a failure on my part, however unproductive and illogical that sounds.” He turned back to look at the screen, scanning each face that went by. “When I make mistakes, bad things happen. It is imperative that I stay on top of things or people get hurt.”

There was definitely something deeper in his words, but Oliver’s posture remained relaxed and expression composed. For one borrower it was a lot of responsibility, and as great as he was at rolling with the punches he was still only one man.

Zepheera did her best to keep the slight twinge of guilt from showing as she listened to Oliver's perspective. Though she couldn't say she regretted involving Oliver in all this, it was a shame to see how much weight he put on his shoulders. And yet Zepheera wasn't sure how to reassure him when he seemed plenty self aware that the way he could think about his responsibilities might be irrational. Telling him that it wasn't his fault he didn't know absolutely everything would be a moot point.

Beyond that, Zepheera had a feeling that perhaps things had happened in Oliver's past to give him the notion that he couldn't falter for even a second.

In the end, she opted to give Oliver’s side a gentle nudge with her elbow. “Well. You don't have to go it alone this time. We're glad to help.”

Oliver looked to his side when he was nudged, offering another tentative smile and nodding. “Yes… That does definitely make things a little less daunting.”

The clanging of metal startled the encouraging grin off of Zepheera's face. Alongside the console, the Doctor had pulled up a panel from the catwalk floor and slipped down into the space below. 

“ ‘E’, electromagnetic… and then ‘K’, where did ‘K’ go…?” muttered the Doctor under his breath as he began to haul out various containers and chests from the depths of the console floor, further cluttering its surface..

Shaking that off, Zepheera got back to the matter at hand. She gave a soft grunt of effort as she hopped down the few inches to the surface of the console below, mindful to avoid the keyboard. From there she backed off a short distance to be able to take in more of the monitor at once. 

“So, help me out,” she called to Oliver, grin returning properly as she placed her hands on her hips. “What's our man look like?”

He paused, trying to think of how to describe his relatively basic appearance.

“Well… he has brown hair. Greying but only slightly. It's combed to the side, with shaved sides… His skin is pale, gaunt, he often wears formal-ish clothing? Grey shirts usually… And he has rectangular rimmed glasses. Ah. And a scar across his right cheek— shaped like…a crucifix.” He explained, visualising him as he spoke before looking at the screen to search for him again.

“I know he is usually out running errands around this time. At least for a couple hours…but the time he returns can be erratic. I have avoided being seen narrowly on a few occasions because of that fact.” He continued with a hum. “But hopefully he doesn't return before we are able to investigate further.”

Zepheera nodded along as she made mental note of Oliver's description of Ryker, though her brow pinched as she skimmed the monitor. “Seems like he doesn't stand out much. No wonder he's stayed under the radar for so long,” she commented. Then she shot a quick look toward the Doctor, who continued to dig through trunks for more odd mechanisms and shove them into his pockets. Somehow, none of them left the slightest bulk in his tight blue suit. 

“Don't worry, though, we shouldn't be here too long. Better to be safe than sorry, y'know? Wouldn't do to just barge into the place if it's set to explode or anything.” Realizing how catastrophic that sounded, Zepheera gave a wince and amended, “Not that it will. Just trying to be prepared for anything.”

Deciding it was better to focus on the task at hand than ramble on, Zepheera chewed her lower lip as she and Oliver watched out for Ryker's approach. Thankfully, by the time the Doctor hopped to his feet and approached the borrowers again, there had been no sign of him.

“Right! Ready as we'll ever be,” the Doctor announced as he stuffed a small handful of disks into his trouser pocket. With his hands free, he offered one to Oliver and Zepheera respectively since they were a short space apart. “Wanna take the shoulder this time? Could use more eyes on the place.”

Zepheera gave a small shrug. “Sounds good to me. You mind, Oliver?”

Raising an eyebrow at the mention of explosions, Oliver let out a soft breath of amusement. As the topic of riding on the Doctor’s shoulder came up he shook his head, approaching the offered hand and climbing aboard. “Not at all. I can continue to keep an eye out for his return on the way.”

He paused, recalling some other helpful information about the man— or possible alien—’s habits.

“I would say his office would be the first place to start… I saw him in there a lot but now that I think about it he wasn't really working . And he would keep the room locked up to an absurd degree… I thought it was paranoia, but perhaps it was more than that,” he expounded thoughtfully, a frown pressing onto his expression. It relaxed a moment later.

“The locks aren't wooden, so it shouldn't be difficult to enter with your sonic screwdriver,” he finished his explanation with a curt nod.

“Oh, I should hope so,” the Doctor agreed, his nose briefly scrunching in disgust at the notion of wooden locks impeding them at this point. He quickly grinned and gave Oliver a wink. “Good lad. Cheers for that.”

Once Zepheera hopped onto his other hand, the Doctor lifted her to be level with Oliver so she could join him. Bringing both borrowers to the same shoulder seemed the most convenient for everyone involved. He waited for them to be settled properly, then retrieved his aforementioned sonic screwdriver from his inner pocket.

“Now then, Zorro Ryker,” said the Doctor with a deep frown. I swear I know that name… “Time to see what you've been hiding.”

Chapter Text

The doors of the TARDIS opened to indeed reveal a shadowy back alley, rather than the street corner it had been on when last they entered. The Doctor only needed to walk behind a few buildings before he reached the launderette and found a back door. Double checking that the alley was empty, he traced the outline of the door with his sonic to check for alarms or traps before letting it buzz against the lock.

A distinct click later, and the Doctor strode right inside.

The office wasn't difficult to find, or break into in a similar manner. Nothing in particular stood out at first, other than a mess of papers across the desk. After a quick sweep with the sonic to scan for hidden tech, the Doctor's eyes lit right up. 

“ Ohh, you are kidding me,” he breathed, unable to keep a wide, childish grin from splitting his features. He stepped around the desk and right up to a bookshelf against one wall. “That is brilliant. Classic!”

“Time crunch?” Zepheera urged in his ear.

The Doctor scoffed but began pawing at the books, lightly tugging on their spines. “Come on, how often am I gonna get to find a spooky castle secret passage–?”

Before he could finish his sentence, he tweaked just the right book, and he and the borrowers felt a sudden, slow drop. Their corner of the room sank lower and lower into the floor.

“See?” said the Doctor with a glance toward his occupied shoulder. “Spooky secret lift!”

Well… that would explain why I couldn't find this basement. Oliver watched with interest as the floor slowly became the walls the more they descended downwards.

Eventually the hidden elevator came to a stop, the soft buzzing sound of the lights hanging overhead echoing in the otherwise silent space. The cool white light gave the large entryway a colder atmosphere as their dim surroundings came into view.

The walls were bare concrete, the floor composed of solid square-shaped tiles that made a distracting clacking sound when stepped upon; like heels on stone. The entryway held two coats hung up on the wall; one of which was a clean lab coat and the other being a regular overcoat with what appeared to be dried blood on the sleeves. Oliver's nose wrinkled as he noticed the stains. For as much blood and gore as he had seen in his life so far, blood without much explanation in such an unsettling setting just felt like a bad omen.

Further down, the entryway led into a large and mostly empty room with a table in the center. The Doctor cautiously approached it and inspected the small stack of papers there which, under his and Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze seemed to be files full of personal information… One person in particular Oliver recognized immediately. The name on the file had been crossed out with red ink, and there was a list lying just beside the stack that had the same names written down. The names were written in either red or black, and the red names seemed to correspond with the names that were crossed out.

“That’s… I used to live in the house of that human. His name was Felix Mercer…the one I mentioned went missing and was later found shot dead. Dumped in the river.” Oliver's voice reduced to almost a mutter as his brows furrowed at the image. He had always considered what happened to Felix as some kind of karmic retribution after what he did to his uncle, and presumably did with his missing aunt and cousins.

Oliver looked everywhere he could, but with no bodies found and no living family found either, he was forced to consider the possibility that they had died and he would never find out how or why. Every time he heard about potential borrower hunters or captured borrowers his heart would skip a beat in the hopes that it might be them— or maybe they would at least know what happened to them. But after all these years he had found nothing, so the one thing he could find was peace in the fact that Felix could not hurt anyone else.

But this…this is concerning. More notable than the files themselves was the handgun laying beside them. It didn't take a genius to make the connection.

While the Doctor leaned down slightly to look over the files, Zepheera glanced between them and Oliver. Her heart sank as she recalled the little details he'd mentioned in passing conversation. Living alone in that big tree, having lived indoors previously…knowing a family of borrowers went missing right around the same time as a human, in whose house Oliver had lived… She couldn't know for sure what it all meant, but Zepheera could make guesses. None of them were pleasant.

Oh, Oliver…

“Makes no sense,” muttered the Doctor, wrinkling his nose at the information before him as much as the handgun nearby. “Why go to the trouble of manifesting incredible, unknowable power in secret, only to have a hit list? Can't be worth the risk, can it? Unless…some sort of vendetta? A rival?”

Shaking his head, the Doctor stepped back. “ Focus, ” he emphasized, mainly to himself. Looking around, he found there were more rooms that led further into the laboratory and began to wander around. “Keep your eyes peeled. Something giving off energy so powerful should be obvious. A control center, or a matrix, or a great big generator, we can't possibly miss it!”

The lab was built almost like a maze. All of the rooms looked almost identical, shelves lining the chipped grey walls, filled with notes and books and the occasional dead plant on whatever surface was free. So far there had been no sign of any generator or control center; only a library’s worth of vague indiscernible rambles.

One of the furthest rooms looked more like a medical examination room, with sterile tools set out across the open counter space. The tools seemed smaller— more like the kind a vet would use rather than a human doctor. On one of the clear countertops was an empty glass vial set next to a microscope, as well as some incomprehensible scribbles that looked very similar to the note that Oliver had read aloud earlier; handwriting panicked and rushed.

The final room was plain too; simply having a desk set up in the corner with a computer and multiple connected monitors arranged neatly on the surface. There was a dead blue flower preserved in resin like some kind of paperweight and resting on top of more notes. Beside the flower was an open and half-eaten bar of chocolate, still wrapped up in the torn packaging. Once again disorganised papers and notes or books were scattered all over the shelves in no recognizable order.

The monitor screens woke up as they all entered, illuminating the dim room more than the lights overhead were. Oliver's gaze was drawn to the ghoulish light immediately, squinting to make out the words on screen that he thought he had seen. Borrowers. He tapped the Doctor lightly on the neck and pointed to the desk.

“I'd like to read what's on the screen— you can continue looking, though I don't think the source of energy is as obvious as you said before,” he spoke, trying to keep his composure for as long as possible even if a lot of very painful memories were suddenly being forced to the forefront of his mind. He clasped his hands together to get rid of the nervous energy, disguising the gesture as simply folding his arms behind his back.

The Doctor had to begrudgingly agree with Oliver's assessment, as frustrating a truth as it was. He was reluctant to waste time looking into even more ramblings of a potential madman, but then he caught sight of the same word Oliver saw. Noticed the slightest edge in his voice, which hadn't even been present when the borrower had confronted the Doctor as a stranger on the street.

So he obliged, lifting a hand to ferry Oliver– and Zepheera as she hurried to hop on after him– to the desk.

“But it has to be here,” the Doctor insisted under his breath, skimming the text across the monitors with a frown. “Maybe there's something in here that'll finally give us answers. Is there a sub-basement? A cloaking device? Could be–”

“Ah…guys?” Zepheera piped up. She'd let her gaze wander, feeling quite vulnerable at the end of the line with everyone's focus in one spot. Then violet eyes landed on something in the corner that made her olive skin pale.

On a table in the darkest corner of the room there was a glass enclosure, like the kind people used for small reptiles. Over the top was positioned a heat lamp, barely illuminating the contents. The bottom of the enclosure seemed lined with a blanket, with some random piles of fabric in the corners; set up like tiny nests. Nothing was immediately visible inside at first, but amongst the plain white sheets was a girl.

She had a dark complexion, with brown-almost-black hair hanging choppily around her ears. It looked like it had only just been cut, and it had definitely not been done by anyone who knew what they were doing with hair. She was dressed in what looked to be a tiny hospital gown, staring in the Doctor's direction silently as she pressed herself into the corner of the cold glass walls entrapping her.

Oliver had only gotten to read a few words on the screen before he heard Zepheera and looked over at the glass enclosure. For a moment he thought nothing of it. But then he saw her.

Her.

His breath hitched and his limbs froze all at once at the sight as a sudden nauseating dread filled his body. Hands trembling and twitching with unease, he stared, too shocked to form even a single structured thought. His mouth opened and closed but no sound escaped as he realized he hadn't inhaled for several seconds.

The Doctor’s gaze soon followed, and when he realized what he was looking at, all the confused tension in his expression gave way to shock.

“What…?” he breathed, slowly rising to stand straight again. Now he was really confused, and his twisting brow reflected that as he echoed with more intensity, “ What??”

Before he could think better of it, the Doctor stepped up to the glass enclosure and locked the girl inside in a hard stare. Right away he noticed the scars all but covering her body, and the sight of them on top of how young she looked made him seethe. 

His jaw clenched furiously as he reached up to grasp the top of the enclosure, prepared to rip it off and set the poor girl free.

The moment that the Doctor had suddenly started approaching the enclosure, the girl jolted and scrambled back— pressing herself further into the glass in a fruitless attempt to evade him. She shut her eyes and covered her head as she heard the familiar sound of a hand resting on the lid, waiting for it to be lifted and to get grabbed up.

“WAIT!”

Zepheera's cry from the other desk made the Doctor pause just as his hands settled on top of the box, drawing his attention immediately back to her.

For her part, Zepheera had been caught between two extremes. She was worried to see Oliver completely freeze in place at the sight of the trapped girl, and as much as the righteous fury was appreciated, the Doctor's immediate jump into action was overeager. Not wanting to leave anyone behind, she grabbed Oliver by the crook of his elbow and dragged him along to the edge of the desk, closer to the situation unfolding.

“She's scared ,” Zepheera emphasized, heart bleeding just as much for the poor thing. “Don’t make it worse.”

The Doctor blinked, his senses finally catching up to him through his blind rage. Shaking his head at himself, he lowered himself to crouch next to the container.

“Sorry,” he whispered, knowing that whatever battle he was about to fight to earn the girl’s trust was now so far uphill it was practically vertical. But he had to try. “I'm not gonna hurt you. We're here to help. Okay?”

Body trembling and chest heaving from the panic of the sudden approach, the tiny girl looked like a cornered animal. She flinched back and met the gaze of the human who was now crouched down to look at her with not a hint of belief or trust. If she wasn't so terrified she might have laughed at his words— empty, no doubt. She had heard the same sentence many times before, usually followed by amusement and pain when she kept believing it was true.

I'm not stupid… People like that don’t just help. Not for long… Her mind flashed with images; memories of when Ryker had promised practically the same thing only to later shut her and her brother in this cage once he changed his mind.

From his position on the desk, Oliver finally managed to breathe.

“Sammy…” Oliver murmured after a sharp intake of air, so quiet and stiff that only Zepheera could hear his disbelieving words. He took a small robotic step forward, then another, a hand clasping over his chest as he tried to control his breathing and calm his racing heart. He was still tense, shell-shocked as he stared towards the girl, his cousin , and came to a stand just beside Zepheera.

His eyes watered but he swallowed the emotions bubbling up inside him, her words echoing in his mind as he remained frozen. She's scared. She's scared but she's alive, but scared . I…I need to get over there. Where are…? No. No I can't, I need to focus.

Hearing Oliver finally speak, however softly, made Zepheera whirl around. Something inside her clenched to see his usually unflappable composure start to shatter. Her hands moved to hover near his arm, unsure if he might crumble if she made contact or if she didn't. “Oliver?”

Then his single, softly uttered word sank in, and Zepheera turned back to the glass cage. “Do you…know her?” she blurted.

Oliver didn't respond to Zepheera for a few moments, still collecting himself and trying to push everything back down for the sake of his cousin. He nodded slowly, swallowing thickly once more as if that would also swallow down the emotions threatening to break free. He continued to stare in Sammy’s direction, and after another couple seconds he took a deep breath. She's been here this whole time. I've been here before— I've been right above her this whole time .

Closing his eyes briefly, he took in another shaky breath of the stale basement air. When he opened his eyes again he was starting to regain control over his body and mind slowly but surely, clenching his hands into fists and then relaxing them to try to stop the shaking.

“She's…my cousin. She's been missing for about three years now. I-I have to…” He spoke hoarsely from the effort and paused as his voice cracked, quickly composing himself again. “I need to get over there. But I feel like I.. can't move…”

That caught the Doctor’s ear , and he spared the other borrowers a glance as he sensed the potential ‘in’ with the kid. Now that he looked at her, there did seem to be a slight… resemblance between this new one and the last one he'd met.

“We only want to get you out of there,” he promised with a soft smile. “Got some friends here, they're more the experts than I am. Zepheera there, she's my best friend, she'd take good care of you. And Oliver’s a new friend, but he's very nice, too.” Then, without thinking it through, he gently introduced himself as well. “And I'm the Doctor, by the way. What's your name?”

Sammy bristled as she heard the familiar name, although she didn't want to get her hopes up that it was him. Not to mention, if her Oliver was here that meant he had been captured too. And if he had been captured…well their family tree was definitely doomed for extinction. Flinching as the Doctor announced himself, the familiar title had her mind running wild with possibilities.

Is he a replacement for Wells? Is he going to cut me open? Why didn't Ryker warn me? Did he sell me..? Why did I believe him that he wouldn’t let anyone else touch me again?

Her panic was only growing; visible in how her breathing came short and quick, scratching at the back of her hands nervously as she tried not to completely break down, not wanting to cry in front of this strange new man. They always seemed to like it if she did, and Sammy simply wouldn't give this Doctor that satisfaction. But as much as she tried not to, the tears threatened to spill over.

“I-I'm not hurt , I don't need a doctor to cut me open or poke and prod at me …just…just leave me alone—” She cut herself off as she glanced towards Zepheera and Oliver, going rigid once she took in the shocked expression of her older cousin . No…no no no. Her breathing staggered briefly, then quickened as she covered her mouth and a stifled sob escaped her lips, staring down at her feet as her knees pulled into her chest. Her nails dug at the back of her hand as the scratching intensified . He can't be here. He can't be here.

The Doctor's face fell to see the instant reaction from Sammy, and he realized his mistake. He should have known better, after seeing her scars and passing by all those surgical tools on the way in– meant for delicate, precise procedures. Why would she think anything different of a strange ‘doctor’ swanning in with seemingly nothing but sweet words and more borrowers? 

“Oh, no,” he murmured. “No no, I didn't mean it like–”

“Doctor.” Zepheera's firm voice cut him off and pulled his focus once again. When he looked, she had one arm wrapped around an extremely tense Oliver's back to supportively squeeze his shoulder, while the other clutched the opposite sleeve of his green sweater. The Doctor finally noticed that, though he was desperately clawing back his composure, this was the most high strung Oliver had been all day. He wouldn't be surprised if Zepheera was partly responsible for holding him upright, despite being nearly a head shorter than him.

“Lift. Now, ” Zepheera commanded.

The Doctor's weight immediately shifted closer to them as he held out a hand for them. Once Zepheera helped Oliver climb on, he carefully carried them closer to the enclosure. He hesitated only briefly before letting the back of his hand settle on the surface of the desk right next to the glass.

With his hand freed, he ran it anxiously through his messy hair as though it would comb away the itchy feeling of helplessness creeping over him. He glanced between the borrowers, free and caged alike, uncertain of what he could do that wouldn't make the situation worse. He had to do something; Oliver and Zepheera would have an incredibly difficult time breaking the girl out of her cage on their own.

He hated that all he could do for the moment was sit back on his haunches and try to come up with a solution.

Chapter Text

Oliver was grateful for Zepheera's help. Without it, he hated to think how long it would take for him to be able to speak up and ask the Doctor himself.

Mind still racing he took a look at Sammy again now that he was closer, and with her distress now very visible that was enough to make him shove down most of his own distress. He stumbled to the glass, placing a hand against it; both to steady himself and in an attempt to comfort her.

“Sammy, breathe . It's okay. I— this man is not a threat, alright? Will you let him take off the lid?” he asked, keeping his tone level and breaths mostly even despite how his heart continued to pound in his chest.

The scars that covered his little cousin's body filled him with a mix of incredible sadness and insatiable rage. He could see from here that she was malnourished— not helped by being underground in the dark most of the time. I…I couldn't have known. But I should have anyway. It’s my job to know.

Sammy immediately shook her head at the question, leaning further into the glass wall behind her as she couldn't decide whether to look at Oliver or keep an eye on the Doctor. If the lid was removed that left her completely defenseless— being in the enclosure with the lid on was the only sense of safety she even had. She tried to control her breathing but found it to be an almost impossible task whilst his large visage loomed above . 

“W-why are you here with him? ” she asked, very clearly on the verge of breaking down again. Her nails dug anxiously into her palms, gaze still constantly flickering between the Doctor and her cousin. Her tone became hesitant, soft and vulnerable whilst facing Oliver. “Did Ryker sell me..? Did— did he sell you? ”

“What..? No. No. Absolutely not. He wants to help, that's all— I know it is hard to believe but I would never lie to you. You know I wouldn't,” he insisted, as much as he knew based on Sammy's tense and terrified posture that she was unlikely to listen to his words alone when it came to trusting the Doctor. “ Please .”

Sammy flinched, looking no less anxious as she started to draw blood from all the nervous digging and scratching at her hands. She didn't even notice, grounded by the stinging pain.

Her eyes focused up on the Doctor and settled, chewing on her lip as she looked him over, only for the sight to make her shrivel into herself further. She averted her gaze again.

“...I-I can't…he— he'll just grab me…”

Zepheera's hands covered her mouth, heartbroken to watch the cousins reunite under such terrible circumstances. As much as she wanted to step in and vouch for her friend, if Oliver was struggling to get through to Sammy then Zepheera doubted she'd have any more luck. She tore her gaze away from them and blinked the mist from her eyes as she turned back to the Doctor. 

Every word from Sammy only made him more upset for her situation, but much like Oliver he was making a concerted effort to push that down. Zepheera could almost see how quickly his thoughts swirled behind his eyes while they flitted over the outline of the enclosure.

With a deep breath, the Doctor began to rise. “You two, stand back,” he told the others, his quiet tone keeping it from fully sounding like an order.

Zepheera didn't know what the plan was, especially considering Sammy's voiced concern about being handled, but she trusted the Doctor. So she gently coaxed Oliver to follow her and stepped back from the glass.

“Be careful, ” she urged out of habit.

The Doctor nodded, all of his focus turned back to Sammy. He stayed hunched over for a moment to try and meet the girl's gaze. “I won't touch you. I promise . And I'm sorry, so sorry…but you're going to need to cover your ears.”

With that, the Doctor slowly straightened up to stand over the glass case. He took off the lid and set it as far from the enclosure as he could place it. Then he reached into his pocket to remove his sonic screwdriver, delicately adjusting the settings to the lowest possible frequency he could if he wanted the process to be quick and relatively painless.

He braced one hand on top of the wall of the enclosure opposite Sammy, the one where Oliver and Zepheera had stood. Glancing between all the borrowers, he couldn't help a wince as he warned again, “Plug your ears!”

Pressing the button on the sonic, it lit up and began to warble. The Doctor quickly traced it along the seams of the case, resonating them just enough to begin weakening the seams. He could feel the glass vibrating in his grip, but it couldn't be avoided. He had to move fast and get it over with.

After two sides and the bottom had been excited enough, the Doctor immediately silenced the sonic and replaced it in his pocket, using both hands to tug the wall free. He put it down on the other desk and stepped back to give the borrowers room to recover after all that.

Sammy shook her head again, knowing immediately what was likely about to happen— of course, the lid was only a fabricated safety. Humans didn't care; they could just take it off whether she liked it or not. She completely gave up on protesting when he stood up, instinctively looking to Oliver for help but feeling her stomach sink upon seeing that he was listening to the human instead.

She covered her head which shielded her ears in the process. The vibrating glass and sharp unexplainable noise only sent her spiralling further into a panic, not understanding what was happening. She cried out and flinched as she saw the giant hands gripping one of the glass walls and ripping it free. With the terror still pulsating throughout her system she felt too scared to move immediately after, as if doing so would result in some kind of consequence.

Oliver wasted no time. The moment the wall was gone he was already climbing into the blanketed enclosure before the Doctor had even put the pane of glass down. He slowed down considerably the closer he got to Sammy, seeing how she was still staring wide-eyed ahead and twitching every now and then. Once he was within a few inches of her space her gaze focused on him, eyes wild and afraid. He crouched down to be at eye level with her, trying not to feel guilty for the hint of betrayal he could see coming from her.

“I… we need to get you out of here. Somewhere safe.” So she can calm down…but if she's not calm it'll be difficult to get her off of this table, let alone back to my burrow, he thought to himself. I…I couldn't force her to be held by the Doctor. There's no telling what caused all these scars but it's obvious that she doesn't want anything to do with his hands. “It's okay, Sammy. Can…please can I hug you?”

He didn't want to push too hard. It had been years— whether he was family or not she was bound to be uncomfortable. He could only guess what she had been through for the past three years and with no solid idea of her mental and physical state he couldn't just rush things. Oliver was already restraining himself from scooping her up, because for as much as he wanted to hug his cousin he didn't want to scare her in doing so.

She hesitated, still scratching at her bleeding palm. Now that Oliver was blocking her vision of the Doctor she felt like she could take a breath again, but she still didn't feel safe enough to move knowing the human was waiting only a foot away . Looking down, she nodded slowly.

Oliver let out a sigh of relief, but still made an effort to move cautiously as he leaned forwards before pulling her into his chest for a hug. He could feel how tense and shaky she was; her shoulders bunched up and her limbs stiff and twitchy. He placed a hand against her back and rubbed it gently, hoping to ease some of the tension sending tremors through her body.

“There… Zepheera and the Doctor are here to help. I just want to take you out of here and take you home, and they want the same thing. I will not force you to do anything but I'm sure you don't want to stay here, right?” He delicately lifted her head to face him and wiped at her teary eyes with a thumb, smiling sadly. “I won't let anything happen to you. They won't either.”

Zepheera slowly followed behind Oliver but hesitated just outside the now opened enclosure. The last thing she wanted was to disrupt any progress he might be making with his cousin after such stressful events. She shared a look with the Doctor, who seemed resigned to the reality of the situation. He'd done all he could for the moment, and hanging around was more of a hindrance than anything.

“Help her,” the Doctor whispered, his eyes all but pleading with Zepheera. “I need to take another look ‘round, find out more…”

Zepheera nodded, glancing around the room as she started to wrack her brain for exactly how she could help. “Erm… Can I have the chair?” she asked with a small wave toward the desk with the computer.

“ ‘Course.” The Doctor carefully stepped over and placed his hands on the back of the office chair. In passing, he glanced over the screens that had caught Oliver's attention. He could see why; Ryker evidently kept some notes or thoughts written down digitally as well as physically. A document was left open that mentioned borrowers explicitly, and reviling humanity for their part in endangering them.

Definitely not human, then, thought the Doctor somewhat bitterly. The laboratory and general situation had given hints to that effect, but now it was basically confirmed. Bit hypocritical, eh Ryker? Whoever you are…

Shaking that off, the Doctor lifted the chair and set it down with its back against the occupied desk for stability. He could guess what Zepheera wanted it for.

“If you can, make your way to the front,” he suggested. “And if you need me, shout. I'll hear you.”

With that, the Doctor began to gingerly back out of the room, sparing the enclosure one more glance before he vanished from sight through the door.

Zepheera let out a long breath to steady herself. Time to get to work.

She stepped up to the blanket cushioning of the enclosure and made her way toward the far end to join Oliver. She stayed a few paces behind, loath to butt into a delicate moment between them.

“Hey,” she greeted with a soft smile, hoping to not startle the girl too badly. “It was Sammy, wasn't it? Are you okay, do you think you could stand?”

Sammy had noticed her approach immediately, watching as Zepheera moved closer with wary eyes. Despite the betrayal she felt at Oliver listening to the human and letting him take the lid off anyway she couldn't help but cling to him. It had been years since she had been hugged like this; she hugged Tanner all the time when he was still with her, but she couldn't let herself cry with him.

As the Doctor left the room Sammy relaxed a little, leaning into the hug more before burying her head in Oliver’s sweater to avoid the stranger, Zepheera, from seeing her tears. Being vulnerable to her cousin was one thing, but to this other borrower who was also traveling with a human , Sammy just couldn't stomach the idea.

“I can stand…” she murmured, voice slightly muffled from the green cotton of Oliver's shirt. She peeked out, eyes narrowing as she regarded the other with suspicion. As she shrugged Oliver off and pushed herself to a stand her legs were a bit shaky but mostly from nerves, not weakness. She was slightly shorter than Zepheera, though not by much.

Oliver allowed her to pull away and stood up a moment later, trying to distract himself from the emptiness he felt now that he was no longer holding her. No hug would have felt long enough in these circumstances… He could tell by Sammy's expression that she was obviously suspicious of Zepheera, and he couldn't blame her for that. He could only hope that she would eventually understand that both Zepheera and the Doctor were not a threat.

“Why…why are you with that h-human doctor? Don't you know what he'll do now that he has three borrowers? T-that makes us more disposable— and, and it doesn't matter how nice he pretends to be, they're always lying .” Sammy spoke in a harsh tone, although the slight stammer in her voice revealed an underlying concern for Zepheera too.

Zepheera kept calm, expecting such a reaction. She stayed right where she was and slowly lifted her hands in a placating gesture.

“Yeah, I do know what he’ll do,” she nodded, confident but still gentle in her tone. “I know that he would sooner jump into danger himself than let anything or anyone dispose of us.”

Hoping to project utmost sincerity, Zepheera pressed both hands to her heart as she looked Sammy in the eye. “I’m with the Doctor because I choose to be. I am no one’s property, and he would never hurt or trap me. Or any of us.” Glancing Oliver’s way, she added, “He’s been with us all afternoon. We’ve been able to come and go, haven’t we Oliver?”

Oliver nodded seriously, his expression firm but eyes reassuring. He wouldn't go into a whole speech about how many humans are good and wouldn't hurt her— for now the Doctor was more important. Sammy needed time and Oliver had no idea what she had been through. Although…based on the various scars he could make a few guesses.

“You don't have to put your full trust into him right now, but he will not harm you, Zepheera, or I. Please at least trust us when we say that.” He emphasised that point the most. Of course he wanted her to be able to trust the Doctor but without knowing anything for certain he wasn't willing to push too much. The priority was getting her to safety.

He sighed with relief as Sammy gave a short nod and averted her gaze, hands fidgeting again. Now came the worst question, but Oliver had to ask. He couldn't risk missing them when he was this close. What if they were just hidden, or Ryker had them with him, or they were alive but sold?

“Your…your mum and brother, are they..?” He approached the topic delicately, heart sinking as he saw Sammy's shoulders tense up again. She shook her head quickly, as if to avoid thinking about it as long as possible. Oliver tried his best not to react too much as he reached forward and took her hand in a comforting gesture; and to hopefully prevent her from irritating the scratches on her hands.

He turned his head to the left when his ears registered the faint mechanical sound of the elevator rising. That's…the Doctor wouldn't have gone back up, so that means it's Ryker. We can't stay in the open. Like Doc said, we should make our way to the front.

Sammy also registered the noise, flinching and holding Oliver's hand a little tighter. Zepheera bristled as the elevator thrummed, and from down the hall she heard the Doctor's voice echo, “Zepheera! We've got company!”

“Okay. Okay… We should get out of here. Do you think you can climb or do you need help?” Oliver asked, checking his pack with his free hand to confirm that he had his hook and thread.

“I-I don't know… it's been a while since I've done it, but I think I can…” she admitted sheepishly.

Zepheera took the briefest second to run her hands down her face. It helped her reset from the way her throat had tightened to hear about Sammy’s family. Hers and Oliver's. But now time was running short, and they couldn't afford to waste it.

“C’mon, we need to hurry,” she urged, leading the way out of the cage. On the way she rummaged through her own pack for her climbing gear. Living with a human-sized friend or not, no borrower worth their salt willingly parted with a climbing aid. 

Approaching the edge of the desk, she called back to explain, “I had him bring the chair over as a safety net. Makes for shorter climbs on the way down, should be quicker .”

Oliver followed behind, holding Sammy's hand as they led her out of the glass prison. He found himself wondering when the last time she had ever walked freely was, and based on her hesitation when they reached the edge of the blanket the answer was clear; not since she had been taken in the first place.

As he walked with her and Zepheera his hearing started to mute itself, body running on autopilot as he thought about how many times he had been to this building since they all went missing. Could I have done something sooner? He couldn't help but picture them, now that he knew his aunt and Tanner were gone. It was only once they reached the edge that his hearing returned and his focus with it, however fragile.

Oliver jumped down with Sammy, using the back on the chair to slope so that it wasn't a completely vertical fall. Sammy caught herself just fine, so at least she still had some of the basic athletic skills required to navigate safely as a borrower. Taking out his hook he stabbed it into the edge of the chair’s seat and let the thread unravel to the floor. He also removed his leather gloves and offered them to Sammy.

“I'll go down first because I can climb quickly. Grip the thread tightly and slide down, alright? I'll catch you at the bottom,” he explained, before making his way down the climbing gear at a nimble speed. He climbed so often that it wasn't difficult, but since he had no idea if Sammy would struggle or not he figured it was better to have her not climb at all if the option was there.

Sammy hesitated only a few moments at the top before gathering her courage and sliding down, clinging onto the thread and looking down as the ground approached quickly. Just as promised, Oliver caught her and swiftly unhooked his rope, shoving it back into his pack.

Zepheera let them go first and followed quickly behind. She stayed on the seat with Sammy until she was ready to jump, and once they were all on the floor ready to go, she began leading the charge.

Oliver followed Zepheera as they began to make their way across the floor towards the doorway. It was a bit of a trek to the front of the lab, but at least the dim environment provided lots of shadows to hide in.

“Long way to go, we’d better dash if we’re gonna catch up,” she announced to the others, shooting Oliver in particular a look and a shrug. “Probably not the best time to mention, but running is sort of part of the deal.”

Chapter Text

The Doctor took a deep breath when he left the borrowers behind in the computer room. He knew the more time he spent worrying, the less he would have to do what he came here to do in the first place.

Since the energy source was evidently not so prominent as he had assumed, he dug around in his cluttered pockets for the tracking device. It began blaring the moment he flipped it on, but he hurriedly mashed on a button to decrease the search radius. Then it calmed down, and the Doctor once again followed its lead now that it could more accurately pinpoint the location.

The signal grew hot again when the Doctor returned to the examination room. He gave a frown; out of all the places in the laboratory, he’d least expected that one. But he continued to search, turning this way and that to find where the signal was strongest. It directed him to a shelf along the wall, up near the top. Approaching it, the Doctor stood on tiptoe to carefully sweep the machine along the shelf, a long sustained beep and bright orange screen indicating that he’d found the source.

And it was evidently coming from a tiny lockbox.

At that point, the Doctor resigned himself to simply expect the unexpected. After all, he knew for a fact that powerful things could indeed come in small packages. 

He took the box in hand, shut off the tracker and traded it for his sonic screwdriver, wasting no time in popping it open. All that lay inside was a small glass vial, no larger than Zepheera was tall, containing a dark liquid.

The Doctor stared for a brief second, unsure of what exactly he was looking at. He hovered a fingertip over the glass, but could feel no heat or hum of energy emanating from it. Not a single thing to indicate that it could have been what started this whole mess in the first place.

Uncomfortable with his own hesitation to even pick up the vial, the Doctor snapped the box closed and placed it in his trouser pocket. Just as before, it vanished inside without leaving the slightest bulk.

“That can’t be it,” muttered the Doctor to himself, despite knowing for a fact that he’d just found what they’d been hunting down all day. He paced furiously back and forth as he thought aloud. “There’s gotta be more to it, something I’m missing, something staring me in the face!”

He ground to a halt when his gaze landed on another stray pile of notes and journals lying to the side on a table. Anything he’d glimpsed on the way in seemed to be just the ramblings of a man losing his grip, but here …in the medical room, where he must have performed tests or experiments on that poor girl… there was every likelihood that he'd recorded anything he got up to. 

Perhaps including the mysterious substance locked in a box.

The Doctor didn't get farther than glancing over a few pages and partway through a journal when he realized he recognized the language in which it was written. He paused and stared at one passage in particular, and his eyes widened.

“Hold on…” he breathed, reading and rereading to make sure he'd seen correctly. Right there in black and white, the words for ‘magic’ and ‘science’ shared a sentence.

His jaw dropped and his eyes darted around the room as it all began to fall into place.

“No, no no no,” he muttered, befuddled. “Now, wait a minute, you… You?? But that's… That's impossible…”

Then he heard it. Off in the distance, the distinctive sound of the elevator being called back up to the office above. The Doctor snapped the journal shut and dropped it to the table, and made his way quickly into the hallway.

“Zepheera!” he called toward the back, even though she likely heard exactly what he did. “We've got company!”

From there, the Doctor sprinted toward the entry room where the elevator let out. He had to be there when Ryker arrived, to buy the borrowers time to make it there on their own.

Now he knew exactly who Zorro Ryker was, and the Doctor was prepared to stall him by any means necessary.

As the elevator descended slowly, it eventually opened to reveal a plain-looking man dressed in a grey button up and striped tie. He looked disheveled, no doubt having seen that his office was unlocked and assuming the worst. Clutching his head in one hand he stepped onto the cold tile floor only for his gaze to snap up towards the Doctor, standing aimlessly near the entryway . His grey eyes darkened at the sight, a low almost-reptilian growl escaping his lips.

“Who are you? How did you find this place?” he demanded, taking a few steps in the Doctor's direction although he seemed more concerned about what was past him.

It was definitely the Ryker Oliver described earlier; crucifix scar and all. Though it was apparent that he was very different to the man the Doctor had read about all those years ago. For one, he had seemed to stop caring about ethics, but more noticeable than that was his lack of scales.

The Anderna were a race of bipedal reptiles about eight feet tall that could take on the appearances of people whose DNA they consumed. They were discriminated against and segregated for centuries before going extinct at the beginning of the Celestial War. Ryker didn't look reptilian and he was only slightly taller than the Doctor— but upon closer inspection the scientist didn't seem to blink, his pupils thinned into slits.

“Whoa whoa, easy, mate, easy!” babbled the Doctor as he stepped back from Ryker’s approach, hands up in surrender and a sheepish grin playing at his lips. He did his best to look quite confused and lost and play stupid– his favorite thing to play. Gave him an excuse to talk and talk and waste time.

“Terribly sorry, didn't mean to intrude,” he lied. “Was up in the laundry and…well, y'know, nature called. But I got a bit lost trying to find your washroom, and ended up down here, and I still can't find it. Are you the owner? ‘Cause I gotta say, whoever put your floor plan together… whoo, you got ripped off!”

After millennia of encounters with beings with a multitude of biologies and powers, Ryker had developed a sensitivity towards the extraordinary and could tell right away that the Doctor was not human. That didn't calm his nerves at all though, only agitating him further. He could see darkness clinging to the Doctor and knew immediately that the vial was in his possession.

“You don't know what you're doing with that vial… It will swallow you whole,” he snapped.

The Doctor blinked owlishly at Ryker. “W…what vial?” 

Obviously Ryker somehow knew he had it, but if he could milk playing dumb for the slightest bit longer, he'd take the risk. Lifting his hands up even further in a shrug, the Doctor shook his head as though he had no idea what he was talking about. “I-I swear mate, I've not touched anything . Please don't be upset?”

Ryker pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation at the obvious act. He racked his brain for anyone who would have known about the vial in the first place, let alone known his location… Orna… No. If she decided to go back on our agreement I wouldn't have even known before it was gone.

“Oh for the gods’ sake, stop with that silly act. I can see the darkness clinging to you and I know you do not know how to handle that substance.” He gave the Doctor a once over, confirming that there was nowhere on his person that was stowing away a tiny passenger, unable to hide the slight relief when he saw there wasn't. Moving closer still, he pressed the Doctor out of fear that the same thing that had happened weeks ago might happen again here.

He glared at the Doctor and held out a hand; his skin unnaturally smooth and his slightly elongated canines showing whenever he spoke. It wasn't a perfect replica, but it was pretty close; any normal human was sure to miss the signs of an imposter.

“Now hand it here, before you get us both killed . It could spread to this whole entire street if you don't know how to contain it— I don't know who you are but if you just listen to me then you can walk out of here with no consequences.” He spoke seriously, hiding his desperation as he laid the ultimatum, hoping intimidation would work in dissuading this stranger from causing a problem.

The Doctor stopped backing away, letting Ryker approach. His hands slowly lowered, his gaze locked with Ryker's and sharpened, and his expression neutralized from the affected confusion it had held before. The Doctor looked him up and down and took note of the slight differences in his appearance, but chose to keep them to himself for the moment.

“If you know it's that dangerous,” said the Doctor evenly, a much lower tone than he'd used in his previous act, “then why is it here? What is it for? What exactly are you planning to do with something as powerful as you say it is?”

Ryker briefly faltered at the line of questioning. Since what had happened when the last vial wasn't contained properly, he had been going back and forth on his plan day by day. Whether to stop and find some way to destroy the substance, or to continue and hope he finds a solution. His eyes narrowed as he slinked past the Doctor, circling him slightly to give himself a pathway to the handgun if he needed it.

“The fact that it's so dangerous is exactly why it's here. In case you didn't notice, it's not supposed to be easy to break in here, let alone find that vial,” he pointed out, letting some snark seep into his tone, though his seriousness never faded. He was watching the Doctor closely for weapons, for signs of escape, for clues to his intentions. “And what I plan to do with it is none of your business.”

He stood up straighter, lifting his chin as he regarded the Doctor for a few more moments but found nothing familiar. Whoever sent him here…if he was sent at all— It seems to be someone I don't know. That makes this dangerous. If angels got a hold of this…

“I only want to help people. In my hands it could do great things— anyone else and it could spell the end .” He emphasised the danger once more, seeming to believe himself, though he was certainly omitting anything regarding Sammy. He insisted again, hand outstretched, “Hand it over.”

The Doctor took a half step back and slowly began to circle Ryker in kind. He seemed to take no notice of the gun, opting to meander into a position between the would-be doctor and the passage leading further in. Even on tiny legs, borrowers were quick when they wanted to be. It wouldn’t be long before they got close, and at that point the Doctor would wager a guess that Ryker would be really unhappy.

Belying none of that, a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of the Doctor’s lips, and he gave a low, humorless chuckle.

“Ah, now… Now that sounds more like what I expected to hear from you,” mused the Doctor as he waggled a finger in Ryker’s direction. “You want to help people. As one should, particularly in the name of science.”

He let out a long, almost disappointed sounding sigh as he crossed his arms, looking at Ryker sidelong. “Tell me, though… doctor, ” he said, letting his teeth click together to punctuate the over-emphasised word right at the end . “Who exactly are you helping down here, hmm? You and your big bad goo in a jar.”

Now that certainly threw the scientist off, eyes widening before narrowing with a mix of interest and caution. No one had recognised him in many centuries— most presumed him dead, and the only ones who knew otherwise hardly cleared that fact up. Cold dread shot up his spine for a moment at the thought that He could have sent this stranger, but the only thing that reassured him otherwise was how he knew for a fact He would care more about freeing Sammy than his own blood.

“...You know me. But I don't know you,” he observed carefully, frowning. “If you were an angel I would see your wings… you're something else. You genuinely don't know what you're getting involved in.”

And for as much as Ryker didn't want to kill a random man, he would if it meant keeping that vial out of the hands of his enemies. His outstretched hand formed into a point instead, palm facing upwards as he pointed towards the Doctor's pocket.

“If used in the right conditions, that vial is the key to ending a two-thousand year old war. A person given that power could kill angels with ease— but if that person is not in the perfect state to receive it, the void will take over their body and dissolve them into nothing .” His fingers opened again, though his resolve faltered as he continued, becoming more unsure of himself.

“I have a…subject. They are the most compatible person to receive it and if I do nothing, millions will continue to die. I am helping people.”

Though the Doctor’s brow pinched to hear Ryker mention ‘the void’, he bit his tongue to let Ryker continue talking. The more information he was able to gather about his plans, the better he could handle things afterward. So, after listening to Ryker attempt to convince them both of the validity of what he was doing, the Doctor simply shook his head and sucked his teeth.

“Well. The ol’ super soldier route. Bit of a dodgy one, if you ask me. Steve Rogers notwithstanding. It always does sound good on paper, but, in the real world…it rarely works out the way you think,” he informed Ryker with a wince.

Then his ear gave the slightest twitch as it picked up on the tiniest group of footfalls making an approach from down the hall. They slowed down significantly a ways back from the threshold, likely able to hear the conversation the two larger men were having. It took all of the Doctor’s self control to maintain eye contact with Ryker, letting his head tilt slightly to one side.

“And, in my experience,” he continued, “the ‘subjects’ are rarely appreciative. Particularly when held against their will. Does put a damper on morale, that. ”

Oliver slowed down as he noticed that the following room contained both the Doctor and Ryker, still holding Sammy’s hand. She covered her mouth, fighting off the urge to panic at the thought of getting caught by her captor mid-escape by remembering that panicking would just get them caught quicker… and she didn't want Oliver or Zepheera to die— as much as she wasn't sure whether to trust the latter or not.

The borrowers huddled in the shadows, Oliver peeking out just slightly to see what was going on. His brows furrowed in anger at the sight of Ryker's dress shoes from the floor, but he knew better than to dash out and endanger everyone else in the process.

Ryker paused, his hand withdrawing slightly as his gaze focused swiftly away from the Doctor the moment his sensitive hearing registered the sound of tiny footfalls. Multiple. Other borrowers? Gods, of course they would find her! Is she hurt? Do they have the same plan as me—? But they can't see the darkness like I can. She'll just get consumed like Tanner was.

He snarled as he snatched the handgun up from the table, removing the safety and pointing it straight at the Doctor with his finger hovering over the trigger.

“What did you do?! Did you hurt her!?” he demanded, seemingly more concerned about the Doctor being a threat to Sammy, not himself.

The Doctor's hands slowly lifted again, showing they were empty, but he continued to circle around to put himself directly between Ryker and the borrowers. Not quite the desperate faux surrender as he'd done before. 

“Didn't lay a finger on her,” said the Doctor in complete honesty. “And neither will you, ever again.”

Glancing between the gun and its wielder with mild disdain, he raised one eyebrow at Ryker. “Not very smart, is it, threatening to shoot a man carrying a volatile substance? Better hope your aim is good, or else… Well , there goes the neighbourhood.”

In the shadows, Zepheera crept to the front of the group, eyes locked on the Doctor and the gun trained on him. Like Sammy, she did her best to keep her head cool in spite of the circumstances. There were a good number of things she simply couldn't stop without help, and bullets were toward the top of the list.

She was almost certain the Doctor had a plan. Mostly…

With Ryker seemingly focused on the Time Lord, Zepheera glanced back at the others and nodded for them to follow her as she crept further along the passage and into the room. She kept to the walls and watched the confrontation between the two men unfold.

Ryker narrowed his eyes. “Oh I assure you, my aim is just fine. I've had plenty of practice.”

He could hear the tiny footsteps moving as they entered the room but he kept his eyes on the Doctor for now. It would be completely pointless to point at the borrowers and shoot— the chance of Sammy getting caught in the crossfire was too great, and he would still rather not kill anyone when it wasn't necessary. Killing someone you could restrain with one hand was a waste of bullets.

Internally apologising for what he was about to do, he pulled the trigger.

Chapter Text

Click.

Ryker blinked as the distinct lack of an ear-splitting gunshot was replaced by silence, squeezing the trigger again and again only for the gun to click uselessly, empty of any bullets. 

Catching on quickly to what had been done– emphasized by the way the Doctor plucked the missing ammunition clip from a pocket for Ryker to see before casting it down the hall behind him– Ryker let out a shout of frustration and tossed the gun back onto the table. It skidded across the smooth surface and clattered onto the floor, discarded as Ryker’s voice took on a sense of disgruntled desperation.

“I never hurt her. Not intentionally— If you take her then…then I can't fix anything ,” he snapped, an edge of guilt in his tone.

Oliver fought off the rage he felt at that. The audacity to act like he was in the right at all. He held Sammy's hand tighter and kept himself between her and Ryker as they crept behind Zepheera. His mind raced with all the words he had kept inside for all this time, the only thing keeping him from letting them out being the feeling of Sammy’s trembling hands gripping his.

The Doctor let out a long breath, disappointed that Ryker actually pulled the trigger. He'd anticipated that he might, of course, but it was still a shame to see.

“You ought to know by now that not all hurt is physical ,” said the Doctor, almost chiding Ryker. “I should hope that you don't need a lecture from me on that point. Though I am tempted. Because based on the looks of her, she wasn't exactly handled with kid gloves, now, was she?”

Even so, the Doctor's raised hands reached more forward in a placating gesture. Ryker's options were dwindling before him, and anyone backed into a corner could be prone to lashing out in desperation.

“Ryker… Trust me, some things aren't worth it. I know for a fact that ending a war is not as simple as having a stronger weapon than the enemy.” Tentatively, the Doctor took a step closer to Ryker, and then another. Hoping to get through to him, his tone lowered to a whisper as he stressed, “She's just a child. ”

Ryker faltered, aware of the fact that Sammy was likely listening in on this conversation too. He couldn't go into his reasons why, he couldn't defend himself— deep down he knew that he had gone too far, but he stood by that it was never his intention. And yet, the thought of defending his actions with Sammy listening was a little too much. She hadn’t been born into the Celestial War, but ripped into it the same way he had been . After recent discoveries, and after what happened to Tanner, he could not stand there and defend his actions when she had lost everything. When I took it from her.

He brushed his fingers through his hair as he tried to come up with something to say but came up blank every time. Ultimately it was the dark truth of his actions; he could see in Sammy's eyes how terrified she was of him, no matter how many quiet moments they had. The past few weeks in particular proved to him just how much she depended on her brother to keep herself together thanks to the constant breakdowns and refusals to eat or drink. He had to force her to stay alive half the time now.

Removing his glasses he rubbed at the bridge of his nose to fight off the spiralling negative thoughts oppressing him now, trying not to get overwhelmed. His slitted gaze focused on the Doctor once more, setting aside his glasses and inspecting the man’s form with his now unobstructed vision.

“...She is a child,” he began, “and she needs to be protected. I— I can do that! All those humans who did her harm are gone , I made sure of it. And what am I to do when she has no family to return to? She will die out there.”

Sammy flinched at the reminder, biting the inside of her cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes again at the more recent memory of Tanner's death, recalling how Ryker wouldn't even let her look or get close. It happened so suddenly and she had no idea what happened besides that it almost looked like he melted .

Oliver, getting sick of the scientist’s insistence, snapped. He released Sammy's hands, giving her a brief reassuring look and ushering her to continue following Zepheera before dashing towards the table behind Ryker. He climbed deftly up one of the legs of the table.

He was long gone by the time Zepheera realized what he was doing, far too late to try and hold him back. Though he'd told her of his past experience with confronting humans on his own, it was still jarring to see him put himself willingly in the middle of the two giants. She took solace in the fact that one of them was the Doctor, and he wouldn't let any harm come to Oliver.

With that thought in mind, Zepheera snapped back into action, wrapping one arm carefully around Sammy's shoulders as she ushered her forward. “C'mon, we've gotta keep moving,” she urged. “He'll be okay, I promise.”

Once Oliver was standing on the table he glared at the back of the man, drawing his porcupine quill. He took a running leap off of the table and caught himself on the grey fabric of Ryker's shirt, climbing up his back as fast as possible.

Ryker took notice of the weight that had suddenly appeared on his back and jolted, instinctively trying to reach for whatever it was only to let out a shout of pain when his hand was stabbed in response. He continued trying to grab whoever was climbing on him but before he knew it they were already on his shoulder with a sharp quill pointed up at his eye. He went still, taken off guard by how the borrower on his shoulder looked startlingly similar to Sammy.

“If you care at all about my cousin then you will never ever try to so much as look at her again, understood?” Oliver demanded, his tone as sharp and serious as his expression. “I have half the mind to give you a second scar, and that pain would not make up for even one iota of what you've put her through..!”

The Doctor, like Ryker, stood stunned for a moment, impressed by how swiftly and effectively Oliver had held up a man over twenty times his height. He made a mental note to never question his methods for ‘dealing with’ people again, as though he needed the reminder.

Then he bristled, recognizing the very real threat that Oliver would use that porcupine quill to its fullest extent. And maybe Ryker deserved it. Even so…

“Oliver…” said the Doctor in a low, careful tone as he approached Ryker and the borrower on his shoulder. When he got close enough to hover a hand near the larger man's chest, he gently yet firmly advised, “Don't. It's not worth your time.”

Oliver didn't look away from Ryker and he stayed steady as he kept the quill a few centimeters from the larger folk’s grey eye to keep him from moving. He stared into his unblinking gaze with a glare, his rage only burning higher at the genuine guilt in his eyes. He has no right to feel guilty. Not now.

He hesitated, wanting nothing more than to make the man pay and yet something made him stop. He retracted the quill after a moment but kept it in hand as he looked to the Doctor then back at Ryker.

“Not worth my time? All I’ve spent is my time. Time looking for my family, wondering what happened, and they've been here, with him— He would deserve any punishment I could dish out…” His tone was harsh and riddled with upset, but he was listening to the Doctor and was also aware of the fact that he was by no means in a safe position. His brows pinched together in frustration as he addressed Ryker directly once again.

“I am perfectly capable of protecting Sammy from people like you . Now stop wallowing in your self-pity. She is leaving. Now. ”

The scientist remained still as he spoke, a flicker of defensiveness in his expression that he withheld between thinned lips, staying silent.

Satisfied by the lack of response Oliver hummed. As tempted as he was to take some sort of revenge he managed to retrieve some of his composure and take a deep breath. He gave the Doctor a small acknowledging nod before moving back and climbing back down the way he came, sliding most of the way to get down faster.

Once he was on the ground he returned to the shadows, joining Zepheera and Sammy again. Sammy looked a mix of surprised, terrified and in awe of his actions, though she had instinctively clung to Zepheera's arm in anticipation of the confrontation going sour. Finally realising what she was doing she let go immediately and murmured an embarrassed apology.

“What were you thinking..? He.. he could have hurt you,” she whispered sharply, her rounded eyes belying the worry in her words. Oliver shook his head, a frown etched into his expression.

“He wouldn't have… Now come on, we're almost there.” He took Sammy's hand again and began to lead the way, feeling an odd mix of emotions after the interaction; satisfied by getting his point across, but disturbed by the look in Ryker’s eyes. Something about them reminded him of the Doctor; like he had lived a thousand lives.

Ryker leaned back to rest on the edge of the table as he held his head in one hand, disheveled greying hair falling in front of his face. “I didn’t…” he began, trailing off and shaking his head before sighing and muttering to himself under his breath, “ qué monstruo soy… ”

He peeked at the Doctor through the gaps in his fingers with narrowed eyes.

“...Thank you. Though I know you didn’t say that for my sake.” He was relieved to still have his vision— not to mention if his eye got stabbed he wasn't sure if he would have been able to maintain this form and he would rather not shift in front of Sammy. His eyes flickered down to the pocket containing the vial again, exhaustion clear. “Who are you? Why are you taking that vial when you don't even know what it is?”

With Ryker seemingly deflating, the Doctor let his own posture relax in the slightest. He kept up his guard just in case, but spoke calmly as he gave his answer.

“I'm the Doctor. And I rather think we need to have a talk.”

That decided, he retrieved his sonic screwdriver and finally glanced away from Ryker and toward the borrowers, making good time on their way to the elevator. “Go on, get into the lift,” he urged them on without him.

Zepheera, still urging the others on, faltered briefly in her pace as she whirled around. “What about you?” she called, glancing dubiously in Ryker's direction.

“I've got this,” the Doctor insisted with a wink. His gaze flitted to the other two who had pushed slightly ahead. “Oliver? Take them home. And look out for me at that street corner.”

He watched Zepheera reluctantly hurry to catch up to Oliver and Sammy, pausing just before she got onto the elevator proper. “Don’t do anything stupid!” she tossed the order over her shoulder as she marched her way to the middle of the elevator floor with the others.

Once they were all in place, the Doctor gave his sonic a buzz and activated the recall on the lift. The elevator doors closed on their own, and it began to slowly rise, taking the borrowers up to the surface with it.

The Doctor gave a sharp sniff once they were out of sight, pocketing his screwdriver once again. “Now. Where were we? Ah, right, you and I were just about to have a good ol’ chat, weren't we?”

Ryker let the hand currently cradling his forehead fall back down to hang by his side, brows furrowing. He wasn’t used to the kind of personality the Doctor had shown off; though it was hard to be serious in a world where nearly everyone either believed he was dead or wanted to fulfill that fact. He had definitely found himself missing Tanner's random talks; when the boy would ramble about whatever came to his mind and talk about the world like he wasn't living in a glass box.

Thinking about Tanner drew his gaze to the darkness around the Doctor's pocket again. He had been searching for a possibility that the boy might be alive and he might be able to bring him back, but all of his research failed on the subject. Getting the boy required entering the void, and that was not a place one could simply enter and leave without issue. But maybe…

He hesitated.

“...There were two vials, you know. I didn't seal them properly before and there was a leak— her brother got caught up in it.” Ryker shuddered, scowling at the darkness. “Since then I've been…reserved about continuing. I've been more focused on trying to understand that substance so I can see if he might be alive.”

His gaze met the Doctor's again, serious. “I can accept that I'm a bad person. But I'm not trying to be evil. I know it was wrong, I just…hoped the ends would justify the means.” He sighed. “But it never has.”

“Rarely does, in my experience,” the Doctor agreed with a small nod. Sensing that much of the fight had left Ryker, he stepped up to the table and hopped up to sit right at the edge of it alongside the scientist. He sat forward with his elbows leaned on his knees so he could still talk properly with the man.

“Believe it or not, Ryker, I'm not here to punish you. Didn't know you were even alive , let alone on Earth, til I got here. I've no part in your war, on any side of it. All I'm concerned with right now is the safety of this planet and its people.” The Doctor twisted to lean further forward and face Ryker more head on, his expression stony. “I might not like everything you've done– what little I know about what you've done– but you don't strike me as a planetary threat. You're just a refugee, speaking the only language you've come to know.”

The Doctor gave Ryker a scrutinizing frown. Despite everything, it did seem the man was being forthcoming with what he knew and what he was truly doing. Deciding it was worth the risk, the Doctor reached into a pocket to pull out the lockbox containing the vial in question. 

“ This, on the other hand… now, this got my attention. My ship picked up on its energy signature, but couldn't tell me much about what it was or where it came from.” Holding the box firmly in both hands, he implored Ryker, “Tell me what you know about it. What it's made of, what its connection to the void is. Anything you've thought of to help that boy. The more I know, the more I can do to help him.”

Ryker looked down at the box, relieved at least to know it was still contained. The glass vial was reinforced, but with something so dangerous it was better to have precautions. If he has a ship capable of detecting these kinds of frequencies, perhaps he would have more luck? But it's still dangerous. He thought about Tanner and a flash of the scene that had played out weeks ago replayed in his mind again, reminding him that this was someone he wanted to save if it was possible. Even if it wasn’t him doing the saving.

“...Fine. You probably have a better chance of finding him than I do,” he relented, eyes narrowing at the ground as he recalled as much as he could about the substance and its origin. “It's a mixture of His ‘blood’ that I took a sample of. I…cannot say his name or he may hear me. The blood was mixed with water from an ancient lake, potent with life— then combined with the sap from tiefrot. The blood takes up 93% of the substance however, the others are to attempt to balance out the destructive effects of the blood without diminishing its power.”

He took a breath, collecting his thoughts on his theories about the void since he knew that wasn't nearly as simple. His hands clasped together as he continued.

“The blood is the connection to the void. It's not technically a biological fluid, it's composed of the same energy as the void, almost like it's a part that escaped…? Because of the mixture, when it makes contact with biological matter it tries to attach to it, but…as I predict it did with Tanner, it could theoretically pull whatever it is attached to into the void if the environment or vessel cannot withstand the energy.” They clasped tighter and he shook his head with a frown of self-contempt. “He…he was consumed by the darkness before I could really realize what happened. I got Sammy away, but all I could do was contain it I couldn't—”

He cut himself off, the stress of the memory followed by the memories of the first Eschaton swirling in his mind briefly before he managed to shake it off. He gave the Doctor a serious look.

“I can't say for sure if he's alive or not, but it is possible.”

The Doctor's frown in return was deep, thoughtful. Everything he'd ever known about the void was mostly theoretical since no living thing was meant to be able to survive in it. There was a reason it was called a dead space by most aware of its existence. The void only existed by technicality, a vast and endless nothingness outside the bounds of all living dimensions. Crossing through the void and passing into other dimensions was not only an immensely difficult feat, but one that tended to have harsh consequences on either side.

If not for the Battle at Canary Wharf a few years back, the Doctor would think that sustained existence within the void was impossible. He maintained it should be without proper protection. Without light, air, or even time itself , anything that found itself in the void without a vessel would die almost instantaneously. And that was saying nothing of a person or creature whose blood could be connected to the void, as that should be impossible too.

But… the void ship he'd encountered had been constructed to be undetectable by most methods of measurement. It acted as though it were part of the void, giving off not so much as a heat signature or weight. He hadn't slowed down to think about it since then, but…perhaps that was how it withstood the non-existent conditions of the void in the first place. Mimicking that environment externally whilst shielding its passengers from it.

So it was possible, at least with regard to a constructed vessel, but that was hardly of help to a flesh-and-blood child exposed to the void without such protection. Although… if Ryker's theory was correct, if whatever that void goo was could attach itself to a living thing without completely destroying it…

The Doctor found himself catching his breath, having jumped down from the table at some point to pace back and forth while speaking all these thoughts aloud as they came. He turned wild eyes to Ryker with a grin to match.

“ Oh yes, ” he declared. “He very well may be alive. And if he is, if I can find a way to get him back, then I will! ”

Staring at the box still clamped in one hand, the Doctor held it in front of himself and rubbed his thumb almost reverently over its surface. Excited as he was by the prospect of saving this lost child, Sammy's brother no less, it was sobering to know that it wasn't going to be easy. The substance he held was still volatile, and the Doctor could easily mishandle it if he attempted to use it in order to find and retrieve Tanner.

“I'll make you a deal, Ryker,” said the Doctor more evenly than his enthusiastic rant from a moment ago. “I need every bit of information you have about this stuff and its relationship to the void. Every note, every file, every Post-It you might have lying around, I might need it if I'm going to pull that child out of hell.”

He approached Ryker slowly, studying his reaction carefully. “In return…I can get you out of here. Reckon you don't actually want to stay here on Earth, and with your research gone belly-up now, well … And I know you feel trapped in the tide of it all, but I'm here to offer you a life ring. I can take you to some distant planet, find you a colony where nobody will know who you are or were, nor will they care. You can start fresh, make a new life without all these burdens you've been carrying.”

Letting that offer hang in the air for a moment, the Doctor offered his free hand to Ryker to shake. “What do you say? Deal?”

Chapter Text

Ryker considered everything the Doctor had said, and for as possessive and secretive he was about his research when he started out he had grown weary over time. Now he only kept it secret out of necessity. He was sure he didn't deserve such an offer, and regardless of where he went his past and mistakes would always haunt him. His burdens always weighed down on him.

He let out a sigh and reached forward to shake the Doctor's hand firmly. “Deal.”

He shook his head slightly before pushing off of the table and walking further into his lab in order to collect the notes he had about Tanner's predicament and the substance. It wasn't very much— he hadn't considered someone else helping him so most of his thoughts on the matter were internal and never written down.

“Here.” As he entered the medical room he grabbed some notes and files scattered around, most of which was vague and unhelpful but some had much more information on the void and how the substance connected to the void; theories on what happened to Tanner, random laments. Ryker cleared his throat, taking back a few of the more emotional notes with a hint of embarrassment.

“You don't need those… but the rest is substantial enough to work with. You can touch the vial, but do not open it or break it. If it breaks, do not touch it,” he reiterated, before turning to meet the Doctor's gaze more solemnly, projecting his sincerity. “I won't try to run, I hardly have anywhere to go, but I'd like some time… to gather some of my things and…process. I won't bring my research, there's no point. But my old journals are still dear to me.”

Sensing the truth in Ryker's words, the Doctor gave an approving nod as he straightened the papers in his hands. The substance was safely tucked away in his pocket, and with Ryker’s former test subject long flown off by now, there wasn't much left to do here anyway. He reckoned he might come back later to give the place a sweep for any technology or information that shouldn't fall into human hands, but that could wait.

“Take your time. You've got plenty of it now.” Taking the hint that Ryker would perhaps prefer to be alone, the Doctor meandered to the elevator. “My ship is parked just up top, not far from the back of the building. I'll wait for you there.”

Ryker nodded and gave the Doctor a dismissive wave as the elevator doors closed, leaving him alone in his lab for the first time in years. The first thing he did was go to the back room and collapse into his chair, resting his head against the cold tabletop. After a few moments he lifted his head, peering at the open glass box he had been keeping children in— frowning to himself. He had never enjoyed doing it. He just…kept telling himself it was necessary. It was worth it.

I really hope Tanner is alive… or at the very least there's some closure. It had broken his heart having to force Sammy to eat and drink for the past few weeks, all because of his own mistakes. He had tried anything to get her to calm down and think of herself but it was only the past few days that she seemed consolable in the slightest. After discovering the depth of Wells’s meddling he hesitated to touch Sammy at all, let alone provide any comfort.

Standing up, Ryker stretched out his limbs and walked over to his desk, picking up a blue flower preserved in resin and placing it into his bag carefully, wrapping it in his coat to ensure it wouldn't break. He moved around, grabbing various journals, from his childhood; educational years; his first research papers, all of the things from before the war began and ruined everything. When he actually had things to look forward to.

With everything packed he gave the lab one more look over before exhaling slowly and closing the elevator doors, letting himself ascend. He left the building, which had no customers as usual, turning the sign so that it said ‘closed’ on his way out. As he looked around for a sign of this ‘ship’ that the Doctor had mentioned he spotted a police box that had him raising an eyebrow. Presuming that must be the ‘ship’ he was referring to, he approached and knocked.

Shortly after, the door swung inward with a creak and the Doctor poked his head out to grin at Ryker. “Ah, there you are! Come on in.”

He turned on his heel to dash up to the console, letting Ryker enter in his own time. The floor around the console was clear now that the Doctor actually had time to tidy it up, and he circled about it adjusting various mechanisms almost idly as he went.

“Not gonna be here for too long, so I’ll give you the fast version: bigger on the inside, time and space machine, yadda yadda, et cetera.” Crossing behind the center column, the Doctor leaned over to keep Ryker in sight. “While I’ve got you here, been meaning to say– I’ve read your work. A long time ago, back in my school days. ‘The Science of Magic’– brilliant stuff! Still use those principles to this day.”

Ryker only seemed perplexed by his surroundings for a moment before switching to exasperation. After dealing with his fair amount of powerful beings and what seemed almost like unexplainable powers he really didn't question why the ship was larger inside than it was outside. He took the Doctor's explanation with a nod as he entered further into the TARDIS, briefly looking over the controls before meeting the Time Lord's gaze again.

“It's been a long time since anyone has recognised me for my work. The only people who know me by name anymore are people who know me from other projects…” Sighing, he folded his arms and looked at the ship’s floor. “The version of myself you read about is long gone now. That man had a bright future. That man was never a prisoner of war to be tortured. That man had never taken a life before, and he certainly wouldn't dream of hurting children.”

He hummed, frown deepening as his brows pinched together with guilt and frustration.

“It's…reassuring to know that my name is remembered in that way, and not for what I've become. As selfish as that is.”

As he listened, the Doctor's fiddling slowed to a stop and he straightened up his posture. His expression once again darkened into deep understanding.

“History's funny like that,” he acknowledged, turning to lean his hips back on the console as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “They can never really capture war with quite the magnitude it deserves. Or the way it changes people–really changes them. They just tell you who fought where, and who won.”

The Doctor had held such a sentiment ever since he was a student at the Academy back on Gallifrey. Though he loved history as a subject, all the wars were difficult for him to pay attention to. Too grim a topic, especially the way the Time Lords taught it. To them, sitting in their towers of glass observing the universe without daring to touch it, war wasn't really war. Just a long series of names and numbers.

Until they got into a war of their own.

Given what he could infer about Ryker, his people, and all the talk about angels, the Doctor had some idea of the war he must have been involved in. He’d never gone near the Celestial War– he did try to avoid major wars in his travels, or at least the big skirmishes. As much as he liked to be of help where he could, it wouldn't do to play god by getting mixed up in such things.

“But all wars end,” the Doctor continued with a sigh. “One way or another. And believe you me…the burden of putting an end to them should not fall to any one person.”

The Doctor pushed off the console and let one hand rest against it as he stood to face Ryker full-on, his expression deadly serious.

“I could have so easily been you,” he admitted, just shy of a whisper. “I ended a war on my own. The Last Great Time War. The enemy was destroyed…and so were my people. The whole planet and everyone on it, billions of children who should have lived a dozen lives over, all gone… But the alternative was reality tearing itself apart. I couldn't have that.”

With a long, deep breath, his gaze drifted to the side as he pushed the memories back. “I call it a burden because it truly is one. Feeling the responsibility of a war on your shoulders. And on top of that, carrying the weight of your entire race because you're the only one left who can.” He locked eyes with Ryker's once again, and said with utmost sincerity, “I wouldn't wish the way we feel on the most vile creatures in the universe. And I am so sorry that this is where your life brought you.”

Ryker scanned the Doctor over as his words sank in, his expression shifting to one of regretful understanding. And yet, despite the sorrowful nature of the burden upon them both, his heart felt lighter knowing that he wasn't alone for the first time in centuries.

“I…am sorry too that you've felt the same suffering.” He lifted a hand, inspecting his palm scornfully as he pondered every terrible mistake he had been responsible for. Can it even be considered a mistake if I knew it was wrong? A sigh escaped his lips, the answer already obvious as much as he didn't want it to be the truth.

“This burden…it should have stayed with me. I've hurt so many people— given them burdens of their own, but the weight on my shoulders has never gotten lighter. In fact, it's only gotten heavier.” He frowned deeply, closing his hand into a fist. “At first hate was all that drove me. Now it's guilt. It has been for millennia. But all I've done is make everything worse.”

Shaking his head, he let his hands return to his sides and met the Doctor's gaze once more.

“You're a strong man— to not buckle under the weight like I did,” he uttered, an edge of self-loathing creeping into his voice. “Only a coward hurts children.”

That statement hung in the air as the men regarded each other, pondered the directions their lives had gone. The lives they'd affected, and not necessarily for the better. After a moment, the Doctor took a sharp breath; he didn't exactly smile, but something about the gleam in his eyes and the way he straightened his posture carried a sliver of hope.

“Well… Good news is, it's never too late to make a change. Can't always go back and fix things, but keeping on the move is better than standing still or sliding backwards. In my experience, at least.” With the ghost of a smirk, the Doctor reached out to give Ryker's shoulder a reassuring pat. “And I'll tell ya something else,” he went on, some of that bright energy returning to his tone. “This universe is vast. Loads of galaxies, billions upon trillions of stars with planetary systems of their own. Far-flung corners that have never even heard of the name Zorro Ryker. …Or of the Anderna. Places where all kinds come and go, and nobody bats an eye– if they've got an eye to bat.” 

The Doctor stared intently into Ryker's grey eyes– ones that didn't truly belong to him in the first place. He gave no command, and he didn't pass judgement on the man. He simply suggested, “So…there's no need to hide behind someone else's face.”

As the Doctor called attention to his stolen appearance Ryker couldn't help but bristle. No one had ever suggested he let his true form out— not since his race had been eradicated, no one even knew him by his old face outside of textbooks. His fingers brushed over the scar across his cheek, frowning in thought.

He had maintained this appearance for millennia now, simply changing parts of it to suit wherever he was blending in. At first it had been because it was a crime punishable by death for an Anderna to shift. And then it was just natural to him; his ex-torturer’s face staring back at him in the mirror every day.

“I…don't even recall my old appearance anymore. It's foggy,” he admitted, running his fingers across the scar again before letting his hand drift from his face, meeting the Doctor's eyes with scrutiny. After another beat or two passed he seemed to accept the idea, albeit with great hesitation. Perhaps if I shed this skin I can start again. Truly.

The transition was smooth; scales spreading up his arms and extending out into claws. His eyes changed to a muted green with animalistic slitted pupils in the center, and an extra three eyes opened on his forehead. His canines grew sharper as his snout extended, hair twisting and elongating as it turned into flexible horn-like appendages. His whole appearance became more lizard-like, with his scales patterned almost like a moorish gecko.

As he grew his clothes ripped slightly, eliciting a wince. I forgot how much bigger I was… He was now standing well above the Doctor at eight feet tall, a large pointed tail pushing out through the back of his shirt. With his transformation complete he looked down at his scaled hands with unfamiliarity. It had been an exceptionally long time since he had looked down and seen claws at the tips of his fingers. It felt…odd. But it also felt right.

He looked down at the Doctor and let his hands fall to his sides again, five eyes all focusing on him and narrowing slightly. His gaze averted after a moment.

“...You ought to tell Sammy you killed me. Or something similar. She's stubborn, if she finds out you helped me in any way it will be an excruciating battle to get even an inkling of trust. More than it already is,” he advised, knowing from experience that Sammy trusted essentially nothing and no one. Hyperbole, but it may as well be the truth.

“Oh, I’ll come up with something. Always do,” said the Doctor with a reassuring pat on Ryker’s now-scale-covered arm. He couldn’t help the twinkle of fascination in his eyes to watch the transformation unfold and see a bona fide Anderna before him. “Now then, we must be off! We’ll find you a new getup wherever we land.”

With that, the Doctor hopped away to continue working the odd controls of his vessel. At one point he reached under the console and whipped out a hammer to coax a few into behaving with a poignant ding or two. Finally, all that was left to do was pull the main lever.

There he hesitated, glancing sidelong at Ryker. Something still bugged him, and he knew his window for getting an answer was dwindling.

“...One last thing– truly, the very last, and then I’ll stop prying!” The Doctor gave a wince before letting his gaze flit between Ryker and the door. “In here, we’re cut off from everything out there. Completely shielded, nigh on airtight. I understand if you still don’t feel comfortable sharing, and if that’s the case you absolutely don’t need to answer. But…I have to know. This person whose blood you took for that substance. What are they? What could possibly live with this-this…essence of the void inside them?”

Despite the reassurance that the inside of the TARDIS was cut off from everything outside, Ryker still reacted to that question with tension in his shoulders, all five of his eyes rounding with fear. He composed himself a moment later, but the paranoia in his gaze remained. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, the idea of answering such a question out loud leaving him speechless at first.

“...Jade Eye...I spent centuries trying to answer that question… but this— this being disregards all of the known laws of our universe. He…I don't know what he is. You should consider him God. The unkillable, immortal, all-knowing and all-powerful kind. A-and I'm sure he must be after me by now…” He suddenly gestured upwards, movements more jittery than before. “He watches humanity from above— with a single green eye. He's…he's real. Very real. And terrifying.”

The tall reptilian man shuddered, eyes glazing over as he recalled the first Eschaton again, the images of blood and darkness flashing in his mind. Snapping out of it he locked eyes with the Doctor again.

“I suggest you don't look further than that. He is…something higher than you or I.”

“Okay… Alright, I understand.” The Doctor nodded slowly as he took in Ryker's description, as well as the way he'd done so. Suddenly reminded of all of Oliver's reports about the man's deteriorating mental state, and seeing just how terrified these notions made him, he decided it was best to not press the matter further. ‘Religious delusions’ was right, it seems. 

Gods were not unknown to him; it had been a long time since he'd encountered one in earnest, but there were certainly higher beings out in the wider universe. Just his luck, the ones that had crossed the Doctor's path were primarily entities of pure death and chaos, and he'd found ways to thwart their machinations.

The name Jade Eye did ring a bell, but not in the context of such pantheons. If a creature of that magnitude had interacted with Earth in all the time he'd spent there, the Doctor would have noticed. As far as he was aware, Jade Eye was simply a name tied to a fringe religion as a product of mass hysteria. Nearly every civilization had a few episodes once in a while– more often than not due to some form of extra-terrestrial interference. When they could find no other way to explain away their experiences, they usually made their own gods to fill in the gaps in their comprehension. 

Given Ryker's testimony, the Doctor couldn't completely rule out the possibility of some omnipotent entity watching over the planet. Even so… if such a being did exist, something so impossible in their physiology that they shouldn't… then researching a potentially one-of-a-kind creature would be a fool’s errand. The Doctor couldn't waste time on that with a child's life on the line.

“Well…all the more reason for us to put Earth behind us. Eh, big fella?” With another firm pat to Ryker’s shoulder, the Doctor’s grin returned. “Allons-y!”

The lever was thrown, and the console room came alive as the Doctor piloted the TARDIS far, far away from the Earth, marking the beginning of a new life for Zorro Ryker.

Chapter Text

As soon as the borrowers reached the top level in the elevator Oliver remembered how cold it was outside and one glance down at his cousin told him that she was not dressed for the weather at all. He was quick to remove his sweater and socks, leaving himself with his dark green undershirt and simply wearing his shoes without cotton beneath. It was oversized, but Sammy relaxed into the warm fabric immediately which had Oliver smiling just slightly; relieved to have his cousin back and to see her relax.

Although she didn't seem particularly pleased about having to ride Gail, Oliver helped both Sammy and Zepheera climb onto the buzzard's back before setting off, making sure to go even more steady than he had with Zepheera because he could feel Sammy's trembling as she held onto him tightly the whole journey.

Once inside of the burrow, the first thing Oliver did was light a fire. He had made it safe to light inside the hollowed oak; the fireplace being built with stones that formed a chimney to ensure his home didn't fill with toxic gas. Doing so was not only to help warm the room up but also because he planned to make tea. I certainly need something calming right now. He hummed a soft familiar tune under his breath as he focused on that task.

Zepheera, for her part, helped coax Sammy to sit on the sofa. Not wanting to hover too much, she set herself to pace around the room and gather any blankets she could find. After all that flying in the winter chill in barely any clothing, Zepheera could imagine Sammy felt the cold down to her bones.

Even Zepheera was still biting back shivers, severely regretting not getting her and Oliver's coats back from the Doctor. She didn't exactly anticipate going separate ways like this.

Meanwhile Sammy sat curled up on one end of the sofa, huddled in Oliver's large green sweater and fidgeting by picking at the slightly loose stitching. She wasn't sure how to feel about Zepheera, so she couldn’t even make eye contact without unease. She still wasn't even sure if this was all real because it felt like a dream to be free; especially to be free and with Oliver. She glanced towards the other borrower every now and then, trying to come up with something to say or ask. It had been a while since she had to socialise at all. Her hands gripped her sleeves a little tighter as she chewed at her bottom lip.

“... You're…friends with Oliver..?” she asked slowly, but kept her gaze focused on her socked feet that were curled up at the edge of the sofa’s seat cushion. Hunched over and bundled up as she was, the only visible scars were now just the one over her left eye and across her right jaw.

Zepheera paused, arms full with a blanket or two, when she realized Sammy was speaking to her. Her expression softened as she glanced Oliver's way, then she slowly started back toward the sofa.

“Well, we've only just met today, but…I'd like to think we're friends, yeah,” Zepheera admitted. It was still a shock to her system, feeling so familiar with someone as fast as she did with Oliver. Part of her wondered if she would have let him in so readily if she hadn't already been traveling with the Doctor. Would she have taken the risk to let someone of her own kind catch a glimpse of who she truly was, the way she had today?

Choosing a nice plush blanket from the selection in her arms, she pulled it free and held it at an arm's length just within Sammy's reach. “Here. Let's warm you up, love.”

Sammy's hazel eyes looked up, her fingers pausing from their instinctive fidgeting at that nickname. Her brows furrowed slightly but after a moment or two of looking between Zepheera and the offered blanket she took the blanket and averted her gaze once more. As she draped it over herself and tucked herself in up to her neck she hesitantly spoke again.

“Thanks…”

It had been a while since Sammy had been covered like she was, and for as good it felt to be warm it still felt weird to have sleeves that fell past her forearms like Oliver's sweater did. Focusing her attention elsewhere she watched her cousin feed the fire and gather water into a tiny metal teapot, hanging it by a wire over the fire to let the water boil. Seeing him, feeling warm, being safe, it all felt so unfamiliar. Not bad, just…Sammy wasn't sure how to feel yet.

“That…that human isn't going to use the thing that made that horrible noise and break the wall down, will he..?” she asked stiffly, the encounter with the Doctor freeing her mixing together with the memory of the walls of their den being broken into by a human on the day they were captured. She looked down again, this time tracing the floral embroidery on the rug beneath the sofa. Hearing Oliver's subtle breath hitch her gaze snapped to focus on him, knowing immediately that they were probably both picturing the same image of her father buried beneath the rubble.

She looked down again, fidgeting under the blanket as she awaited an answer.

Zepheera bit back a wince as she glanced between Sammy and Oliver, noticing the reaction they both had. Turning her violet gaze to focus on Sammy, she shook her head emphatically.

“Oh, no. No, he would never do that.” Despite the incredibly strong urge to comfort Sammy, Zepheera recognized that she was still a stranger to the kid. An unknown who was friends with someone who looked quite human, with similar capabilities.

Opting to sit in a chair nearby, the remaining blanket Zepheera held ended up getting bundled around her hands for extra warmth. Her focus now was on reassuring Sammy that she was safe, even and especially from or with the Doctor.

“That sonic of his can be…intense, especially for us,” she acknowledged. “But it's harmless, really. He only used it on the cage the way he did so we could get to you, get you out without his help otherwise.” Putting on a small, tight smile that was only slightly forced, Zepheera leaned forward to whisper to Sammy like she was sharing a secret. “And, just between us, it's pretty rubbish when it comes to wood. Can't even budge it!”

Sammy wasn't sure what to think of that answer— really she wasn't sure what to think of anything about this situation. She wasn't even sure why she bothered asking because she knew deeply that she wouldn't feel comforted by any answer she received. She was testing the waters, but doing so whilst being so petrified of water that she knew no matter what temperature it was she wouldn't be able to jump in.

“I-I just… I feel like if I try to feel safe this’ll just…stop. O-or something bad will happen. I don't want to get captured again, o-or for anyone else to get hurt.” She stammered, shoulders bunching up under the blankets and covering parts of her face as her short messy hair all stuck out every which way. Her hand peeked out from the knitted fabric to wipe at her eyes though she was trying to keep her composure, refusing to look weak. Her brows pinched together in frustration, poorly hiding the unease she was still feeling.

Oliver stood up straight and turned around to face away from the fire. His expression was conflicted, not knowing how far to push because he knew that how she was feeling was perfectly normal in such distressing circumstances but he just wished he could take all of that pain away.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to you here. If the Doctor tried anything he would soon find himself at the sharp end of my quill. Which is…both ends…” He cleared his throat softly.

“But— I know I wouldn't need to lift my weapon in his direction in the first place. Eccentric, he is, but cruel he is not. This safety,” he gestured around the well-lit room, “is not going to disappear. It is natural to find that difficult to understand at first given what has happened, but please try to tell yourself that.”

Zepheera's stilted smile softened to a proper one to hear Oliver speak up for the Doctor, and put together more reassuring words than she'd been able to so far. For all her travels, on top of decades of near-complete isolation before them, Zepheera was afraid she'd grown quite rusty when it came to normal social interaction with her own kind. Let alone someone so young who had been through more than her fair share of hardship already.

“And if it's any consolation,” she added softly, “he doesn't even know where we are. Didn't come along when I visited before, and he can't track us down. So he won't be showing up unexpectedly, don't worry.”

Though Zepheera hoped she could bring Sammy some solace by saying so, her brow jumped up when she realised what exactly she'd said.

“Oh, that reminds me. Um, Oliver?” Zepheera sat up and turned to the borrower in question. She almost hated to ask any more of him after the day he'd had, but she really didn't have another option. “Could we possibly have Gail keep an eye out for the TARDIS? He said he'd bring it back to that corner, but it's hard to be sure when that will be.”

Oliver seemed to realise the same thing as Zepheera as she brought it up, so he nodded.

“Yes. Just a moment.” He bent down to move the metal fire guard into place to prevent any sparks from catching whilst the fire was starting out, before dusting himself off and walking over to the door. He gave Sammy a reassuring smile before pushing the door open with his shoulder and slipping outside to set Gail that mission. The door closed gently behind him, leaving Zepheera and Sammy alone in the warm room.

Sammy was still processing his and Zepheera's words as he left, not knowing what the TARDIS was but it sounded ominous. Her eyes honed in on the flames coming from within the fireplace, recalling the searing pain of being burned herself. She bristled at the memory, shuddering.

“I've never been here before… Oliver just came back to visit us sometimes after he moved out… it..it looks weird, but nice.” She glanced around the room at all of the flowery and green decor with a thoughtful frown. “...He’s not very subtle about his favourite colour being green. But…it's impressive. I didn't know that this is what his burrow looked like.”

She rested her cheek against her knees that were pulled to her chest, this time fidgeting with the longer strands of her dark hair by twisting them in between her forefinger and thumb, still not looking fully at Zepheera even when it was clear that's who she was speaking to.

“...I begged mum and dad to let me celebrate my birthday here… they said no, since it was too far away… If they had said yes I wonder if they'd be alive now. O-or maybe the human would've ripped open the walls the next day instead, I don't know.” Her eyes narrowed, still turning her hair between her fingers. “...S’not like it matters anymore.”

Zepheera watched and listened to Sammy, doing her best to keep her expression from falling too far. Though she didn't look that much older than the girl, it had been a long, long time since she was a teenager. She couldn't even recall having hung around one for any meaningful length of time. And that said nothing of the suffering Sammy had clearly been through.

Not that Zepheera's childhood was all sunshine, but comparing their pain was hardly fair to either of them.

“I'm sorry…” Zepheera breathed at last, not sure if anything she could possibly say would be a comfort. Her last attempt hadn't gone so well. But she knew how it felt to lose a brother, her entire family in one fell swoop, and remembered just how far a little bit of kindness and understanding could go.

“Those ‘what ifs’ will drive you mad if you let them,” she advised. “I know it's hard to, but it does help to focus on what's in front of you. It doesn't mean forgetting or ignoring all that happened, but… certainly keeps you from going through life looking back all the time.”

Sammy listened, keeping her face mashed against her blanket-covered knees as she tried her best to take something from that advice. It was difficult— she certainly felt bitter, and angry, and sad and scared and just about every emotion she could name— but dwelling on it all would change nothing. Even if she couldn't put such advice into practice just yet, she at least respected that Zepheera was trying to be nice…despite being friends with a monster.

“Well… I guess it's nice. I haven't really seen the colour green in a while. Or the sun. B-but it's hard to believe this is all real… I feel like I'm dreaming.” She shifted on the sofa, finally facing Zepheera more and meeting her gaze, scanning the other borrower over for a few moments before pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “I'm trying to stop feeling so scared… but it's been so long… I-I don't know if I remember how to feel safe…”

Oliver reentered the burrow as her words hung in the air, his eyes flickering towards the two but seeming fine with what was happening so far. Not interrupting he instead went to the now boiled teapot, putting on some gloves as he removed it from the fire and set it gently on a piece of slate on the ground. He briefly dipped into the kitchen, returning with the right leaves for what he wanted and what Sammy probably needed too, letting them steep in the water patiently.

“Would you like a cup of chamomile tea too, Zepheera?” he asked politely.

“Oh yes, please,” Zepheera sighed, shoulders slumping at the very notion of a soothing cuppa. Realizing how much tension she’d been holding almost in sympathy for Sammy, she shook the blanket around her hands out of its bundle and let it lay across her lap. She gave Oliver a grateful smile before turning a gentle gaze to Sammy.

“Look… Nobody expects you to bounce back so fast, after everything. Things take time, and even if it’s hard to feel it, being somewhere and with someone that is safe will make it real.” Glancing Oliver’s way, a small grin tugged at her lip. “And if his hospitality and skills with a quill are anything to go by, I should think you’re perfectly safe with your cousin here.”

Oliver poured the tea out into the three tiny cups he had gathered, making sure to pour his cup first to ensure he got the weakest taste; it was just basic etiquette to him at this point, not that he ever had many guests to serve tea to. He carried Zepheera and Sammy’s cups over, handing them over delicately before retrieving his own cup and coming to sit on the opposite end of the sofa to his cousin to try to avoid crowding her. Blowing gently on the hot aromatic beverage he simply listened for now, sinking into the cushions the moment he had the chance to sit down.

Sammy took the tea, looking at it with a brief sense of confusion and unease, simply holding it for now and letting it warm her fingers as she cradled it. At Zepheera's prompting, she remembered how Oliver had threatened Ryker and bristled, looking to her older cousin in alarm.

“Weren't you scared when you did that? You looked cool but you're lucky he didn't hurt you…” she pointed out, still slightly disturbed by the memory but also secretly admiring the courage required for such a feat.

Oliver hummed, sipping from his cup before responding.

“I've never been particularly scared of humans. But even so, I was just…angry. The fact that he had the audacity to act so righteous after keeping you down there for so long…” His grip on his cup tightened briefly, only for him to take a deep breath and relax again, looking between Sammy and Zepheera. “I've actually dealt with plenty of bad-acting humans before. Broke some bones in the process, but I do not like to stand idly by.”

Zepheera shook her head at him almost in disbelief, continually impressed by her new friend. Though it was concerning to hear the lengths to which he could go in pursuit of doing good and stopping bad people on his own…she couldn't help admiring his strength and determination.

Not to mention she'd never forget the look on Ryker's face when Oliver had a porcupine quill stuck up in it, ready to plunge into his squishy bits. Zepheera suppressed a chuckle at the memory by hiding it in a pull of her own tea.

She let out a contented sigh, feeling the warmth spread through her from the inside out. “You certainly have a way with handling things,” she granted, but then wagged a teasing finger at Oliver. “I'll say though, a little more warning next time might be appreciated. Nearly gave me a heart attack, seeing you swan off like that.”

Oliver let out a soft breath of amusement as he took another sip from his tea, smiling good-naturedly.

“Yes… Although I don't often plan on getting myself into these situations, if I do so again I will warn you,” he assured with a shake of his head.

He could feel the chamomile already working its calming magic, easing the tension that had built up from the earlier stress. He took a subtle glance at Sammy, seeing she was still on edge and had resorted to blowing on the drink every now and then instead of drinking it. He made no remark about it, only hoping that with time she would let herself be more at ease. He would rather have a dozen cold cups of tea left out than not have her sitting there on the sofa.

Sammy's gaze drifted away from the tea slowly and dragged across the walls, looking at the random paintings and sketches… Her eyes landed on one drawing in particular which she recognised her parents had up in the den. Perking up, she pointed in the picture’s direction and looked at Oliver.

“That's the one I drew, in’t it? You brought some of our stuff here from the den?” she asked curiously, wondering what of her things had survived. Oliver nodded slowly.

“Certainly. I recovered whatever I could— I have some of your old clothes, though I'm not sure they'd quite fit you anymore… I'll make something new for you soon, so you don't have to stay in those thin clothes… it's the winter, you'll catch something.” He added the last part in a lightly scolding tone, remembering how bare and shaky she had been before. It was a relief to see she was no longer shivering, but he could see she was still tired based on her slow blinking.

“You look exhausted. When did you last go to sleep..?” he asked, approaching the question carefully just in case she got defensive about the subject. Sammy let out a sigh, steam puffing from her cup as her breath washed over the tea.

“...Yesterday. It's been really hard to sleep— usually Tanner would hug up with me and we'd sleep like that but…now he's not here. A-and the fabric piles for me to nest with just didn't feel the same,” she explained, starting to fidget again with the cup handle and rim. She tapped her fingers on the tiny ceramic outside a couple times before finally taking a large drink from it.

Zepheera's eyes, which had hovered on the drawing Sammy pointed out in curious interest, glossed over. Her chest clenched as Sammy's words dragged a very dusty memory to the forefront of her mind unexpectedly.

Being oh so gently shaken awake in the middle of the night by little hands. Blearily sensing her little brother's upset, and not caring what it was. Letting him slip under her covers so she could hold him close to her heart until he could fall back to sleep.

When she leaned forward to put down her cup of tea, Zepheera realized how tightly she'd been clenching it. She did her best to compose herself from the sudden return of a memory she'd thought long buried, but her breaths did come slightly unevenly as she stood and began folding up the blanket previously draped over her lap.

“If you, um, need to get some rest, I can…take a walk. Keep an eye out for Gail.” Her offer came in no small part due to the assumption that she was one of the few remaining unknown factors that could be giving Sammy pause in allowing herself to properly relax. Not that Zepheera thought it was entirely on her, but she certainly didn't want to make anything worse.

Glancing between the cousins– the speed at which she did so back and forth belying some of her discomfort– she added, “And if it helps, I've got a few things I can loan you, Sammy. Not much, and they might be a touch big, but I reckon it's better than nothing.” Her gaze turned to Oliver. “It just might be a bit since, y'know, all my stuff’s on the TARDIS, so it'll have to wait til the Doctor gets back.”

Chapter Text

Sammy bristled slightly as Zepheera suddenly stood, watching her and noticing something was off but feeling much too awkward to do much about it. She hadn't comforted anyone besides her brother for a long time, she knew nothing about comforting someone older than her.

Oliver noticed something was up and inspected Zepheera's expression for a brief second. He set down his own cup a moment later before reaching forwards with warm hands. He took her by the hand; grip practically non-existent to allow her to pull away, but clearly he was urging her to stay.

“You're fine, Zepheera. Just relax and finish your tea, Gail will call when she returns,” he reassured, having seen immediately how her breathing faltered and she rushed to busy herself elsewhere. His tone wasn't forceful, gently imploring her to settle as he turned his attention to Sammy. “If you are tired you can sleep in my bed. I have Messy and some of your old blankets in the box on the rightmost corner. It might help make things feel more real once you have slept.”

Sammy hesitated, but sensed that perhaps it would be good to have some time alone to process things…not to mention she was pretty sure Oliver meant to speak with Zepheera alone. He had also rightly pointed out how exhausted she was and it was starting to get to her now that the adrenaline was no longer buzzing through her system. She stood up, taking the blanket currently wrapped around her shoulders with her like a cape as she walked over to the wooden stairs and ascended to the presumed bedroom with murmured ‘goodnight’ that Oliver returned.

He watched her leave with a smile and a wave before regarding Zepheera with a soft expression. “How are you feeling?”

His question dragged her gaze away from the staircase, where she'd watched Sammy go until she vanished from sight. Guilt weighed down her features, though she tried to hide it with a shake of her head, ready to tell Oliver how she was fine, really.

“Sorry, mostly,” she said instead. “Sorry for having upset things. Frustrated that I have nothing better to offer that poor girl than useless platitudes. Guilty for letting my feelings slip because it really shouldn't be me that anyone has to worry about here over Sammy…”

Sensing her composure slipping, Zepheera paused to take a long deep breath. She ran both hands over her face and through her short hair as she slumped back down into her chair with a soft groan. The blanket in her grasp fell into another useless lump on the floor next to her.

“I just… I know what she's going through,” she admitted in a whisper, allowing herself to hold Oliver's gaze. “With Tanner, at least. I know how it sits on a big sister's heart. …It just hit me out of nowhere, that's all.”

Oliver frowned in thought as she spoke, picking his tea up again now that Zepheera had settled back down. He swished it around in the cup slightly before humming.

“Wisdom is not useless, and you haven't upset things. This situation is complicated and undoubtedly stressful. It's fine to be affected by that,” he assured, looking down into his cup and taking another small sip before continuing, eyes softening when he looked to Zepheera again.

Oliver had to admit, he had gotten wrapped up in his own life and with worry for his cousin, he hadn't even considered how this might affect Zepheera or whether it might be a triggering situation for her. He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and holding his cup between his hands as he met the other borrower's gaze.

“Losing a sibling is a difficult, hollowing feeling. It's easy for old memories to pop up suddenly and feel bittersweet,” he stated delicately. “If you need a walk or fresh air alone, I won't stop you… but I have found that these feelings are easier to deal with when you have a friend by your side.”

Zepheera's violet eyes bore into his green while she listened. After a moment or two to take in his words, she found herself nodding slowly.

“Yeah…yeah, maybe…” When she broke eye contact, her gaze landed on her teacup. She picked it up again and took a long draw of it, knowing she'd feel awful if it grew cold and went to waste. The taste and remaining warmth did help her calm down and recenter.

With a sheepish glance toward Oliver, Zepheera repeated, “Sorry, again.” She shook her head at herself. “It's…an old habit. Running from my problems. My feelings.”

The Doctor and I have that in common, she commented internally as she stared into her tea.

“When I lost my brother, things got…bad at home. Well, worse. I had to run away. That must be where it started.” She took another sip for her nerves, quietly amazed that she could so readily offer such things to Oliver. Somehow, he made it feel easy. “Because you were right. The way I am makes it difficult to have relationships. And when I learned that the hard way, I ran from that, too. Still am running, if I'm honest…”

Listening quietly, Oliver's mind spun with theory after theory about what kind of living situation Zepheera might be in. And with the added complication of her immortality, it definitely made for a mess of emotions that Zepheera clearly had yet to process even now.

Oliver had a difficult childhood growing up, but he had time and good caring people around him such that the pain lessened over time. Now he rarely got any flashbacks about his original family and only let them into his thoughts when he was remembering the anniversary of their deaths. He wondered how long Zepheera had been carrying these feelings without properly talking about them.

“You are in a unique situation, Zepheera. You cannot blame yourself for running away, but you can try to stop running. Just a bit.” He let out a soft sigh. “I don't know how long you've lived, I don't know every experience you have had, but I can see it's been difficult. You can talk to me about it, I won't judge. Equally it's fine if you’d rather not.”

He placed a hand over his heart to convey sincerity.

“I think you and I are very similar— alien companion and time travel not included. I may not be able to get rid of those lingering fears and feelings, but I'm a good listener.” He smiled softly. “And I've been told I give good hugs.”

Zepheera let out a quiet, breathy chuckle– not amused by Oliver's offer so much as…relieved to hear it. She'd obviously seen how open he could be about all kinds of things, even otherworldly ones. It stood to reason that anything Zepheera could possibly admit to about her own life would be no different to him.

“I appreciate that,” she said with a small shrug. “Traveling with the Doctor has been of help, I think. He's a runner, too, but…with him, it feels like a different kind. Like we're always running toward something, even if we don't exactly know what. And since there's almost always some kind of trouble wherever we go, we do what we can to help other people.”

Running a thoughtful thumb over the smooth teacup, Zepheera reflected, “Sometimes I do think we're a little too alike, me and him. He's no more emotionally available than me, about things like this at least. So we just…keep moving forward. Keep running.”

She let that sit for a moment before swallowing down her remaining apprehensions– and the rest of her tea– and returning a gentle smile to Oliver.

“You're the second person I've actually opened up to about any of this, after him. So…thank you, Oliver. For listening.” Then Zepheera set down her emptied cup, wrung her hands, and admitted in an almost inaudible tone, “A hug does sound nice, now you've brought it up.”

It made sense, that running had been both a hindrance in the past and a help now that she was doing something that felt meaningful— especially because she was doing it with someone. That was the way some people chose to live and Oliver saw no issue with it as long as they found their own happiness and joy in life.

He smiled again and nodded, standing up and setting his own cup down, gently pulling Zepheera into a hug. It wasn’t as tight or protective as it had been with Sammy earlier; more of a warm presence surrounding her.

As he pulled away he gave her another reassuring pat on the shoulder before bending down and picking up the empty cups.

“When Gail does come back, what should we do? I don't think the Doctor coming here would be the best idea, but I think the TARDIS may be a little overwhelming for Sammy too. I don't mind flying you back to the TARDIS, I just don't know about leaving Sammy completely on her own yet.” He hummed, taking the cups into the kitchen, still audible despite that.

Zepheera released a long, slow breath, head finally clear enough to consider Oliver's question. In all the chaos of making sure Sammy was safely rescued, she hadn't stopped to consider that part. Her brow pinched thoughtfully as she shook out the last of the tension from her hands and let them come to rest on her hips.

“Yeah, you're right,” she acknowledged, slowly beginning to pace along the sofa. “Suppose you could go on ahead and give him enough directions that I could meet him in the middle. But that would leave me and Sammy here, and I'm not sure she'd be comfortable with that. And if you stay, I'd either have a very long walk ahead of me or…well, I don't think any of us want me to try and fly Gail.”

Chewing her lower lip, Zepheera’s gaze drifted back to the staircase for a moment or two before returning to the kitchen. “If we don't hear anything by the time she wakes up, maybe we just…ask Sammy what she thinks. Y'know, maybe it'll be good for her to see she has a say in things.”

He returned and sat on the sofa again, bringing a plate of tiny shortbread cookies. They were as big as his entire hand, but it was very difficult to make them any smaller without ruining the texture. He set the plate down on the coffee table and gestured to it so that Zepheera knew they were up for grabs, taking one for himself and taking a bite as he thought over her suggestion.

“That's a good plan. If she doesn't wake up…we'll figure it out then. I suppose he'd have to at least come close to here in that case so you don't have to make a trek to meet up with him.” He nodded along with a soft hum, glancing up at the ceiling where he knew his room was above. “I'm glad that I tidied my room up recently. It always gets a bit hectic before I go on my rounds. I'll have to start making a new room for her to stay in, but for now I'll sleep on the sofa.”

Letting his gaze drop down to Zepheera's again he smiled.

“It'll be nice to have company again. I don't get guests often, besides James but he can't really come inside… Others understandably don't stay for long— lost children, injured people, travelers, those folk.” He took another bite of the biscuit, chewing and swallowing before he continued.

“Hm. That's something I'll need to figure out… I'll need to tell James not to drop in unannounced for a while. Luckily he won't anyway since he's expecting me to be away from home, but just as a warning to let him know Sammy is alive.” He frowned. “I know he'll want to meet her but… things will have to move at her pace.”

He hummed and tilted his head inquisitively, brushing some crumbs from the corners of his lips.

“Do you and the Doctor find yourselves interacting with other borrowers often? Or…borrower-sized people I suppose. I'm not sure how often you interact with other aliens or planets. I'm certainly quite interested in your adventures though.” He asked, leaning forward with interest. He had only found out aliens were real and made contact with Earth today, so naturally he was curious. “We could trade stories, until Gail calls.”

Seeing a plate of biscuits was enough to slow Zepheera's pacing to a halt, and she couldn't resist following it until Oliver set it down. She came to sit beside him on the sofa this time, scooping up a cookie for herself with hardly a thought. It all felt so…normal.

“Oh, we run into all sorts out there,” she told him once she was done with her first bite. “All shapes and sizes. Good majority human-sized, I guess. Some bigger, some smaller…rarely exactly our size. Although… one planet was pretty bang-on. Tertas, I think it was called. He took me to visit a village there– an actual village right at our scale!”

“Really? That must have been fascinating to see.” Oliver looked enamoured by the idea of a village perfectly to their scale, trying to visualize what that would look like. He had made pockets of human civilization in his own home, but he couldn't really conceptualise a replica of that society at borrower size.

“Mhmm! Everything– all the houses, streets, fences, furniture… all of it was perfect. And the people there were basically just like us, only a tad more purple all over.”

Smiling at the memory, Zepheera leaned back on the sofa, finally allowing herself to truly relax for the first time. “As for actual borrowers, it's sort of hit or miss. Always a chance a few might be around when we're on Earth, of course, but it's not often we actually cross paths unless they're involved with something we're looking into. Normally we don't go looking– I'm almost always with the Doctor, and that puts most people off. Reckon it's best to not bother anyone, or risk them getting mixed up in things.” She blinked before turning a small smirk to Oliver. “You're a rare exception to that rule.”

Oliver smiled, a curious twinkle in his eye as he listened to her speak, happy to see her getting more comfortable. “It's probably for the best though. My family— my outdoor heritage, that is— they saw humans so rarely that they believed they were like…wrathful spirits. Or demons. Even indoor borrowers seem to have similar stigmas, even if it's not so ‘fantastical’.”

He shifted where he was to get more comfortable himself and face her more, reminiscing on those stories and warnings he grew up hearing until he moved in with his aunt and uncle.

“I remember seeing a human for the first time… I was quite young, collecting water from the nearby creek and I saw some kids playing in the water. I sat and watched until they left because I was so curious, but when I returned home I got an earful for staying out for longer than I was supposed to. I didn't even know what a human was at that time, but my parents told me afterwards about how they are demons and it's haram to look at them for too long,” he explained, shaking his head at the memory. 

Oliver's story made Zepheera's thoughts drift down memories of her own, though this time she felt more in control of the mental trip to the past. She brought one elbow up to drape over the back of the sofa, letting her cheek rest on the backs of her knuckles.

“Dunno if I remember my first,” she mused, letting her gaze wander as though it would help her recall. “I mean, I grew up indoors, so it felt like they were always around, even if we didn't see them. And it was so long ago… I must've been just a kid, too. My uncle took me around the walls loads of times to show me all the weak spots to watch out for them.” 

Squinting at the ceiling, Zepheera shook out the dustiest memories she could find. They were more hazy and blended together for the most part. “I think I was more confused than anything when I first saw humans. Sort of seems silly now, but I just didn't get how they could be so big. What was the point? Where did it all fit?”

Zepheera shook off those old thoughts, then remembered the biscuit in her free hand and went for another bite. She paused when a thought occurred to her, stifling a quiet giggle.

“You bake in here?” she asked, a bit of amusement leaking into her tone. Though she cast no judgement on Oliver for it, it was clear she found some levity in it. “Little biscuits an’ all? Your surname doesn't happen to be Keebler, does it?”

Oliver tilted his head at the question. His expression took on a puzzled look, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I do bake in here. Biscuits, tarts, cakes and more. But no, my last name is Oakwood, not Keebler,” he responded, his smile not faltering, simply not understanding the joke and taking it as a genuine question.

Oliver's sincere answer only made Zepheera giggle harder, though it was more to herself than at his expense. She waved her empty hand as she caught her breath.

“Sorry,” she said between chuckles. “It's a, um, human thingy. They've got a place that mass produces biscuits– not like these, not fresh ones– and they've got this mascot. He's just a little elf fella, living in a tree, baking biscuits all day.” 

Zepheera wiped a mirthful tear from her eye as she got the last of her giggles out. After all the stress earlier, it perhaps tickled her more than it might have otherwise.

“Tell ya what, though, you've got that Keebler guy beat with these,” she assured Oliver, finally taking her next bite. After she swallowed, she asked, “Is it hard, getting them to work out even when they're so small?” Zepheera had never been much of a baker, mostly because she'd always seen it as such a finicky process at a borrower’s scale.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at the explanation but if anything he just seemed amused by her giggly reaction. James had told him on many occasions that jokes sometimes went right over his head, so he figured it was one of those instances and chose to enjoy Zepheera's laughter rather than take it too seriously. He hummed at the question she asked next though, looking to the side as he thought.

“Well… It was definitely difficult at first. I didn't know the principles of baking and all I had to go off of were human measurements…but baking is just chemistry. Once you understand the rules it becomes easy to understand how much of what to use and how long to cook it.” He tilted the shortbread in his hand, inspecting the crumbly texture. “There are definitely some things that cannot be scaled down. Meringue nests for example.”

He took another bite, finishing the biscuit before meeting Zepheera's gaze again with a smile as he continued.

“I have a book of recipes I've been developing for the ten years I've lived here. It started off simple, but as my tools grew with my knowledge I've been able to make most of my favourite biscuits and treats without too much of an issue.” He glanced upwards towards the ceiling again briefly, dusting some of the crumbs off of his trousers. “Hopefully Sammy still has her sweet tooth.”

“Can’t imagine anyone not liking these,” Zepheera grinned, happily polishing off the rest of her own biscuit. With a satisfied sigh, she brushed off her fingertips and the corners of her mouth before she remembered her manners. 

“Mm– Thanks, by the way. For the tea and…everything, really.” Her gaze swept across the space, still taking in all the details. “I'm gonna miss this…this place.” The smile she returned to Oliver held a hint of dejection behind it. “I'll have to bug the Doctor to come back this way for a visit sometime.”

Oliver knew that the Doctor and Zepheera would have to go at some point— off to do some other extraterrestrial shenanigans no doubt. As much as he enjoyed talking with Zepheera and had about a million technical questions for the Doctor, he was choosing to savor the time they had. He was infinitely grateful towards them both; without their help there was no telling when he would have found Sammy or how much worse her state would be. Or whether she was even alive in the first place.

“You're always welcome, if you do manage to come back to visit. I owe you and Doctor a great deal for bringing my cousin back to me. I don't think I would have been able to get into that underground lab without outside help.” He bowed his head in a small nod of thanks.

Just then his head turned towards the wooden door when he registered the familiar sound of Gail's call, followed by wings flapping as she landed. He pushed himself to a stand, glancing towards the stairs and wondering if Sammy was awake or not. He didn't want to go up and disturb her if she was— clearly she needed the rest. And if she was drifting off it was the same problem.

He looked to Zepheera, brows furrowing in thought.

“I think…the best option would be that I bring the Doctor here. Is that alright..?” he asked in a soft tone, still a little unsure himself but he knew it would only be a short while to leave Sammy in Zepheera's care.

Zepheera hesitated only for a moment before nodding in agreement. Of the options before them, it was the most efficient. Worst case scenario, Sammy might wake up before Oliver returned, and Zepheera could just explain what happened. Oliver wouldn't be long at all taking Gail, even with the Doctor in tow.

“Yeah. I can handle that, no prob–”

The sounds of static from upstairs cut Zepheera's words short. She gave a flinch and looked up to the ceiling. Through it, she could just make out the distorted but distinctly familiar voice that quickly replaced the static.

“Breaker one-nine, breaker one-nine!” the Doctor enthused in his best impression of an American trucker. “The Doctor to Oliver and Zepheera, paging Oliver and Zepheera. Come in…Oh! Er, over!”

For a second, Zepheera's expression was caught between being impressed that the Doctor managed to somehow hack Oliver's walkie-talkie, or infuriated that he did so with such reckless abandon and without warning.

She decided on the latter, and heaved an almost growled sigh, cutting her violet eyes to Oliver as she jumped off of the sofa. “This is why he's not allowed one in my room!”

Chapter Text

Hearing the static, Oliver expected to hear James's voice— presuming he may have forgotten that Oliver wasn't supposed to be at home at the moment. When he instead heard the Doctor's voice and remembered where exactly his walkie-talkie was though he hastily moved to the stairs and hurried up them. He wasn't frantic but he was certainly concerned about how Sammy might react to being woken up by the Doctor's voice.

Sammy had found the box of things Oliver pointed out to her and retrieved her old stuffed rabbit before curling up in the comfortable quilted bed. She hadn't taken long to fall asleep as her eyes slowly traced over the pictures all over the room; it had been a while since her surroundings were so busy but it wasn't cluttered.

Then suddenly she awoke with a start when she heard a voice. The moment her brain processed the sound she sat up straight, tense all over and looking around with wide eyes. She half expected to find the Doctor standing over her; perhaps with a scalpel or something, as doctors often seemed to do. Her chest heaved as adrenaline filled her veins, jolting when Oliver entered the room and pulling the quilt up higher as she scooted back into the wooden headboard.

Oliver gestured placatingly with his hands but walked swiftly over to a large object she hadn't really taken much notice of before.

“It's alright, he's not here, it's just..this,” he assured, though not knowing what ‘this’ was exactly meant that it did little to soothe Sammy's nerves. It had been even more disorienting to wake up in such a fight or flight state, not that she wasn't used to it by now. She glanced around again to confirm that no giant eyes were peering in from any corners, trying to take a deep breath and stop her heart from feeling like it was going to escape out from her chest.

Oliver frowned as he held the button to respond, his tone serious.

“Doctor. I—” He paused, remembering that Sammy was listening and probably wouldn't appreciate being made aware of the fact that the Doctor would be coming here, even if she didn't have to interact with him. He sighed, trying to make his wording more vague but still hopefully clear enough that the Doctor understood his intentions. “Just stay where you are. I will come to give you directions.”

“Ah, there you are, Ollie-boy!” crackled the Doctor through the device. He seemed to take little notice of Oliver's tone of voice, and carried on as though he only heard half of what he'd said. “Hope you don't mind, managed to broadcast a direct line at just the right frequency, aimed it toward that forest, and badda-bing! Sorry to disturb, but I've got some big news and had to tell you straightaway. Clever, right?”

Zepheera had followed closely behind Oliver, standing alongside him with hands sternly placed on her hips as she listened. With a roll of her eyes, she leaned her own weight against the button to be doubly sure the Doctor could hear her scold him. “You're an idiot!”

“Ooh, harsh. Hello to you, too. And, ah, no, that's not the news.” Finally sensing it was time to sober up, the Doctor cleared his throat and clarified. “Look, that signal we were after, it turns out it was coming from a little bit of black goo Ryker had hidden down in that lab. I was just going over some notes of his now that he won't be needing them anymore, and apparently it did a number on that boy– Tanner, I believe. But,” he emphasized, “it might have actually helped him. Not destroyed him. And this goo just might be the key to finding out for sure.”

Sammy bristled again at the sound of the human's cheery voice coming from the odd device that her cousin was using. Oliver held in a groan when the Doctor simply continued to speak, though he couldn't actually say much considering he hadn't asked him to not continue over the walkie-talkie. At the mention of big news he did become curious, but his focus was divided between listening to the Doctor and checking that Sammy wasn’t about to break down.

Sammy went still as they explained the big news, snapping to attention the moment she heard a mention of her brother. She wanted to ask more but the thought of approaching that…thing, and furthermore talking to the disembodied voice of the Doctor made her feel sick. She tried to push through it for the sake of Tanner, but before she could speak up Oliver was already pressing the button to ask his own questions.

“A— what? A goo?” he questioned, tone confused and mind racing. Oh stars. Don't tell me that note was about… Swallowing thickly at the thought, Oliver continued. “What do you mean helped him? You…you mean he could be alive? How? Where?”

Letting go of the button again Oliver dragged a shaky hand through his hair to soothe the worries that were quickly pushing their way to the surface again, still very aware that Sammy was listening. At least he could tell with a glance that she was also hanging onto the Doctor's every word for an explanation.

“Quite possibly, and I'm still sort of figuring that out. Got a few things I need to fiddle with– very VERY carefully– but it's at least a lead. One I intend to follow until I know for sure if we can get him back.”

Much of Zepheera's ire melted when she considered the implications of what the Doctor was saying. With a glance Sammy's way, she pressed down on the walkie’s button. “So, we're staying then?”

“Yup,” said the Doctor with an audible pop on the ‘p’. “Went to all the trouble of finding this stuff, better see if it can do some good. I'm gonna keep working here, this stuff is safest in the TARDIS. How fast can you get back here?”

“Er…” Zepheera didn't bother pressing the button again until she had something to say, looking instead to the others. She and Oliver had a plan, but that was before the Doctor reached out and accidentally made Sammy aware of what he was doing. And that it involved her lost brother. Suddenly it felt wrong for Zepheera to make an executive decision when she was the one person in the room without a direct investment in the success of this new task.

Oliver held his chin in his hand as he pondered the situation, before looking at Sammy and standing up straighter. His brows were furrowed with concern, a conflicted look on his face.

“Sammy you… you don't have to go there if you don't want to. Zepheera and I can go— or even just Zepheera if you don't feel comfortable on your own,” he explained, trying to conciliate her nerves about the situation and offer her an out. He could see how high-strung she was, and how her back was pressed into the headboard behind her as if she could merge with it.

To his surprise though, Sammy shook her head, her expression hardening with resolve as she pushed herself off of the bed slowly.

“No. If Tanner is alive then I'm not just gonna stay here when he needs help.” Her words came out much less shaky than usual; she had made her decision and she refused to leave her brother vulnerable just because she was scared of the Doctor. If I don't go, what if he hurts Oliver and Tanner when I'm not there? No. I need to go.

Oliver knew that it was probably a bad idea… but he wasn't going to say no when this was about her brother. One of the only family she had been with for years— of course she wanted to be involved. It might give her an opportunity to see that the Doctor isn't a threat too.

The walkie-talkie crackled again. “Erm…hello? Do you copy?”

Oliver let out a sigh, pressing the button.

“We're on our way. Sammy is coming too, so just be mindful please,” he warned, nodding to Zepheera to confirm that that was the plan going forward. He needed to get Sammy in some warmer clothes first but that shouldn't take long.

“Oh. Okay, brilliant!” chirped the Doctor. “Right then, I'll just be here. Zepheera, you know the drill. Over and out!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she muttered without making a single move to activate the walkie. Huffing out the last of her frustrations about this turn of events, she turned to face Sammy.

“Hey…look, before we go, I feel like there's a lot I need to tell you about…where we're going,” she said guardedly. Though she'd volunteered to come along, Zepheera knew that Sammy had no way of knowing what she actually signed up for. She certainly never anticipated bringing Sammy to the TARDIS. “I sort of don’t know where to start, and I don't want to overwhelm you.”

Sammy gave Zepheera a suspicious look, clearly taking her words to mean that something nefarious may be going on. She huffed as she looked her up and down, folding her arms.

“I'm not a baby— I was only overwhelmed before because of the situation, but I'm fine.” She insisted, despite knowing that she was lying about that fact. In reality she was petrified, only able to put up a brave front for the sake of her brother. She had no idea how she would react to seeing the Doctor again, but she just tried to distract those thoughts from her mind with the idea of getting Tanner back.

It felt impossible after what she had seen… She remembered Ryker grabbing her and taking her away, not letting her see what was happening to her brother. The last thing she saw was that he looked like he was melting and he was crying out for her. She had bit and kicked and scratched and fought to get out of Ryker's grip; but ultimately a borrower and a human were no match. Not once they already had you.

Oliver went about looking through one of the boxes he had full of his aunt's old clothes, trying to find something warm that would hopefully fit Sammy. She looked to be slightly shorter than Charlie was— likely a result of malnutrition, but the difference wasn't too drastic. He found a cotton shirt and a hooded jacket, as well as some baggy trousers. He set them down on the bed so that Sammy could change.

“The place we're going to is quite unusual. It's much larger inside than it is looking at it from outside. Think of it like a spaceship,” he explained, though he knew ultimately no explanation could prepare her well enough for the real thing.

Sammy blinked at the explanation, giving the clothes a once over and pulling Oliver's sweater over her head to give back to him. She still had the hospital gown on underneath, though once she had privacy she hoped to finally remove the wretched thing.

“What, so he's some kind of space man?” she questioned, looking pretty unconvinced as she tried to recall what a spaceship would even look like. It was difficult to imagine; all she had to go off of were descriptions from when Oliver used to tell her and Tanner bedtime stories about aliens. “I don't care what he is, I just want my brother back. I-I promise I won't freak out about wherever we're going.”

Though Zepheera bit back a wince to see the reaction being vague about things got her, her brow rose when Oliver’s more straightforward explanation went over much better. Whether Sammy took the information seriously or not, it was at least out there and they could hope she wouldn't be too startled by it all when the time came.

“Right. Well, those are, um, actually the major points, yeah. Cheers, Oliver.” Zepheera smiled softly at him before turning it to Sammy. She took note of the new set of clothes and realized she was in the way. “I'll leave you to it, then. Sorry your rest had to be interrupted like this.”

With that, Zepheera gave them both a small nod and backed out of the room to head downstairs.

Oliver left a moment later after taking his own sweater back and pulling it over his head, glasses askew. He straightened them before leaning against a wall as he waited for Sammy to be ready, finger tapping restlessly against his thigh.

Not long after, Sammy came back down the stairs wearing the new clothes she had been given. They were slightly baggy but fit well enough that it would do for now until she could have something specifically made for her. Oliver's heart clenched at the sight of her in Charlie's clothes, though he quickly shook it off as he walked over to the door and gestured for the other two to follow.

Gail was still waiting outside, staring at the door when it opened and letting out a small chirp when she saw Oliver leave the burrow. Oliver jumped up onto Gail's back and offered his hand for both Sammy and Zepheera.

Gail flew quickly once she was up in the air, sensing Oliver's restlessness and wanting to get to her destination faster as a result. She landed beside the TARDIS door and tilted her head to the side slightly. Oliver obliged by scratching at her feathers in thanks before hopping off and helping Zepheera and Sammy down off of the buzzard's back.

Sammy looked up at the intimidating blue structure of the police box warily, half hiding behind Oliver just in case the Doctor swung the door open suddenly and tried to grab them. She could already see hundreds of ways this might go poorly, but she took a breath for the sake of Tanner. Oliver could feel her tension and pat her shoulder reassuringly.

“It's alright. He won't hurt us, I promise,” he assured softly, although he knew that his words didn't do much in the way of actually convincing his cousin.

Zepheera hung back for only a second or two to offer Gail a scratch under her beak. It brightened her spirits a little more in preparation for what was to come.

As before, she stepped right up to the door and gave it a few firm knocks. She and the others were only left waiting a moment before the door swung open, without the Doctor anywhere near it. 

Further inside, Zepheera spotted the Doctor sitting on the floor by the console yet again tinkering with more machinery. His spiky-haired head popped up to see that the borrowers made it inside safely, then he nodded to Zepheera as he went right back to his work. Content that he wouldn't be on the move anytime soon, Zepheera turned to see how Sammy was taking it all.

“Come on in, take your time with it. Just remember to breathe, okay? It's gonna be big,” she reminded Sammy as she slowly led the way inside.

As he had before in the lab, Oliver held Sammy's hand as they followed behind Zepheera; both to give her that lifeline of reassurance and to prevent her from running and getting lost or hurt if she were to panic. She was holding surprisingly steady as they entered. Her eyes only lingered on her surroundings briefly before focusing on the Doctor, keeping him within her sights and letting herself be led by Oliver's hand.

Her brows furrowed as she looked him over from this distance; it felt weird to be so close to a human without being trapped or handled. She found herself holding Oliver's hand tighter again and trying to look around a bit more at the unfamiliar surroundings. Really though after all of her experiences she found it didn't shock her too much. She didn't understand it, but having dealt with Ryker's weird behavior she had learned to stop questioning things and focus on survival instead.

Oliver didn't want to move too close, not wanting to push Sammy into approaching if she wasn't ready despite how desperate he was for answers. Surprisingly though, it was Sammy who detached from his hand and started walking in the Doctor's direction— never moving within arm's length but still getting closer than he expected. At first he stood there, surprised, but he didn't stop her.

“What happened to my brother?” she asked, her tone sharp and edging on accusatory. Her fists clenched to contain the trembling and suppress the adrenaline rushing through her body. “You said he might be alive.”

The unfamiliar tone from the borrower he knew the least drew the Doctor's attention immediately. He blinked at Sammy with his eyebrows up nearly into his hairline, then glanced at Zepheera and Oliver in turn. He'd been warned to be careful around the girl, so he wasn't quite prepared for this confrontational energy.

“I did say that. I certainly have hope that he is,” he carefully explained. The oddly shaped glass globe in his hands was placed in his lap, and he leaned to the side to consult the notes from Ryker's lab. “It's hard to say exactly what happened, especially since I wasn't there. Looking through these files, though, I'm thinking that he somehow ended up in the void.”

Zepheera had planned to hang back with Oliver and Sammy while she got acclimated to the bizarre setting of the TARDIS. After a moment to recover from the surprise of her immediately approaching the Doctor, she hurried to catch up.

“What's the void?” asked Zepheera as she came to a stop a couple of inches’ distance from Sammy. The last thing she wanted was to make her feel crowded in.

The Doctor turned a perplexed look to Zepheera. “Oh. Has this never come up? Huh…” Visible realisation crossed his features as he shrugged to himself and clarified.

“The Void is the space between dimensions.” Getting into the rhythm of the description, he briefly forgot himself and began waving his hands to illustrate things in relation to one another. “We live in this universe, and then there are others that run parallel to ours. They cannot interact with one another without risking total collapse, so in between all universes ensuring that they cannot possibly touch, there is the void. Nothing can exist there. Absolutely nothing. And nothing should be able to live there, because all living things need something to subsist, and there truly is nothing at all within the void. Not even time.”

Oliver listened to the explanation of what the void was with growing horror at the idea that Tanner was currently stuck there. It didn't sound like a livable environment in the slightest, and with the knowledge that he had been there for at least a few weeks that didn't spell good things for his health regardless of whether he was alive or not.

That level of sensory deprivation was considered torture. For a thirteen year old boy that fact was no different— and how could he breathe? He was likely starving and dehydrated and cold. Imagining the state he might be in made Oliver feel sick to his stomach.

Sammy bristled. Oh. He's crazy. She glanced towards Oliver from the corner of her eye but he seemed to be taking the Doctor's words seriously if his nauseated expression was anything to go by.

She frowned, thinking over what she saw happen to Tanner again— it seemed insane to consider him being alive after what she saw...but if he was she would do anything to get him back. She looked up at the Doctor again, hesitant.

“If…if you save him and don't keep him, I promise I won't complain about anything you do to me.” She spoke firmly, standing up straighter. She had made many similar deals before, she wasn't past doing that now if it meant getting her brother back alive and safe. She didn't even think anything of it at this point. “B-but he has to be safe first, or I won't.”

Oliver stiffened as he registered her promise, at first just going completely blank as he tripped over his words, unable to formulate a response.

Zepheera bristled similarly, already uneasy to try and imagine the complete and total nothingness of the void, and more so to hear her try to strike such a bargain.

“Sammy,” she breathed, taking a small step toward her before thinking better of it. “You don't have to–”

“Deal.”

Zepheera whipped around to stare wide-eyed up at the Doctor, who'd held Sammy's gaze with an unreadable expression.  He didn't seem to be joking, nor did he seem particularly invested in what he'd just agreed to.

“Doctor…!” Zepheera hissed through gritted teeth. “What the hell are you doing??”

“What? Sounds reasonable to me,” he shrugged, returning his focus to the glass globe onto which he'd been attaching machinery to the top and bottom. “Now I know I won't hear a word about it when I turn them both over to Oliver.”

Though she opened her mouth to argue back, Zepheera couldn't come up with anything good. The annoying thing was realizing what exactly the Doctor was doing. He'd read the situation, calculated the risk based on Sammy's attitude masking her fear, and decided that reassuring her the normal way wouldn't register for her. Zepheera had seen firsthand how the girl reacted to a softer approach. Maybe this was the move after all, she wondered as she watched Sammy carefully.

Sammy didn't appear surprised by the agreement at all, in fact it seemed that she expected as much. They always reveal their true colours at some point… What she was instead visibly confused by was the mention of handing her and Tanner off to Oliver. She scoffed internally, not believing that was actually what he would end up doing but being simultaneously confused why he would even pretend that was his intention when he had already taken the deal.

She shifted uncomfortably, taking a small step back and retreating to position herself subtly behind Oliver again as she picked at the scratches on her hands.

Much like Zepheera, Oliver wasn't sure how to take the Doctor's response at first, but he understood the intention moments later. Even so he wasn't sure what the right decision would have been; he was of the belief that continuously enforcing the idea that she was autonomous was better but he certainly understood where the Doctor was coming from.

I just hope this doesn’t make things worse…

Chapter Text

As Sammy came to stand behind Oliver again he stayed where he was, briefly looking her over for any immediate signs that she was in too much distress or needed a break, but she seemed…okay, all things considered. He was sure it was just because she was forcing herself to stay calm for the sake of Tanner though.

With a sigh, Oliver folded his arms and looked up at the Doctor.

“What's the plan then? If this void is completely absent of anything how would we access it safely such that we could retrieve Tanner? How would we even find him?” he questioned before rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses and closing his eyes. “...Apologies. I don't mean to be a bother or a distraction. I'm fretting. I just…what makes you believe Tanner even could be alive in there?”

“Oh, no need to be sorry, Oliver,” the Doctor insisted, his usual chipper tone returning like it has never left. “Questions keep the conversation going, and without you lot around I'd just be talking myself into an earache.”

He momentarily set the mostly-glass machine in hand aside, reaching up to the console to retrieve the lockbox containing the substance taken from the lab. 

“Still working on answers to some of those questions, if I'm honest. Because the answers lie in something completely impossible.” With no small amount of reverence and care, the Doctor opened the box to let the borrowers see the vial. 

“See, the thing about nothing is that it's notoriously difficult to detect. How could you, if any form of measurement requires something to pick up on?” He waved his free hand to gesture toward the nearby tracker he'd made, then up toward the center console for emphasis. “How could the TARDIS or this ol’ thing sense this stuff at all? Because according to Ryker’s notes, this is essentially primarily composed of concentrated void stuff.”

The Doctor snatched a set of 3D glasses hanging from the front of his breast pocket. “In the extremely rare occasion when something moves through– or in this case comes from the void, it picks up some of that energy. I call it void stuff. It's harmless, just the remnants of passing through a place that one normally wouldn't. With this, you can see the residual particles, and this stuff is lousy with ‘em. Here. Have a look,” he encouraged the borrowers as he set the paper frame between them and the substance, as close as he could put it without encroaching on their space.

Frowning skeptically at the bizarre choice of eyewear, Zepheera stepped up to the red plastic lens. The glasses were absolutely nothing to lift, and she gave the vial a good hard look. Somehow, they allowed her to notice a strange aura about the liquid. It seemed to show dark, densely packed particles floating amongst the liquid, with a thin cloud hovering just along the glass containing it. 

Ignoring the way she also noticed the faintest aura of ‘void stuff’ hovering similarly around the Doctor, Zepheera asked, “If it's supposed to be harmless, how could it…do what it did to Tanner?” She had a feeling he had at least some idea, and was more than ready to hear it.

“Now that is quite the trick,” said the Doctor, eyes gleaming with fascination in spite of himself. “According to the files, this wasn't retrieved from the void. It was extracted from a living being. No idea what could possibly carry this stuff in its body as a life essence, but suppose it did. Suppose this is void stuff, but with some amount of life grown into it. Maybe it knows it's not meant to be all on its own. Maybe it's seeking life, but has no real basis for what that is because it only knows the void.”

Turning to Oliver and Sammy, the Doctor went on. “Maybe when it touched him, it was trying to understand him, or become part of him. Or make him part of it. It could be that contact somehow snapped the first dose of this stuff back to where it belonged, and took Tanner with it. And if it succeeded in attaching to him, adapting his body to the conditions of the Void…then it's entirely possible that he might be able to survive the nothingness.”

Oliver followed the explanation with nods of understanding, his brain catching up with all of the information that had been dumped into it at once. He focused on the most important parts, specifically about Tanner and why exactly he might be alive. It certainly seemed possible based on all the Doctor had said, although it sadly didn't spell better things for the boy's mental state. He tried to mentally prepare himself for that, whatever the result ended up being.

Sammy was more focused on the vial, listening offhandedly as she stared at the black substance. She had spotted it a few times before— including when Tanner managed to get exposed to it and…

She shuddered at the memory, trying not to picture it for too long even as his cries rang hauntingly in her ears. She could remember how tight Ryker's grip was; still perfectly precise enough to not cause damage but it felt no less suffocating when she was fighting to get to her brother.

Snapping out of that train of thought quickly she inspected the vial again, walking to the side slightly and tilting her head. Her expression scrunched up with confusion when she noticed a slight movement… It was very small, but there was movement in the goo. She stepped in the other direction slowly, observing as the black substance rippled in her direction again.

She decided not to mention anything, purely because she wasn't sure if it was significant or not, instead frowning.

“How come you understand Ryker's notes..?” she asked warily, which was a fair question given she still didn't understand the depth of what exactly the Doctor was and what he and Zepheera did. “He…he was just a crazy person, always rambling about stuff that didn't make any sense… if you understand then that means you're probably crazy too. Or— or he was right and both of those things suck.”

She hugged herself slightly and averted her gaze, rubbing her arms as she remained still partially covered behind Oliver.

“I am a bit of a…science guy, myself,” the Doctor admitted, choosing his words carefully. “Not in practice like he was, more of an enthusiast. I don't agree with anything he did in a moral or ethical sense, or believe in his religious obsessions. The one thing I can give him is that he knew what he was talking about when it came to the science.”

With a sharp sniff, the Doctor set the box down on the floor to free up his hand so he could continue working. “And anyway, I've had a bit of experience with the void in the past. Nothing like this, though.”

“So…” Zepheera chimed in, running a hand through her hair as she tried to put it all together. “If detecting that stuff was meant to be impossible, then…we didn't just happen to pick up on it, did we?”

A proud smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced her way. “Right you are, Zepheera! Even if it's alive, it is still void stuff, which means it shouldn't physically register on our scanners. But it does, so why is that? My guess: it's a living liquid that cannot possibly exist, all bottled up with no way to reach the rest of itself. So it's reaching out the only way it can.”

“It's trying to communicate,” Zepheera concluded.

“Most likely. It's the only thing that makes sense. I did say it was practically screaming, and now I'm almost certain that's what it's actually doing. Now, I've just gotta figure out a way for us to hear it, see if we can communicate back. That's what I'm working on here.” The Doctor held up his glass globe with bits on the top and bottom. “Hopefully I can set the stuff in here, find the right frequency, and then we can finally get some answers.”

Oliver's eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Do you mean to imply that it could be sentient..? Or I suppose it could be like how fungal networks or root systems communicate. Fascinating…” He looked at the substance and winced. “And unsettling…”

It would be remarkable finding out what something so impossible was trying to say, but it still felt quite risky. His thoughts kept returning to the note Ryker had left, where he seemed so viscerally upset and distressed about what happened to Tanner. It sounded violent. It sounded volatile and dangerous.

He noticed the slight ripples in its surface but presumed it must be because of the movements of the Doctor. But the fact that the black liquid was also climbing slightly up the side of the glass closest to the borrowers also seemed like a bad sign. He kept Sammy behind him just in case the substance broke free, and glanced towards Zepheera for the same reason.

“Do you know why it's doing that?” Oliver asked, pointing at the goo. It was weakly rising up the one side as if it wanted to go in that direction, but because it was trapped in the vial it had nowhere to go. Before, to the Doctor, it had just behaved like a completely normal liquid.

“Doing what?” The Doctor glanced over and followed Oliver's finger, arching an eyebrow and sitting up straighter when he noticed the substance’s behavior. “Ah… Actually, no, it hasn't done that before.”

The Doctor leaned in for a closer look and cautiously waved a hand near the vial to see if he could draw its attention. It didn't react, continuing to gravitate toward the borrowers. 

“It seems interested in you,” he inferred with a concerned frown. His gaze flitted between them and the vial, then he waved a finger in a beckoning motion. “Zepheera, come over here. Don’t get too close to it.”

Eyeing the strangely moving liquid suspiciously, Zepheera skirted past the box and moved closer to the Doctor. She stopped a short distance from his knee when they both realized it didn't change direction at all. “Not me, I guess…?”

The Doctor gave a small huff. “Just when I was starting to understand this stuff… Potentially sentient is one thing, but spatial awareness? Recognition? This is so weird…”

Oliver wasn't sure how concerned he should be about such a revelation, observing the liquid with a healthy dose of caution. He stepped away from Sammy slightly, moving slowly and tracking what the liquid did— but it continued to not change its trajectory. His green gaze flickered towards Sammy, brows furrowing with confusion.

“It's…Sammy,” he remarked in a hushed tone. But why? Walking back over to her side he could see that she also clearly didn't know why, which didn't spark any confidence. A dangerous void goo that was seemingly sentient recognizing her was undoubtedly concerning. The thought of her getting pulled into the void like Tanner had been filled him with anxiety which he was quick to quell with a deep breath.

“Perhaps because you've been in the same area as it for a long time that's why it's responding to you. That's…the only explanation I can really come up with,” he offered, straightening his glasses as he looked between his cousin and the supernatural substance. It only seemed to be getting more agitated, coagulating slightly as it climbed the walls of the vial more but was unable to escape confinement.

Sammy narrowed her eyes as she watched. It definitely looked more alive than any other liquid she had seen, but when Tanner got exposed to it it wasn't acting like this. It had never moved without being moved itself before as far as she recalled. She lifted her hand slightly and waved towards it, not really expecting anything to happen but oddly enough the goo raised in a manner that could almost be seen as mimicking the gesture; crudely as it had no defined hand to wave with.

“It..it wasn't doing that when I saw it before— it's different,” she murmured, still tense as she subconsciously held onto Oliver's arm. 

The Doctor whipped out a pair of actual glasses from another pocket as he watched the liquid respond to Sammy. His brow pinched, taking this new information in and applying it to what he knew. If this stuff has been locked away since the incident with Tanner, and since developed a… he found it difficult to think of a better word than desire to be near Sammy, then…

Troubled by the implications, he reached forward to snap the box’s lid shut.

“Okay. We still need to be very careful with this stuff,” he emphasized. “It shouldn't be able to break its containment, so I say we leave it alone until we try and communicate with it. I'm not risking any of you getting hurt or sucked into the void, too. This stuff is our only lead, we have one shot at a rescue attempt here.”

Dragging over an old ham radio, he popped off the top and began fiddling with the wires. “I think I know how to best configure this, make sure we can all be safe. Shouldn't take more than ten minutes.”

“Anything we can do to help?” Zepheera offered, backing off and moving closer to the others again to give the Doctor more space.

“Nah, I've got this, I'll work faster if I know I'm not gonna bump into anyone.” The Doctor glanced back at her, then Oliver and Sammy. “No offense.”

Oliver nodded along, patting Sammy's hand reassuringly and leading her back away from the Doctor slightly, and the vial by extension. He still had many questions about Tanner's condition, but he knew that the Doctor likely knew just as much as he did about that. He would only find out once this radio device was complete.

Sammy allowed herself to be led away, giving the locked box one last glance before sighing and following Oliver. She frowned.

“I mean… I know some weird stuff is going on, but surely this guy has to be a little crazy, right? I mean… he…he does seem to know what he's talking about, and I know that black stuff isn't normal… but why would he know so much? And the void? That just..it sounds made up,” she whispered, understandably finding it all difficult to take in.

Considering they would be working with the Doctor and Zepheera for however much longer it took to find out if Tanner was able to be saved or not, Oliver thought it wise to fill in the gaps she was still missing.

“Doctor is not a human. He knows about things like this because he and Zepheera deal with situations and things that are out of the ordinary on the regular. I…assume that Ryker may have also been alien,” he explained, keeping his tone even and gentle to allow time to process.

Sammy blinked, taken aback by that statement before letting out a bark of awkward laughter. She trailed off once she recognized that Oliver was serious.

“Wh— aliens?? I thought they're just from the stories you read to me and Tanner when we were little. Aren't they supposed to be green and have big eyes??” she questioned.

Oliver cleared his throat, unsure if that was offensive in any way.

“Aliens are just life that exists outside of this planet. Considering the size of the universe most would agree the existence of aliens is likely— we just…didn't think they were walking among us,” he explained with a soft shake of his head, humming. “Evidently they do.”

Catching up behind them, Zepheera gave a small cough to cover up a chuckle when she heard Sammy’s description of an alien. It didn't help when she noticed the Doctor glanced over with a slightly raised eyebrow before returning to work, aware of the comment but relatively unfazed.

“There are big-eyed green aliens out there,” she put in as she came up alongside Oliver. “All shapes, sizes, and colors, really. The Doctor just happens to be one that doesn't look that odd to us.”

Her gaze swept around the console room before returning to Sammy and Oliver. Jabbing a thumb toward the threshold of a corridor at one end, she offered, “We can go on a walk further in, if you like. Not too far, of course, but it's an option if we'd rather not hover around.”

Sammy still looked a little confused about the idea that someone who looked as completely normal as the Doctor could be an alien. At least with Ryker she could kind of picture him being from space, since he rarely ever blinked and was just weird in general. The Doctor just…looked like a human. Terrifying and big, but not like any alien Sammy could imagine.

At Zepheera's suggestion she nodded; she'd rather be much further away from the human— alien, space guy. As much as she wanted to get to Tanner as soon as possible she could at least recognize that it would probably happen faster if they weren't distracting the Doctor.

Oliver also thought it was a good idea, starting to walk in the direction of the corridor that Zepheera had gestured to.

“How big is this place anyway?” Sammy asked as she squinted down the corridor, trying to estimate the size based on that but she couldn't see far enough to make a good deduction.

“Pretty damn big,” Zepheera said with a small shrug. Passing into the corridor, the floor transitioned from the catwalk-like grate to more solid metal, though the high ceiling remained domed and dotted with lights. “The Doctor's always called it ‘infinite’, but I can never tell if that's literal or an exaggeration. But I've been living here for a good while now, had quite a few chances to explore, and I haven't found an end to it yet.”

She brightened up a bit, drifting toward the right wall. “My place actually isn't too far. If we make a right coming up, we'll run into it.” Glancing Oliver's way, Zepheera amended, “It's not as nice as the burrow, but in my defense I've only had so many months to put it together.”

Though distracted by thoughts about his youngest cousin, Oliver's mind quickly latched onto the idea of an infinite indoor space, a twinkle of curiosity appearing in his eyes as he looked around with renewed interest.

“Infinite? Intriguing… I wonder if the layout is similar to a fractal, or if the space is just adding to itself when someone enters an area not previously explored.” He wanted to ask the Doctor about it, but for now simply took a mental note of those questions. He looked up at the ceiling as they walked, readjusting his glasses. “You continue to be remarkable, TARDIS.”

Sammy gave her older cousin an inquisitive look as he addressed the ship directly, raising an eyebrow but choosing not to comment. She was curious about what Zepheera's space was like, unable to imagine anywhere in the vicinity of larger folk that wasn't some kind of cage or prison. The concept of just being allowed to move freely when there was a giant right there just made no sense.

She tensed, half-expecting that she actually would find a cage there. Then maybe they'd all turn around and the Doctor would force them inside. Sure it didn't make any sense with everything that had happened so far, but her brain just continued to supply her with fear despite that fact. Even so she turned right and walked ahead slightly, trying to get ahead of her own spiralling thoughts so that she could disperse them as soon as possible.

Oliver followed, curious about where Zepheera stayed. He watched Sammy speed up her pace but hung back, letting her go at her own speed so long as she wasn't too far. He turned to Zepheera and smiled.

“Well I'd be happy to help provide some furniture or trinkets if you need before you and the Doctor leave. It must be hard to find the right supplies if you're traveling often,” he offered, sympathetic of that issue since he had struggled to get his things together when he first moved and had little to no supplies to go off of.

Zepheera's brow rose as she regarded Oliver with mild surprise, knowing that he wouldn't make such an offer if he didn't mean it. She opened her mouth to politely decline since she didn't want to put Oliver out at all, but…after seeing that burrow of his, she was tempted.

She decided to focus on his second statement instead. “Yeah, once in a while I'll get lucky and snag something wherever we end up. Most of the time I've just been scavenging from around the TARDIS. Loads of storage rooms here, full of probably seven hundred years’ worth of junk to borrow from. And they keep moving around on me, so findings are always fresh.”

The walls of the corridor were smooth, nearly seamless. That made spotting the one place where the metal seemed to curl outward, leaving a gap just big enough for a borrower to slip through. Even so, Zepheera waved an arm to direct Oliver and Sammy toward it.

“Here we are. Home sweet home,” she announced as she approached the opening. It was a clean separation between what one might consider separate panels, except for the fact that no seam continued above it. On its own, Zepheera had just enough room to fit through herself, but since she had guests she used both hands to pull the gap a little wider. It seemed easy for her to do, despite the perceived thickness of the metal wall. “Mind your heads.”