trigger warnings: discussions of sexual assault/harassment

*

MJ jolts awake at the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Her first and only thought is, Someone's in my room.

Admittedly, she's still partially asleep, but she's awake enough to grab her hunting knife from under her pillow and tackle the intruder. She holds her knife to their throat, digging her knee into their groin. Her vision is blurry, unfocused. The intruder is talking to her. Their voice simply can't cut through the white noise buzzing in her skull. She feels weirdly floaty. She's cold but sweaty.

A hand wraps around her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse point. The thumb rubs against her pulse point gently and the voice quiets. Gently, the intruder pulls her toward them. It's like free-falling until her forehead presses against something cool and solid.

Her vision clears. The buzzing in her head cuts out. The world snaps into focus and she realizes the intruder is no intruder at all.

"Doctor?" she mumbles. With her forehead pressed against his, she can see every detail in his blue eyes. She frowns and sits up, tossing her knife aside. "Why are you in my room?"

He clasps his hand over his chest, trying and failing to look casual. "Rose is giving Jackie and Mickey a tour of the TARDIS, but your room is off-limits so I'm, uh..."

MJ smirks. "Doctor, are you hiding in my room?"

"I wouldn't call it hiding exactly," he says meekly. She raises her eyebrows and he grimaces. "Okay, fine, I'm hiding."

MJ laughs, shaking her head. She gets up and offers the Doctor her hand. He lets her pull him up, then he dusts off his jacket. MJ tucks her hunting knife into the waistband of her pajama pants.

"What fell?" she asks, taking off her bonnet. Her mess of curls falls down around her shoulders.

"Oh, I dropped a book," the Doctor says. He picks up a copy of the Iliad in the original Greek and puts it back on the shelf. "Was looking for something to read to pass the time."

She wanders over to the bookcases, stretching her arms. "Want a recommendation?"

"Sure."

MJ peruses the shelves for a good selection. The bookshelves are a little fuller now than they were her first day here. The books on the shelves are a wide variety of genres: fantasy, sci-fi, mystery, horror, romance, comedy, and of course, some nonfiction books, most of which are about famous artists. She reaches a shelf dedicated to (part of) a singular series. Her lips curl into a smile. Perfect.

"Here you go," MJ says, handing him the first book in The Baby-Sitters Club series. She only started reading them because it was the only thing the short-lived book club she had with Silena, Priscilla, Katie Gardner, and Dani could agree upon, but she actually likes them.

The Doctor eyes the cover warily. "And this is...a good book?"

"It's nothing mindblowing, but it's fun," she tells him with a shrug. "You don't have to read all of them. I only got like, halfway through the series, I think. Should at least keep you occupied while I get ready for the day."

The Doctor lays in the window seat with his read while MJ takes her morning shower. Or an afternoon shower. She actually has no idea what time it is. By the time she slips out of the bathroom in her robe, the Doctor is on the seventeenth book, Mary Anne's Bad Luck Mystery. She gathers all of her things and gets dressed in the walk-in closet.

MJ's actually feeling well-rested for once, so she decides a little bit of a celebration is in order. She's still vibing that Daphne Blake energy, which is how she ends up in a green-and-purple look. She starts with a purple dress over a white short-sleeve shirt. She adds a green V-neck sweater on top and a thin green belt with a small purple butterfly dangling from it. She finishes the look with tights and little purple butterfly earrings.

She goes back into the bathroom to do her hair and the little makeup she can do. MJ decides on a half-up look. It's not as nice as she would like it to be, but she's trying to be fast and as generous as the TARDIS, she's lacking in styling products. A little eyeliner and glittery lip gloss later, MJ walks out of the bathroom to see the Doctor has made it through all thirty-five original Baby-Sitters Club books.

"Having a good time?" she teases.

The Doctor looks up from the thirty-sixth Baby-Sitters Club book (Jessi's Baby-Sitter). About a dozen emotions cross his face before settling on indignation. "How could you not warn me about Claudia and the Sad Good-bye?"

"Oh, like you wouldn't have yelled at me for spoiling it if I had," she says with an eye roll. She walks over to him and starts putting the books back on the shelf. "I'm starving. Are you going to keep hiding in here or...?"

The Doctor pouts, tucks a random scrap of paper into the spine of his book, and gets up. "Nah, I'll come with you. I think you inspire Jackie to be on her best behavior."

MJ raises her eyebrows at him. "Oh, I inspire her to be on her best behavior?"

"You might also sort of inspire me to be on my best behavior," the Doctor mumbles sheepishly as he puts his boots back on. "So, what do you want to eat?"

"French toast," MJ says without missing a beat, pulling on her white sneakers. They're almost definitely not the right shoes for this outfit, but they're comfy and practical, and that's all she really cares about. "With strawberries and whipped cream. Bacon on the side."

The Doctor cracks a grin. "That sounds...decadent."

"So?" she retorts sassily. "I've had quite the week, okay? I think I'm more than entitled to crave some comfort food. Ooh, maybe some soul food. Fried chicken, mac and cheese, collard greens, some nice buttery cornbread—"

She cuts herself off at the sound of her stomach rumbling loudly.

The Doctor snickers. "Come on, kitchen's just up ahead."

*

The Doctor screeches to a halt in the kitchen doorway.

"Oh," he says. "Hi."

MJ shoulders past him to see Rose and Mrs. Tyler sitting at the kitchen table with steaming mugs of tea. Mickey's mug is abandoned on the counter as he peruses the cabinets, presumably for a snack.

"MJ!" Rose says cheerily. "Finally, you're awake! Blimey, you slept for like, what? Fourteen hours?"

"A little under fifteen, actually," the Doctor says. He edges into the room, keeping far away from Mrs. Tyler in case she gets any ideas about slapping him again. "And believe me, she needed the rest."

MJ nods. "And now I am in desperate need of sustenance." She claps her hands together. "So. Do any of you know how to make French toast? I'm assuming the process involves bread, egg, and milk, but otherwise, I'm completely lost."

Rose grins one of her tongue-kissed grins, but something about this one comes off a bit mischievous. "Oh, Mum makes a mean French toast. She could totally teach you how, if you're interested. Right, Mum?"

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Tyler says, smiling. If she notices something off about her daughter's behavior, she doesn't let it show. "In fact, I'd be honored. Who else wants French toast?"

"I'll take some," Mickey says.

"Me too," Rose chimes in.

The four humans (well, three humans and one half-human) all turn to look at the Doctor. He's leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "I could go for some French toast. Dunno the last time I had some."

"Let me guess," Rose teases. "You were having brunch with the Queen of France after you saved her from...oh, MJ, what were those aliens called again? The ones he told us about the other day over breakfast?"

"Zygons," MJ supplies as she heads for the fridge to take out the milk and eggs.

"Yeah, that's it," Rose says. "Last time you had French toast was with the Queen of France after you saved her from Zygons."

The Doctor looks at her blankly. "That never happened."

"What are Zygons?" Mickey asks curiously.

"The Doctor and I can tell you all about them on our way to the workshop," Rose says, getting up from her seat and grabbing Mickey by the arm. She shoots the Doctor a 'Be nice' look. "Mickey wanted to take a look at your workshop, but I figured you wouldn't want him in there without your supervision."

"I don't want him in there at all," the Doctor grumbles.

"Please," Rose pleads, jutting out her bottom lip in a puppy-eyed pout. The Doctor crosses his arms over his chest, looking very resolute. Rose doesn't give up. "Pretty please?"

MJ has no idea why Rose is acting like this until she remembers their very brief text conversation yesterday and the scheme they'd cooked up.

"C'mon, Doctor," MJ says. "Let Mickey see your workshop."

The Doctor scowls. "I wouldn't even let you or Rose in my workshop. You think I'm letting Mickey the idiot in there?"

"Don't call him that," Mrs. Tyler scolds.

"I'll call him whatever I like," the Doctor says, the tips of his ears turning red. "My ship, my rules."

Alright, fine. New tactic. As MJ's proven before, she's not above playing dirty.

"Doctor, could you please just take Mickey and Rose somewhere else in the TARDIS?" MJ begs. "I need to talk to Mrs. Tyler about...you know. Girl stuff."

Mickey immediately leaves the room.

The Doctor's scowl only deepens. "Rose is a girl. Why isn't she being included?"

"Because I already talked to her about it," MJ says. "Now, could you please give us some privacy? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" She clasps her hands under her chin, looking every bit an angel with her innocent wide eyes and slight pout.

The Doctor stares at her for about five seconds before his face softens and his arms drop to his side. "Okay, fine. I'll take Rose and Mickey to see the swimming pool."

MJ beams and throws her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you! I really, really appreciate it!"

When she pulls away, his cheeks have gone red to match the tips of his ears, but she suspects it's a blush rather than an angry flush. He stammers out a "You're welcome" before leaving the kitchen, nearly walking into the wall as he does. Rose has her hand clamped over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. She flashes MJ a quick wink before following Mickey and the Doctor out into the hall.

Mrs. Tyler has already gotten started on the soak for the French toast. In addition to the eggs and milk MJ had fetched, she has vanilla bean paste, cinnamon, granulated sugar, salt, and all-purpose flour.

"Can you get a pan started, sweetheart?" Mrs. Tyler asks. MJ nods and jumps into action, getting out a nice big pan so they can do multiple slices at once. "Perfect. Can you get me a whisk and the bread, too? I don't know where anything is in this kitchen."

"Neither do I, but I have great intuition," MJ says.

Sure enough, she finds the whisk in the second drawer she checks, and the bread in the first cabinet she opens. The loaf of white bread hasn't been sliced, so she finds a bread knife and a cutting board too. She passes the whisk to Mrs. Tyler and then the two of them work in silence side-by-side at the island.

Well, they work in silence for about thirty seconds before Mrs. Tyler inquires, "What kind of girl stuff did you want to talk about, love?" Her voice takes on a sympathetic tone. "Boy troubles?"

"Uh, not at the moment," MJ says.

"Girl troubles?"

"Not that either," MJ says. "I was lying, actually. I don't want to talk to you about girl stuff. I wanted to talk to you about the Doctor."

Mrs. Tyler 'hmphs.' "Going to try and change my mind about him, are you?"

MJ glances at her curiously. "Did yesterday not change your opinion of him at all?"

"Well, maybe a little," Mrs. Tyler relents. "I don't want to slap him anymore, anyway. Well, not until he opens his mouth, that right git." She shakes her head with a weary sigh. "I just don't know what you and Rose see in him."

"He's brave," MJ says as she cuts the loaf of bread into thick slices. "He's kind. And he cares. That's more than I can say about a lot of people."

"I s'pose," Mrs. Tyler says. "But he drags you girls into so much danger. I mean, that night the plastic came to life, where was Rose? Safe at home? No! She was with 'im, in the middle of it. I mean, what good man lets young girls endanger themselves for him? He never should've dragged you or her into all of that. All of this." She gestures to the surroundings with her whisk, getting droplets of custard on the marble countertop.

MJ takes a deep breath. "Mrs. Tyler, with all due respect, you have no idea what you're talking about."

Mrs. Tyler's response comes quick and sharp. "Excuse me?"

"From what I understand about the living plastic situation," MJ says because Rose had given her a rundown while they were getting dressed for the 1800s, "the Doctor would've died if Rose hadn't been there. He would've died, and there would've been no one to stop the autons. Do you think Rose would've been safe then? How many more people would've died, do you think, before we humans figured out a way to stop them? Do you think Rose wouldn't be one of them just because she didn't meet the Doctor?"

Silence. Jackie is still whisking the custard, but she's staring into the bowl with a blank expression.

"I get it," MJ assures her. "I get it, I really do. Someone new comes into your life and they whisk someone you love away, someone that it's your job to protect and keep happy, and all of a sudden, they're just gone and you can't do anything to protect them or keep them out of danger. And that's terrifying. I actually get it. Happened to me last summer and my little sister Annabeth. She went on this trip and...and I had to put my faith in a stranger that she would get home safe, and it was awful."

She sets down her knife, closing her eyes at the memories. "I mean, I was physically sick with worry almost the entire time she was gone. L...my friends kept making fun of me because my sister Annabeth, she's a tough girl. I mean, she could probably beat my ass in a fight, and that's no small feat. She's smarter than me too. And I knew that, but I was still so scared for her, and she was only gone for like, a week. Rose was gone for a year. So yeah, I can see how it would be easy to blame the new guy, because she never would've left if he hadn't shown up, right? But the truth is, Annabeth always wanted to leave. She just finally got an excuse. And maybe it's the same for Rose too. Maybe she always had one foot out the door, and it just took the Doctor to give her that push."

MJ opens her eyes and picks the knife back up to finish her work. "And that's not a bad thing. It's not a bad thing at all. Everyone has to leave home eventually. But even if she didn't, even if Rose never left home, it wouldn't make her safer. It wouldn't protect her from anything that's happened. Sure, you probably wouldn't have had a Slitheen show up in your apartment, but the only real difference is that you nor Rose would have any clue what's going on, and oftentimes ignorance is so much more dangerous. I understand how you feel, Mrs. Tyler, but it's not fair to the Doctor to place the blame all on his shoulders. He didn't bring these dangerous aliens here, he's trying to make them leave. And trying to make him take sole responsibility for Rose's safety isn't just cruel, it's demeaning to Rose. She may be young, but she's clever and she can make her own decisions. And I know you know that, but sometimes we need reminders."

"And he didn't drag me or Rose into anything," she says. "He tried to tell Rose to stay away, but she didn't listen. And I got forced into it by someone, but it wasn't him. Since we joined him, he's done everything to keep us safe. You may not think he's a good man, Mrs. Tyler, and I don't think he does either, but I...I think he's a good man. I think he's a very good man. Because he's brave, and he's kind, and he cares. People like him, who could do anything and go anywhere, they don't have to care. But he chooses to. He runs into danger so others don't have to."

MJ passes Mrs. Tyler the bread slices, and they move over to the stove. Mrs. Tyler dredges the slices before dropping them in the pan. Immediately, they hear the satisfying sizzle. It reminds MJ that she wants bacon too. She has a bit of time before the French toast needs to be flipped and even then, Mrs. Tyler has a clean hand she can use to flip them, so MJ hurries back over to the fridge, grabs the bacon, arranges as many pieces of she can on a big baking sheet lined with foil, and sticks it in an oven. The TARDIS ovens are super cool because they only need a few seconds to preheat.

"Alien technology," the Doctor had bragged while making his oatmeal.

"You speak very highly of him," Mrs. Tyler notes as MJ washes her hands. "You don't...you don't have feelings for him, do you?"

"Not romantic ones," MJ says, hurrying back over to the stove. In her absence, Mrs. Tyler had flipped the first batch. MJ decides to use this time to grab plates. Oh, and they'll need maple syrup, and strawberries...okay, maybe she shouldn't have sent Rose away.

"So you and him are...?" Mrs. Tyler makes a very crude gesture with her hands, one of which drips with eggy custard, making the gesture infinitely worse.

MJ recoils. "Ew, no! What is wrong with you and Rose? No, I'm not having sex with the Doctor. I'm still very much in recovery after the last time, thank you very much."

It was meant to come out lighthearted, but instead, her words are clipped and leave an acrid taste in her mouth.

Mrs. Tyler watches MJ run back to the fridge to grab the maple syrup, strawberries, and the leftover whipped cream from the breakfast extravaganza. There's a sad look in Mrs. Tyler's eyes. "How do you mean recovering?"

MJ grimaces. "I...I made a bad choice. Had sex with the wrong person. He didn't hurt me physically. Not on purpose, anyway, I think he's just kind of bad at it. Not that I can judge since it was my first time." MJ flashes Mrs. Tyler a bitter smile. "Typical, right? A girl loses her virginity to a piece of shit boy who breaks her heart. One of the oldest stories in the books."

"Sounds like a bit more than that," Mrs. Tyler rightly points out. "I mean, you said you were in recovery. You don't say that about bad sex, not like that. Believe me, I'd know. I've had plenty of bad sex in my time."

MJ doesn't want to think about Rose's mom having sex, but she supposes Mrs. Tyler is human too. And right on the mark. MJ's not sure why, but words just start pouring out of her as she quarters perfectly ripe strawberries. "It was, um...his name's Luke. I've known him since I was eight, so coming up on eleven years. We were best friends, even though he was a couple of years older. We'd been through a lot together, and I mean a lot. We used to have this best friend named Thalia, but she died when we were still kind of young, and Luke never got over it. To be honest, neither did I, but he never got over it in a different way, you know what I mean? He was already angry, and Thalia dying made him so much angrier. And that scared me."

Mrs. Tyler's voice is soft and kind. "Did you have feelings for him?"

"I thought I did." MJ lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "I thought I loved him. I told him as much, the night we had sex."

"Did he say it back?"

"...he didn't say a lot of things back."

Not apologies. Not compliments. Not declarations of love. Fucking hell. How could it take her so long to realize who he'd become? He didn't use to be like this. He used to be like the Doctor, brave and kind and caring. And then he went on his quest, and it's like he just lost his ability to see the good in the world. The worst part is that he seems to really, truly believe that he's doing the right thing, that he's the good guy in this scenario, and she knows she'll never be able to convince him otherwise.

"I'm so sorry, love," Mrs. Tyler says. "You deserve better than to be treated like that."

"I know," MJ says. "I think that's the really fucked up thing. Logically, I know he's wrong, and his opinion of me only matters if I let it matter, so I just have to not care. But I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to not care what he thinks of me after valuing his opinion and his praise for so fucking long. I don't know how to turn off the part of me that still thinks of him as my best friend."

"Well, it'd make sense if you still have feelings for him," Mrs. Tyler says. On a plate to the right of the stove is a steadily growing stack of French toast. She adds another slice to it. "I mean, how long ago was this? That he hurt you?"

"It was August, so uh, like... four months?"

Mrs. Tyler lets out a little noise of surprise. "Oh, well, no wonder you're still so upset. That's no time at all. Might as well be yesterday."

"Yeah, but like..." MJ scrapes the strawberries off the cutting board designated for fruit (now stained red) into a clear glass bowl. "Like, again, logically—"

"Sweetheart," Jackie cuts in. "Love is never logical."

"But I am," MJ says. "I know it hasn't really been that long and it's perfectly normal to still be like, conflicted and wrestling with my emotions and whatnot, but I still don't get it. I don't get why I care about him at all because I hate him. I do. I hate him with every fiber of my being. And not because he hurt me, but because he hurt everyone. The day after we, you know, hooked up, he literally betrayed all of us. I mean, he put Annabeth's life in mortal danger. Annabeth! She's thirteen, he's known her since she was seven and he always said she was like a little sister to him, but when push came to shove, he was more than ready to shove her under the bus."

MJ pulls the bacon from the oven and starts setting the table. "Like I just...I don't get that. I don't understand how he could do something like that. He told me literally like, three months before that Annabeth and I were his 'favorite girls.' And now it's like, if she's really one of your 'favorite girls,' Luke, how could you send her off on her trip knowing it would be best for her if she never came back? He comforted me every day she was gone. Every day, he was telling me that she was going to be okay, that I just needed to have faith in her, that I was being overprotective, and meanwhile, the motherfucker was basically plotting her death!"

Mrs. Tyler shoots MJ a worried look. "Um, what type of trip was this exactly?"

"It's a long story," MJ sighs. "One I very much don't feel like telling. But basically, Luke fucked us all over. We didn't even know it was him for like, months. For about nine months, I think, he acted like everything was fine and dandy and normal. And when he finally came clean, he tried to claim he was doing it for all of us, that he was the good guy in the scenario. And it's like, 'Well if you're such a stand-up guy, Luke, why'd you lie to us for nearly a year?'"

"He sounds like a piece of work," Mrs. Tyler says. "Wait, let me guess. Mommy issues?"

"And daddy issues," MJ says. "A lethal combination, some might say."

"Does everyone know about how he hurt you specifically?"

"Only a couple of people." MJ pours the maple syrup into a ceramic pourer, then pops it into the microwave to heat it up. "I was a fucking wreck when I realized what Luke had done. I was shaking and crying...I even threw up, I felt so disgusted. Like, maybe if he hadn't done all that I could've let the one night of bad sex go, right? But knowing everything just made it feel like such a violation of my body and my trust."

"Because it was a violation," Mrs. Tyler tells her. "He did, he violated you. And I'm so sorry sweetheart, because that was your first time and that must make it feel so much worse. But the good news is, you get to decide what firsts matter and what ones don't."

MJ takes over French toast flipping duty so Mrs. Tyler can wash her hands. "What do you mean?"

"So, here's a story for you, and don't go telling Rose this 'cos she doesn't know," Mrs. Tyler says. "When I was twelve, an older boy, must've been about seventeen or so, just sort of grabbed me on my way home from school and kissed me 'cos his friends dared him to. That was my first kiss."

MJ whirls around, eyes wide. "What? That's awful."

"It was," she agrees. "Oh, I was so upset. I ran home crying to my mum, and once I calmed down long enough to tell her what happened, she held me in her arms and she told me, 'You decide what counts.' She said if I didn't want to count that as my first kiss, I didn't have to. Or that I could redefine it. Maybe that would always be my first kiss ever, but what about my first kiss with someone I really liked? I hadn't had that yet. And doesn't that matter so much more than some stupid first kiss ever?"

"So, even though that was my first time ever having sex, it doesn't have to matter," MJ says slowly, gears whirring. "Because I haven't had good sex yet, or even just bad sex with someone I care about who cares about me."

"Exactly!" Mrs. Tyler says. She uses a spatula to take the bacon off the sheet pan and stack it on a platter. "You decide what counts. You decide what matters to you. It's your body, your choice, and no boy, no matter how awful, can ever take that from you. Not really."

"The government can," MJ, ever the cynic, points out. "Like, if they repealed Roe v. Wade or something. But I see what you're saying."

Mrs. Tyler bumps her hip into MJ's. "See? You did want to talk about girl stuff!"

MJ laughs as she adds the last slice of French toast to the stack. "Yeah, I guess I did." Carrying the French toast over to the table, she asks the TARDIS, "Can you tell them the food's ready, astéri mou?"

The TARDIS hums, and Mrs. Tyler grimaces. "Are you talking to this thing?"

"The TARDIS isn't a thing, she's a beautiful, sentient ship," MJ corrects. "She's a sweetheart, really. Much nicer than her pilot. Speaking of which..." She puts her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows at Mrs. Tyler. "You gonna cut the Doctor some slack? I promise I'll have a talk with him about his behavior too, he's definitely not innocent in this whole thing."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Mrs. Tyler says. She fetches the syrup that MJ had forgotten about from the microwave and puts it on the table, the finishing touch to a delicious-looking and smelling meal. "It's not your job to mend bridges."

"It kind of is," MJ replies. She takes the same seat she's been taking, the one that gives her a perfect view of the entryway. "Annabeth's not my only sibling. I have a lot of them, actually, and as the current oldest in the household, it usually falls to me to keep the peace."

"But we're not your family," Mrs. Tyler reminds her. Her tone isn't unkind, but her words still sting. "I mean, you hardly know us."

Heat rushes to MJ's cheeks. Mrs. Tyler is right. She just spilled her guts to a white woman she only met...what? A couple of days ago? Why would MJ do something like that? Is she really that desperate for an audience that she'll take whoever she can get?

No, it's not desperation. It, like most other things in MJ's life, is strategy. Mrs. Tyler is a neutral party. She has no connection whatsoever to anyone at CHB except through MJ, and unlike Rose, MJ knows Mrs. Tyler would never let anything slip to the Doctor that MJ told her in confidence. It's kind of like venting to the stranger sitting next to you on an airplane. You know you're never going to see them again, so what do you have to lose? Nothing. Nothing at all. MJ will see Mrs. Tyler again, of course, but her secrets are safe with her in a way they aren't with anyone else.

Rose leans through the entryway and raps her knuckles on the wall. "Mind if we come in?"

"Not at all," Mrs. Tyler says. "Take a seat, grab some food while it's hot."

Rose, Mickey, and the Doctor file in and sit down. Rose leaves a seat between her and MJ for the Doctor, who looks relieved he doesn't have to sit next to Mrs. Tyler or Mickey. They all dig in. MJ takes the most out of all of them — it looks a bit big next to the others, but it's a normal-sized portion at CHB. When you're constantly training and burning calories, you need to eat a lot to fuel your body.

"Nice work, you two," Rose praises, a smidge of whipped cream on the corner of her lips. "This is fantastic."

MJ shrugs. "It was really all your mom. I was just her sous chef."

"Sous chef?" Mickey echoes with a raised eyebrow.

"They're like, right below the head chef in the kitchen hierarchy," MJ explains. "So like, I did the prep work. Mrs. Tyler did the heavy lifting."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Tyler says. "I couldn't have done it all without you. And please, call me Jackie."

MJ grimaces, absentmindedly twirling her fork in her hand. "Oh, no thank you. It feels...disrespectful. I don't know. In America, calling your friends' parents by their first names is more of a white people thing."

"Trust me," Mickey says. He sits to her left. "She won't stop telling you to call her Jackie until you do it. Speaking from experience."

"Mrs. Tyler makes me feel so old," Mrs. Tyler complains.

The Doctor nudges MJ lightly and changes the subject. "And what about you? How are you feeling after your, er, girl talk with Jackie?"

"A lot better, actually," MJ says, perking up. "I think I've finally made a decision that I've been wrestling with for a long time."

Rose frowns, lifting an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"I'm going to drop out of college," MJ announces.

Mrs. Tyler chokes on her French toast.

"For him?" she wheezes, jabbing her finger accusatorily at the Doctor as Mickey thumps on her back to help clear her airways.

"What? No!" MJ scoffs. "I'm dropping out for me. You told me I get to decide what matters to me, right?"

A teary-eyed Mrs. Tyler nods, still coughing a little.

"Well, college really only mattered to me because everyone told me that's what mattered," MJ says. "And I thought I could be okay with it because I love learning, but then they told me I had to choose a major that would help me secure a good job, and it became a chore and...I don't know. I've decided that what matters to me isn't sitting in an office for the rest of my life so my kids might be able to afford a year of college. What matters to me is living my life. Helping people, learning things just for the fun of it, leaving the world — or worlds, for that matter — a better place than it was when I came into it."

MJ lays a hand on the Doctor's arm, the leather of his jacket buttery soft under her touch. "And with the Doctor, I can do those things. I don't have to resign myself to being another cog in the capitalist machine."

"Our little anarchist," Rose coos, her hand fluttering to her heart. "Seriously, though, I think it's brave to do what's best for you instead of what everyone tells you what you're supposed to do. Takes courage to stand up to that kind of pressure."

"But you're not going to travel with him forever," Mrs. Tyler points out. "If you have no degree, what will you do?"

"Mum," Rose groans.

"I'm going to go back to college eventually," MJ says, cutting up the rest of her food to give her hands something to do, "and when I go back, I'm going to major in something I'm actually interested in. Like folklore, or fashion design, or women's studies, or sociology...just nothing super technical or you know, boring."

The Doctor smiles softly at her, as warm and sweet as the French toast on her plate. "Well, if you ever want to get a head start, there are plenty of books on the TARDIS. I haven't even shown you the library yet."

"You have a library?" MJ squeals. "Man, I really have to go exploring one of these days. I feel like I've only seen 1% of the TARDIS."

"You're telling me," Rose says. "On our way here, he said something about a cinema room. I didn't know there was a cinema room. Did you know there was a cinema room?"

"No!" MJ gasps. "Like what rich white people have in their basements?"

"We have to have a movie night," Rose declares. "Or a movie marathon! Each of us can pick a couple of favorites."

Mickey and Mrs. Tyler have pained expressions; the looks of people who know they're not invited to the plans being made right in front of them.

The rest of the meal (Is it breakfast? Lunch? Dinner? MJ has no idea, and at this point, she's too afraid to ask) is spent making small talk. Rose and MJ carry the conversation. The Doctor chimes in only when prompted. Both Mrs. Tyler and Mickey look like they want to be literally anywhere else. MJ doesn't want to make them feel like outsiders, but they're Rose's people, and Mrs. Tyler is right; it's not MJ's job to mend bridges.

*

They drop Mrs. Tyler and Mickey at home. Rose says her goodbyes to them while MJ cleans up breakfast. It's decided that her tour of London can wait — she'd much rather spend today dropping out of Abbott University and getting her things.

Once they're parked across the street from the Abbott University campus, the Doctor grins sheepishly at MJ. "So, I have a bit of a confession to make."

Dread floods MJ's system. "What did you do?"

"Nothing bad!" the Doctor assures her, holding his hands out in front of his defensively. "I just...sort of got the impression before you said anything that you wanted to drop out. So I, uh, e-mailed your student advisor pretending to be you and told her you were leaving Abbott. So all you really need to do is go in and uh, sign the paperwork."

MJ's jaw drops, an odd feeling blooming to life in her chest. "What?"

"I'm sorry for overstepping," the Doctor says. "I should've asked first, but—"

MJ throws her arms around him, nearly bowling him over with the force of her enthusiasm. His arms automatically encircle her waist.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she whispers, her breath hitting the shell of his ear. "Thank you."

She pulls away (Is he reluctant to let her go or is she imagining things?), runs to the door, opens it, and then immediately closes it. She whirls around to look at the Doctor and Rose with wide eyes. "It's cold out there."

Rose laughs. "C'mon, let's grab some coats from the wardrobe."

MJ finds a lime green coat lined with a luxuriously soft and warm material. She's going to stick out like a sore thumb, but she's okay with that. Rose chooses a pink puffy jacket, and then the two of them run back to the console room, holding hands. The Doctor is waiting for them by the door, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. There's a stack of cardboard boxes by his feet.

"All ready to go?" he asks, standing upright when he sees them coming.

"Yep," MJ says. "Are you sure you're going to be warm enough in that?"

The Doctor waves his hand dismissively. "I'll be fine. Let's go."

He picks up the stack of boxes and lets MJ throw the doors open.

"Rose Tyler," MJ says as the two of them step out of the TARDIS and onto the sidewalk, "Welcome to the United States of America."

It must've snowed earlier. There are banks of fresh, glistening snow hiding the dead lawn of the Abbott University campus. The air is so cold it bites, and MJ finds herself dreaming of a nice big cup of hot chocolate with plenty of whipped cream and marshmallows. The Doctor locks up the TARDIS behind them, the flattened stack of boxes tucked under his arm, and then the three of them link arms. There's no crossing guard directing traffic today to wave them along the crosswalk and only a handful of students bundled up in their warmest winter gear trudge along the paved paths sprinkled with ice-melt salt. Everyone must be bunkering down inside to stay warm.

MJ leads Rose and the Doctor to the administrative building. An hour later, after filling out a lot of paperwork and insisting she's aware of how drastic a decision she's making and yes, she's sure she wants to make it, MJ walks out of the building a free woman. It might be a touch overdramatic but gods, she feels a million pounds lighter, like the weight of the world's been lifted off her shoulders. The next stop is MJ's (former) dorm in the Gillan Building, a co-ed dormitory in the heart of the campus.

"It's funny," Rose says as they walk. "I know we're in the States, but all these buildings? I mean, the brick and the look of it all...reminds me of London."

MJ raises her eyebrows, lips curling into an amused smile. "What did you think it was going to look like? American flags everywhere and bald eagles on every building?"

"Well, yeah," Rose says with a little shrug. "I dunno. It seems nice here."

"It is," MJ says. Her voice is softer now. "It's a great school. I worked so fucking hard to get in here. My family's going to think I'm insane for dropping out."

Rose winces. "How are you going to tell them?"

"Quickly," she says. "In a very public space with a lot of potential witnesses."

The Doctor nudges her lightly. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure your family will understand. I mean, they want what's best for you, don't they?"

"Of course they do." The bitter chill is making her nose a little runny. She sniffles. "It's just that...I don't know. I'm worried they're going to think I'm a failure."

"You're not a failure," the Doctor tells her. "You're just headed down a different path is all."

MJ opens her mouth to say something when she spots the familiar facade. "Oh, we're here."

She breaks away from the Doctor and Rose to take the steps two at a time. Her (former) dorm is on the first floor thankfully at the end of the initial hallway. MJ raps her knuckles on the door, which rattles on its hinges.

"Nina, you in?" MJ hollers. "I don't have my key."

"How unfortunate for you," Nina calls back.

MJ knocks again. "Nina, let me in! I gotta get my shit!"

"Should've brought your key then," Nina mocks.

The Doctor and Rose catch up, cheeks pink from the cold.

"Roommate troubles?" the Doctor asks.

MJ puts one hand on her hip, the other on the doorframe. "Think you can sonic the lock?"

He scoffs. "'Course, I can sonic the lock. Rose, hold this, will you?" He passes the cardboard boxes to a disgruntled Rose, then pulls out his sonic screwdriver and crouches down to do his work.

Rose chews on her bottom lip, looking around the empty hallway. "Where is everybody?"

"Probably packing to go home for the break," MJ says, tapping her nails on the doorframe. "The first semester's just about over, so everyone's heading home for the holidays."

"Got it!" the Doctor announces. He takes a step back and lets MJ open the door to her dorm.

Nina's sitting cross-legged on her bed, computer in her lap and flashcards strewn across the yellow comforter. Her braids are piled atop her head in a stylish knot, and she has an open bottle of Snapple iced tea dangerously close to the edge of her nightstand.

"Oh, so you found a way in," Nina jibes. "Who are the white people?"

"They're helping me move out," MJ says.

"You're leaving?" Nina exclaims. Her entire face lights up. "Oh, praise Jesus, Hallelujah! I knew the Lord was good but I didn't know he was this kind!"

MJ rolls her eyes. "Can you just like, get the fuck out of here so I can pack my things?"

"And where am I supposed to go?" Nina asks.

"Not my problem," MJ says. "Just go."

Nina scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. "You bring your trashy ass white friends in here and you make demands of me? No way, not happening. I'm staying here, you're just going to have to work around me."

MJ grits her teeth. "Nina, I strongly suggest you get the fuck out of here so I can get my things without your annoying ass breathing down my neck." She sniffs indignantly. "And I know you're not talking shit about my taste in friends when your boyfriend is a forty-year-old Hispanic guy who says the N-word, talks with a blaccent, and has three baby mamas but no job."

That gets Nina to her feet. She gets in MJ's face the best she can considering she's 5'1". "You think I won't beat your crybaby ass?"

"You can certainly try," MJ laughs.

Nina scans MJ up and down, assessing the potential threat she poses. Her lips twist into a vicious smirk. "Why are you dropping out anyway? Finally realized you're too stupid for college?"

"Oi!" Rose cries out, shoving the Doctor aside to get in Nina's face. "Insult me and him all you like but don't you dare insult MJ!"

"And calling her stupid is like saying the sun is cold," the Doctor chimes in with a scowl. His arms are folded over his chest. "It's just fundamentally wrong."

"Who are you exactly?" Nina questions, eyeing the Doctor dubiously. "Her sugar daddy? You the reason she's in here looking a mess in those ugly ass clothes? I thought she was some tight-ass prude but she must be a damn good fuck if you're willing to put up with that shitstorm she calls a personality."

Alright, that's enough.

MJ moves in front of Rose and the Doctor. Her eyes, narrowed down to slits, glint silver in the fluorescent lighting. "Nina, you're like a foot shorter than me and get winded carrying your laundry. I could lightly shove you into a padded wall and you'd shatter. Hell, I could blow air in your general direction and it'd take your puny ass out. Now why don't you go bother someone else who isn't fully capable of and increasingly willing to put you in a full-body cast?"

Nina's expression shifts, her cruel sneer fading as she realizes MJ is 100% serious. MJ wonders if Nina got the same advice she was given growing up: The best way to avoid getting your ass beat is to know who can beat your ass.

"Fine," Nina says, rolling her eyes. She grabs her laptop and her flashcards, shoves them in her backpack, and slings it over her shoulder. "I'm going to the library. Y'all better not be here when I get back."

"Oh, believe me, Nina," MJ snarks. "If I never see your pathetic pick-me ass again, it'll be too soon."

Nina scoffs and whirls around, stomping out of their dorm. She even slams their door shut for emphasis.

"Blimey," Rose says in her wake. "What a piece of work."

MJ snorts and starts folding up the pink comforter she and Priscilla had bought from Target back in June. "That's a bit of an understatement."

The Doctor puts all of the boxes, now unflattened and boxy once more, on Nina's bed. "Do you, er, want me to leave? I know how human girls are about their privacy so..."

"See, I'd send you out but I don't trust you not to wander off and cause some sort of trouble," she says.

"Who, me?" The Doctor's hand flattens over his heart as if wounded by her words. "When have I ever caused trouble?"

"You blew up my job," Rose reminds him.

"And 10 Downing Street," MJ says.

The Doctor pouts, sitting down on Nina's mattress and grabbing the stack of textbooks from her nightstand. "Fine. I'll just sit here and read then."

"Good boy," MJ teases.

Rose snickers. The Doctor's pout deepens, the tips of his ears pink.

MJ and Rose chatter as they work, filling box after box with MJ's things. There are her books, sketchbooks, projects, clothes, shoes, makeup, jewelry, skin care products, and hair care products...she always forgets how much stuff she has until she has to move it somewhere. The Doctor uses the sonic screwdriver to (somehow) loosen the tape she'd used to hang a few things on the wall so she can pull them off without damaging them or the wall. The Doctor also knows some neat packing tricks, so they can combine a couple of boxes into one. In the end, six boxes need hauling back to the TARDIS, so they each take two.

"You guys go ahead," MJ says, hovering in the doorway. "I just want to do one last sweep."

"Okay," the Doctor says. He perks up. "Oh, that reminds me."

Balancing his boxes on his hip, the Doctor reaches into his jacket pocket, far deeper than the pocket realistically should go, and pulls out a bronze key on a necklace chain the same color as her ring. And not just any key — a TARDIS key. He sets down his boxes to put the necklace around MJ's neck like he's draping her in victory laurels. Before he pulls his hands away and picks his boxes back up, he tucks a curl behind her ear.

"There you go," he says cheerily. "Now you can get in and out of the TARDIS as you please."

"Thanks, Doc," MJ says with a brilliant smile to match his. "I'll be right behind you guys, 'kay?"

"Okay," Rose and the Doctor chorus.

MJ slips back into her dorm, puts down the boxes she was holding, and gets to work. She has weapons, ambrosia, nectar, and drachmae hidden in a loose floorboard under her bed and she hadn't been able to retrieve them with the Doctor and Rose around. The boxes are taped shut, but luckily, she has bigger-on-the-inside pockets, perfect for shoving everything into. Once she's secured her secret stash of demigod goods, she does a proper sweep of the room to ensure she hasn't left anything behind. Then she checks again, and then one more time before she satisfies she's cleared out her side of the room completely.

She picks up her boxes and bumps the slightly-ajar door open with her hip. She passes the girls who live a couple of dorms down and they wave with those polite smiles you put on when you see someone you know in public but you don't want to interact with them. It suddenly occurs to her that she has no friends to say goodbye to. In her single semester here, she's left no mark at all. Before she met the Doctor and Rose, that would have really bummed her out, but now? Now she doesn't give a fuck. She's moving on to bigger and better things, baby.

Abbott University is an excellent school and all, but it has nothing on all of time and space.

Still, when she's turning her key in the TARDIS's lock, she pauses before opening the door and looks back at the campus. Packing took longer than she'd expected, and the sun is starting to dip below the horizon now. When she sighs, she can see her breath in the frigid air. Four months of agony here and nothing to show for it except less money in the CHB college fund. Maybe someday, when she's older and wiser and healed, she'll be back.

MJ shakes her head at herself and slips into the TARDIS. No point in worrying about the future. She needs to focus on what's happening here and now. She needs to make the most out of traveling with the Doctor as she possibly can. Mrs. Tyler's right; MJ won't be on the TARDIS forever. But as long as she's here, within this other dimension held in four walls, she will live life to the fullest.

After all, there's a good chance when the Second Titan War finally swells to a climax in the form of what will surely be a glorious and brutal battle, MJ will die.

Maybe at the hands of a boy with glowing golden eyes.

*

The TARDIS's cinema room is even more impressive than MJ expected. The plush, leather chairs recline smoothly, allowing a perfect view of the towering silver screen. At the back of the room, popcorn machines (each containing a different flavor of popcorn) and soda dispensers flank the double doors. MJ has a root beer and a bucket of perfectly buttery popcorn. Rose opts for the parmesan popcorn and a diet Coke. The Doctor has a 'mystery' drink and no popcorn, which probably means he'll be stealing popcorn from the girls. He's in the perfect position to do so too, sat between them. As is quickly becoming the norm for them in TARDIS hangout seshes, Rose and MJ are in their PJs and the Doctor is in his usual outfit. MJ is starting to think he doesn't own other clothes.

They start their movie marathon with one of Rose's picks — Labyrinth.

"This was one of my favorite movies growing up," Rose whispers as the film starts. "Mickey always hated it. The goblins freaked him out."

Next up is MJ's first pick: Die Hard.

Rose does a double-take when MJ says the title for the TARDIS to play. "Really? Isn't that an action movie about like...terrorists or something? Didn't think you were into that kind of stuff."

"It was released the same day I was born," MJ says. "July 20th, 1988. It's also the first R-rated film I ever watched. My neighbor Ramon played it for me once when he was babysitting. Coincidentally, that was also the last time he babysat me."

The Doctor's first pick is Jumanji. He's kind enough to give MJ a warning when the spiders are on screen. She buries her head in his shoulder until he tells her they're gone. Their second picks are Legally Blonde (Rose's mate Shareen stole a copy from the video store and Rose got grounded for three weeks), Matilda (not only an adaptation of her namesake, but it's also the movie she saw as a late eighth birthday present with her mom, Thalia, and baby Jason who cried every time Ms. Trunchball was on screen), and Howl's Moving Castle respectively, one of the many great films that came out during the year Rose missed.

The plan was to do three films each, but they're all so tired and slightly sick from eating too much artificial flavoring by the end of Howl's Moving Castle that they agree to save the rest for another movie night.

"I'd say this was a success, though," Rose says as she laces her fingers and stretches her arms above her head, her pink Hello Kitty shirt riding up to show a strip of pale skin. "Next time, maybe some horror movies, yeah? Or a romcom."

The Doctor doesn't seem too interested in either of these suggestions, so MJ chimes in with one of her own. "Or we could watch more Hayao Miyazaki movies. You said they're all really good, right, Doc?"

The Doctor lights up at this. "Oh, yeah! You girls haven't lived until you've seen Spirited Away, My Neighbor Totoro, Kiki's Delivery Service...all of them are brilliant."

"How about we do themed nights from now on?" Rose asks. She crouches down to pick up pieces of popcorn she'd dropped. "So we'll do a Miyazaki night, horror night, and so on."

"Sounds good to me," MJ says, heading toward the back of the room where the trashcans are. "This will really help me expand my movie lexicon."

Rose looks at her blankly. "What?"

"I'm kind of lacking in pop culture knowledge," MJ explains. She tosses her empty popcorn carton and cup of root beer. "People are always making references I don't understand."

"You guys never watched movies at home?" the Doctor asks curiously.

"Oh, movie nights got banned at our place because no one could ever agree on anything," she says. "We tried a voting system to, you know, keep it democratic, but Clarisse got so mad when Beauty and the Beast won over The Incredibles that she broke several chairs so uh...yeah."

"Is Clarisse one of your sisters?" Rose questions, scrunching up her nose.

MJ shakes her head with a small smile. "Nah, just one of the kids from the neighborhood. But we'd do movie nights with everyone. Set up a big screen and project movies onto it, almost like a drive-through and a block party had a baby, you know? But the Clarisse incident was the final straw, so now we only do movie nights on Christmas because that's when everyone's on their best behavior."

"Well, couldn't you just do movie nights with just your family?" Rose presses.

MJ shrugs as she holds the door to the hallway open for Rose and the Doctor. "We just didn't."

"Yeah, but—"

"Goodnight," MJ calls out over her shoulder, heading for her room without so much as another glance in their direction.

It's been a long day. She doesn't have the energy to lie to her friends right now.

Of course, she wouldn't have to lie to them if she just told them the truth, but that would open a can of worms MJ is not emotionally or mentally equipped to handle at the moment. Besides, even though she's officially moved into the TARDIS — and she won't lie, the sight of all of her things when she steps into her room makes her heart flutter — this is temporary. All of this is temporary. One day, MJ will stop traveling with the Doctor and leave him and Rose behind. Or he'll leave her and Rose behind. Someone will leave someone behind, and MJ's life will go back to her version of normal.

What's the point, then, of telling the Doctor and Rose the truth about herself? Why ruin their fun together by telling them about an impending war that can't be stopped and if lost, will end humanity as they know it? MJ told Mrs. Tyler that oftentimes ignorance is so much more dangerous than knowing what's going on, but ignorance can be bliss too. That's what Rose and the Doctor deserve — the blissful ignorance that gets ripped from every demigod's clammy hands at some point or another.

If something happens and they'd be safer knowing, she'll tell them. But unless it reaches that point, she sees no need. Rose has already had her worldview completely deconstructed and reconstructed once. Who knows if she can handle that again? And the Doctor...ugh. MJ doesn't want to think about this anymore. She just wants to sleep.

And now, with her perfume and the Doctor's cologne wafting through the air, she can.

*

in case you couldn't tell, abbott university is a college i made up and described in very little detail bc i myself did not go to college and 97% of the information i know about college comes from movies and tv shows so...yeah. i think the only time i've ever actually been on a college campus was when i went to my sister's graduation. basically, i have no idea what i'm talking about and i'm sure it shows but i hope you all respect me anyway <3