𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

My eyes flew open and I woke up with a gasp. A loud and raspy yell escaped me, my hands clawing at my face as I frantically looked around.

I'm not fucking dead—my brain isn't splattered everywhere. Not only that, but it's not like I shot myself and was healing either.

None of it was real! It was all a dream!

The Hobbit theme—the playback screen was murmuring its music easily, filling the room with a nice aura of comfort. The movie had been stuck on as the Doctor and I had fallen asleep in the last few moments of it.

Snoring—soft snores and gentle rumbles. Turning back, I noticed the heavy arm that had been covering my waist. An arm connected to a familiar and peaceful-looking alien, the smallest bit of drool at the corner of his open mouth as the Doctor cuddled himself to my side and slept deeply.

Holy shit... holy shit... holy shit... what a fucking ride!

I looked back to the Hobbit, flickering in the dark room. It was surely providing the utmost comfort. The Doctor laying in the warm bed cuddling me with the movie on: the ultimate sleeping environment surely.

Our nearly empty bowl of popcorn was thrown messily on the bedside table. The Doctor was still wearing his blue pajamas, his hat having fallen off and now resting on the carpet floor. He seemed to clutch me tighter as I moved around.

It wasn't real, none of it!

AHAHA—I am so BACK motherfuckers! Welcome back POLARIS JADE!

Understanding overcame me. Nightmare Lady had been me, some weird piece of my subconscious—the badass parts, probably—ripped away and turned into that bitch who looked like my mom. And then me, the me that I was in control of, at least, was meant to be who? Cooper?

Cooper... oh fuck!

The Doctor, Amy, Rory: they know.

Okay, bitch, think, think, think!

Alright, time to pivot, I am great at pivoting! I can totally spin this—I can lie, no not lie—twist the truth.

Cooper Haven Starre, the little pathetic girl who died with her mother almost 400 years ago.

Let's tweak that just a little bit: Cooper Haven Starre who watched her mother die before her eyes at seven. That is true, but rather than almost 400 years ago, let's say it happened a much more recently.

18 years? Yes, 18 years ago, and if I was an entirely average human then 18 years ago I would've been seven!

Perfect!

I appear what? 25?

Fine, if it comes up then I was born in the year 2000 meaning my mother died and I was kidnapped in 2007.

Cool, cool, so Peony Starre died 19—no 18, don't fuck up your story—years ago in Kentucky. So: Peony dies due to a break-in and little Cooper manages to scramble away.

And let's see—come on creative juices flow faster! The Doctor is probably going to wake up from the psychic episode soon!

Boom!

Alright, I can see it now—damn, I might need to write this down—little Cooper Starre scrambles away, and as she is being chased down the streets cue alien ship!

BIG ALIEN SHIP!

Boom x2!

Ravagers! Scouting the planet looking for bounty—they happen to find who they are looking for. A humanoid man, a wanted fugitive who just so happened to kill Peony Starre and was chasing down an innocent little human girl.

Well, Ravagers, they aren't the best of people themselves but they have some morals. Morals that include not killing a single mother and her daughter.

Good thinking Polaris Jade, keep it up!

Okay, so Ravagers realize this happens when the innocent little girl runs into them—an entire crew of them.

Well, the Ravagers don't take too kindly to the news, and BABAM—blast the head straight off the fucker who killed little Cooper's mother. And then; well, they have a little girl who has nobody else in a big cruel world and she's small enough, looks like she can be trained, and can squeeze into hard-to-fit spaces that the other Ravagers can't. So, they take her with them and they laugh when she says her name is Cooper Starre, because ain't no way, and they rename her PJ.

I gave myself a pat on the bat, because girl I cooked an amazing upside-down truth; good job, bitch!

Maybe the years are starting to get to me, perhaps I truly am just the tiniest bit schizophrenic.

But hey! If that dream was anything how being sane feels then I don't want it!

With that, I leaped from the bed and whirled around my bedroom looking for a notepad.

Notepad, notepad, notepad... my eyes froze on the sight of a little red notebook sitting innocently enough on my chaotic desk.

Notepad!

I moved as quickly as possible to write down everything I had come up with.

I am not sure how and I am not sure how long we had all been stuck in a fucking psychic-link. But I am willing to bet it has something to do with the visit River and I took to Karass Don Slava last week.

We had chosen to take a jog through the Candle Meadows—meadows that are known to be crawling with psychic parasites. It's pretty okay! And typically, it is not an issue so long as you scrub off nice and good after a jaunt through the place.

However, seeing as it somehow pulled all four of us into a dream state...

Unless... fucking hell, some specks probably got inside the console room and no doubt heated up in the time rotor.

The Doctor is so going to kill me.

Christ, I want to punch myself because now look where I am.

Creating another fake story—sorry, twisted truth—and now I'll need to throw some pity party so the Doctor is not furious that I lied to him.

Not that he should be, after all, it's a pretty reasonable thing for a person to not want to talk about the night their mother's throat was slit in front of them.

Obviously, it actually happened nearly 400 years ago for me, so I don't break down in tears when I think about it anymore. Especially given the more than unfortunate events in my life that unfolded after that.

However, if I am truly determined to break the entire fucking corrupt system of the multiverse then I cannot—under any circumstances let anyone in. NO ONE IS TO BE TRUSTED.

And that includes the Doctor, he can't know.

Therefore, I will need to dig up my inner sadness and put on my best crocodile tears when I explain a convoluted past to him that is only true to a certain degree.

My mother—who really was named Peony—did get her throat slit in front of me. Except, in the true version, this happened a hell of a long time ago, in a different universe at that, and little Cooper was not saved by a group of interstellar bounty hunters.

Little Cooper might as well have died that night too: for she was kidnapped by brutal and desperate scientists looking for anything to save a broken reality.

And a half-breeded little girl just so happened to be their answer, not that it ended up working in the long run.

So yeah, shoot me, I have many other events in my life that I can cry about before that.

Shaking it off, I finally stopped writing just as the Doctor groaned and popped up in the bed with a loud shout.

I wonder how he had killed himself: how he convinced Amy and Rory that the TARDIS was also a dream and the only way out was to die. Well, either that or wait a really long fucking time for the psychic pollen to run off.

I was quick to shove the notebook with the phony story (a reminder for myself) in one of the sock drawers of the dresser before whirling around to face the Doctor. The shirt fluttered as I moved and I took into account that I was still wearing one of his stolen button-ups. And no pants.

Not my proudest moment.

He was looking around frantically, taking everything in before his eyes clashed with mine.

There was a series of emotions that ran across his face: complex emotions that spoke of many things. Namely compassion and immense sadness.

"Cooper?" He finally breathed, looking at me with something unfamiliar but kind in the dimness of the room "Cooper Haven Starre..."

His soft words, the lull of his voice saying my name—my real name caused goosebumps to rise and tingles to shoot through my body. Why did he say it like? Did he need to say it with so much affection?

Like it was the prettiest thing he had heard?

I shook it off, I had not been Cooper in a really long time. Few ever referred to me as such.

Garren did, on occasion, though he was only gifted an eye roll when he did so.

The Destroyer did sometimes, only when I was in trouble though—I would know to flinch and hide when he screamed that name.

"Cooper..." The Destroyer would call, calmly at first. But then... "COOPER HAVEN STARRE! COME TO ME RIGHT NOW!"

And Obi... THE OBSIDIAN JAX... my... brother... he would call me that when he wanted to taunt me. And then, to get back at him—I would call him by his birth name. Jett Magnus Nocturne, and then he would freak out and we would probably fight which would lead to us both getting in trouble and clinging to each other as we hid from the Destroyer.

His voice was an echo deep in my mind.

"POLARIS AND OBSIDIAN, GET OVER HERE!"

I turned to look at the Doctor, my arms folded behind my back and face flushed. I tried to ignore the thought of the notebook and how highly suspicious such an item would be if the Doctor found it hiding in my sock drawer. But only a creep would go through a woman's sock drawer without permission.

"Don't..." I breathed, shaking my head and closing my eyes. "Don't call me that... please..."

The Doctor was on his feet faster than I thought possible, closing in on me and bringing both his hands up. They remained in the air for a moment, the tension electric. Finally, he rested both his hands on my cheeks and tilted my head up to look at him.

His old green eyes spoke of so many things—and it took all my power to keep my own eyes round and young-looking. To not look at him with a reflection of tiredness and age. To not show how hard this had been—how hard life was and how it continuously beats you down.

For the greater good.

There is only one purpose, one truly good thing that I can do in my entire damned existence. And it's this, I won't mess this up too.

His handsome face was haunting. Brown hair flopping into his eyes, face just slightly pale and a chin that could kill.

But who says I can't have a little fun while doing it? Who says I can't fall in love? So long as by the end I stay strong enough to let go—to release all my attachments, emotional ties, and tethers; including love.

I knew I could do it—I had to—I had been doing it all my life, after all. THE POLARIS JADE, bound to nothing but the void and one cannot be bound to the void and is therefore bound to nothing.

"Why?" The Doctor asked, voice quiet, the man not allowing me to look away. His gaze chased me when I did, the Doctor moving his head down and placing his head firmly on my own. There was so much adoration in his eyes. "Why not?" He challenged. "Cooper, now that is a lovely name. That is the name of a superhero... Cooper Haven Starre... my Cooper..."

I once again shivered, forcing my eyes closed to break contact. I did not want to admit how much I really liked him saying it.

No—Cooper is dead.

Cooper was pure, Cooper was innocent: PJ is not. I am PJ, short for Polaris Jade (not that the Doctor knew that either).

"Do you like it when I say it? I can feel your blood rush when I do..." He murmured kindly, his voice boarding a coo.

He certainly liked praise, didn't he? Receiving and handing it out, it seemed. I refuse to admit how much I liked it too, how much it made me want to surge forward and kiss him.

It was hard when he was gripping my cheeks so softly and resting his head against mine like a long-time lover might. He nuzzled closer to me, and I to him.

However, I forced reality upon myself yet again.

"No," I said quietly. "Cooper is dead, Doctor. I am PJ..."

He now looked pained, furrowing his delicate brows and staring at me with such sadness it made my heart clench. Why did he need to be so good?

"Cooper isn't dead, you're right here..." He breathed, stroking my cheek with his fingers. "I see you..."

I shook my head. "No, you really don't. PJ is my name now, the name I chose..."

"Was it chosen or forced upon you?" He asked, fire in his tone.

I hated that he hit me with a small truth. PJ—THE POLARIS JADE was forced upon me, forced into me long ago.

"Does it matter?" I breathed right back, my head pushing against his own. "Cooper died a long time ago with her mother, let her rest, Doctor. No need to go digging through the past. Sorry to say, but you have PJ..."

"I am the past, present, and future. I dig everywhere..." He hummed a groan. "You lied to me, dearest..." He muttered but he didn't sound angry, just loosely disappointed.

"I always lie, you surely know this..."

"That I do, but this is quite big..."

"I've lied about bigger things..."

"Have you now? Please do tell..."

"But that would take the fun out of it. Don't you like a good puzzle?"

"Everyone likes a good puzzle... doesn't mean I don't need to know these things, my darling..."

"What? You think it's important that you know about my mom being murdered in front of me?"

The Doctor closed his eyes, and shuddered, obviously trying to hold back a powerful emotion. It was silent for a few moments before he spoke. "Yes..." He said through gritted teeth. "I do think that it is immensely important to know those things..."

"I don't know everything about you... you're also very close-lipped..." I laughed lightly, our heads still pushing against one another. "You're a liar too."

"Yes, but you're not me, I am the caregiver here, darling..."

"That could be taken as rather sexist, Doctor..."

"Mmm, maybe if I wasn't technically a genderfluid being, love,"

"Fine, then it sounds arrogant," I paused before adding. "And weird..."

"That I am—a weird and arrogant old man," He smirked before cringing. "Actually nevermind—that sounded a lot better in my head. But I have a TARDIS, so it's fine."

I rolled my eyes. We were breathing these words—this banter—against each other's lips.

I continued to pick at him, trying to roll the subject back onto his past rather than mine. "In fact, I know barely anything about your past..."

"That's because you are my past," He spoke soothingly. "Your future is my past..."

"My near future is your recent past, not your true history. So tell me, Doctor, if such knowledge is so important then what's your mother's name, hmm?"

"My mother is long dead, why would you need to know anything about her?"

"Your name then?"

"A secret that'll shatter the universe. Incite war and tie to me to rather wearisome responsibilities," The Doctor smirked. "So sorry, but you'll need to call me the Doctor like everyone else. But 'Eleven' works as well or any of the other countless things you call me... let's be honest, even if you did know my name, you still would call me Space Lord..."

His words made me laugh out a raspy chuckle. Mostly because it was true.

"Hypocrite," I accused him.

"Oh, you know it..." He gave me a floppy grin.

"You probably have a stupid name anyway—something ridiculous like Walt..."

"You think my name is Walt?" He asked incredulously. "Do you really think the name Walt can shatter the universe?"

I shrugged. "Let's find out, Walt Disney? Oh dear, I think I just heard the Star Wars series come crashing down..."

The Doctor gave me a genuine laugh.

He then leaned closer, our lips were centimeters apart. Should I move the final stretch and finally taste him? Would he move to finally taste me?

Decisions... decisions...

It was certainly tempting given our close embrace in the dim lights of my bedroom.

"How'd you get out of the dream?" I finally asked him.

The Doctor's look turned to one of annoyance. "I blew up the TARDIS, which I planned to do anyway if you could have waited just a few moments longer so I didn't need to hold your bloody carcass with your brain splattered all over me and the floor. It was disturbing, love..." He said the last part tensely, obviously more than upset that I made him witness that.

He was trying not to let it show though. Trying to stay delicate given the situation.

"You know it was just a dream," I told him with a smirk. "Not real—my brain is perfectly intact... kinda..."

"I don't care..." He spat, closing his eyes, brows furrowing in a frustrated manner. "I never want to experience that, no matter if it's fake or not. I already told you that I hate seeing you hurt—let alone holding your dead and distorted body..."

"You held it for what? Two minutes...?"

"Five," He gritted, eyes still closed as he controlled his breathing. "Five entire minutes—308 seconds—of holding you, trying to ignore Rory and Amy's panicking until I got enough of a hold over myself to blow us all up and wake up from that damned nightmare... you don't ever do that to me again, you hear?"

"I make no promises," I sighed, snorting a chuckle as he pressed a long and hard kiss to my forehead. "You're so sentimental..."

"Not wanting to see you hurt or dead is not sentimental...!" He groaned, nuzzling into my hair and breathing before adding a cheeky. "Cooper..."

"Don't call me that," I huffed.

"Then don't call me sentimental..." He contested.

"Do you know that it's rude to not call someone by the name they prefer nowadays?" I told him mockingly.

"You're one to talk about rude—do you know that it's rude to make someone watch as you shoot yourself in the head?" He shook his head with a silent laugh, but there was no humor in it. Only inner bitterness.

"Well, the plus side is that you met my mother..." I weakly argued.

The Doctor scoffed. "That was not your mother. That was a vague and twisted interpretation of however she looked physically, but that was entirely your inner darkness as the DreamLord was mine... and it is incredibly concerning, dearest..."

"Doctor..." I finally pulled away, and he looked at me with a pout—his arms falling to his side. He had not wanted to pull away yet, but we should really get that pollen out of the time rotor. "Me and River Song might have made a trip to the Candle Meadows of Karass Don Slava... I think some psychic pollen might be stuck in the time rotor. It's the only explanation. You should probably get that out..."

His face turned into a scowl. "Oi, what! You both went to the Candle Meadow fields and didn't bother decontaminating the console room after the fact?"

"I didn't think we had to, we didn't leave the door open!"

"Everyone knows that you need to decontaminate everything after being there! Honestly, I can't believe this—!" He started angrily, and I was quick to stop him.

"You can't be angry at me!"

"And why not?"

"Because I watched my mom die when I was seven?"

The Doctor raised a finger, clearly about to argue back, but his mouth opened and closed a few times without any words escaping. Finally, he sighed heavily, tilting his head back and groaning dramatically.

"Who uses that as a reason?" He scoffed.

"Who gives someone a reason to use that as a reason?" I shot right back.

"I hate you," He muttered, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward.

"You obviously don't," I shot back, smirking as I gave his shoulder a playful pat before turning toward the bathroom. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

No kisses for now.

He frowned, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Where are you going?"

"To shower," I replied nonchalantly, glancing back over my shoulder. "Why? Do you want to join?"

The Doctor froze, his face immediately turning crimson. His hands flailed for a moment as though he was trying to physically grab hold of the words to form a coherent response. "I—are you—serious?" He finally managed, his voice high-pitched and tight.

I laughed, enjoying his flustered state far too much. "No. You need to get the pollen out of the time rotor, remember?"

His blush deepened as he huffed, clearly trying to reclaim some semblance of composure. He reached down to pick up his pajama hat from where it had fallen on the bedroom floor, straightening it with unnecessary precision.

"Right," He said quickly, already halfway to the door. He stopped just before leaving, pointing a finger at me as if trying to regain the upper hand. "And don't think this conversation is over. I have many questions, deary."

"Questions I might not answer!" I called after him teasingly, making him stop in his tracks.

"You have to," He insisted, turning just enough to glare at me with mock seriousness. "I'm your boss."

I scoffed, placing a hand on my hip. "Sounds like an abuse of power, Space Lord."

He opened his mouth to retort but seemed to think better of it, grumbling as he turned back around and hurried out of the room.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I closed the bathroom door behind me. Leaning against it, I let out a long sigh, the tension of the dream finally beginning to fade.

If anything positive came from that dream, it's that physically I feel amazingly rested.

My time in the shower was rather quick—despite being tempted to stay under the spray for the next hour, I had to do something.

Being asleep and dying... twice... with not only the most absurd nightmare but also being terrorized by my own inner demons, it makes you think. And it makes me think fuck sleeping... for now, of course.

But seriously, the Doctor promised me that the next place we go would be my choice.

Now, if we are being fair, right after he made that promise River Song and I did borrow his TARDIS and run around the cosmos for just over a month. In that time, I chose a good 75% of the places we went, but... pish-posh, details, details.

I raced around my room, pulling items from my closet and making a quick detour to one of the TARDIS's costume rooms for a spark of inspiration. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go yet—definitely not Earth, unless it was Florida (somehow, I always end up back there). What I did know was that I wanted the future, and the 31st century was calling my name.

After my whirlwind of apparel adventures, I finally settled on an outfit that could only be described as delightfully chaotic.

My chunky space boots—of course—were the first to go on. I couldn't imagine leaving them behind; they were far too cool to trade for anything else. Paired with them was a bright pink mini-skirt straight out of a Barbie fever dream, hugging just enough to give that booty-popping effect. Not to worry, though—built-in shorts were tucked underneath. The Doctor would never let me hear the end of it if I wore something this short without extra coverage... again.

Throwback to that New Year's party in Russia.

I balanced the hyper-feminine skirt with a tight white tank top, layered under a loose, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt that brought a splash of disarray to the ensemble. The bold colors and wild floral patterns screamed "laid-back bitch."

For the final touch, I replaced my usual goggles with a pair of sleek aviator sunglasses, courtesy of the TARDIS's endless inventory. These weren't just any aviators, though—they were futuristic, high-tech ones that probably did something unnecessary, like scan for gold or detect lies.

My hair was styled in two intricate high pigtails, braided to perfection. They framed my face nicely, complementing the sharp angles of my cheekbones. As I glanced at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but smirk.

I looked like a mix between a beach-ready adventurer and a cyberpunk renegade, absolutely insane; a perfect fit for... for... come on, think!

Something clicked. The 31st century... not planet Earth. Oh—I know, it's fucking time.

IT IS FUCKING TIME TO TAKE A RIDE ON THE WHIRLY DIRLY!

With that, I grabbed my backpack and strapped it around my shoulders before racing toward the console room.

I made it there in seconds, pausing in the corridor entryway and catching sight of Amy and Rory making out by the control panel. My eyebrows shot upward and I did a double-take; the Doctor stood awkwardly fixing his bowtie and moving about.

"So, where to now?" The Doctor coughed, trying to catch their attention. "Or should I just pop down to the swimming pool for a few laps? Maybe wander into PJ's room and spend some more time with her?" He added when the two did not break apart. "Yeah, I mean—I'm sure PJ's done with her shower by now, maybe she and I can start the second Hobbit movie... or find something else to do..." The Doctor trailed off, scratching the back of his hair.

I did another double-take at the Space Lord offering to go bother me so easily.

However, Rory and Amy pulled apart at that moment, spinning to face the Doctor with smiles on both their faces. I was standing in the corridor to their left meaning that unless any of them turned, they were not going to notice me

"Anywhere is good for me!" Rory finally said, looking to the Doctor from over Amy's shoulder. "I'm happy anywhere, it's up to Amy this time." He smiled, looking into his fiancé's eyes with a sickening amount of love. "It's Amy's choice," Rory ended and Amy looked back at him with a big smile and stars in her eyes.

It seemed that the situation between the two was officially fixed. I wondered what happened in Leadworth to lead to such a drastic change between the two—one would think Rory sacrificed himself for Amy or something with the way she now looked at him.

The Doctor clapped at them, and spun around the console, pressing a few buttons. It was then that Rory's words caught up to me.

Amy's choice? On where we go next?

FUCK NO!

It's my turn now!

"No—it's my turn to choose!" I hollered, leaping and bounding toward the console panel.

All three of them jumped to face me in surprise.

Amy blinked before flying over and pulling me into a tight hug. I huffed, disgruntled but awkwardly patted her back. From over the taller woman's shoulder, I could see the Doctor watching us with a proud smile, his hands on his hips like a loser.

I proceeded to hit him with the middle finger causing his lips to turn into a frown. Rory just stood next to him and waved with a small smile.

Amy then pulled away and I put my middle finger down. She had both her hands on my shoulders looking fiercely in my eyes.

"Please don't ever kill yourself like that in front of us again..." She pleaded. "...Ever..."

In retrospect, that really did sound bad to those who didn't know the full story.

I tilted my head and brought a hand up, patting her cheek. "I'll do my best," I nodded before slipping under her grasp. "But, Amy, while I do like you a lot; it is definitely my turn to choose because he—" I dramatically pointed to the Doctor who looked as though I'd drawn a gun on him. "—promised me that I could choose our next space and time destination...!"

The Doctor rolled on the balls of his feet, bringing a hand up and rubbing his large chin thoughtfully. How does this generation have a face that just looks so British? "Yeah, I suppose I did, although that was before you stole my—"

"—A promise is a promise, Space Lord, and I know where I'd like you to take me!" I stopped him, turning to face the man.

The Doctor scowled and motioned to my clothes. "As can clearly be seen with that outfit. Don't you think that skirt is a bit too short, love? What about a nice pair of pants? Although I quite like the shirt—Hawaii, wonderful place. You know Elvis loved it too, can't even count the number of times I've bumped into him there!"

"I could always change the skirt out for some Daisy Dukes..." I suggested, ignoring his other ramblings of Elvis Presley.

The Doctor was shut up very quickly. "Alright, fine. It's a lovely skirt—a bit short, but lovely, makes your legs look..." He trailed, swallowing nervously, ears turning pink. "...Quite good..."

"Thanks, I'll save the Daisy Dukes for next time," I winked and the Doctor went entirely red.

Rory slowly raised his hand and I turned to him with a sharp brow raised. The Doctor and Amy looked at him confused as well.

"Uhm, yes?" I called on him. "You don't need to raise your hand, I'm not your teacher..." I joked.

Rory chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'd really hope not..." His voice was tight and I noticed Amy throw him a swift glare that had me snorting. The Doctor did not seem impressed either. "Well, I was just wondering—cause I'm really confused now—is your name Cooper or PJ?"

I noticeably cringed at the question, but Amy also threw me a curious stare. Right after she gave Rory a look that said she would catch him up later. Thankfully, neither of them seemed to push the fact that I had lied to the Doctor about living in an orphanage before being kidnapped by Ravagers. Not like that was the truth either, though.

The Doctor crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the console curiously. It was obvious that he wanted to know what I was going to say too.

I smiled brightly at Rory. "PJ, keep calling me PJ, but I suppose if for some reason you ever find the need, then Cooper is fine as well..."

Rory nodded. "Cool, cool! Yep, alright—PJ!" He was so awkward and I loved it.

"Anyway!" The Doctor clapped, spinning around the console, throwing random levers up and pushing buttons. "PJ! This is your first time ever choosing a place to go with me—not my first time, obviously, but your first time ever makes it the most special! You never did tell me what your first destination choice was, so I am quite excited. Where'll it be, dearest?" He asked, finishing his seemingly random button pushing and then waltzing up to me until he was inches away.

I reached up and fixed his bowtie before stroking his cheek. He leaned into my touch, moving just a tad closer. Upon looking into his eyes, I gave him the widest grin in the world.

"How about the Whirly Dirly?"

The Doctor's face fell in an instant. And his next words came pleadingly.

"Please tell me you're joking?"