𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬
𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲
𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟔

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

Falling felt different this time.

The wound in reality spat us out, hurling us into the Below like it did the first time we did this. Except this time was worse because we hadn't run up stairs that led to nowhere; this time we waded through a creek and then shoved ourselves into a small opening behind a damn waterfall.

I twisted midair, bracing for impact just before I slammed into the ground, rolling to absorb the fall.

The air was wrong.

Thicker than last time. Heavier. If that was even possible. It pressed against my lungs. It smelled like metal and decay—like a battlefield long after the war had ended. I coughed, forcing myself up to my knees, fingers curling into the gritty, shifting ground beneath me.

I really fucking hate this place, especially when I am stuck in such a weak state. This particular point was one of the worst I'd ever seen, the few other times I had been here, it had been an empty void. But this place always appeared different depending on where and what universe you entered from.

A second later, Isaiah hit the ground nearby with a hard thud and a very creative string of curses. "Fucking hell, I hate this," He groaned, pushing himself upright and rubbing his temple.

"Yep..." I muttered, shaking off the lingering disorientation.

The place was a living thing—living death—something ancient and watching, its dark tendrils curling at the edges of my mind, whispering without words.

It was breathing.

I shoved that thought away. Focus. Prioritize. Survive.

"Alright," I said, dusting myself off. "If all goes well, Zachary, Billy, and Tiffany should run into the Doctor at Wallins Creek."

"What? How?" He asked me.

"I sent him a psychic message—hopefully it managed to rip through all of time and space and found him..." I sighed.

Isaiah shot me a doubtful look. "I have no clue what that is, but do you think it went through?"

I took a deep breath, my lips pressing together. "I hope so." I looked at him seriously. "And even if we don't make it out, at least he knows we're here. And he'll figure out a way to get us out, hopefully before this place—" I gestured vaguely to the shifting, decaying nothingness around us "—kills us."

Isaiah let out a harsh breath, shaking his head. "You've got a lot of faith in this guy,"

I smirked slightly, but there wasn't much humor behind it. "This guy is one of the smartest beings in all of existence. Trust me, if anyone can get us out of this, it's him."

Isaiah studied me, searching for any sign of doubt. He wouldn't find any.

Finally, he exhaled sharply and nodded. "Alright. I trust you."

That was all I needed and we started walking.

The Below was endless. The world stretched and curled, shifting in ways that made no sense. Sometimes, the ground felt solid beneath our feet. Other times, it felt like walking on the edge of a dream—like if we took the wrong step, we'd fall into something deeper. The walls shifted in and out of existence, stretching infinitely one moment and closing in like a ribcage the next.

We moved in silence, the only sound being our cautious footsteps and the occasional shuffle of Isaiah adjusting his grip on his knife.

We were trying not to run into one of its creatures. But the Below felt like it was pressing in. Like it was waiting.

After what felt like hours, I exhaled sharply, frustration creeping into my voice. "Alright, we're getting nowhere."

Isaiah frowned. "And what do you suggest? You got some magic way of finding the lost people?" It kind of sounded sarcastic but I realized rather fast that it was a genuine question.

I hummed, tilting my head. Time to put away Avatar Korra and unleash my inner Avatar Aang. Though, honestly, Aang is more the Doctor's style...

Taking a deep breath, I stopped walking. "Give me a second."

Isaiah crossed his arms but didn't argue.

I closed my eyes.

Focus.

The thing about being me—was that my existence wasn't supposed to work.

The Polaris Jade is chaos walking. A storm, a paradox, something that should have burned out or collapsed under its own weight. But I wasn't just the result of whatever unnatural, horrific experiment they had done to me. I was more.

Half of me was something old. Something forgotten. A power that didn't belong to any single species, that shouldn't exist at all.

It clashed inside me, all the time.

But here?

Here, in this place between existence and oblivion, I could use it.

I let my senses stretch outward.

The Below wasn't just a place—it was a living, breathing thing. It devoured. And so do I.

There were places it hadn't swallowed yet. Flickers of something else. People lost and wandering in circles, trapped in its labyrinth. I could feel them.

I opened my eyes. Tilted my head and pointed.

"That way."

Isaiah didn't question me. He didn't hesitate. He just followed. Is this what it feels like to be the Doctor? No. This is what it feels like to be Polaris Jade.

The Below twisted around us, an ever-shifting nightmare of blackened rock and roiling mist. There was no sound beyond our footsteps and the eerie thrum of something deep beneath the surface, like a heartbeat rattling the very ground. The fog thickened, clinging to our skin, curling in unnatural patterns around our legs.

But I kept leading us in the direction that I sensed pure life forms.

And then, shapes emerged.

Nine figures, stumbling through the mist, their movements sluggish and uncertain.

I halted, my pulse spiking. "People," I breathed, relief flooding my chest. "We found them."

Isaiah rushed ahead, his voice raw with urgency. "Hey! Hey!" He waved an arm, trying to get their attention. "It's Deputy Browne! Can you all hear me?"

Isaiah's last name is Browne? I raised an eyebrow at the information but didn't say anything.

One of them—a woman with tangled gray-streaked hair and wide, sunken eyes—turned sharply at the sound of his voice. Then another, a man in his mid-forties, his face gaunt with exhaustion. Slowly, they all turned, expressions flickering with something between fear and recognition.

It was like they weren't sure if we were real.

I stepped forward carefully. "We're here to get you out," I said, keeping my voice steady, reassuring—desperately working my mind to connect with theirs telepathically. Just enough to pull them out of whatever trance this place had made them a victim to. "We need to move before this place decides to—"

A sudden rustling noise cut through the fog, and I felt it before I saw it. A blur of motion. The unmistakable sound of claws against stone. Then a blur of movement launched at me.

I barely had time to react before a bundle of warm fur tackled me, the weight nearly knocking me over. My arms instinctively wrapped around it—soft, trembling, and panting heavily against my shoulder.

Nemo.

"Oh, here you are buddy," I whispered, cradling the dog in my arms. He was shaking. "You've had a rough time of it, huh?"

The dog pressed closer, his frantic heartbeat thumping against me like a drum. I could not be sure how long the monster chased the poor dog, I was only thankful the dog managed to outrun and evade it.

I closed my eyes, reaching out with my mind.

Easy, boy... I've got you. You're safe now...

The connection was instant. His thoughts weren't words—more like a chaotic storm of emotions. Fear. Hunger. The desperate need to protect. Images flashed—darkness, running, hiding, the thing that had taken his humans.

He missed Tiffany.

I focused, sending warmth and safety through the link, weaving comfort into the mess of terror. Slowly, his trembling eased. His breathing evened. His tail gave one uncertain wag before curling around my arm.

I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "You're a good boy. Such a good boy."

Nemo whined softly, licking at my cheek.

Isaiah, watching the whole thing, raised an eyebrow. "Did you just psychically comfort a dog?"

I smirked. "Wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've done." I paused. "Don't mention that to the Doctor, by the way, if you meet him..."

"You're hiding things from your boy?" Isaiah scoffed.

I winked. "Just a few—keeps it interesting..."

"I'm sure,"

Then, turning my attention back to Nemo, I sighed. "If you didn't already have an owner waiting for you, I'd be stealing you away to live on the TARDIS with us, pal." I gave him another squeeze before reluctantly setting him down. "But you've got a little girl who loves you more than anything, and she's waiting."

Nemo's ears perked at that, his tail wagging a little faster. Good.

Isaiah, meanwhile, had turned back to the group. He scanned their faces, desperation creeping into his voice. "Have any of you seen my mother?" His gaze darted between them, searching for recognition. "Linda—Linda Browne? Short, curly hair. She—she must've been taken here a while ago..."

A heavy silence settled over them.

My stomach twisted.

The gray-haired woman—the one who had first turned toward us—shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the others before hesitantly stepping forward.

"I—" She started, voice hoarse, like she hadn't spoken in weeks. "Deputy, I'm... I'm so sorry."

Wallins Creek was small, all these people were locals who knew each other. All of them are neighbors. They all knew Isaiah and his mother.

Isaiah tensed. "No."

Her eyes were full of quiet grief. "It's blurry. But a few days ago, I think... the monster came." Her fingers twitched at her sides. "It took three people..." She swallowed hard, voice cracking. "Your mother was one of them." She paused, appearing horrified as it came back to her. "We heard their screams... the sounds of bones cracking and skin peeling. Your mother, Mr. Cloverfield, and little Dawson..." She was beside herself, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth.

Oh, god.

Isaiah didn't react at first. He just stood there.

Then, slowly, his knees buckled.

I was next to him before he hit the ground.

He hunched over, hands pressed against the cold, shifting stone beneath us, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "No, no, no," he whispered, shaking his head violently. "That's not—she's not—" His voice broke. "I was supposed to bring her home. Instead, she died alone and in unimaginable pain...!"

I pressed a hand to his back, grounding him.

There was nothing I could say to make this better. No words to erase the loss, no way to undo what had already been done.

But I could be here.

"She wouldn't want you to stop," I said quietly. "She'd want you to get up. Keep moving. Keep surviving. Get out." I squeezed his shoulder. "And I need you, Isaiah. I need you with me right now. We already lost Ellery, I'm not losing you, too."

Isaiah sucked in a shaky breath, his body trembling under my touch. For a moment, he didn't move.

Then, finally, he nodded.

It was small. Barely there.

But it was enough.

I turned to the small crowd, placing Nemo down—he stood loyally between my legs. Sweat, blood, dirt, and everything else incased my body after the last nearly 24 hours.

How interesting a 24-hour period traveling with the Doctor could be.

There could be a 23-hour period where we are doing nothing but skipping from theme park to theme park and having a blast. Or—it could be a 24-hour period where I fall out of the TARDIS (due to my own stupidity) and end up running for my life and watching others die.

Then again, this was my reality whether I was with the Doctor or not.

"Everybody, follow me! We don't have much time, the more of us there are—the faster we are going to be noticed. And this place doesn't want us to leave!" I called loudly, my senses quickly snapping to the direction of the nearest reality wound. AKA, the exit. "This way!" I shouted, and all eleven of us, twelve including Nemo, were off.

They followed me in a jog, I kept at a slow pace knowing that many were injured and barely able to walk—let alone run. But if we wanted to see the light of day again then we had to get out of here quickly.

Nemo stayed between me and Isaiah, the dog exceptionally smart. It also helped that I was staying tethered to him telepathically, pushing him to follow us and not run off.

Minutes passed like seconds, all of our hearts beating frantically and our nerves on edge.

I could see it clear as day: the rip, in reality, shimmered ahead of us, distorted and shifting like a mirage. It wasn't much—barely a fracture in the Below's grasp—but it was our way out.

We just had to reach it.

I kept the pace steady, conscious of the group behind me. The nine of them, battered and exhausted, moved as fast as they could, but their steps were slow, and uneven. I could hear their ragged breathing, feel their desperation pressing against my senses.

But we were running out of time.

A rumbling growl slithered through the fog, vibrating the very air around us. My blood ran cold.

It knows we're trying to leave.

"Move!" I barked, forcing my legs to pump faster, ignoring the burning in my muscles. The mist coiled around us, shifting unnaturally as the ground trembled beneath our feet. The Below was waking up, angry, and it was sending something after us. The same thing that brought the people here in the first place.

A shape lurked in the darkness. Tall. Twisted. Grotesque.

Then it moved. The monster lunged.

A scream ripped through the group as it lashed out, claws striking like a viper. It aimed for a teenage girl running next to us—pale, shaking, no older than sixteen.

Isaiah reacted first before even I could.

"Look out!" He shoved the girl aside with all his strength.

The monster's hand caught him instead.

Isaiah was yanked off his feet, disappearing into the mist with a strangled cry.

No.

"Isaiah!" I skidded to a stop, my heart slamming into my ribs. I could still hear him, struggling, shouting—but the Below was swallowing him whole, dragging him into its depths.

I spun to the group.

"You all keep running," I ordered, pointing toward the tear in reality. It was closer now—just a few more steps and they'd be free. The could not see it but I could. "Do not stop. You're seconds away. Keep straight, and you'll burst straight through the wound."

They hesitated, eyes wide, terrified.

"I'll get Isaiah," I promised, voice steady despite the chaos. My gaze locked onto the strongest-looking man among them—broad-shouldered, face streaked with dirt and blood, but still standing firm. "You. Lead them back to town."

He nodded sharply.

I crouched down, gripping Nemo's scruff. The dog whined, eyes darting between me and the mist where Isaiah had vanished. He didn't want to leave without us.

"Nemo," I murmured, pressing my forehead to his. "Go with them. Tiffany's waiting for you."

Nemo whimpered.

I sent a pulse of reassurance, nudging him gently with my mind. It took a second, but then his body relaxed just enough, his ears twitching at the silent command.

"...Good boy," I whispered.

The man whistled a sharp sound that cut through the fog. Nemo hesitated one more moment—then spun and bolted after the group, his coat vanishing into the mist.

With that, I turned and ran.

Isaiah's yells still echoed sharply. My feet pounded against the unstable ground as I followed the sound, every muscle screaming, every instinct sharpening to a razor's edge.

I wasn't going to lose him, not like Ellery.

Not to this.

I reached behind me pulling out the rifle. Not for the first time during this whole fiasco did I wish I was better prepared. My backpack would be a blessing; hell, even the rocket boots. I'd be able to grab Isaiah and air-ski out of here in seconds. Even a bomb would be great.

But no—I have a rifle from Earth in the 1980s... and motherfucking telekinesis, bitch!

I ran faster at the thought, cocking the rifle as I went.

Ahead, through the shifting fog, I caught sight of the monster. A massive, twisted thing of decay and shadow, limbs too long, body shifting like something that refused to have a solid form. Isaiah dangled in its grip, clawed fingers digging into his torso.

I aimed.

BOOM.

The rifle kicked against my shoulder. A shot rang out, cracking through the unnatural silence. The bullet struck the monster's side—it barely reacted.

I fired again. BOOM.

This time, the thing flinched. A deep, rattling screech tore from its throat.

That's right, asshole. Feel that?

I fired again, emptying the rifle into the beast. Each impact made it stagger, but it wasn't enough. The Below was built on suffering—bullets wouldn't end something that thrived on it.

I needed something more.

Something hotter.

My fingers curled around the rifle, my mind racing. With that, I was quick to strap the rifle to my back once more.

Come on, come on—fire, fire, I need Starfire!

A memory surfaced, a happy memory of one of my favorite pastimes ever. Television.

Cue my favorite series; Avatar.

Firebenders. The way they moved, the fluidity of their strikes, the sheer power in every motion.

Maybe... my abilities, even without the full embodiment of them are impressive. Usually, only telepathy and telekinesis, but telekinesis can be forged in other things. I am a Celestial Titan—stronger than steel.

I am bound to nothing; I am an impossible occurrence which means everything is possible.

I inhaled sharply, planting my feet.

And then—I moved.

Similar to way I had seen Zuko, Azula, or even Iroh move on screen so many times.

My arms swept in sharp, deliberate arcs. My legs grounded me as I mimicked the forms I'd seen a thousand times before only television. The movements felt natural, like muscle memory I never knew I had.

But firebender movements were based on real life: Kung Fu, the Northern Shaolin style of Kung Fu, to be exact. A form I had trained myself in long ago—I once spent a good 20 years training under a Kung Fu master in universe A-93876 from the years 625 AD to 646 AD.

This was before I'd crashed myself into this universe—before I sought to end the Space Jam.

Heat sparked at my fingertips.

A flicker—then a roar.

Flames erupted from my hands, bright and alive.

Oh—OH—FUCK YES! Screw the Avatar, I'm about to unleash my inner Ozai!

I was slightly shocked that this was working with how powerless I was at the moment, but even without the full force of THE POLARIS JADE, I was still immensely strong. Also, I had rage and desperation fueling my movements.

Fueling my fire. Fire I didn't even know I had until now, until I just fucking tried it.

I gritted my teeth, directing the fire toward the monster with a forward thrust of my arms. The inferno struck its body, engulfing it instantly.

It screamed.

The sound was ear-shattering, splitting through the Below. The creature thrashed, flames licking hungrily at its form. Its grip on Isaiah loosened—just enough.

I reached out, throwing all my focus into my mind.

Come here, you fucking—

Isaiah ripped free of the monster's grasp, yanked toward me by an invisible force. He hit the ground hard, coughing, gasping.

But I wasn't done.

The monster, still wreathed in flames, turned its hollowed-out eyes toward me. Its body cracked and charred, but something in its stance told me—it wasn't dying.

Not like this.

It charged.

I reached out, my telekinesis grabbing hold.

Stop.

The beast froze.

I clenched my fist, pulling at its insides, crushing everything within. Bones—organs—everything. The monster convulsed, its body cracking apart. I could feel it unraveling beneath my grip, feel it breaking.

And yet—

It's not enough.

It was dying. But not dead.

It will come back. And it will come back hungry.

This thing can't die, not in the normal universal sense. It was made from death and decay, killing it would only bring it back. And potentially stronger.

My stomach twisted. My heart pounded in my chest. Think, PJ, THINK—what kills something that is already death itself?

The answer slammed into me.

Creation and destruction. Life and death.

Most things in the Below are the opposite as they are in reality.

Life. The opposite of death—and therefore the thing that would kill this monster.

I closed my eyes, reaching deep—deeper than fire, deeper than rage, deeper than fear. Into aureum. The raw force of existence itself, the golden thread that bound all things together. The thing that bound me to myself and powered my entire being.

I felt it, thrumming beneath my skin.

The warmth of a sunbeam on a cold morning. The laughter of a child. The first breath of a newborn. The first breath of a TimeLord after regeneration. The endless, pulsing rhythm of the universe.

Life.

My eyes snapped open.

Energy surged through me, wild and ever-changing. A stream of pinkish-orange light crackled at my fingertips, sparking and shifting with electric intensity. It was alive, just as life itself was.

I raised my hands.

The aureum exploded outward.

It struck the monster head-on, the energy crackling through its form like a storm of creation itself. The beast screamed—not in pain, not in rage, but in something deeper. Something final. Because death is never meant to be alive—not truly, at least.

Its body disintegrated.

Shredded into light. Unmade by the very force it could never understand.

The Below trembled. The fog lurched.

Then, silence.

I stood there, hands still crackling with raw energy, chest heaving. The aureum flickered, then faded, sinking back into the depths of my being.

It was over.

A groan from the ground snapped me back.

Isaiah.

I turned and ran toward him, dropping to my knees beside him. He was breathing hard, eyes wide with shock. He stared at me, then at the space where the monster had been.

"...Holy shit," He croaked.

I let out a breathless, shaky laugh. "Yeah. Holy shit."

He swallowed, wincing as he tried to sit up. I helped him, slipping an arm under his shoulder.

Then, softly, I said, "We need to go. Now."

Isaiah nodded, still dazed. "Yeah. Yeah, let's... let's get the hell out of here." He gritted before suddenly slumping against me. "Actually... maybe I should... rest..." He breathed deeply, eyes closing.

There was a lot of blood coming from his chest—the monster punctured a large gaping injury right through him.

"No," I said firmly, pulling him after me with as much force as I dared, but he cried out in pain causing me to stop. "Come on, Isaiah..." I breathed, turning back to him as I lowered him to the ground. "Don't do this to me—we're so close... and the monster is gone... it was the only thing in here that knew how to get out... the town is safe now, you can go home and it'll be peaceful again..." I told him.

It was true, while that thing had certainly not been the only monster from the Below, it was one of the only things that knew how to get in and out so seamlessly. While other monsters had left, they typically did not know how to get back to the Below, and while they were dangerous they were not quite as vicious.

It's why there were so many ghost stories about the Appalachians. Yeah, there were other monsters out there—but this had been the most dangerous thing. The other monsters in the forest of the Appalachians were not consistently taking people back to the Below and killing them.

I did not think it wise to close these wounds off, it was one of the natural universal reality wounds. To stitch too many of them closed—while one might think it to be good—it was actually not.

Just as anything in life—everybody has their wounds. Wounds that heal in their own time. Eventually, these wounds would heal themselves and others would open up around the universe, as was the natural order of things.

"Yeah?" Isaiah asked, eyes coming in and out of focus. "That's good—cause I was gon' ask the Sheriff for some PTO..." He chuckled, hand coming to clutch his mid-section. "...Was gonna travel a bit... maybe go to New York... California... Chicago?" He laughed through his pain. "Heard the hot dogs out there are great..."

My eyes watered against my will—he was bleeding heavily from his mid-section. He had minutes left...

Maybe I could pull the aureum out of me again—use it to fix and patch him up. Lord knows I used to do it all the time, but I should not be playing with human life like this. And with my current power levels, especially given I'd just used them to kill that thing, I wasn't strong enough to heal Isaiah.

Not properly... at least.

If I tried then there was a good chance I would subjugate him to a life of feeling depressed and wrong. A feeling of being half-dead.

I can't... to do that to him would just be cruel.

"They do have pretty good hot dogs in Chicago..." I laughed through the tears, holding him close to me. "It'll be okay, it's all going to be okay,"

This was not the first time a person, a friend, had died in my arms. And it would not be last. But that never meant that it was easy or any less heartbreaking.

I held him close, cradling him against my chest like that would somehow keep him tethered to life a little longer. His breath was slowing, but he wasn't panicked—if anything, he was calm. Accepting. And that hurt more than anything.

I had failed... I failed him.

Isaiah tilted his head slightly, lips curling up in a faint smirk. "Y'know... I think I'm ready," he murmured. "Ready to be with my parents again. Maybe... maybe I'll find a hot angel girlfriend up there, too."

I let out a watery chuckle, brushing my hand over his forehead. "Oh, the hottest," I assured him. "With big fluffy white wings..."

He smiled, his body settling heavier against mine. "That British spaceman-alien guy is real lucky to have you, Cooper." His voice was soft, nearly lost to the mist curling around us.

I sucked in a sharp breath and held him tighter, pressing my forehead against his. "Isaiah..." I whispered, voice breaking. He didn't know how much those words meant to me—how much I wished I could believe them.

He swallowed, his breathing becoming more labored. "What's it gonna be like?" He asked.

I closed my eyes. "It'll be warm," I promised, my voice a quiet tremor. "There won't be any suffering. Just peace. Love in its finest form. It'll be like the best sleep you've ever had... continuous rest. You'll be one with everything, with the universe itself..."

Isaiah gave a slow, tired nod. "That... that sounds nice," He breathed, his heart pounding erratically against my arm. His fingers twitched, curling slightly against my sleeve. Then, quieter, hesitant, "I know you probably ain't religious, but I need to admit—as a boy who grew up here, I've always had love for the Lord... think you might be able to say a few words...? If you know any? It's okay if not..."

A sharp sob threatened to escape my throat, but I swallowed it down. I nodded, brushing a stray curl from his forehead with shaking fingers.

I took a deep breath, my voice trembling as I began. I might be real old, I might be from a different Earth, I might not even be fully human, but I am still a half-human who was born in Kentucky.

"Almighty, eternal God, heavenly Father, comfort and strengthen this your servant and save them through your goodness. Deliver them from all anguish and distress, release them in your grace, and take them to yourself in your kingdom; through Jesus Christ your dear Son, our only Lord Savior, and Redeemer. Amen."

The last word barely left my lips before his final breath did.

His body slumped against me, his weight settling. But he was at peace.

For a second, I just sat there, frozen, my mind refusing to accept it. I thought he would open his eyes and grin all cheeky. But Isaiah didn't move.

Then the dam inside me cracked and burst.

A strangled sob tore from my throat as I clutched him closer, burying my face into his hair, shoulders shaking violently. "I'm so sorry," I choked out, again and again, the words spilling out like a prayer of my own. "I'm so, so sorry... I—" My voice broke completely, and I just wept, rocking him, my tears soaking into his curls.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't do anything except clutch him against me and sob like a broken thing. My entire body trembled, wracked with an unbearable weight that pressed against my chest like the universe itself had collapsed in on me.

His body was still warm. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

It was my fault—I should have tried harder. Been better. Been faster. Been a better POLARIS JADE.

What kind of superhero am I? A failure of one, that's what.

"Isaiah—" His name tore out of me in a shattered whisper, my fingers digging into his jacket, desperate for something, anything, to hold onto. But there was nothing left. No steady heartbeat. No soft breath. No teasing smirk or lazy Southern drawl. Just silence.

I pressed my forehead against his, eyes squeezed shut as if I could will him back through sheer force alone.

I knew better. I am not strong enough to bring him back—not correctly, at least.

Through the tears, through the shaking of my hands, I forced myself to speak, my voice a trembling whisper carried through the quiet abyss.

"Leave these shores in peace,
find love in what lies ahead.
May your journey be safe,
your struggles now at rest.
Might, one day, we find that
our paths cross again."

The words wavered, broken and raw, but they carried the weight of ages. Of every lost soul that had ever walked the endless roads of the multiverse. Of every name whispered into the void with the hope that they would find peace in whatever lay beyond.

I had spoken them too many times to count.

Tears spilled freely down my face as I ran a trembling hand over Isaiah's curls one last time, my thumb brushing over his cheek, still warm, still soft, but so, so still.

"I hope you find her," I whispered. "That hot angel girlfriend." A tear-stained chuckle escaped me, bitter and broken. "She'd better treat you right." I swallowed down another sob, my throat raw. "And if we ever see each other again, wherever you are..." My voice wavered. "Make sure I know it's you, okay? Don't let me pass you by."

I didn't know what hurt more—the fact that I had to leave him here or the fact that I knew I had to. Because if I didn't, if I took his body out there, it could curse reality. He had died here—in this ghastly place—bringing him back full of death... I don't even want to think about how it would poison the Appalachian even further.

With that, I placed a chaste kiss on Isaiah's forehead before bringing my hand up and closing his glassy eyes, staring into nothing.

"Rest well," I sniffled, gently placing his body off my lap and to the ground.

I severely hoped this place would not bring his corpse back. Not like what it did to Lucas.

I stood, casting one last glance at Isaiah—wishing more than anything that I could drag his body back; at least then the town would have something to bury. Then he could truly rest in peace. But it was too dangerous.

For all I know, his body might come back to life out there and kickstart the walking dead.

Bowing my head, I turned on my heels and started at a jog to where I sensed another wound to be. The exit.

I forced my legs to move, one step after another, but every step away from Isaiah felt like I was doing the worst thing ever. My body ached, my lungs burned, and my mind was screaming at me to turn back, to do something—anything—to fix this. But there was nothing left to fix. He was gone, and I had to keep going.

I am not strong enough to fix it—not right now.

The Below pulsed around me, unnatural and waiting, like it knew it had taken something from me and wanted to see how much more I would break before I left. But I didn't give it the satisfaction. Gritting my teeth, I pushed forward, scanning for the way out.

There.

The same staircase we had used to come down into this nightmare, stretching up into nothing. It looked even more ominous now, like it was challenging me to take that last climb back into the world of the living. My entire body protested as I stepped toward it, but I didn't hesitate.

The staircase looked hellish, giving away every indication not to touch it—not to go near it. Trying to dissuade me away from the exit.

I ignored it.

I gripped the railings—if they could even be called that—and started up. My legs shook beneath me, exhaustion weighing me down like chains. Halfway up, I felt my vision blur, my balance wavering. My foot missed a step.

And then I was falling.

I tumbled downward, the world spinning as I hit step after step, sharp edges bruising and cutting into me. My back slammed against one particularly harsh stair, knocking the wind from my lungs, and then—I was out.

The world was too bright. My body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and I lay there, panting, my brain struggling to catch up. The cold, hard dirt beneath me was real. The damp, musty air of the Below was gone, replaced by crisp wind. I sucked in a deep breath—then another, then another.

I was out.

I pushed myself up on shaking arms, groaning at the fiery protests from my muscles. Every part of me hurt. My ribs were screaming, and I was pretty sure my right shoulder had taken more damage than I wanted to acknowledge. But I was alive.

Slowly, I turned around, half-expecting to see the cursed staircase still standing there. Waiting. Watching.

It was gone.

I blinked. Stared harder. Nothing. Just empty ground, as if it had never existed. As if the Below had swallowed it whole the moment I was free, slamming the door shut behind me.

A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

I didn't waste any more time. The town was a few miles away, but I did my best in reaching out telepathically. Finding where the citizens of Wallins Creek are.

Wrapping my arms around myself, trying to ignore the way my body protested every step, I started running.

My thoughts were loud—screaming, and soon enough, the trees started thinning. And I could hear voices, so many loud voices. Confusion, relief, and prayer,s mostly. When I broke free of the treeline, I was greeted by an alleyway.

An alleyway that led from the town and into the forest. It made sense, this entire town was surrounded by the Appalachian forests. And for the first time, I turned around and took in the pure sight of the looming mountains among the immense thicket of trees.

It was for miles—hundreds and hundreds, no doubt. The mountains were huge—whimsical and strange, seeming to echo all things odd about the world. The wind twirled around me, blasting past me and ruffling my hair playfully as it went.

Turning away from the sight, I slowly wandered to the other edge of the alley and came out to what appeared to be a town square.

My eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it; however. Various people were standing around, seemingly confused and dazed as they looked at each other. Many people were holding guns—not surprisingly, considering this is Kentucky, but surprising in the sense that people were just flaunting them around.

As I took in the sight further, my mouth formed an 'O' shape as I realized that there were gun marks and bullet holes on many things—the whole town square was trashed. Cars flipped—small fires erupting everywhere, crazy-ass signs talking about the wildest conspiracies.

Although—I bit my lip in humor as I caught sight of one sign that read 'THAT BITCH IS BEHIND THE ILLUMANATI!'

It was talking about me. It was a drunken mistake—I swear—it just got out of hand, and next thing I know, I am the cause of the biggest conspiracy of the 21st century worldwide.

The monster going back and forth from the Below seemed to have an effect on the town—a powerful and negative pull, no doubt. Now, with it being gone, everything was balancing back out.

I wandered for a moment before my hearing picked up on a familiar voice. Many familiar voices actually.

Tiffany, Zachary, Amy, Rory—the survivors. All nine of them. They made it back—many of them being patched up by surrounding cops and other helping civilians. Most had food and water in their shaky hands.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

The town square was still stretched before me in a chaotic sprawl—flipped cars, shattered glass, bullet-riddled walls, and the eerie glow of smoldering fires licking at the edges of the wreckage. It looked like the aftermath of a warzone. In a way, it was. But none of it held my attention. None of it mattered.

Because standing in the middle of it all was him.

The Doctor.

He stood rigid, his whole body thrumming with an unspent urgency, his eyes scanning the town like he was searching.

He had followed my psychic message, tracked it down—tracked me down.

I sucked in a breath, my hands shaking at my sides.

He had come after me.

A part of me had known he would. I had sent that message, banking on the fact that if anyone could find me through the goddamn Below, it would be him.

But knowing it and seeing it were two different things.

This wasn't the Doctor cracking a joke in the middle of danger or rattling off some impossibly smart observation while flailing his arms. He was worried—ehis ye twitching as the survivors told them about how I turned around to go after Isaiah.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how my body ached.

A sharp gust of wind cut through the alley behind me, rustling my hair, pulling me forward—and that's when I fully noticed the others.

Sheriff Zachary stood beside Tiffany, his usual stern expression marred by something heavier. Tiffany looked exhausted, her arms wrapped tightly around a heavily pregnant woman—Cindy, no doubt. The resemblance was obvious, though the weight of the past hours had settled on both their faces like a stormcloud that refused to break.

Nemo, his shaggy form pressed against Tiffany's legs, suddenly lifted his head. His ears perked, nose twitching before he barked.

The Doctor flinched.

Amy's hand was already on his shoulder, her fingers curling gently, grounding him in a way I wasn't sure he even realized. He looked at her, just briefly, just long enough for his eyes to flicker with something unreadable. Then his gaze snapped back to the town square—still searching.

The weight of it was suffocating.

I had no idea how long he had been going through time and space since I fell out of the TARDIS, almost a full 24 hours for me, but for him, who knows. I didn't know how many hours he had spent not knowing where I was or if I was alive, and it always killed him not to know things. How many seconds had stretched into eternities as he stood here, hearts pounding, mind racing, trying to piece together what had happened.

But I did know one thing. All I had to do was look at him to tell.

The Doctor had been ready to go after me.

And judging by the way he stood now, his shoulders coiled tight like a spring barely holding together, he was still preparing to find an entrance into the Below.

I wanted to run to him. I wanted to move, to step forward, to do something—but my feet felt rooted to the ground. I was still watching him, watching as his mind whirled, as the panic started to twist into something else—something dangerous.

It was the look of someone who had convinced themselves they could handle a loss, that they could brush past it, keep moving forward—but deep down, some part of them was already breaking under the weight.

The Doctor was not good at loss. He hated goodbyes.

He wore it in the way he rocked back on his heels, in the way his fingers curled into his palm like he was trying to keep himself together.

He was beginning to think he had lost me. About ready to spring into action—rip through the forest and find the nearest wound in reality that led to the Below, no doubt.

If it had not been clear enough before—these wounds in reality are much different than the crack in time and space that had been following the Doctor and Amy Pond. Surprisingly, the wounds were less dangerous, in a way.

Unlike the crack of time and space, they were more natural—it did not threaten to do anything nor did it pose to unravel reality. It was simple scratches on reality, naturally occurring phenomenons that healed themselves over time.

I paused for another moment, looking around the destruction.

My shoulders slumped—failure echoing my soul.

I was a failure at everything.

I only ever succeeded in the Space Jam, which is nothing to be proud of.

There was more barking and I looked back to where everyone was standing, Nemo was running toward me. And Tiffany after him. Amy was whispering something—reassurances—to the Doctor. Zachary was still talking to them. Cindy was speaking with a few survivors, the only reason she did not notice her young daughter running off after her dog.

Bending down, I opened my arms and happily accepted the dog that leaped at me and wiggled against me in excitement—placing slobbery kisses and licks all over my face. I telepathically nudged his mind—he was so so happy. So happy to be in his hometown and out of that damned place.

He had been a shelter dog escaped I realized.

"Yes, yes," I cooed hugging and petting the dog. "I know—I love you too," I mumbled into his fur, continuing to pet him and say sweet nothings.

Seriously, I would take this dog with me if Tiffany was not already in love with him. Besides he would have a much better life under the care of Tiffany and the Sheriff.

"Nemo...!" Tiffany called running toward us; however, a moment later her pout turned into such a look of happiness I was shocked her face was not glowing. "Cooper, you're back—you did it! I knew you would—you always save everyone! You saved, Nemo!" She squealed, making it to us and launching herself in my arms.

Thankfully, I was prepared and shifted Nemo so he was on the other side of me and grabbed Tiffany with my right side. She crashed down into me, both of us kneeling on the ground.

"Hello short child friend," I greeted kindly.

Tiffany was holding onto me tightly, continuing to ramble happily.

"And you're the best! Way better than Wonder Woman—did you punch that monster in the face?" She asked excitedly. "Give him a piece of our minds?!" She asked as I rested my head against hers, allowing a smile to fall across my face as I rocked the little girl and the dog in my arms.

It was more than a miracle that the Below somehow had not destroyed Tiffany's spirit. And I was not about to destroy it further.

"Oh, yeah..." I nodded, pulling away just slightly so I could make eye contact with her. "Why—I said—monster, you done messed with the wrong town... and I punched him so hard that he ran off crying to his momma! Don't worry—you'll never see him again, he's too scared to show his ugly mug around these parts anymore..." I trailed off and Tiffany excitedly giggled.

"See, I knew it!" She said happily.

"I see you met the Doctor," I waggled my brows at her.

"Yeah—your alien boyfriend is almost as cool as you—I like the bow around his neck, too bad it isn't pink though..." She told me.

"Boyfriend?" I quirked a brow through a laugh. "Says who?"

"Says me!" Tiffany said proudly. "He's totally in love with you! And you love him too—even though his neck-bow ain't pink!"

"Ah," I nodded in understanding. "Of course, how could I be so silly? And I will make sure he gets a pink neck bow to add to his rotation—I'm sure he'll love the idea!"

"He definitely will, Polaris Jade!" Tiffany smiled.

I smiled back, albeit a bit nervously. "Oh—don't call me that name—you're my friend, and my friends call me Cooper...!" I bopped her on the nose as the Doctor often did to me.

I did feel bad to lie to the little girl, but I really can't have her referring to me by my proper title as THE POLARIS JADE, especially not in front of the Doctor. That would raise way too many questions for him.

Tiffany's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, of course, we're besties!" She was bouncing in my grasp. "You know I have a Barbie doll that looks just like you! And I am sure I can ask Mommy for a Ken doll that looks kinda like the Doctor for my birthday! Then I can play Polaris and Doctor in Space! Saving people, going on adventures, dancing through time!" She was once again rambling.

I watched her with raised brows of amusement.

Polaris and the Doctor in Space: saving people, going on adventures, and dancing through time. Now, that sounded like quite an epic concept.

"How about..." I hummed. "Cooper and Alien-Boy in Space?" I asked with a large grin.

"Even better!" Tiffany cheered only to start laughing once Nemo started licking her wildly.

I huffed laughter as the dog laid a few licks on me as well, doing his best to showcase his affection.

Tiffany was still giggling as Nemo licked her face, but a sharp sound cut through the moment—a strangled, gasping breath, followed by the panicked wail of a mother realizing her child was missing.

Oh yeah, no one had noticed Tiffany left.

I turned my head just in time to see Cindy clutching at Zachary's arm, her face pale, eyes wild with terror.

"She was right here!" Cindy's voice cracked, her breath coming fast and shallow. "I was talking to them, and she was right here—"

She was hyperventilating, her whole body starting to shake.

"I swear, she was right—I can't have lost her!" Cindy was panicking, and the others were trying to calm her.

My stomach clenched at the look on her face. Pure, unfiltered fear. It was the kind of fear that sank into a person's bones, the kind that didn't fade even when everything was supposed to be okay. Cindy wasn't just scared—she was reliving it. The Below had taken her daughter once, and for one awful moment, she believed it had happened again.

I sighed and nudged Tiffany lightly. "C'mon, let's go before you give your poor mother a heart attack."

Tiffany blinked up at me, still riding the high of her excitement. But then she caught sight of Cindy's panic, and her face fell.

"Oh..." She whispered.

I took her hand and stood, guiding her toward the group. Nemo trotted faithfully beside us, his tail wagging but his ears flicking back as he picked up on the tension in the air. He seemed not to care though—his dog senses worked in letting him know the monsters was gone.

We had barely made it halfway before Cindy spotted us.

"Tiffany!"

She ran, pushing past Zachary and the others, stumbling in her desperation to reach her child. Zachary, Amy, Rory, and the Doctor all turned in unison—eyes snapping to me, to Tiffany.

And then the Doctor ran.

My heart stuttered as I barely had a second to process the blur of tweed and limbs before he was here—his arms wrapped around me, tight and desperate, pulling me flush against him.

My breath hitched.

Stardust and tea...

He buried his face into my hair, and I felt his whole body shake. His grip was almost crushing, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

I stood frozen for half a second, my mind sluggish, overwhelmed by the feeling of him—the warmth, the trembling, the way his hearts pounded like he had been running for far too long.

And then I broke.

My arms came up around him, locking tight, clutching at him as though he was the only solid thing left in the world.

I felt him try to pull back after a moment—just enough to look at me, to see me—but I didn't let go. I couldn't let go.

Something inside me was fraying, coming undone at the seams. I wasn't crying—I didn't think I even could—but my body shook against his, my fingers fisting into his coat like if I let go, I'd fall apart completely.

The Doctor stilled.

As I clung to him, as my breaths came short and uneven against his shoulder, as I began to tremble against my will, it seemed that he understood.

His arms tightened around me, his hands pressing firm against my back as though trying to hold me together. "Hey, hey—" he murmured, his voice softer now, threading with something so gentle, so careful. "I've got you, dearest. I've got you."

I shook my head against him, my breaths hitching. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he heard me. "It's my fault—I was being stupid. It's all my fault. I failed—it's all my fault. I am so sorry..."

The Doctor sucked in a sharp breath.

He pulled back—not far, just enough to cup my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.

His expression was unreadable for a moment, a storm of emotions flickering behind his eyes. Then, slowly, firmly, he shook his head.

"No," He said, voice low but steady. "None of this is your fault, PJ."

I opened my mouth, but he didn't let me argue.

"The TARDIS—she just does that thing, remember, yeah? Takes us where we need to go. She does it all the time—" He exhaled sharply. "And she did it with you. This wasn't your mistake. This wasn't your fault."

I shook my head again, a broken noise slipping from my throat. "No, they needed you, not me. You would've been better. You could have—"

"I couldn't have." His voice was firm, cutting through my spiraling thoughts like a blade. "But you did." His forehead dropped against mine, his breath mingling with mine, grounding me."You did, love."

I squeezed my eyes shut. His hands were still on my face, thumbs brushing against my cheeks, reassuring and real.

I want to kiss him... I need to kiss him... I need to feel something real.

"Look around," He whispered. "You saved all of them."

I hesitated, and finally, I let my eyes open.

"Not all of them..." I said back.

"Enough of them..." He murmured against. "Armed with what? Because I see that you don't have your rocket boots on, no Vortex Manipulator, and no blaster. So what did you have? Determination and a shotgun?"

I saw Cindy on her knees, sobbing as she held Tiffany against her chest, running her hands through her daughter's hair like she was afraid she'd disappear if she let go.

I saw Zachary standing just behind them, his hands over his mouth, blinking hard like he was forcing himself not to cry.

I saw the survivors—the people I had dragged out of the Below—clutching each other, breathing, living.

I saw Amy and Rory, their faces soft as they looked at me—not like I had failed, but like I had done something impossible.

And I saw the Doctor, still holding me, still looking at me like I was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

Lies... I am going to break this man's fucking soul.

"The TARDIS was right," The Doctor murmured. "You needed to be here."

I shuddered. My grip on him loosened just slightly, my head pressing into the crook of his neck as I let myself breathe. The Doctor's arms wrapped around me again, his lips brushing against my temple.

"I've got you, love. I promise."

Girl—stop being dramatic. The only part about this that sucks is that Isaiah and Ellery died, but you are a multiversal traveler. More than that, I was raised amid the damn multiverse—right in the fucking Space Jam!

I am fine! I am great, in fact!

This is nothing—I am not pathetic! Get yourself together!

With that, I pulled back so abruptly that even the Doctor was surprised. He blinked in confusion, hands grasping at the air that previously held me. Clearing my throat I gave him a wide grin—something he responded with only a quirked brow.

"Thanks for that," I shook it off, turning to Amy who had approached and pulled me into her grasp.

"Oh my God—we were so worried about you! Especially once Zachary started talking about that place—the place between spaces... what was it called again?"

Rory awkwardly waved at me from his place behind Amy. I lazily saluted back.

"The Below!" I said cheerily. "Yeah, dreadful place, no one ever wants to end up there, but we're out now and the monster is dead, so it should all be good... things can rarely find their way out of that place. Let alone another monster that is quite as vicious as the last!" I told her while pulling away, and Amy only continued to look at me worriedly.

"Are you sure you're good, PJ?" She asked.

"Right as rain!"

"Which begs the question..." The Doctor suddenly stepped forward, his voice low and he regarded me. "How did you manage to find your way out? Twice, at that?" He questioned. "I mean I was 1000% certain that I was going to need to climb in after you. Trust me, I am more than grateful, and I truly would love not to question this, but dear? That shouldn't be possible—I don't even know that I would be able to find my way out without my sonic..."

Zachary gave me a long look from behind the Doctor—I quickly looked away from him. Thankfully, the man kept his mouth shut. Whether it was from him being grateful or him just genuinely not being someone to insert himself into other people's business, I could not be sure. But what I did know is that I am immensely glad of it and I was not about to look a gifted horse in mouth.

My response to the Doctor was a pathetic shrug; one that had him ruffling his metaphorical feathers. Amy and Rory were looking between us.

"Wait, so people can't find their way out?" Amy asked the Doctor.

"No, Pond," The Doctor clicked, not taking his eyes off of me. "Not typically..."

"Yeah, but she's a superhero!" Tiffany suddenly said loudly, popping up between both myself and the Doctor. "Cooper can do anything!"

I blinked in surprise as did the Doctor, both of us tilting our heads down to the little blonde girl who was standing in the middle of us. She came up to maybe just above the Doctor's waist and her head was just grazing past the higher half of my abdomen.

Her sky-blue eyes twinkled happily as she continuously looked between us.

I snapped my fingers at Tiffany grinning. "Exactly! What she said!" I smiled and ruffled her hair causing her to giggle.

The Doctor did not respond, only placing his hands on his hips and looking at me in disbelief. If he had not been suspicious about me hiding something before, then he definitely was now. I could practically see the gears in his mind churning—taking into account everything he knew about me and beginning to add things up and finding that there were facts that did not make sense.

I had no valid excuse to give him, not right now, at least.

There was nothing that I could say that would make the least bit of sense—nothing that aligned with the stories I had told him thus far.

He now knew that I was not wearing my rocket boots, so how did I survive the fall from his TARDIS? How did I locate the way out of the Below? And how in the fuck did I kill something that is technically an unkillable creature?

Play dumb, bitch.

The saying: I don't know, is about to turn into my best friend. Sometimes the simpler the answer, the better. Something too intricate and too specific could make it worse.

"Cooper," My attention snapped away from the Doctor at the call of my name, landing on Sheriff Zachary. "I am so happy to see you okay..." He breathed. "But I need to ask... Isaiah... is he...?" He trailed off, seeming to know the answer but not wanting to voice it out loud.

The Doctor was looking at me—still gently, but there was an undertone of something in his gaze. Questions. The TimeLord was staring at me like he was looking at the hardest puzzle ever—a puzzle with all mismatched pieces.

Something in me flickered.

Isaiah.

I should never have let him come back with me. I should have known better. Should have sent him back with Zachary and promised him that I would find his mother for him.

But I did not do that, and now here we are.

The small smile on my face faded, and my eyes glazed over in immense thought. It felt like I was being pulled under sharp and rocky waves with no chance of resurfacing. I looked toward the ground, eyes blank—I could not meet any of their gazes out of shame.

I had failed.

"Uhm..." I cleared my throat, desperately shaking my head to not let emotion seep into my tone.

I was hyper-aware of the little girl—the one who called me a superhero and thanked me for saving her dog—watching and listening to me as well. I had no clue how close Isaiah was to Zachary's family, and I really didn't want to break Tiffany's heart. But Isaiah is dead, and that's the truth. And there is no lying or twisting this truth.

"Uhm," I started again, breathing and picking up as I did not dare look at anyone. "No... I'm—uhm—I am so, so sorry... the monster, it—uhm—it did more damage than I could fix before..." My breathing was beginning to feel uneven and I was ashamed to say I felt light-headed as I spoke. "...I couldn't take the body out with me... he was—uhm—he was infected with the Below, it would've been like Lucas... I—I—I couldn't save him... yeah... I am so sorry... I wish it had been different, but the damage and there was so much blood..." My voice, I hadn't realized it, but my voice was getting tighter with each word. The air seemed too thin, it wasn't right. And suddenly, I was staring into the lifeless eyes of Isaiah—holding onto him as he continued to bleed on the cold floor. "—I am sorry... I'm so sorry..." The words were tumbling out of my mouth faster now, and I was angry and embarrassed at this display of emotion.

I am stronger than this. I had lost so much more than this. This is nothing—this is just another small story in the grand tale.

Embarrassing... in front of all these people too? What would Tiffany think? The 'superhero' she thinks I am. Better than Wonder Woman? Yet, here I stand as a pathetic and crying failure.

I need the rest of my soul—I want the full POLARIS JADE back. If I had been whole none of this would've happened, I would have actually been able to save Isaiah... and Ellery.

And if I was the full POLARIS JADE, I would not be crying like this either. As if I am 100% a full and sad little human woman.

I did not realize how choppy my breathing had become as I clenched my fists at my side. The sadness, the despair, and all that fear are festering and doing what they typically do... turning into white-hot anger.

I could feel the tremble starting at my fingers, rising, crawling its way up my arms like a parasite. My breathing was uneven, ragged, sharp gasps that felt like they weren't bringing in enough air, yet too much at the same time.

I had survived. Again. I always fucking do. But Isaiah hadn't. Ellery hadn't. Surprise. Surprise.

And I hated that. I hated this. Hated that I was standing here, in front of all these people, looking and feeling like a wreck.

I was Polaris Jade, for fuck's sake. I had seen and survived worse. Had I not been raised in the goddamn Space Jam? Had I not been experimented on and torn apart and put back together again? Had I not been through the Below before? Had I not already lost so much more?

So why was this affecting me?

My jaw clenched so tightly I was sure my teeth might crack under the pressure. I refused to let my gaze lift from the ground, my eyes drilling holes into the dirt beneath my boots, as though staring hard enough might keep me from coming apart.

I could hear them—murmured voices. Amy, Rory, Zachary, even Tiffany. But none of it reached me. It was all static, background noise against the crashing storm inside my head.

Then, him.

His voice was not background noise. It never was.

"PJ," The Doctor said softly. "Cooper... my Starre..."

His words, while endearing brought back another onslaught of memories. Particularly, the Destoryer's voice—taunting and deep.

"You're my little Starfire..." He had mockingly cooed.

I didn't move.

The Doctor exhaled through his nose, and I could hear the shift of fabric as he stepped closer.

"Love, I need you to look at me," He murmured.

No.

If I looked at him, it would make this real. If I looked at him, he would see me. And I didn't want to be seen right now. Not like this. This is pathetic.

I'm fine.

There was a pause. Then—warm hands, his hands—reaching out, steady but gentle, curling around my arms.

With a sudden, insistent motion, the Doctor dipped his head, pressing his forehead against mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath—startled, almost reeling, but he didn't let me pull away. He held me there, his skin warm, his breath steady against my lips, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"Ah," He said, so quiet, so fond. "There they are. There are those pretty eyes."

My stomach twisted violently, and I felt something in me crack.

The anger, the grief, the shame—they were all tangled together, a storm of emotions too big, too much, and I couldn't hold them all at once. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the warmth of his presence, trying to hold onto my anger, my walls—I was good at holding onto anger.

It's a great motivator.

But his hands squeezed my arms, grounding.

"I know, love," He murmured. "I know."

No, he didn't. He couldn't possibly.

But there was something in the back of my mind whispering right back. Yes, he could. More than anyone else—he could understand. He and I; so very similar... but also so very different.

"You did everything you could," He continued, voice steady. "More than anyone else could have done. You went into an impossible place, against an impossible monster, and you won."

I flinched.

Won? HA! What kind of victory was this?

"And I still lost," I whispered, voice barely audible. "You can let me go—I'm fine..."

His fingers flexed against my arms, his hold tightening—not to restrain, but to anchor.

"You don't look fine..." He said disbelieving before continuing firmly. "You saved who you could, you brought back eleven survivors. You..." He hesitated, just briefly, before continuing, "You killed that thing. And believe me, I still have questions about that..."

I shook my head, trembling.

"No one else could've done that," His voice gentled, impossibly soft. "You're a hero, PJ. You are certainly my hero."

And that—that was what broke me.

Undeserving.

I choked out a sharp, broken sound, yanking back from him, hands coming up to shove at his chest.

"No," I rasped, shaking my head violently, voice cracking under the weight of my grief. "No, please, don't say that. Don't—don't call me that."

I was hero to some. To many.

But to others I was extinction. And to myself, I certainly hated being called a hero—and to hear come from someone like the Doctor made me angry. So very angry.

The Doctor startled, his arms dropping slightly, eyes going wide.

I turned my face away, gritting my teeth, hating the tears stinging my eyes, hating that my body betrayed me like this.

I was not a hero. So don't fucking call me one.

The Doctor floundered for a moment, hands hovering like he didn't know what to do, before he tried again, his voice softer, hesitant.

"Alright. Alright, love—how about this?" He licked his lips, thinking fast. "Not to sound egotistical, but... am I yours?"

My breath hitched.

He wasn't asking it because he necessarily thought it was true. But he knew that I needed someone—anything—to lean on.

I didn't hesitate. Anything to get his previous statement out of my head. I couldn't hear that right now. I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut, forehead tilting back against his.

He sighed deeply, relief and understanding in one long breath, his hand sliding up to the back of my head, cradling me.

"Okay," He murmured. "Alright then... are you good?"

I exhaled shakily, pressing my face against his collar, too exhausted to do anything but melt into his hold.

"...Yeah," I breathed.

The Doctor hummed, his fingers absently threading through my hair, soothing.

"Then that's that," He said simply.

It was like coming down from a horrible high over the next few moments when I could finally breathe normally again—to my relief, I noticed that everyone had stepped away.

Amy and Rory were many feet away speaking with Tiffany and petting Nemo—seemingly distracting the little girl. Zachary and Cindy were not too far, lost in their own conversation as Zachary was breaking apart against Cindy. No doubt blaming himself for what happened to the two deputies he took with him.

I broke away from the Doctor slowly, eyes tired.

"I'm okay," I reassured him, seeing him reach back for me.

To my surprise, my words did not stop him, the man still grabbed my hand and held it in his own. His thumb traced over my knuckles.

"Well, I'm not," He suddenly said to my surprise. "I thought there was a chance that I lost you today,"

"You know it isn't possible," I waved him off. "My future is your past—there is no point in my travels with you during your eleventh hour that I can die, Doctor,"

"That's not exactly true," He argued harshly. "It might be hard, might be rare, but there is definitely a possibility of us breaking the timeline and you changing my past..."

"Possible but incredibly hard, we'll be fine," I breathed out tired, rubbing his fingers back absentmindedly.

He sighed but did not argue, only stepping closer to me and leaning his head slightly down to look at me. His shoulders sagged.

"How did you fall and not die?" He asked, voice quiet as though scared his question would set me off.

"The TARDIS wasn't as far from the ground as it looked. Close enough to the top of the trees that I was able to hit the trees within seconds and slide down the branches... it still hurt though..." I said right back, not even bothering to make eye contact with him nor did my voice sound particularly believable.

"You're lying," He immediately accused a scowl in his tone.

The only response he got was a shrug and tight locked lips.

He wants an explanation. Then I will give him one.

"Nah," I hummed. "No lies here..."

"How did you find a way out of that place?"

"You said it yourself, there is always a way out—I'm usually good at finding those when I'm in situations I don't want to be in..." I joked, smiling when he grabbed my shoulders harshly and forced me to face him.

His eyes searched mine desperately, begging for a truth that I would never give. Searching for answers he could not find them. Things that were buried deep—instead, all he would find was insanity.

"Dearest," He breathed a dangerous chuckle.

"Honey..." I breathed right back, mockingly as I rocked on my heels.

He stayed holding me.

"How did you possibly kill a monster from the Below?" He asked seriously, staring at me dead in my eyes—daring me to lie to his face. Again.

Dare accepted.

"With kindness..." I answered simply, giggling at the end and bringing our intertwined hands up to my lips.

I left a long kiss on his hand, keeping eye contact with him. His face remained stony—worry for me still apparent in it—but stony nevertheless. Although, I swear I felt both his hearts thrum just the slightest bit faster as I kissed his hand.

"PJ..." The Doctor finally whispered, eyes defeated. "You've beat this old man down—I have no fight against you... no willpower... please..."

I let his plea hang in the air between us for a moment, tasting the weight of it. His eyes were wide, light, pleading, but I could feel the fight behind them. The fight that he tried to say he did not have.

The Doctor was not the kind of man who gave up—no, he was stubborn and relentless. And I had become a puzzle he couldn't solve.

A slow, lazy smile curled onto my lips. My fingers, still laced with his, gave the lightest squeeze. My other hand came up, tracing the line of his jaw with a featherlight touch. He flinched—not away from me, but like he wasn't sure whether to lean into it or stop me.

"Doctor, Doctor, burning bright," I whispered, my voice raspy and garnishing the slightest bit of a Southern twang—mocking in its reverence and imitating all the tones I had been around for the last 24 hours. "In the void of endless night."

His delicate brows furrowed. Confusion, curiosity.

I continued, my words dripping with amusement, but each syllable carried the weight of something old, something true.

"Two steps forward, three steps back. A tale that bends, breaks, a circular crack. Lost and found and lost again. Truths untold for the greater good. A name unspoken, yet one you know. The starfire hides in a coming storm. A game unwritten, but famous to play. But the hand that breaks it will run away. Seek the end where it began. The answer lies in a funny old bag."

His breath hitched.

I saw it—the moment the words latched onto his mind like little hooks, dragging his thoughts in every possible direction at once. His grip on me tightened.

"What does that mean?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"An old rhyme I wrote..." I grinned wider, dropping my hands from him and patting his cheeks twice, playful and light. "Now, I want to pet Nemo," I said simply before stepping back and turning on my heel toward Nemo, who was still happily soaking up attention from Amy, Rory, and Tiffany.

I heard nothing from the Doctor for a second. Two seconds. Three.

Then, ever so softly, the quiet sounds of his boots as he moved to follow.

I could feel him behind me, hovering at my heels, his mind racing so fast I was surprised he hadn't combusted on the spot.

Good luck, Space Lord.