𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

The corridor that I chose to wander winded in a separate direction from the one I had initially explored.

The corridors of the TARDIS felt alive in a way that walls usually did not. It was her telepathy that seemed to nudge me forward, wrapping around my being with comfort. The subtle hum beneath my feet guided me as I wandered farther from the console room, my fingers brushing the cool, curved walls. Shadows danced along the rounded surfaces, broken by occasional bursts of light from glowing panels.

The Doctor told me to wait.

The thought made me snort. Like that was going to happen. Unlike Amy—and no offense girl—but I don't wait.

Especially knowing that the Doctor probably had some epic rant lined up about morality and restraint, how he would shame and scold me. But he'd left me sitting there alone, a ticking time bomb of nerves and anticipation. Waiting wasn't my style.

My boots scuffed against the floor as I turned another corner, the dim lighting making the space feel even more cavernous. Door after door passed me, each one a mystery I itched to uncover. A few were locked—probably for good reason—but that didn't stop my curiosity from flaring each time I passed one.

There were a few that were not locked, more rooms of randomness. One of them even held an entire forest within, I did not dare go inside for fear of becoming lost. It was truly amazing though, in all of my years and travels I had never encountered a place quite as impressive as the TARDIS.

The knowledge of it being its own pocket dimension in this universe still did not cease to amaze me.

Eventually, I found yet another that caught my attention.

A massive wooden door, its surface carved with Gallifreyan script that seemed to ripple if I looked at it from the wrong angle. The wood was dark, rich, and unnervingly sturdy—nothing like the sleek metal and coral of the rest of the ship. My chest tightened as I approached it, almost like the door itself exuded some invisible pressure. The markings seemed to glow faintly, and I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob.

It didn't budge. Of course, it didn't.

Even when I put in a bit more strength than I should have—too much strength for a normal human. The door successfully protected whatever was on the other. My shoulders slumped and I found myself tracing over the markings with gentle fingers.

Everything in me really wanted to see what lurked on the other side of this door. My subconscious screamed at me to figure it out.

Slowly, begrudgingly, I stepped back, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Something about that door shrieked important. The kind of importance that came with secrets I wasn't meant to know—at least not yet.

I would find it out one way or another. And sooner or later I would find a way to get into that room. No other room on the TARDIS held my curiosity captive as this one did.

"Fine, keep your secrets," I muttered under my breath, giving it one last glance before turning away. The corridor stretched endlessly, and I trudged on, shaking off the strange weight that door had left in my chest.

A little farther down, another door caught my eye. This one was different—a swirl of gold and deep red, like molten metal frozen mid-flow. It was oddly warm, and the sight of it sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

The colors reminded me of the strange energy burning within me, the aureum and tenebris I barely understood. Immediately memories surged to the forefront of my mind.

Screams that had once ripped through my throat—blood, so much blood. Fire and ash. Creation and destruction. Birth... and death.

I blinked, a large intake of breath, and with a shake of my head, the unwanted thoughts were far away. It was something that I was good at: not thinking of things that brought pain.

For a moment, I felt like the door was watching me, daring me to turn back.

My lips curled into a sneer: challenge accepted.

The knob was incredibly warm as I twisted it with far more strength than was needed.

To my surprise, unlike the other few doors, it swung inward with ease, revealing a room that stopped me in my tracks.

I could not be sure how I knew, but I did. The second I made eye contact with it all such a feeling came over me, screamed straight in my face, and I just knew.

This room... it was... mine.

God fuck—it was mine!

The room wasn't extravagant, but it definitely wasn't simple either. A bizarre blend of cozy and futuristic, the kind of space that felt alive and lived-in. A sleek, curved desk sat against one wall, its surface cluttered with quirky gadgets and half-finished projects. There was a collection of vials glowing faintly with alien hues, their labels scrawled in messy handwriting that I recognized as my own.

Nebulite Serum, Plasmatica Resin, Erythralium Vapor, Silaris Extract, Xytherium Gas, Luminexis Dust... those were just a few of the vials that were haphazardly sitting in a small chemical kit.

I smiled so big at the sight that I thought my face might just crack. Messing with chemicals, and creating different things was a hobby that I found concerning pleasure in doing.

Photos were pinned to a corkboard above the desk, and my breath caught as I stepped closer to study them.

One showed me standing beside a man with wild brown hair, a pinstriped suit, and sneakers; both of us were grinning like we'd just pulled off the heist of the century. Another had me laughing alongside a red-haired woman whose vibrant smile was matched only by the sparkle in her eyes. A third featured a sneak snapshot taken of the wild brown-haired man knocked out on the TARDIS panel, something about the photo made my chest ache with fondness.

Eh, disgusting.

My eyes drifted back to the man in the pinstriped suit. He was handsome and tall, around as tall as the Doctor.

The Doctor...

There was no doubt in my mind that this man was the Doctor. His previous incarnation.

I was staring at pictures that I had not taken yet: pictures of my future. Even by my standards, it was an insane concept to stare at standstill photos of the future.

Photos were meant to serve as snapshots of the past: memories.

What I was looking at is in no way the past nor was it a memory. Not yet, at least.

I bit my lip staring straight into the brown eyes of the Doctor from the photo. It was almost like he was staring right back at me.

So many pictures of both of us were pinned to this board. It was weird because I am not really a picture person—I can't imagine having taken so many photos and yet the proof was right in front of me.

Proof that came in the form of silly selfies, photos taken when neither of us was looking, and everything in between.

In the corner, near the top, one of the many portraits caught my attention. Me and the Doctor were standing chest-to-chest, staring at each other harshly. And yet, in both our gazes—even mine—was such a mess of emotions that it had me swallowing nervously.

It was obvious neither of us knew we were being photographed.

Forcing myself to look away, I allowed my gaze to befall on a few other pictures. I looked mostly the same in them unsurprisingly. I don't age. I stopped aging when I was somewhere between 24 to 28.

Same figure, same blue eyes, same face. Same hair—kinda—it was shorter and darker in some of the photos. Not a huge change considering I had rocked some pretty outlandish colors and hairstyles before.

At the moment, my hair was long—a natural light brown. Rather boring but I was not inspired enough to change it.

My attention shifted.

On the back of the desk chair hung a leather jacket, perfectly broken in and unmistakably my size. I picked it up with my right hand, holding it high and examining it.

Cool... super cool.

Looks like I found my newest jacket. Thank you, future me.

The bed was tucked against the far wall, its navy blue blankets haphazardly strewn as if someone had just rolled out of it. And by the foot of was... is that?

A package of Red Bull!

Yes! Thank you future me!

A model of some kind of starship floated in a display case, slowly spinning as if caught in an eternal zero-gravity dance. Next to it, a pile of books—some worn and human, others sleek and alien—teetered precariously.

I turned in a slow circle, my fingers brushing over the back of the desk chair, the edge of the bookshelf, the faint ridges of the photos pinned to the corkboard. Everything about the room was so perfect, from the mix of chaos and curiosity to the slight mess that it was. It was overwhelming.

And yet... it was comforting.

I dropped into a red sitting chair in the corner, its cushions soft against my back. My hands rested on the armrests, and for a moment, I just sat there, staring at the room like it might vanish if I blinked.

Exhaustion slowly was clawing its way through me.

By all means, I should have more energy than the average person, and I did. I could stay awake for days if I wanted. However, as pure energy consistently burned throughout me—even if it was locked away at this moment in time—it tended to tire me out.

I chose to sleep as often as I could for that reason. That and because... sleep was easy... sleep was peaceful.

The room seemed to encourage such exhaustion, the bed was calling to me.

How was this possible? How could a room I'd never seen feel more like home than anywhere else I'd ever been?

A lump rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard, refusing to let it take hold. I wasn't the sentimental type—never had been. But something about this space broke through the walls I'd spent years building.

And that terrified me.

It terrified me because, as much as I did not want to acknowledge it—this place was on the Doctor's ship and therefore belonged to the Doctor. This was his doing.

Stupid fucking Space Lord—or TimeLord—whatever he is.

I leaned back, closing my eyes and letting out a shaky breath. I didn't know what the Doctor would say when he found out I'd been poking around and ignored him. I did not know what he would say when he realized that I was lounging in a room holding my future, a room that was both mine and not.

Not yet, technically.

But for now, I let myself sink into the moment, the faint hum of the TARDIS wrapping around me like a blanket. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt... safe.

There was a bathroom door left ajar, and finally the feeling of my still-damp tanktop and sand rubbing in places it shouldn't was too much.

The snow boots filled with sand were considerably uncomfortable as well.

Sighing, I stood up.

At least let me get a shower in before the Doctor potentially kicks me out.

The closet was just as impressive as the room—not as impressive as the costume room I had found, but remarkable enough. Clothing of different planets and different time periods greeted.

There was a particular red dress that seemed straight out of the Victorian era which caught my eye. Even I had to admit it was rather beautiful, I wondered when I would wear it.

As much as I wanted to dig through every article of clothing in this vast closet just to get a sliver of what my future might hold—I settled for a large shirt and comfy-looking shorts. Sleeping in actual pajamas in an actual bed in a place that is not either falling apart, is not in the middle of a war zone, or a prison of sorts is all I could ever ask for.

And the TARDIS, well she was one of the safest places in this universe. Just a few years ago I never would have imagined myself as being a passenger on board this craft... look at me now.

Wandering toward the bathroom, the light turned on the second I stepped inside.

The bathroom was larger than it had any right to be, but this is the TARDIS. The walls were a smooth mix of black marble shot through with streaks of glowing gold—like someone had frozen a galaxy mid-explosion and plastered it all over the place.

The floor was made of glossy tiles, each one a unique shade of deep blue that looked like they belonged to the deepest parts of the ocean. As I walked, they shifted slightly in color, like waves ebbing and flowing underfoot.

On the right, a vanity stretched the length of the wall. The mirror above it wasn't just a mirror—it displayed what I could only assume were alien constellations, softly glowing and shifting every few seconds. The countertop was cluttered in the most familiar way: a jar of bobby pins, a half-empty container of moisturizer, and a toothbrush that looked far too advanced for anything from Earth. There was even a tray of mismatched rings and bracelets.

Is that...? Yep, it definitely is.

A prison bracelet was sitting on the tray.

The shower dominated the left side of the room, a glass cubicle with no discernible nozzle. Instead, soft rain seemed to materialize mid-air when I waved my hand over the panel beside it.

No time was wasted in stripping my clothing off, nose scrunching as sand fell everywhere.

The water was a perfect temperature right away—like the TARDIS already knew what I wanted.

Inside the shower, the controls allowed for something far beyond average. I could set it to "replicate the gentle rains of the Venusian cloud forests" or "simulate the rejuvenating mineral baths of Clytum V." I settled for a "Hydro-Vapor Therapy Cycle" because why not?

The water cascaded over me like liquid silk, washing away every bit of grime from the day. A soft, warm mist filled the space, carrying a faint scent of citrus and something floral I couldn't quite place. The tension in my shoulders melted away almost instantly. It was one of those rare, blissful moments where everything felt okay.

By the time I finished, I felt like a completely new person. My hair was damp but clean, wrapped in a fluffy white towel that had been conveniently waiting for me on a heated rack. Another towel was draped around me as I walked back into the bedroom in my pajamas.

And then I froze.

The Doctor was sitting on my bed.

Not just sitting. Lounging, actually, his back against the headboard like he owned the place. He was tossing some odd little contraption into the air, catching it effortlessly as it spun and clicked.

"Nice shower?" He asked, not even looking at me as he flipped the thing into the air again.

I crossed my arms, heart racing but determined not to let it show. "You couldn't wait until I was done?"

He grinned, finally meeting my eyes. "What can I say? I'm impatient. Like you, considering that you were exploring when I specifically told you to stay in the console room. Thought I'd repay the favor."

I narrowed my eyes, but my lips betrayed me with the smallest twitch of a smirk. "I had sand in places there should never be sand, Doctor..."

"I'm sure! Me as well seeing as I had to chase you around chemically-induced ocean water!" He said cheerily, catching the device one last time before setting it down on my bedside table. "We need to talk, dear."

He said that and I frowned seeing as he was sitting on the bed. As though sensing my thoughts, he sat up straighter with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't worry, I changed..." He spoke matter-of-factually.

It was then I noticed his clothing was different. Still the same style, but different. The bowtie was a new color: blue. And his trousers were a lighter wash than the previous ones. His hair also seemed fluffier—shiny.

How he had already taken a shower and fully changed? Existence may never know.

Then again, I suppose I had been examining my room for a long while before I chose to hop in the shower.

"Good!" I cheered right back, spinning and falling dramatically in the comfy red sitting chair. I already loved this chair. "Now, what did you want to tell me?"

"AH—yes!" He stood up from the bed with a flare. "You're going to need to stop pulling moves like that... and I am being serious..." He said as he stalked closer to my form.

I made it a point to not look at him, staring off to the side with a stubborn glare.

"You're not the boss of me," I huffed.

"While you're aboard my TARDIS, I am." He hummed in a way that was so delightful it was scary. The Doctor then leaned down, his hands holding either side of the chair I sat on, his body bent over until we were nearly nose-to-nose. "Look at me, PJ." He demanded.

I ignored him, continuing to stare off the side.

"I said look at me." A hand came up, gripped my chin, and forced me to stare into his eyes.

Sharp green eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets and wonders of this universe.

"I am the boss while you are in my care. While you are my companion, my intern, my employee... whatever you want to call yourself, but when you travel with me, when you follow me—you listen to me. And we..." I could not stop the tremble that shot through me as he moved forward an inch and rested his head against my own. "...We do not use violence unless necessary. Unless I give you the go-ahead. For my safety, for Amy's safety, for everyone's safety. And most importantly, for your own bloody safety." He breathed against me, eyes still locked onto my own even with how close we were. "When we travel together... when you are in my care that makes me responsible for you. Despite what many think, I do my best to make sure my companions are well taken care of and safe..."

His words were spoken like a promise. But there was so much more to them—emotions that I could not understand. Intense emotions passed through his eyes as he regarded me.

I nudged my head back against him.

"You can't control me like you do the others... and you certainly don't frighten me, not like you frighten the rest of the universe. I heard your enemies call you the Oncoming Storm... well, Doctor, I thrive in storms... I dance in them..."

To my surprise, he chuckled, eyes intense as he looked. "Oh, trust me, I know, dearest. I would hope that my companion isn't scared of me. I don't intend to control you, but I do expect to receive respect from you as I will do my part in respecting you."

Why did he need to sound so... British? The tone he was using did not sit right, it was not a proper lecture or warning sort-of tone. It was too... flirtatious... playful and serious at the same time.

He was enjoying this.

I purposely ignored the suspicious tingle that the realization sent spiraling through me.

"Now, I love a bad girl—always so fun. We did have a lot of great times together..." He smiled, and his eyes seemed to disappear in the past for just a moment before darting to the board with so many pictures pinned on it. The majority of the pictures are of us. Well, of future me and his past reincarnation. "But we still need to establish trust and respect. I recognize that you are not the version of yourself I knew in the past, but you're still the same person, just a tad younger..."

Bitch.

My mouth moved on its own accord.

"And you're a lot older, I'm sure..." It came as pure and utter snark, a vicious smirk found its way onto my mouth right after.

The Doctor leaned his head down, breaking eye contact and shaking his head. "Really testing my patience here, dearest..." He said with a breathless laugh.

It was almost weird to see the man who had been so easy to rile up earlier—so easily flustered—loom over me as he was. With so much poise.

But I suspect it is much easier when it's only the two of us and the Doctor is essentially dealing with a stubborn and borderline dangerous woman.

"What do you want me to say?" I sighed, suddenly moving under his arms and standing from the chair. "That's how I roll, Doctor. Violence needs to be used sometimes..."

He was quick to step up to me, staring down at me hard but patiently.

"Yes, sometimes, and I am at fault for choosing violence myself on many occasions." He stressed before his eyes went dark. "I've done horrible downright atrocious things—I am not innocent. But there is almost always another way, and that is the path that I do my best to choose when available. And that is the path that you will follow while with me. I am not saying don't defend yourself if the time comes—I'm not even asking you to give up your weapon! But I am telling you that we are never the ones to shoot first, and we are never the ones to incite brutality without warrant." There was something else in his tone, more than conviction—a level of pleading. Like he was pleading for me to understand.

But that is not how the game is played. And he would never understand such a thing.

Unreasonable anger flared up within me. Anger at being told off, at being lectured like a child.

"Then maybe this isn't the place for me!" I hissed, my mouth was moving on its own before I turned my back to him in an upset fit and enraged sneer painted over my face.

It was silent for a long few moments, a deep sullen silence. I could sense the Doctor slowly coming closer, stopping when he was just behind me.

He finally spoke, his voice quiet and holding every ounce of patience and sympathy. Although under it all, he sounded sad.

It was so unlike the version of himself that he normally wore. The bubbly character I had got to know over the last few hours.

"Maybe it's not..." He started, tone low. "But I think it is. And I would like for you to stay, but I am absolutely not holding you hostage. You are free to leave as you please." He paused, voice still calm and sincere. "Is that what you want? To leave?"

Did I want to leave?

I mean, it would not be smart to leave. He provided everything, even a protection that he had not realized. Not to mention, my Vortex Manipulator was still broken.

However, despite knowing that it was not wise to leave, there was something else holding me here.

I had fun today. A lot of fun.

I may have been throwing a temper tantrum at the moment, but I genuinely liked the Doctor. And I really liked Amy Pond too. I loved the TARDIS, she was safe. And I love this room... it was just so peaceful here.

The realization was startling as it hit me. Hard.

I don't want to leave, and not just out of necessity. I actually wanted to stay here—I truly wanted to travel time and space with the Doctor. I was curious about his ways... I was curious about him.

It did not help that there was an entire board of portraits dedicated to adventures and more with this man. With other companions as well.

"No," I whispered quietly, shoulders slumping in defeat and face falling. "I don't..." My voice cracked. "It's strange, I've never met someone who actually practices what they preach..."

The Doctor walked around me, standing in front of me and placing himself centimeters away. He tilted my head to look at him—and in his eyes was, again, so many emotions. So many unspoken things that he dared not say out loud.

He licked his lips, cupping my face gently and staring at me with all the compassion and care in the world.

"Then stay..." His voice was almost pleading. "Stay until you somehow find your way into my past... and then when you're finished there... you can return and our timelines will flow correctly. But for now, stay."

I slowly nodded my head, but stubbornness claws its way back. "I'll stay, I guess... but I'm making it clear now... if it comes down to it I won't hesitate to fight..."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you..." The Doctor nodded.

The Doctor's intense gaze softened, and he stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing like a heartfelt discussion, dear! Now off to sleep with you, I know how humans need their rest. Big day tomorrow. Winston Churchill for sure this time!"

He spun on his heel and began pacing toward the door, hands clapping together.

"Are you sure about that?" I deadpanned, crossing my arms.

He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "Ninety-five percent certainty. Maybe ninety-three-ish."

I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips as I watched him reach the door. "Very compelling."

"And yet," He said, spinning around to flash me an impish grin, "I've convinced you to stay!"

"Debatable," I muttered, and he laughed—a sound so genuine and carefree it caught me off guard.

Just as he reached for the doorknob, I blurted out, "Wait!"

The Doctor stopped mid-step, one foot hovering comically in the air, and turned to face me, eyebrows raised. "Hmm? What is it, dear?"

Why did he sound almost nervous? His eyes darted behind me to my bed in a way that was anything but subtle.

Did he...? Does he think I am going to ask him to fuck me or something?

While the idea was admittedly tempting, to a degree, I figured it best not to start a potential mess of things.

Let alone with the Doctor who could blush as red as a tomato—he'd probably pass out if such a thing came from my mouth.

Not to mention I don't typically engage in hook-ups... Santa Claus, that John Smith guy was a rare occurrence, cross my heart!

I spoke quickly to clear up any potential misconceptions. "That Gallifreyan door... the locked one I found earlier. What's behind it?"

For some reason, it still floated around my thoughts.

He relaxed but his eyes gleamed with mischief, a grin spreading across his face as if I'd just handed him the greatest secret in the universe. "Oh, that old thing? Why, that's my room!"

Before I could press him for more, he gave a little two-fingered salute and slipped out the door, leaving me standing there.

But as the quiet hum of the TARDIS settled around me, I found myself smiling. Turning toward the bed, I wasted no time in leaping on it and crashing on the spot.