𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬
𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞
𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

The Doctor released my hand as soon as we were locked safely in the lab with everyone else. He was then quick to start barking orders.

"Elliot! You and your dad keep your eyes on that screen! Let me know if we get company!" He said, pointing out the screen playing the live video feed of what was happening outside the lab. "Dearest, stand there, look pretty, and don't annihilate anything!" I rolled my eyes at his dramatic words.

"So don't touch anything—got it!" I threw him a sarcastic thumbs up, to which he responded with a shit-eating grin.

"Good!" He exclaimed before pointing to Amy. "Pond—" The Doctor threw her a stopwatch. "Keep reminding me how much time I don't have!"

"Time until what?" I quickly asked.

"Ambrose convinced Tony to have the drill start burrowing down in...?" The Doctor trailed off, looking to Amy who was quick to answer upon looking at the watch.

"12 minutes till drill impact!" She exclaimed.

And I threw a deadpan stare at Ambrose and Tony.

"So that's what you guys were actually doing? I knew you weren't putting your fucking wallet in your dad's locker..." I scoffed, and Ambrose looked to the floor in shame.

I mean, duh Polaris! Who cares to put their wallet away when they're going to meet an ancient race!

Tony only groaned in response, falling into a chair and huffing weakly. He was doing really bad.

"Doctor! Check out Tony, he's been infected!" I called, forcing the madness to stay put‚ but it lurked at the edges of my mind teasingly.

The Doctor barely nodded, racing up to Tony and scanning him with his screwdriver. "Tony Mack, sweaty forehead, dilated pupils, what're you hiding?" He asked, and Tony opened his button up shirt, revealing his chest, which was now covered in coursing green veins.

"Tony," Nasreen gasped, rubbing his shoulders. "What happened?"

The Doctor licked at his lips, staring at the readings his Sonic had found.

"He's either going to transform or die!" I called. "It's Alaya's sting! He's been getting weaker all day!" I told the Doctor who was watching me, nodding his head and looking back to the readings.

"She said there was no cure for it," Tony grunted in pain. "I'm going to die, aren't I?" He asked the Doctor.

"Not dying—mutating, at this point... if it had gone the death route, you would've died about..." he paused, glancing at something else on his sonic. "Five minutes ago!"

My attention was ripped away from the conversation when Rory and Amy approached me from the side.

The Doctor had started speaking with Tony, Nasreen, and Eldane. He said a decontamination program might work in ridding Tony of the infection, which was true—a good plan. Ambrose was watching, biting her nails in fear for her father.

"Are you good?" Rory was the first to ask, placing a strong hand on my shoulder and gazing at me with worry.

Amy was right behind him, looking to me with equal amounts of concern. "Yeah, PJ—" I cut Amy off with a delighted little wave.

"Oh yeah, I am great!" I cheered happily, looking at Amy. "Amy—I should be asking if you're okay! I'm glad to see that you're alive... you gave us a scare earlier..." I waggled my brows at her, referring to when she was nearly executed by Restac.

Both Rory and Amy shared a confused look, no doubt at the oddly cheerful tone I was adorning despite the situation.

"Glad to see you too?" Amy echoed back in a stupor, blinking confusedly as I pulled her into a warm hug directly afterward.

It was not like I was opposed to hugs, but I also was not a person who hugged someone out of nowhere. I am not nearly as touchy-feely as Eleven.

After releasing her, our attention was taken by Mo, who had yelled about the soldiers surrounding the place, their weapons pointed at the doors. It was clearly visible on the camera feed.

I did not miss the narrowed gaze the Doctor suddenly threw me. In response, I stuck my tongue out and pulled the tip of my nose up at him. The deadpanned blank stare of disbelief I received from him was more than worth it.

Amy was also staring at me incredulously, along with Rory.

"Doctor!" Mo called, catching his attention.

With one last suspicious glance, the Doctor was pacing the entire room—his hands moving frantically.

"The question is—how do we stop the drill given that we can't get up there to manually shut it off in time? Plus, how do we get out of here if we're surrounded?" He looked around before flying to Nasreen and speaking with her. "Nasreen, how do you feel about an energy pulse channeled up through the tunnels to the base of the drill?" The Doctor asked, looking deeply into her eyes.

"To blow up my life's work?" She ponder, brows drawn.

"Yes," He nodded, voice almost remorseful for her. "Sorry, no nice way of putting it." He continued to look at her fiercely, the woman holding his full attention.

"Right well..." She trailed off with a long sigh. "You're going to have to do it before the drill hits the city in..." She looked to Amy who checked the stopwatch just as the Doctor clapped his hands happily.

"11 minutes 40 seconds!" She exclaimed, looking to the Doctor with a shake of her head.

"Yes!" The Doctor smiled at all of us with his golden retriever smile as he stood at the main control panel for the lab. "Squeaky bum time!" He proceeded to say, and my face scrunched in appall.

"If you say that again, I will take my chances with the Silurian out there." I shook my head while pointing to the doors.

The Doctor snapped his fingers at me, not bothering to look up from the control panel. "Oi! Quiet over in the peanut gallery!"

Nasreen then spoke up. "Wait, the explosion will cave in all the surrounding tunnels, so we need to be up and out of the surface by then..." She said, breathing deeply.

"What about Restac's troops—how're we meant to get past them?" Rory added, eyes wide.

At that moment, Eldane stepped forward from the back. "I can help with that," He said simply. "Toxic fumigation, an emergency failsafe meant to protect my species from infection. A warning signal to occupy cryo-chambers. After that, city-wide fumigation by toxic gas. Then the city shuts down..." He explained, and the Doctor looked down with a deep breath, turning away and biting at his thumb.

"You could end up killing your own people..." Amy spoke softly.

"You will end up killing your own people," I added, as there was no way all of the warriors would get to their cryo chamber in time.

The insanity was slowly fading, slipping back into the darkest parts of my mind.

"Only those foolish enough to follow Restac—and she has already killed one of our own. A dear friend to me, Malohkeh a gentle soul..." Eldane explained while looking to the ground sadly.

"Eldane, are you sure about this?" The Doctor asked, looking at the Silurian man.

"My priority is my race's survival. The Earth isn't ready for us to return yet." Eldane explained, the last part coming out bitterly, but he knew it was the truth.

Six billion humans vs. one Silurian colony. Even with their advanced technology, they would never win against the entirety of humanity.

"No," The Doctor agrees, voice full of disappointment.

"Ten minutes, Doctor!" Amy exclaims nervously.

The Doctor was quiet for a moment. Thoughtful. His eyes, normally full of energy and mischief, held something older, something deeper.

He turned back to Eldane, stepping forward with a quiet reverence, like he was standing at the crossroads of something important.

"But maybe it should be," he murmured. His voice, softer than usual, carried weight. He turned slightly, addressing everyone in the room, making sure we felt the weight of his words.

"So, here's a deal. Everybody listening?" The Doctor's gaze flickered around the lab before landing back on Eldane, steady and unwavering. "Eldane, you activate the shut down. I'll amend the system, set your alarm for a thousand years' time. A thousand years to sort the planet out. To be ready. Pass it on. As legend, or prophecy, or religion, but somehow make it known—this planet is to be shared."

The words settled into the space around us, heavier than the air itself.

Elliot, standing close to his dad, stared at the Doctor with big, innocent eyes—the kind only a child could have when looking up at a hero.

"Yeah, I get you," he said with a small nod.

The Doctor's face lit up. He snapped his fingers at Elliot proudly, beaming.

"Nine minutes, seven seconds..." Amy's voice cut through the moment, pulling us all back into reality.

The Doctor spun on his heel, energy flooding back into his limbs as he practically leapt to the control panel.

"Yes! Fluid controls, my favourite." He sang as his hands moved quickly, deftly, flipping switches and adjusting dials. "Energy pulse—timed, primed, and set!" He glanced up at Eldane, who was already working at the other side of the panel, inputting commands of his own.

The screens flickered with streams of data as the fumigation sequence began its pre-launching protocols.

Rory, standing near Amy, cast a nervous glance toward the doors. "There's not much time for us to get from here to the surface, Doctor."

The Doctor didn't even look up. "Ah-ha! Super-squeaky bum time!" He declared with far too much enthusiasm.

I groaned, rubbing a hand down my face. "Ugh! Why'd you have to say it again?"

The Doctor shot me a beaming grin. "Because you hate it!" His eyes sparkled with adrenaline, his whole body practically thrumming with it.

Then, he turned to the group, hands clapping together as he shouted, "Get ready to run for your lives. Now!"

Eldane hesitated for only a moment before his voice rumbled out. "But the decontamination program on your friend hasn't started yet."

The Doctor shared a look of concern with all of us—everyone turning to look at Tony.

Tony stood a little straighter from where he was in the decontamination tube, barely blinking. "Well, go. All of you, go." He told us, and I did a double-take of surprise.

Ambrose immediately shook her head, eyes already glistening with tears. "No, we're not leaving you here, Dad!" She cried, her voice breaking.

Elliot stood close to her, his small frame trembling. "Granddad..." he whispered, staring at Tony.

Amy's voice then rang out loudly, "Eight minutes, ten seconds!"

Tony knelt down, wrapping his arms around Elliot and pulling him close. "Now, you look after your mum," he murmured, squeezing the boy tighter. "You mustn't blame her. She only did what she thought was right."

I huffed softly. Right.

That was one way to put it. Which I guess is kind of true—she did do what she thought was right... by killing the only leverage we had in under an hour—absolute record. My gut twisted in guilt, though. I should've done something. Should've stopped it.

Elliot was visibly struggling to keep himself together, blinking rapidly, searching for something to say—anything that could fix this. In the end, his little shoulders slumped. "I'm not going to see you again, am I?"

Tony smiled, though it didn't quite reach his tired eyes. "I'll be with you. Always." He ruffled Elliot's hair.

Ambrose was breaking. "This is my fault," she whispered, the words barely audible. "It's all my fault..."

I did feel bad that she was about to live out the rest of her life feeling like complete shit over this.

Tony reached for her, gripping her arms tightly. "No, don't be plagued by guilt. I can't go back up there—I'd be a freak show. The technology down here's my only hope..." His voice softened as he pulled her into a fierce hug. "I love you."

Ambrose hiccupped out a sob, gripping onto him. "I love you too, Dad. Thank you for everything..."

Tony pressed a kiss to the top of her head before steeling himself. "Alright. Go. Go."

Ambrose didn't move at first, so Mo took her gently by the shoulders and urged her back. "Come on," he murmured, pulling her away.

I watched all of it unfold, feeling something tighten in my chest. I couldn't even imagine what this felt like for them. The day probably started like any other. They were planning Sunday roast, a bit of telly... and now half of them were saying their final goodbyes.

The moment was shattered by the blaring voice of the computer.

"Toxic fumigation initiated. Return to cryo-chambers."

A rush of movement caught my attention—outside, the Silurian soldiers were retreating. The toxic alert was working.

Amy's eyes flicked between the monitors. "They're going, we're clear!" She called.

The Doctor spun toward the doors, already brandishing his sonic. With a flick of his wrist, the seals hissed and parted, revealing a now empty corridor.

"Dearest," he called, not looking back. "Use your goggles to find the TARDIS—lead them all back to her, I'll be just behind you all..."

I gave a sharp nod and slid my goggles down. Immediately, faint strands of Time Vortex energy became visible, twisting and pulling toward our exit.

"Let's move, people! We don't have a lot of time!" I barked, already jogging ahead.

The tunnels blurred past as we sprinted, each turn marked by the telltale pull of the Vortex energy. The seconds pounded in my ears, but finally—finally—the soft blue glow of the TARDIS came into view.

"Yes!" I panted, staggering toward the doors. "Please open for me, sexy box-lady-sentient-ship..." I muttered. "Please, please, please!"

As if responding to my plea, the TARDIS doors swung open the second I touched the handle. Per usual—some people, AKA me, are just so cool they don't need a TARDIS key to get inside.

I turned back to the others. "No questions, just get in!" I ordered. "The Doctor will answer your wonders about it later on. Sickbay's upstairs—left, then another left, and you'll hit a super big medical room! Can't miss it." I added, eyeing Ambrose's bleeding arm.

They nodded, shuffling inside just as the Doctor and Amy came skidding up behind me.

"Yes! Five minutes and counting!" The Doctor beamed. "We're ahead of schedule!"

"Where's Nasreen?" I quickly asked, noticing her absence.

"She's staying behind!" The Doctor grinned, bopping me on the nose. "She's found what she was digging for...!" He said happily, but before I could say anything, a faint glow caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.

Turning to face it, I stopped. My stomach dropped, and I found myself flush against the blue wood of the TARDIS, eyes wide. The Doctor was next to me, adorning a similar expression as he gaped at the crack.

A crack of time and space. The same one from the Byzantium. The same one that Amy had told me about from when she was a child, the one the Doctor closed for her when he first met her. The crack that had apparently been following them around since the Doctor fucking regenerated and met Amelia Pond just a few months ago. For him, at least.

The crack began splitting across the wall opposite us, a jagged tear of blinding white light.

THE POLARIS JADE became loud again, screaming at me to let her out. She doesn't like this crack. I don't like this crack. I cringed, my teeth gritting at the sound of THE POLARIS JADE banging inside my head, somehow louder than she had been this whole time.

She was trying to pull the insanity back out into the open—pushing waves of anger and fear and sadness my way. Any negative emotion that she could.

The noise in my head was unbearable. A screeching, grating, splitting sound, like metal tearing apart at the seams—except it wasn't metal. It was me.

THE POLARIS JADE was screaming. Furious. Agonized. Desperate.

Let me out, let me out, LET ME OUT.

She was banging against the inside of my skull, rattling around in my brain like she was trying to force herself free. The crack in the wall had done something. It had stirred her. It had made her angry. Especially as the entrance to her current residence was right next to me, strapped to my back.

It felt like my skull was fracturing. The sound of the crack itself was one thing, a low, eerie hum vibrating through the air. But what I was hearing—what I was feeling—was a thousand times worse. It wasn't just her anymore.

I could hear voices. Screams. Dying cries from across centuries. A cacophony of pain that clawed its way into my mind, wrapping around me like suffocating vines.

I don't want to die—!
Please, somebody help—!
Not like this, not like this—!

They were people I had known. People I had seen fall in battle. People I had saved. People I had failed to save. Their voices were ripping through me, overlapping, mixing together until I couldn't tell who was speaking anymore.

I clenched my teeth hard enough to hurt, squeezing my eyes shut. I knew what THE POLARIS JADE was trying to do. She was trying to break me. To push me. To get me to give in and merge with her completely.

But I wouldn't. I can't, bitch! Not yet.

I barely registered the Doctor's voice at first, but then there was warmth. A familiar touch. I felt his hands wrap around mine, firm but gentle.

"Dearest?" His voice was low, urgent. His thumbs rubbed over my knuckles. "Talk to me..."

I forced myself to exhale, shaking my head slightly. "My head," I muttered, the words barely escaping my clenched jaw. My hands trembled in his, but I forced myself to pull it together.

I opened my eyes and met his. In them I found concern. Deep, deep concern.

I hated that look.

I wrenched my hands free and scoffed. "Never mind me," I grumbled, pressing my fingers against my temples. "It's just a headache from whatever the hell is causing that annoying crack—deal with it, Space Lord!"

The Doctor stared at me for a moment longer, reluctant. But then his gaze snapped back to the crack, his mind already sprinting ahead.

He darted forward, crouching in front of it, his mouth moving a mile a minute.

"It's getting wider," he announced as though we couldn't see the crack actively spreading and allowing more white light to seep through.

My eyes squinted against it, the Aureum and Tenebris in me was vibrating—pushing against each other angrily. The cosmic forces that make up the universe screamed, acting as a beacon for the light of the universe that was coming through the cracks.

Jump inside.

A voice was yelling at me.

Jump inside!

The cracks of madness in my mind once again began violently leaking, and it took everything in my power to not burst forward and leap into the jagged crack with a loud WAHOO like I am in the fucking Mario bros.

I had tried such things before, jumped into others cracks between time and space. Usually I was just stuck in them for a while before I eventually found enough power within myself and broke out. Either that or the crack would eventually spit me out when it realized it couldn't eat me.

Amy inhaled sharply, her eyes locked on the jagged tear. "The crack on my bedroom wall..." she whispered, like she'd seen a ghost.

I barely heard them. The pounding in my head had reached a fever pitch. The screams hadn't stopped. They were building.

Jump inside... jump inside... jump inside!

I pressed my palms against the sides of my head, squeezing my eyes shut. My heart was racing. My breathing was too fast.

THE POLARIS JADE was laughing now.

Oh, we are a stubborn thing, aren't we? She purred, her voice layered over the screams. How long do you think you can keep me locked away?  We are one, I am you and you are me—we are not meant to stay separated. Look at it, look at the crack, look what's happening to reality! It's so much fun!

The Doctor's voice cut through the chaos. "It's rips all through the universe," he said, eyes flicking over the glowing fissure. "Rips in the pure continuum."

I couldn't hold it back anymore. The frustration, the pain, the pressure. I snapped.

"How could you let this happen?!" My voice was sharp, accusing. How could I let this happen? I looked at him, eyes blazing. "I thought you were the Guardian of Time? The Lord of it!"

The Doctor's head jerked up, he looked to me, eyes narrowing. But there was patience in his look, he was not taking my words to heart. He knew, no matter how rude and unfair they were, that I didn't mean it. He gave me more grace than I deserved. Than anyone deserved.

"Obviously I didn't let this happen!" He shot back, voice as calm as it could be. "It just happened!" He gestured wildly at the crack. "I don't control time, nor do I actually really lord over it, I just—"

I cut him off, huffing. "I know, you just prance through it and have fun adventures!" Because that was the truth, he didn't control nor watch over time all that much. He just jaunts through it and fixes it when he notices broken parts of it.

"Exactly!" He grinned, throwing his hands up. "And I fix things like this when they happen!" He said exactly what I was thinking.

Then his smile faded, replaced with a deepening frown. "But this..." He exhaled sharply. "Some sort of space-time cataclysm. An explosion, maybe. Big enough to put cracks in the universe. But what? What could cause such a thing?"

Amy swallowed hard, eyes darting to the stopwatch. "Four minutes fifty. We have to go."

The Doctor wasn't listening. He continued to stare at the crack.

He shook his head, frustration boiling just under the surface. "The Angels laughed when I didn't know. Prisoner Zero knew. Everybody knows except me."

Amy tried to grab at his arm. "Doctor, just leave it!"

I groaned, still clutching my temples. "If your friend jumped off a bridge, would you?" I sassed. "Who cares who else knows? Not to mention all the people you just listed are like your enemies! You can figure it out later!"

The Doctor barely even glanced at me before retorting, "Yes, I would jump off a bridge—and that metaphor was terrible, love. It barely even made sense!"

"Barely even made sense?" I screeched while throwing my arms up. "I'll show you—"

"Guys!" Amy snapped. "Now is definitely not the time!"

The Doctor exhaled sharply, but his expression shifted. A sudden gleam in his eyes; he has an idea.

"Where there's an explosion..." He exclaimed with a grin, reaching into his coat pocket. His fingers closed around something, and he pulled out a red handkerchief. "There's shrapnel."

Rory's eyes widened. "Doctor, you can't put your hand in there."

I blinked through the pounding in my head, through the voices still screaming. I clenched my fists, every nerve in my body screaming not to let him do this.

"Doctor, don't," I managed to grit out.

But of course, he didn't listen. Instead he only breathed out, "Why not?"

He the proceeded to stretch his hand out toward the crack in time with a big smile on his face like the lunatic he was.

"Stop it, Doctor, you're going to hurt yourself!" I cried out, attempting to step forward to grab at him, but I paused.

I had to—the temptation got worst the closer I got. The pounding in my head more painful and the screeching voices louder.

Jump! Jump! Jump!

I hissed, going backward, my back pressed against the blue of the TARDIS as I stared at the crack in fear. Fear that I actually would launch myself into it.

Jump! Jump! Jump!

"Dearest—!" The Doctor called, looking at me worriedly from over his shoulder; however, his attention was taken back to the crack. "Ooh, I've got something!" He exclaimed excitedly just before his face twisted in immense pain and he was yelling loudly.

"Get away from it, Doctor!" I cried out, forcing myself to move forward and grab his shoulders.

I leaned back—resisting the temptation and the hollering voices telling me to jump inside. Darting away from the tendrils of light that cooed me closer, begging me to bathe in its eternal glow.

With a loud yell, I pulled the Doctor away from the crack with as much force as I dared—both of us went crashing to the ground a few feet away. The Doctor landed on top of me causing me to groan from the impact, but he held his right hand upward. His right hand which was holding some object wrapped in his red handkerchief.

"What is it?" Amy asked, both she and Rory coming to our sides and assisting in helping us stand.

"I don't know..." The Doctor whispered, looking at it with curiosity—still dazed from the energy the crack was emitting.

We stood staring at the Doctor, eyeing the thing in his grasp cautiously. Whatever the fuck came out of the crack in all of fucking time and space could not be good.

My attention was snapped to Rory yelling.

"Doctor!" Rory suddenly yelled, and we all followed his gaze only to see Restac crawling around the corner—her breaths coming in short gasps.

"She was there when the gas started," Amy told us, eyes frightful as she looked to the Silurian commander. "She must have been poisoned!"

"How the fuck are you not dead?" I gasped, amazed that she was still alive.

She did not answer, only glaring at us all viciously.

"You will all burn...!" She snarled.

"Okay, get in the TARDIS—all of you!" The Doctor spoke seriously, staring at Restac while pulling free his sonic, and I wondered for a second if he was going to go and kill her and put her out of her misery.

But no, this is the Doctor, he would probably offer her salvation in exchange for surrender.

"You did this!" She yells, and before anyone can react, she pulled a weapon from behind the corner and aimed at the Doctor's chest.

"Doctor!" I yelled at the same time as Rory, but Rory was closer and Rory leaped right next to the Doctor—pushing him out of the way.

The Doctor stumbled backward from the force that Rory used, but Rory was hit with a wave of bright red energy instead. My eyes widen in horror—mouth falling open and screams momentarily silenced as Rory yells in pain and falls to the ground.

"RORY!" It's Amy, yelling—screaming—louder than I have ever heard her, moving faster than anything as she is at Rory's side, hands cradling his face, shaking her head in frantic denial, her red hair tumbling into her tear-streaked face. "No, no, no—you're okay! Rory, you're okay, you hear me?" Her voice wavered, cracking, but she refused to accept what was happening. Her fingers trembled as they brushed through his hair, over his cheeks.

The Doctor then stumbled forward, knees slamming against the dirt ground beside Rory, his sonic already buzzing. Desperation painted his face, his usual mad, hopeful energy reduced to nothing but stark, shaking terror. "Rory, can you hear me?" He pleaded, eyes scanning over the readout.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as my vision wavered, blurred.

I turned with a scowl.

Restac.

She was sprawled against the dirt ground, barely propped up on one elbow, her breathing shallow, her green skin pallid from the poison crawling through her veins. She should've already been dead, and yet she clung to life—just long enough to watch the light drain from Rory's eyes.

And she was smiling.

My blood turned to ice.

She was smiling.

She watched Amy break. She watched the Doctor scramble. And she smiled.

Is there really any heroes or villains or is it dependent on who's telling the story?

The screaming in my mind started again.

Jump. Jump. Jump!

The voices shrieked, clawing at my skull, digging into the marrow of my bones, my mind unraveling at the seams. The crack pulsed at my back, threads of golden light slithering toward me, sinking into the edges of my vision, painting my world in violent streaks of color—red, blue, gold, black.

And I heard her again, I can never drown her out—how can one drown themselves out anyway?

THE POLARIS JADE.

Laughter echoed, rippling through my head. "Oh, look at that! Poor man is dying, and you can't do a fucking thing about it, can you?" The words dripped like poison, her voice twisting around my brain like a viper. "If only you were whole. If only you let me in." A cackle—low, delighted, cruel. "You could fix this. You could save him."

I flinched, shaking my head violently, but the colors wouldn't stop bleeding through my reality, warping it into something sick and wrong.

"You can't save him, not by yourself, but you can do something," she whispered, all honeyed venom. "You know what to do, Cooper,"

My mind flicked with only one thought.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

My blaster-pistol was in my hand before I had even fully comprehended my own movements.

I had no hesitation. No remorse. I would smile too as I watched her die.

People always claim ridiculous things about being the bigger person or being better than them.

Nah, fuck being some better person... we all bring out the worst in each other anyway.

I moved forward, each step swallowed by the howling voices in my head, by the crack in time whispering my name, by her—my—laughter curling around my ribs.

Restac coughed, her body weak, her limbs trembling.

But she still smiled at the sight of Rory dying.

A boot slammed against her abdomen, pressing down just enough to make her choke on the breath she already didn't have.

I tilted my head, staring down at her blankly. My eyebrows raised a moment later, waiting to see if she would do anything. If she could do anything.

Her lips curved into something mocking. She knew. She knew what was coming. Because she fucking had it coming.

Restac opened her mouth with a gasp, and she started to say something, but I really did not want to hear her horribly grating voice. I was already listening to enough voices at the moment—there was enough noise.

She started to speak, "Do it—"

Alright, you don't need to tell me twice.

The shot echoed through the cavern, but it barely registered in my mind. I barely even felt the kickback of my gun as the bolt of energy ripped through Restac's skull, silencing her words in an instant. The hole in her forehead smoked, the sickening stench of burning reptilian flesh wafting up, but she wasn't dead enough. Not for me.

Another shot—her chest this time.

I removed my boot from her abdomen and let her body slump into the dirt. Dead. And yet, it still wasn't enough.

You get what you fucking deserve, bitch.

The chaos in my mind surged forward, drowning me. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, faster, louder, mixing with the crackling energy of the fissure in time. A crescendo of madness, of rage, of something ancient and powerful clawing to break free.

Jump! Jump! Jump!

My inner craziness was still telling me to jump into the crack.

The voices cooed, shrieked, cackled. THE POLARIS JADE's laughter rattled through my skull, clawing at the inside of my mind, scraping against my sanity.

LET ME OUT!

My fingers twitched on the grip of my gun. My head tilted, staring blankly at Restac's still body. My boot lashed out, connecting hard with her ribs. Crunch.

Satisfaction. A flicker of release. But it wasn't enough. It'll never be enough.

I turned away from the corpse, the gun still clutched tightly in my fingers as I stalked back to the others. The voices didn't quiet. They only changed their tune.

Because Rory—he was dying.

I saw it in the way Amy clutched his face, her tears falling freely as she shook her head in denial. In the way the Doctor hovered desperately, scanning him with the sonic, willing it to find something—anything to help.

But even the Doctor can't heal death.

Neither one of them had noticed what I had just done. I could not even imagine the horror that would've painted the Doctor's face if he saw, realized what I had just done. Amy probably wouldn't have cared, not right now, at least. Not when she is clutching her dying fiancé.

"Rory, can you hear me?" The Doctor called, voice panicked.

Rory's breaths were shallow, fading. Each one weaker than the last. His chest barely moved, and yet Amy held on, cradling his face in her shaking hands, as though her touch alone could keep him from slipping away.

His lips parted, his voice barely more than a breath.

"You are so beautiful..."

Amy sucked in a sharp gasp, her head shaking violently.

Rory's lips twitched, the smallest ghost of a smile. But then, his eyes lost their light and his head lolled to the side.

"I'm sorry," Rory whispered, relaxing and closing his eyes.

He was entirely still.

No more gasping, no more struggling—his body relaxed as if letting go of a weight far too heavy to bear.

Amy's cry tore through the cavern, broken.

"Doctor, help him!"

The Doctor wasn't looking at Rory anymore.

His gaze was fixed on something else—something worse.

Tendrils of golden light had begun to wrap around Rory's boots, winding, stretching, slithering toward him like hungry fingers. The crack in time wanted him. It was taking him.

"No—no, no, no," The Doctor breathed, his face draining of color as he pushed up from the ground. "Amy—Amy, move away from the light!"

Amy didn't react. Didn't hear him. She was shaking her head, hands gripping Rory tighter, desperate.

"No! I am not leaving him!" She sobbed, pressing her forehead against his.

"Amy, listen to me," The Doctor tried again, firmer this time, voice tight and scared as he took an urgent step toward her. "If it touches you, you'll be wiped from history!"

Amy still wasn't listening.

I stood still, my breath coming too fast, too shallow. The air was thick, electric. I turned away, squeezing my eyes shut, my free hand gripping my head.

Her laughter. My laughter. Insane Jade.

My head snapped up, eyes blown wide.

My body trembled, barely holding itself together as I took a step back. The cavern blurred, reality rippling. Colors bled into one another—blues, reds, whites, all twisting together like a shattered mirror reflecting different pieces of a world I wasn't in.

Jump! Jump! Jump!

The crack sang to me, an invitation, a demand. I could feel it reaching for me, pulling at me, calling to something deep inside—the Aureum and the Tenebris, the fractured halves of me that were never meant to be separate.

A symphony of screams erupted in my mind. The voices of every soul I had ever known, ever heard, ever lost.

My feet moved on their own, dragging me closer.

The Aureum and Tenebris inside me stirred, humming in resonance, answering a call that had existed long before me. The crack wanted me—wanted Polaris Jade.

'We are both creation and destruction. Universal forces. Come say hi!'

The light bathed my skin, and for a second—just a second. I was really going to jump, I would only be in it for a short while anyway, swirling at the edges of the universe. Never dying, just kinda existing in the tear until I am either spit out or break out.

A sharp, violent yank tore me backward, and the next thing I knew, my back slammed hard against the blue wood of the TARDIS.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. A hand gripped my chin, forcing my gaze forward.

The Doctor. His expression was thunderous, his face inches from mine, eyes wide, blazing, furious—but it wasn't anger. Not really. It was fear.

"Do not go near that," he snarled, voice low, desperate. "Do you hear me? Don't you dare touch it!"

I blinked at him, dazed.

But he wasn't...right.

His face was shifting, flickering in and out of color, like a glitch in reality. The lines of his jaw blurred, golden static bleeding into his form, like the crack was trying to erase him too—like it was pulling him into my mind, into the madness, into the Polaris Jade.

I felt myself sway again.

"Damn it!" His voice broke, softer this time. His forehead pressed against mine, his grip on me tightening. "Come back to me, PJ. I need you right now."

But I couldn't answer. Couldn't even breathe properly. The world was wrong—colors bleeding, voices screaming, reality slipping between my fingers.

I couldn't answer him because I wasn't here. Not entirely.

And the Doctor knew it.

His head snapped back to Amy, voice sharp and commanding.

"Amy, move away from the light!"

But Amy wasn't moving either.

She was hunched over Rory, clutching him, fingers digging into his jacket, pressing her face into his chest, trembling, sobbing.

"No!" She sobbed. "I am not leaving him!"

The golden tendrils curled tighter around Rory's legs, creeping further up his body.

He looked between us—between Amy and me, both too close, too lost, both about to be taken from him.

His face was pale, stricken. For the first time since I had met him, the Doctor looked afraid. Like truly properly afraid.

And he had every reason to be.

Because he could only save one of us. In the sense that time is running out, there isn't enough of us for him to pull us both in the TARDIS. He can't make two trips—not with the light.

However, a fire suddenly erupted from the Doctor, and he pressed his forehead against mine, his breath warm and rapid, eyes dark with a determination so fierce it nearly burned.

He wasn't going to lose another person today. Not again. Not like this. I could see it in his eyes.

He wasn't going to lose Amy.
He wasn't going to lose me.
He refused it.

His grip on my arms was tight, fingers digging into my jacket as he pulled, dragging me back inch by inch. But it wasn't enough. I could still feel it—the crack. The voices clawing at my mind. The golden light slowly wrapped around Rory like spectral hands.

The screaming inside me was worse now, building to a crescendo that vibrated behind my eyes.

I felt the Doctor push.

Not physically—no, his hands never left me—but mentally.

It was sudden, like a door being kicked open in my mind. His presence slammed through, bright and searing and wrong against the fractured edges of my consciousness. I felt him cringe, heard his breath hitch at the sheer chaos he'd just stepped into.

It was not like when we... mentally copulated... this was him coming in and trying to do damage control. Trying to put the fire out.

He didn't understand what he was hearing, not fully. The screaming, the laughter, the fractured, jagged pieces of what made me me. The Aureum. The Tenebris. THE POLARIS JADE.

For a fraction of a second, I thought it might break him. Or he would realize, but it was too chaotic for him to try and fully understand—he didn't have enough to truly investigate. He only had enough time to do as much damage control as possible.

His voice boomed inside my mind, cutting through the static, through the madness.

"Cooper."

It echoed, ringing, tearing through the screaming, pressing against every shattered, fractured part of me until they staggered back.

Then, softer. Calmer. A lilt, a coaxing melody beneath the roar.

"Come back to me, my dearest PJ," he murmured, his voice no longer a demand but a plea. "I need you here. Right now. Just follow my voice, love. Just listen to me."

The golden glow flickered in my vision. The crack hissed.

The voices screamed.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, I breathed.

The Doctor's hands squeezed my arms as my vision steadied, color correcting, the static fizzling at the edges of my sight. The crazy was still there, but the temptation to jump was broken.

It was good enough, and it was as far as the Doctor was going to get in the little time he had.

"Good," he whispered, his real voice—out loud—a thread of relief. "Now listen. I need you to go into the TARDIS."

I swallowed thickly, my limbs still trembling.

"Go inside," he repeated, firmer now, pulling me toward the doors. "Sit on the console jump chair. Don't move. Please don't do anything until I get back. Got it?"

I hesitated.

"PJ," he snapped, eyes locking onto mine. "Say it."

"Console chair," I whispered. "Don't move."

"Good girl." He kissed my forehead quickly.

And then he reached over, opened the TARDIS doors, and pushed me inside.

I stumbled, nearly falling onto the metal grating, the doors slamming shut behind me. The Doctor had not pushed me hard, only enough to ensure I got inside, but I felt weak. My body moved on autopilot, my mind still fogged with static, but I did as I was told.

Blankly, I dropped onto the console jump seat, my hands resting limply in my lap. The voices were silent—the Doctor had quieted them. But not for long. I could feel it. The Polaris Jade was waiting, seething, the madness lurking just beneath my skin, writhing.

And I knew.

I knew that the backpack, her entrance, being so close was only making it worse.

My fingers twitched toward the straps. I had to get it off. But not until I can put her somewhere safe, somewhere that curious people will not dare to look inside.

At that moment, the TARDIS doors burst open again.

The Doctor came crashing inside, dragging Amy with him.

She was screaming. Kicking. Fighting against him with every ounce of strength she had.

"No! No! Let me go! Let me go!"

The Doctor pulled harder, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, his other hand already reaching for his sonic. Amy thrashed, her fingers clawing at his coat, her face twisted in grief-fueled fury.

"RORY!"

The Doctor flicked his wrist and slammed the TARDIS doors shut.

Amy collapsed against him, fists pounding at his chest, screaming, "Let me out! Please, let me out!"

The Doctor held firm, his face pinched, his breathing hard. He didn't let go.

Amy slammed her fists against the door. Over and over. Her sobs tore through the console room, unrestrained.

"I need to get to Rory!"

The Doctor didn't speak, he only used his sonic to seal the TARDIS doors closed before releasing Amy and racing up the console steps.

He paused, leaning heavily against the console controls, breath heaving. His eyes were on the console, staring at the controls like they had betrayed him.

I knew that look.

Guilt.

He thought this was his fault.

Because Rory pushed him out of the way. Because if it weren't for him, Rory would still be alive. In the Doctor's mind, at least.

His throat bobbed. Then he looked up frantically and quickly glanced at me, seeming to relax when he saw that I had done as he asked—I was still sitting in the jump chair. I stared back, but he broke our intense eye contact a moment later so he could look at Amy, and then he looked back at the console.

Amy turned, her face crumpled, her gaze darting between the Doctor and me.

"That light," she whispered, her voice barely audible, barely breathing. "If his body is absorbed... I'll forget him."

She looked between us again, desperate, searching.

"He'll never have existed. You guys can't let that happen..."

I opened my mouth. Then closed it. What could I say? What the hell could I say?

I already knew the truth. She probably would forget him. Because Rory Williams didn't exist. He never had.

"Amy..." I whispered.

It came out broken. My voice wasn't even mine—it was some trembling, extra raspy thing that barely sounded like me at all.

Amy sobbed. A deep, shattered sound.

The Doctor exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Then—without another word—he slammed a lever down.

The TARDIS lurched and Amy screamed.

"What are you doing?! We can't leave him!" She lunged for him, fists pounding against him, trying to stop him, trying to make him turn back. "Doctor! No!"

But the Doctor caught her and cradled her against him.

Amy pounded at his chest, sobbing, breaking, but the Doctor only held her tighter.

"Bring him back!" She wailed. "Bring him back, bring him back, bring him back!"

The Doctor just closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her, rocking her gently.

I turned away. I couldn't watch anymore.

I lifted a trembling hand to my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as Amy sobbed into his chest.

"We can't!" She was shaking her head in denial. "We cannot just leave him there...!" Her voice was loud—the girl more than distraught.

The Doctor grabbed her, placing both his hands on her cheeks and staring into her eyes fiercely.

Amy was breaking apart in his arms. She was clutching at him desperately. And the Doctor only held her tighter.

His lips pressed against the side of her head, a whisper of affection. His breath trembled against her hair. He was pouring everything into her—every ounce of love, every piece of comfort, every scrap of warmth—because he knew she needed it. More than anything. And it was all he could give her.

For even he could not pull Rory Williams back from the dead.

"Keep him in your mind," He told her fiercely, his voice rough, insistent. "Don't forget him. If you forget him, you'll lose him forever!"

Amy shook her head violently, trembling beneath his hands. "No." Her fingers dug into the lapels of his coat, her body wracked with sobs. "On the Byzantium, I remembered the clerics! Because I am a time traveler! You said—" Her voice broke—a wail, torn from her throat.

The Doctor cut her off before she could spiral further, still holding her close, holding her together.

I shook my head, that's not how it works. Amy is too close to Rory, he was too involved in her life—in her time-stream. Him being absorbed by the crack is him being erased from existence, from Amy's time-stream, from her memory. Because he technically never existed at all.

The Doctor's expression softened, but his eyes remained desperate, pained. "That was different. The clerics weren't part of your world," he told her, shaking his head. "This is your own history changing..."

I barely realized I was holding my breath.

Amy was falling apart, the Doctor was trying to hold the pieces in place, and I—I was just watching.

Because what could I do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The crack had erased Rory. And it wasn't some metaphor, not some poetic notion of loss. It was something so much worse.

A rip in the continuum. A void where reality bled away like ink into water. Anything that fell inside it—anything that didn't have celestial or universal power—was ripped to shreds. Gone. Unmade. Never having been born, never having existed.

And mortals?

There were rare cases—very rare—where the energy spat them back out. Launched them somewhere else in time and space, potentially an entirely new life, if the conditions were just right. Like once in a billions year rare.

But Rory had died before the light had taken him.

And I knew, with every fiber of my being—Rory wasn't coming back. There was no way, and bringing up such a possibility would only break Amy further, give her false hope.

Amy's hands twisted in the Doctor's coat, shaking her head in denial, in refusal. "Don't tell me it's going to be okay!" She cried, voice cracking, pleading. "You have to make it okay!"

Her knees buckled, and for a moment, she almost collapsed.

The Doctor caught her instantly, steadying her, supporting her.

I flinched. I wanted to step in. Wanted to help. But I couldn't.

I could barely handle this helpfully on a good day, let alone now—not when my mind was already unraveling at the seams.

Instead, I coiled inward.

I pulled my legs up, wrapped my arms around them, hugging them to my chest. I rocked slightly where I sat on the jump seat, hands clenched into fists, pressing them against my shins.

And inside my head, the voices started again.

The Polaris Jade.

Mocking. Taunting. Singing. Screaming.

"Why don't you just stitch yourself back together?"

"You could have saved him."

"You could have been more."

"You are more."

"You let him die."

"You're weak..."

I clenched my teeth.

"How does it feel to be ripped in half? The feeling only gets worse from here..."

The energy from the crack was gone, but it didn't matter. The damage had already been done.

I wasn't whole—I hadn't been for a long time. And now, the part of me that had been missing for years—the part I had torn away with my own hands—was whispering back. But I shoved it down.

I forced myself to look back up, forced myself to focus on the Doctor and Amy.

The Doctor was still holding her head, forcing her to look at him. His expression was fierce, determined, full of love and promise.

"It's going to be hard," He told her, voice thick with conviction. "But you can do it."

Amy sniffled, her whole body trembling.

"You can do it, Amy!" He urged.

Then—he kissed her forehead. Pressed his lips against her cheek, wiping away her tears.

And without another second wasted, he pulled her toward me.

I stiffened.

Amy crashed down in the seat next to me, still sobbing, still lost.

The Doctor looked at me worriedly. For the briefest, most fragile moment—his face was unguarded.

Exhausted. In pain.

He hesitated for only a second before whispering to me, "Hold on, dearest."

He had to deal with Amy first, had to ensure that she didn't forget her fiancé—had to pull her from the depths of her sorrow before he could even begin to tackle the crazy of my mind.

I didn't want him to—I did not want him to feel like he had to. It isn't his job, that's not what a partner does... he isn't supposed to need to pull me out of something like that. He doesn't deserve the task of such a tedious thing.

Not to mention, Amy needed him far more than I did right now. She needed both of us, and yet here I am—absolutely useless. If only killing Restac could've brought back Rory.

I could barely nod.

Instead, I reached out, my fingers finding Amy's hand. I took it and squeezed it. Rubbed my thumb gently over her fingers—a small motion. A useless thing.

But it was all I could offer.

Poor Amelia Pond. The girl who lost so much—who has had so much taken from her by that damned crack.

The Doctor was crouched in front of Amy, his long fingers wrapping around both of her arms, squeezing. He stared up at her, searching her face.

"Tell me about Rory." He gently coaxed, his voice as soft as a whisper but carrying the weight of a command. "Fantastic Rory. Funny Rory. Gorgeous Rory."

Amy hiccupped on a sob, her breath catching, and for a moment, I thought she was about to break apart again.

But the Doctor didn't stop. He couldn't. He had to help her.

"Amy, listen to me. Do exactly as I say. Amy, please, keep concentrating. You can do this!"

His voice was so full of hope, so determined, so utterly sure that she could hold onto Rory—that she could keep him alive through memory alone.

His words should have made her cry harder. Should have made her shake her head, curse the world for taking Rory from her.

But instead... instead, she stilled. Her breath evened out.

The sharp, jagged edges of her sobs dulled.

She wasn't calming. No—this was something else. Something much worse.

The pain was leaving her. Her memories were leaving her.

And it was horrifying to watch.

Amy slowly shook her head, her brows furrowing, her watery eyes narrowing as something vague, something uncertain settled into her features.

"I can't..." she murmured, the words almost slurred, almost sleepy.

The Doctor's grip on her tightened. He leaned in closer, eyes wide, frantic.

"You can. You can do it! I can't help you unless you do," he urged, his voice breaking. "Come on, Amy! We can still save his memory!"

Amy just blinked at him, lips parting, face blank.

The Doctor's hands moved, sliding up to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing against the wet tracks of tears she no longer seemed to recognize as her own.

"Don't let anything distract you," He pleaded, eyes shining, his voice so quiet, so intense. "Remember Rory. Keep remembering. Rory's only alive in your memory—you must keep hold of him. Rory still lives in your mind!"

The TARDIS jolted. A violent, gut-wrenching lurch.

I yelped as my body was thrown sideways, Amy gasped, the Doctor shouted, and suddenly, we were all falling.

The floor rushed up to meet me, slamming into my back with brutal force. The jump seat's edge dug into my ribs, the metal cold and unforgiving, knocking the air from my lungs.

Something small tumbled through the air.

A small velvety box.

It clattered to the floor and landed right in front of the Doctor.

Amy's ring box.

Amy sat up with a sharp inhale, sucking in air between parted lips, her hands pressing against the floor to steady herself. She looked up, blinking rapidly, her face blank. Her breath was quick, shaky from the impact.

She tilted her head and smiled lightly at the Doctor.

"What were you saying?" She asked between deep breaths, her voice airy and clueless.

I froze. The Doctor, still sitting on the floor, still staring at the ring box, did the same.

Neither of us spoke. Neither of us even breathed. Amy's tears were gone. Her pain was gone.

The memory of Rory—the very existence of Rory—was gone.

She was looking at the Doctor like he had just paused mid-sentence.

Like she had never been sobbing, never been shattered, never been a girl whose fiancé had just died and then been ripped from time itself.

She tilted her head further, brows raising in honest confusion at our expressions.

"Oi," She drawled, a soft, chuckling lilt to her voice. "PJ, are you okay? You don't look so good..."

I gaped at her. My heart lurched. My stomach churned.

"Holy shit..." I breathed. The words barely made it past my lips. "Amy..." I tried again, my voice cracking, but I wasn't sure what to say.

The Doctor lunged for me. Not a step, not a reach—a lunge.

His fingers bent around my wrist. His other hand shot up, pressing against my shoulder as he shook his head—just once, just enough.

It wasn't much, but I understood.

His eyes were sharp, blazing with a silent message.

Don't tell her.

The words burned through me, carved themselves into my very bones.

I knew why.

Amy was human. Rory had been ripped from time. If we told her—if we tried to force the truth into a mind that had already erased him—it could break her. Tear her apart. Shatter her timeline.

In the worst-case scenario, it might undo her completely.

She had to remember on her own. Naturally. Gently. Like a shadow creeping back at sunset.

Neither the Doctor or I could say a word.

I swallowed back the scream in my throat.

Footsteps pounded through the corridors.

Mo, Elliot, and Ambrose came from the corridors, their faces flushed, eyes darting wildly as they took in the ship around them. Ambrose's arm was newly bandaged, her face tight with lingering pain.

Mo let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I've seen some things today," he muttered, voice half in awe, half in exhaustion, "but this is beyond mad."

Amy, seemingly unbothered by everything that had just happened, perked up and grabbed at the stopwatch now hanging from her neck. Her eyes widened.

"Doctor!" She gasped. "Five minutes till it all goes up!"

Wide-eyed looks were exchanged as we all got up, our feet scrambled across the grating. Everyone raced for the doors.

Upon exiting, we were greeted by a hilldside a safe distance away from the drill site. The same drill site that explode a second later.

Fire erupted in a violent burst, pieces of the drill scattering wildly. Debris shot into the sky, smoke curling into thick plumes. The force of the blast rattled the ground beneath us.

And somehow—somehow—my mind exploded, too.

Something inside me hurt. My thoughts fractured. Reality split at the seams. The voices were screaming. My universe was peeling open.

I gasped, clutching my chest, staggering back.

I had to get out. I had to get this bag off me.

I turned, heart pounding, stumbling toward the TARDIS, barely able to see, barely able to think.

"PJ!" Amy's voice rang out behind me, sharp with alarm.

"I'm fine," I barely managed to choke out. "I'm good, I'll be right back! I just need to check on something!"

The doors swung open and I stumbled inside.

The moment I crossed the threshold, the walls of the TARDIS seemed to warp. The golden glow of the time rotor pulsed in my vision, the ship humming, whispering—no, taunting.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't breathe.

I CAN'T BREATHE!

Footsteps—his footsteps—pounded behind me.

"Stay put!" The Doctor ordered from outside, voice sharp with authority. Then, the doors slammed shut, and he was there, right there, hands grabbing at me, pulling me into his arms.

"Breathe, dearest," he whispered, voice close, warm. Too close.

My lungs were shaking, my chest felt too tight. It was too loud, too much; my mind was still reeling, still fracturing, still cracking apart at the edges,

His hands, one cradling the back of my head, the other pressed against the small of my back.

"Just listen to me," he murmured. "That's it, just me, just us. Ignore the rest. I know it's loud, but it's just us, alright? You and me and time and space..."

I clenched my teeth, fingers digging into his coat. "Doctor—"

"Shh," he hushed, rubbing gentle circles against my back. "It's alright, it's alright, I've got you. Just focus on me, PJ. Only me."

I shuddered. My breath hitched.

But slowly—too slowly—the world around me began to blur.

The chaos dulled. The madness softened.

The voices still whispered, but they were farther away now.

Like echoes in a storm.

My body was trembling. The Doctor only held me tighter.

"You're safe," he promised. "I've got you. I'm right here."

I swallowed. I hated this.

Hated that he had to see me like this. Hated that I was this weak. This unstable. This insane.

Insane Jade...

"You need to go," I rasped, voice hoarse, barely there. "You need to deal with the others. I'll be fine."

I really don't need him. Why would I need him?

And yet, his arms didn't move. Nor could I find it in myself to want to move.

"Not leaving you," he murmured, gentle but firm. "Not now. Not ever."

I squeezed my eyes shut. My mind was still raw, still cracking, but I couldn't let him stay. I don't want him to see me—not like this, not with all my weak faults on full display.

"Doctor," I gritted out, breath uneven.

He didn't let go. He didn't ask much as move.

Or maybe he wouldn't move. Truthfully, I didn't want him to move. But at the same time, a part of me did.

"You need me now," he whispered. "I am not leaving!"

The ugliness inside reeled her head.

I let out a sharp laugh, bitter and broken. "I don't need you," I hissed. "I don't need anyone! I don't—!"

But the words caught. I crumpled with a long tired and broken sigh. I collapsed against him. The anger, the instability, the erratic mess of my essence—all of it crashed down at once.

And despite everything—despite every word I just spat at him—

I clutched onto him like a lifeline. Like a drowning woman.

The Doctor didn't let go. Didn't move away. Didn't scold me. He just held me.

Fingers threading through my hair, his chin resting against my temple, his arms wrapped so tightly around me, that I was almost wheezing. But it was a welcome feeling.

The storm inside me dulled.

Not gone, not erased—just quieted.

My breath evened out, my body still trembling slightly, but the worst of the shaking had subsided. The Doctor's arms were still wrapped around me, holding me close, his warmth seeping through my skin like a balm.

I let out a long breath, and I pulled away.

His hands hesitated before finally letting me go, though his eyes—those sharp, ancient, infuriatingly knowing eyes—remained locked on me.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, pressing my lips together before muttering, "I just... I just need quiet for a few minutes."

The Doctor nodded. He said nothing as he watched me worriedly.

I swallowed, exhaling through my nose. "I'm unstable," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. I huffed out a bitter laugh. "Like, highly and horribly—violently—unstable. Borderline schzophrenic. And I—I'm sorry I never outright told you before."

For a very long and drawn out second, he didn't react.

Slowly, his lips moved into a gentle smile.

"Oh, my dearest," he said softly, tilting his head at me as if I'd just told him something obvious. "I already knew."

Well... fuck.

I flinched, looked away, shame coiling in my gut. Of course he fucking knew, it's kinda obvious.

His fingers caught my chin and tilted my face back up.

That smirk—that damn smirk—was back, eyes glittering with something amused and endlessly affectionate.

"I love every part of you," he whispered. His thumb brushed along my jawline. "And maybe I really shouldn't like this part..." He leaned in, kissed the tip of my nose. "But I do."

His lips ghosted over my cheek.

"My dearest..."

Another kiss. To my other cheek.

"My beautiful..."

Another. This time a peck to my lips. A brush that ghosted.

"My insane wayward girl..."

He was teasing me. Staying playful. Doing his best to calm the internal storm.

His voice was warm, his smirk mischievous, but his words washed over me soothingly.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my gut twisting painfully.

"I killed Restac, Doctor." I suddenly admitted, my fist clenching by my sides. "But she had it coming. She killed Rory..." My eyes blurred with angry tears, rage beginning to bubble again. "Rory is dead because of her..."

So much rage.

The words blurted out before I could stop them.

The Doctor froze.

I saw his throat work, saw his expression shift—not in shock, not in horror, but in something else.

Something colder.

He took a step back, his hands lifting to his lips, his eyes sharp and unreadable. Then—slowly, deliberately—he leaned in. A dark look flickered in his gaze, something dangerous; the Oncoming Storm was lurking just beneath the surface.

"I know," he murmured.

The words sent a chill down my spine.

"I was right there," he continued, voice low, almost thoughtful. "You might not realize it, but I rarely ever take my eye off you, especially today, dearest..."

And that's when it hit me.

I had thought he wasn't paying attention.

Thought he had been too focused on everything else. But he was a TimeLord. His mind could focus on a thousand things at once.

He had seen. Of course he had seen it, of all the things for him to not notice, he would never not notice death. The Doctor watched me kill her.

However, he hadn't stopped me. Not that time, not after she had killed yet another person in cold blood. One of our friends, at that.

Rory, gorgeous and kind Rory, was dead because of Restac... and Restac watched him die with a smile. She smiled as his fiancé screamed until her voice broke, refusing to leave his side until she was dragged away.

No, the Doctor hadn't been interested in saving Restac's life. Not one bit.

It seemed that had been one of the rare moments when he liked having me around to do the dirty work that he himself hated doing.

For a moment, the two of us simply stared at each other.

Nothing else needed to be said. What was done was done.

I nodded—just once and the Doctor nodded back, eyes hard.

Vegenance may not be the Doctor's thing, but it is certainly mine. And sometimes, just sometimes, the Doctor has no desire to control my violence against others, especially to those who wrong the people he cares about.

"She watched him die with a smile..." I bit out bitterly.

The Doctor swallowed harshly, looking away briefly and closing his eyes in pain. "I know," He gritted through clenched teeth.

My body shook with rage. "I should've smiled when I fucking killed her..."

He didn't respond to that, only closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

Then, after a long beat of silence, he opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly.

"Is it still loud in there?" He asked, voice soft but serious.

I blinked, knowing exactly what he meant.

The voices.

He had figured that much out. Heard it himself when he came into my mind to repair what he could. He didn't know why, didn't know where they came from, and probably just assumed it was childhood trauma. Which it kinda was.

I hesitated.

"Sorta," I admitted. "Not as bad as it was..."

The Doctor studied me.

"Can I trust you not to hurt yourself?" He then asked me carefully, voice low and brows furrowed.

I paused, then nodded. "Yes."

I didn't hurt myself because I was suicidal. It's just—when it's loud—when reality slips away, pain and pleasure... hurt and joy... it becomes one. It's hard to discern one from the other. Hard to remember the difference between humor and sorrow.

Everything is just kinda fuzzy and funny.

He held my gaze seriously, searching for any sign of dishonesty.

After a moment, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I won't be gone long. I need to deal with Ambrose, Mo, and Elliot. Then, Amy and I will be back."

His expression darkened slightly.

"I don't mean to hover," he added, speaking slowly. "You are more than capable of handling yourself. Truthfully, more than any other companion I've had. But I still worry. I really don't want you to be alone in this state—you're still human..." He paused, trailing off and staring at me with an unreadable look as he continued. "And I know how you can get..."

"Fair enough," I muttered, glancing up at him through my lashes.

His lips twitched.

"Will you, for my peace of mind," he asked pointedly, "wait in your room for me, patiently, deary? Try to sleep, or watch a movie, or read, or something—but no..." He breathed, and his expression shifted, suddenly anxious. His fingers twitched as he started rambling. "Absolutely no weaponry, no acids, no chemistry, no fire, no blades or knives—no swords—definitely no guns—no biting—" He was flapping his hands about with every word.

I arched a brow, but he kept going.

"No eating, no cooking—no swimming—"

His eyes widened, his own words scaring him now.

And I had to wonder—what the hell did my future self do to make him this paranoid?

I cut him off before he could spiral any further with a lazy salute.

"Message heard loud and clear, Space Lord. I won't do anything until you're back. I'll sit on my bed and be a good girl for you," I drawled and smirked playfully, downright seductively.

He swallowed harshly and nodded his head, running his hands together anxiously.

"Promise?" He asked softly.

I hesitated. "I don't make promises."

"For me, you do," he gritted, and it became apparent that he was not going to leave until I promised him.

I let out a long sigh. "Fine," I muttered. "I promise."

The Doctor visibly relaxed. "Good." But then he shook his head. "Actually, no—still not good enough. Give it here," He order suddenly, voice low and firm.

I blinked. "What?"

"You know what," he said, taking a step closer. The tension between us crackled like static. "Your gun, PJ. Give it here."

I tilted my head, brow raised in mock offense. "You don't trust me?" I asked, the hint of a smirk tugging at my lips.

"I trust you," he murmured, his eyes locked on mine, too intense for the moment to be casual. "I don't trust the noise in your head right now. Now, give it."

I hesitated, then slowly reached down and unholstered the sleek weapon strapped to my thigh. The one I had used to kill Restac.

Reluctantly, I handed it over.

He accepted it wordlessly, turning to set it down on the console—only to pause, clicking his tongue.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said, without looking. "Your knife too."

My jaw dropped a little. "How the hell do you even know I have a knife?"

"Please," he scoffed, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. "How could I not know?"

I huffed but unstrapped the blade hidden in the waistband of my pants and slapped it into his hand.

He turned again—only to pause mid-step. Then he leaned in, so close I could feel the whisper of his breath against my neck.

"And your other knife, dearest?"

I cursed under my breath.

"Ridiculous," I muttered, reaching down and pulling the slightly smaller blade from my boot. I handed it over with a dramatic flair.

"Thank you," he said simply, stepping away and dropping all three weapons into a random drawer of the TARDIS console.

I gave him a look, arms crossed. "Would you like to pat me down to ensure that I don't have anything else?" I asked, sarcasm dripping.

His grin spread slowly, eyes twinkling with something just shy of dangerous. "Would you like me to pat you down?"

My brows shot up, and I shrugged. "Wouldn't be opposed, honestly."

He stepped forward. "Well then," he said, voice silk-wrapped steel. "C'mere."

I stepped forward—any excuse for Space Lord's hands to be on me and I would take it.

The Doctor reached for me, and his hands quickly brushed over my sides, my arms, my back, far slower than he needed to go. He was taking his time feeling me up. His palms skimmed my waist, his fingertips ghosting across the hem of my shirt. Every inch of me buzzed under his touch. I bit my lip, eyes locked with his, neither of us backing down.

The pat-down turned indulgent. His hands slid down my thighs, up again, fingers pressing—testing. One hand on my hip, the other slowly trailing along the inside of my thigh.

My breath hitched.

His eyes smoldered. Mine narrowed, challenging. Heat crackled between us, something heavy and electric.

The Doctor then hummed and grabbed my ass firmly. I let out a silent gasp, mouth opening as he squeezed it happily. In the next second, he leaned down and his lips were on mine.

It wasn't long. Just a spark. A charge. A kiss that said a thousand different things—a thousand different phrases of affection and love.

When he pulled back a moment later, far too soon, he pressed a gentler kiss to my forehead. His lips lingered there, hot against my skin.

"Utterly addicting," he murmured, almost to himself.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. Because if I did I might push him to the floor and have my way with him right here and right now.

He stepped back with a smirk, eyes still burning. "Now go wait in your room like a good girl," he said softly. "On your bed like you've promised... I'll be there soon..."

I nodded, biting my lip before my brows furrowed in thought. "Doctor, before you go..." I trailed.

He hummed his acknowledgment.

"Don't be too hard on Ambrose—what she did was wrong, and it certainly put us in more peril, especially setting off the drill like that, but..." I cleared my throat. "She didn't knowingly murder Alaya in cold blood... and Restac would've tried to start a war with or without the death of her sister..." I told him.

The Doctor did not respond to that with anything other than a nod, it was apparent he was still very upset with Ambrose's actions. "Off you go, dearest," He finally murmured against my skin. "Don't do anything naughty... at least until I'm back..."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I sighed turning and walking toward the corridors, itching to get this damn bag off me before the Polaris Jade started acting like a bitch again and drove insanity into me.

"Yes, you would," He smirked, hand on the handle of the TARDIS doors. "You always dream up naughty things... and don't even get me started on some of the precarious positions I've found you in..." he tutted while shaking his head at the end with a fond smile.

"Do I?" I echoed mockingly, throwing him one last look before I disappeared down the corridor.