𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

The TARDIS doors shut behind me, the sound echoing in the quiet space. The only other noise was the soft whirring. My steps were slow and hesitant as I moved toward the corridors. My mind was a battlefield, thoughts clashing and colliding in an endless cycle of conflict.

Pride fought valiantly against understanding. Because I could've done it. I could've proved that I was competent enough to reprogram them, to make them into something better. Something that wasn't a weapon of mass destruction. I could've shown the Doctor that I was capable.

But what would've happened if I had failed? What if I constructed something worse in trying to fix them?

That was the scariest thought of all. Because deep down, I wasn't sure if I wanted to help them for the right reasons. Was I trying to prove something? To him? To myself? Or was this my hubris, my need to win, no matter the cost?

The humanity within me was fighting a long war, a war against the twisted half of me. But it's something that I am very familiar with, after all, aureum and tenebris continue to churn within me as they have for most of my existence.

Constantly pushing and pulling at the other: equal in all manners. An unstoppable force and immovable power. A paradox in its finest and most simple form.

The paradox arises when considering what would happen if these two concepts collided, as it is logically impossible for both to exist simultaneously according to the laws of physics, making it a classic thought experiment with no definitive answer.

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

Except there is an answer because aureum and tenebris represent that very thing. And when both forces are entirely equal, nothing and everything happens all at once.

Chaos unfolds.

The TARDIS hummed softly around me, the sound a gentle reassurance, like a parent comforting a troubled child. It didn't ease the storm in my chest, but it reminded me that I wasn't alone.

I exhaled shakily. The corridors stretched ahead, promising the solitude of my room, but each step felt heavier than the last. Before I could take another step, the TARDIS doors slammed open with a strength that made me jump.

"PJ!"

The Doctor's voice was sharp, commanding, and entirely unsurprising. I turned slowly, expecting to see him red-faced with anger, ready to give me a lesson that would put me to shame. But when I looked at him, it wasn't anger I saw in his eyes. It was something else—relief, maybe even pride, mingled with the ever-present urgency that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"You gave me the blueprints," He said simply.

"Well, yeah," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. I crossed my arms over my chest. "Not like I had much of a choice with you breathing down my neck."

The Doctor took a few steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "No. You did have a choice. And you chose right. That's not always easy, is it?"

I hesitated, the weight of his words pressing against my chest. "No. It's not." My voice came out quieter than I intended.

For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. His gaze softened, and I saw something there that I wasn't used to: understanding.

His expression shifted, the urgency returning to his features. "I need you, PJ. The Daleks are out there, and they're not done. We need to stop them, and I can't do it alone... I don't want to do it alone..."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the warmth spreading through my chest. "You're telling me you need me? You want me? The same person who almost ran off with blueprints to make her own Daleks?"

"Exactly," He said without missing a beat. "Because your cleverness isn't the problem. It's the solution. I just need it pointed in the right direction. So this is me..." He grabbed my shoulders and whirled me around to face the console. "Pointing you in the right direction!"

A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. "Well, when you put it like that..."

The Doctor moved past me and toward the console. His hands flew over the controls with practiced ease, flipping switches and twisting knobs. "The Dalek mothership is out there, and we need to find it before it's too late."

He spoke as he worked, narrating every movement, every adjustment. I watched, internally filing it all away.

"Now, PJ, I need you to think. Where would the Daleks hide their mothership? Somewhere close, but not too close. Somewhere they can monitor Earth without drawing attention. High orbit?"

I frowned, letting the question roll around in my mind. "Not high orbit," I said slowly. "Too risky. They'd need a natural hiding spot... and something big enough to block their signals."

The Doctor's hands froze mid-motion. "Go on."

I had a feeling he already suspected where the Daleks were and was just testing me. He seems like the type to do that. Douchebag.

"Something like..." I trailed off as the realization hit me. "The Moon. They're hiding behind the Moon, aren't they? It's perfect—Earth's natural satellite. It gives them cover, and they can stay just out of sight."

The Doctor grinned, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant, PJ!"

He adjusted the controls, his movements suddenly faster, more determined. With a final flick of a switch, he turned to face me, his expression triumphant.

"There! That's our target." His eyes sparkled with energy. "Ready?"

I smirked, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. "Are you ready, old man?"

He chuckled, flipping the final lever with dramatic flair. The TARDIS shuddered to life, her engines roaring as we hurtled toward our destination.

"Geronimo!"

"I hate when you say that!"

The ship shuddered, quaking wildly for but a few seconds before she stilled.

"We're on board? On the Dalek ship?" I asked excitedly before leaping toward the doors intending to leave.

I was stopped by the Doctor snaking an arm around my waist and turning me away from the doors. My eyes rolled upward, a scowl on my face as I locked eyes with playful green ones staring down at me.

"Stay, deary, we're on board the ship of my greatest enemies. I need someone to watch my beloved TARDIS... and you're my backup..."

I scowled, pushing away from his arms. He released me, albeit almost hesitantly.

"I am your backup?" I deadpanned, crossing my arms. "How are you even going to get a message to me if you need me or not?"

The Doctor smirked, walking backward toward the doors. His eyes were locked with mine, teeming with a thousand different emotions.

Oh—I bet he thinks he looks so cool. He thinks he's so hot...

"Trust me, you'll know," He literally winked. "Be good and watch the house while I am taking care of business, sweetheart...!" The Doctor called with a teasing lilt to his tone before turning, his shoes squeaking against the ground as he did so.

He opened the doors and ran out leaving me alone on the ship.

My face reflected that of disgust.

Sweetheart?!

Ew—I hate that nickname. Dude sounds like some jerk British husband from the 60s. Fine, maybe not that far, it's not that deep, but still.

I huffed, falling onto one of the console chairs dramatically.

"Can you believe that guy?" I asked out loud to the TARDIS.

Of course, no response came back other than the humming being slightly louder.

At that moment, a phone rang quite loudly. I jumped, looking around in confusion.

There was a phone on here?

A large old-timey phone, probably from the 80s, was ringing on the console.

Was this the Doctor signaling he needed backup? There was no way! He left like ten seconds ago, how the fuck would he already need backup?!

Standing up, I made my way to the phone, not hesitating to answer it.

"Hello?!" I called into the phone, my American accent coming out even thicker than usual.

"PJ!" A familiar Scottish girl came through from the other end.

"Amy?" I asked, more calm, leaning against the TARDIS. "What's up?"

"The Daleks just lit up all of London like a Christmas tree, PJ, we're sitting ducks down here! We need to turn it off," Amy explained, waiting no time to get to business.

I winced at the thought. During this year, London had been keeping the lights off to make it harder for the Germans to find them.

If the Daleks managed to turn on the lights then thousands in London would die because the city would be visible to the Germans.

"How'd the hell they do that?" I questioned curiously.

"I don't know alien technology?!" Amy floundered. "How am I supposed to know? If anyone here would know it'd be you or the Doctor!"

She does have a point.

"Have you tried turning off the generators?" I questioned.

Amy did not answer, instead a powerful voice came through. "Of course, we have!" Winston cried into the phone. "We've even cut power, the Daleks are using immense technology!" He explained.

It's probably a power fusor that they're shooting at London.

Amy once again started talking. "Your idea, you said you can build new Daleks, right? You seemed positive that you could not only build them but build them to be better...!" She was saying, passion heavy in her tone.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Uhm, yeah, but it's not a good idea. I was getting more than ahead of myself."

"Not denying that," Amy said before continuing. "But we were thinking, the Doctor needs help too and we need these lights off. We went to Bracewell, asked him if he was capable of building anything—"

"—A missile to send in space!" Winston exclaimed before Amy continued.

"But we need coordinates, and Bracewell needs help with the schematics. We're working on a time crunch too, German fighter planes have been spotted, we need those lights off before they get to us." She said.

I quickly scrambled around the console, managing to find a stylus tucked away in a random drawer. My head tilted before my eyes lit up in understanding. Looking at the console, I noticed a blank screen attached to it.

Powering the screen on, I quickly tested the stylus humming in approval. It appeared the TARDIS had a built-in whiteboard.

Pressing the erase button, I once again regarded Amy.

"Put Professor Bracewell on the phone, I can help," I told her, and there was no response apart from shuffling as Bracewell himself came on the phone.

"PJ, correct?" He asked.

"Yep, I am speaking to the robotic Professor Bracewell, I presume?"

"Just Professor Bracewell is good," He corrected causing me to smirk.

"Very well, Professor Bracewell, what're you trying to make and what issues have you run into?" I finally asked.

"Gravity bubbles—I have blueprints for them... we need to get them around some of our fighter planes..."

My eyes lit up. "Let me guess?" I started, already writing down different equations for such a concept on the console screen. "You're sending them into space with the missiles. But you'll need to be able to allow the pilots to switch the bubble off and on to get the missiles out... but we also need to make sure the plane does not explode when the bubble comes down briefly to release the missile. We also need to account for human density and air..." I muttered, hand moving quickly as I wrote.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Professor Bracewell barked before continuing, listing some more questions and concerns he was running into. "Exactly!"

I grinned as Professor Bracewell's excited tone reached me through the crackling phone line.

"Okay, let's start with the basics," I said, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The French braids that my hair was in had held surprisingly well. "The key is creating a stable containment field to form the gravity bubble without compromising the aircraft's integrity. Think of it like—uh—a soap bubble but with layered structural reinforcement. You'll need a base frequency to harmonize the field's oscillation."

"A base frequency?" He asked. "Wouldn't the gravitational interference from Earth disrupt it?"

"Exactly, which is why you'll need a harmonics stabilizer," I explained, quickly scribbling down a diagram on the TARDIS console screen. "Something to cancel out the natural distortion from Earth's gravity. If you tune the stabilizer to, let's say, 9.8 meters per second squared—the exact pull of Earth's gravity—it'll neutralize the interference and keep the bubble stable."

There was a pause on the other end. "But to maintain that precision across multiple aircraft..."

"You'd need a resonance generator," I interrupted, snapping my fingers as the idea came together. "Build it into the plane's core. If you amplify the stabilizer's output through a phased resonance generator, you can distribute the effect evenly across the bubble. The trick will be ensuring that the generator stays in sync during flight."

"Phased resonance..." Bracewell repeated, his voice tinged with awe. "That could work. But the pilots—they'll need a manual override, yes? Something to disengage the bubble when the missile is launched?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Absolutely. The override will have to be linked to the plane's internal systems. A pressure-based trigger might do it—something the pilot can engage without losing focus. I'd recommend a switch calibrated to around 3 PSI. That way, it won't trigger accidentally but is still easy enough to flip in a hurry."

"Three PSI... brilliant!" He exclaimed.

"Wait, we're not done yet," I said, my mind racing. "When the bubble disengages, there's going to be a brief moment of destabilization—gravity reasserting itself. That could wreak havoc on the plane's internal pressure. You'll need a compensator to handle the transition."

"A compensator..." Bracewell murmured, clearly scribbling notes of his own.

"Right, something small but powerful. You could use a modified flux capacitor—wait, no, make it a flux modulator to simplify it. Tie it into the resonance generator so it activates in tandem with the override." I paused, tapping the stylus against the console. "If you offset the modulation by, say, 0.02 milliseconds, you should be able to counteract the destabilization before it affects the plane's structure."

"Perfect!" Bracewell said, his voice tinged with relief. "But what about propulsion? Once the bubble disengages, won't the missile need an additional thrust to escape Earth's pull?"

I nodded, tilting my head and balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I found another stylus and started writing with both hands. "Already on it. Install a secondary ignition system in the missile—something with a short but powerful burst. I'd recommend a chemical compound like tri-polymeric fuel. It burns hot and fast, giving you just enough thrust to break orbit."

"Tri-polymeric fuel..." His voice trailed off before returning with renewed vigor. "Yes, that could work! And the pilots—their oxygen supply? They'll need extra for the duration of the mission."

"Seal off the cockpit and pump in hyper-compressed oxygen tanks," I said without missing a beat. "And brace them with shock absorbers to handle the bubble's pressure fluctuations."

"Of course! That solves the oxygen issue completely!"

For a moment, the line was silent except for the sound of both our writing. The weight of what we were planning hung in the air, but so did the undeniable thrill of solving. Of creating.

And this time, there was no chance that it would end with robots hellbent on genocide.

"Okay," I said after a pause, my voice steady. "Run me through it from the top. Let's make sure we didn't miss anything."

Bracewell's voice came through, clear and excited as he rattled off the components: the stabilizer, the resonance generator, the manual override, the flux modulator, the secondary ignition system, and the oxygen tanks.

Perfect.

When he finished, I couldn't help but smile. "That's it, Professor. You've got your gravity bubble. Now go make it happen."

There was a beat of silence, then Bracewell let out a triumphant shout. "Eureka! We've done it! I'm applying it now!"

The line went dead before I could respond, but I didn't mind. My grin widened as I leaned against the console, staring at the equations and diagrams scrawled across the screen.

"Go get 'em, Professor," I muttered to myself, the hum of the TARDIS rising as though she approved. "Even if you're not a clone." I sighed.

As I continued to look over the schematics, the phone rang once again. Keeping my eyes on the console board, I answered the phone.

"Yesss?" I drawled.

"Oh, good, you're still there..." Amy said, and I could sense the smile in her tone. "I figured you'd want to be on the line while we launch the fighter planes into space?"

"Definitely..." I breathed. "Did Bracewell manage to get the transmission box working? Do you all have eyes on the Doctor?"

"Yes," Amy said. "He just brought it out, we're watching the Dalek ship transmissions live—they seemed to have cloned themselves or something. But the Doctor is facing off against five, and these ones are bigger and more colorful than the last lot... but I can't be completely sure, we just now managed to pick it up..." She explained.

My eyebrows furrowed and I turned away from the board, a hand on my hip.

"New Daleks? Five of them and he's by himself?" I bit my lip. "Should I go out?"

"Erm..." Amy sounded nervous. "No, I think he's good... well, as good as he can be. But the planes are on their way toward the ship now..."

"Okay, that's good..." I muttered. "Keep me updated," I said while pulling the TARDIS scanner over, or at least what I assumed was the scanner. "I can't figure out how to get this scanner working—I can't see what's going on outside of the TARDIS..." I said angrily. "Gosh, he needs to fix this!"

"He's threatening them with... no. No, it can't be... no—yeah, yeah that's definitely a jammie dodger... he's threatening the Daleks with a jammie dodger."

No way he's coming back.

Amy continues. "I think he has them convinced that a jammie dodger is the TARDIS self-destruct button," Amy explained with disbelief.

"What? The Daleks are so stupid they actually believe that?" I scoffed.

"Uhm, not anymore, they just caught him. I guess they scanned it and revealed it's nothing of the sort..." I could hear Amy scratching her head.

I cringed. "Is he okay? Does he need backup yet?"

"Not yet, the planes just got there! The Daleks are panicking!" She said happily.

From the background on the phone, I could hear a lot of chatter, lots of cheering, and many orders. On the other hand, the TARDIS was soundproof so I could hear nothing coming from outside of her.

"It's working, PJ, everything you and Bracewell came up with is working!" She was ecstatic.

"As I hoped, are London's lights back off yet?" I asked, pacing back and forth.

"No, they just started firing..." She said as the TARDIS doors slammed open causing me to whirl around.

The Doctor ran inside, quickly closing the doors behind him. My shoulders slumped in relief as I finally saw with my own eyes that the stupid TimeLord wasn't incinerated.

"The Doctor just came back," I told Amy as the Doctor himself jogged up the steps of the console.

He landed in front of me with a huge grin motioning to himself.

"Oi, you're too busy chatting on the phone to greet me properly?" He playfully called before pulling me into such a tight hug that he lifted my feet off the ground. I squeaked, head squeezed against his soft chest as he placed a slobbery kiss on the top of my head causing my goggles to fall to the ground with a clatter.

"I knew you were fine, now release me, Space Lord. I don't want your gross saliva in my hair...!" I whined.

"Gross saliva?" He gasped, pausing and looking down at me with the most offended expression in the world. However, he did not release me. "I'll show you gross!" He then proceeded to continuously kiss the top of my head.

Did we really have time for this?

I gagged dramatically, wiggling against his form. The phone dropped from my hand and back onto the console.

"What's happening?" Amy's voice crackled from the other line of the phone. "Is the Doctor, okay?"

With that, the Doctor finally released me, turning his full attention to the phone and picking it up.

"I am the King of Okay, Pond!" He said through the line, his eyes zeroing in on all the schematics on the board. "Wow! Look at this, this is beautiful. You are both so so clever—my savvy girls!" He complimented, staring at the math.

"PJ was the one to do all those stats alongside Professor Bracewell," Amy said as the same time I muttered. "You saying that sounds creepy, Doctor..."

He rolled his eyes at me and swatted the air.

With that, the Doctor spun around and pressed a certain button causing the TARDIS radio to awaken. We were now receiving live updates from the fighter pilots attacking the Dalek ship.

"We're live on the radio, Amy, we'll call back later," The Doctor informed her before hanging up, not even waiting for a reply.

He turned his head to look at me, his smile much softer as he poked my forehead. My eyes crossed, a scowl taking over my features.

"What did I say about pointing that big brain of yours in the right direction, eh? Look at this... " He sighed, leaning against the console and continuously reading through the stats.

I did not answer him with more than a shrug before I reached down to pick up my fallen goggles and place them back on my head. With that, I fell into the console chair.

"I was just trying to be helpful," I shrugged.

The Doctor pointed to me, remaining in his spot a few feet away where he was leaning against the console.

"This is more than helpful, PJ..." He told me.

"Better than trying to say a fucking jammie dodger is a self-destruct button to an ancient alien race?" I joked.

"Oi, that was all I had and it worked pretty well for the most part!" He defended, but there was a smile on his face. "It was a pretty good jammie dodger too..."

"You ate it in front of them?" I threw my head back incredulously. "You cannot like jammie dodgers that much!"

"They are good! You know how good they are!" He was ranting.

"I would not know seeing as I've never had one, but if you are that addicted to them, you may need to lay off the jammie dodgers for a bit," I teased only for my eyes to widen as the Doctor dramatically slid on his knees across the glass floors until he was directly in front of me.

I pulled my feet upward as the Doctor appeared before me, eyes wide and on his fucking knees.

He definitely did not believe in the term 'personal space' seeing as he was constantly up close with everyone.

His green eyes were wide as he stared at me, leaning even closer.

"You've never had a jammie dodger?" He sounded heartbroken and like he had all the sympathy in the world for me.

"No?" I breathed it as more of a question, hesitant about his scarily devoted attitude toward the sweets. "But I've had plenty of donuts so it's fine, don't worry,"

His face twisted into a scowl and he tried to get closer. But considering he was still on his knees in front of the chair that I was sitting on, he could only get so close.

"Dear, a donut is not a jammie dodger! Not even close!"

"What is close to it then? An oreo? Don't worry, I don't like Oreos that much either..."

"It's not an Oreo! Don't ever call it that again!" He furiously spat and I gave him a wordless thumbs-up.

As it would turn out, the Doctor truly was as crazy as me. Just in a different way.

He was more chaotic good and I ghosted the lines of chaotic neutral.

Our attention was taken away from this ridiculous conversation and to the radio that suddenly had static coming through.

"We're being fired at!" One of the pilots of the fighter planes said. "Incredibly hard to evade!"

The Doctor jumped to his feet and pointed at me. "We'll finish this later, deary!"

I watched him chaotically fly back to the console with a gape on my face. The Doctor proceeded to snap back into serious mode in 1.2 seconds.

He was standing by the radio with a look of concern, and slowly, as I realized what was happening over the radio, my frown formed. By the sounds of it... the pilots were losing against the Daleks.

Not a surprise, sadly.

The bubble was meant to keep the human pilots safe and allow them to fly in space, but it was not a force field. They would still be destroyed if they were hit.

Only three planes were sent up here, and one was already down.

In the next instant, the second plane was also down leaving only one pilot.

"Danny Boy to the Doctor, only me left now. Anything you can do, sir? Over." The last pilot radioed in, asking for help.

And the Doctor never denied someone who was in need of help.

The Doctor was quick to respond, frustration painted over his face. "The Doctor to Danny Boy. The Doctor to Danny Boy. I can disrupt the Dalek shields, but not for long. Over."

How the hell was he going to disrupt the Dalek shields?

I suppose I should not be shocked that the TARDIS can do that considering she is a rather amazing ship.

"Understood, Doctor. Over." The pilot responded over the radio. "I'm going in now, wish me luck. Over."

I cringed, that pilot was definitely prepared to die.

The Doctor was quick, professional as he toggled levers and pulled knobs. Whatever he did worked, as in the next second—many voices came from over the radio.

"We got a direct hit! The lights are off, London is dark again!" They were shouting over the radio amid a variety of loud cheering. "We repeat: London is dark again! The homeland is hidden!"

It seemed that London was once again hidden from the Germans.