#‘if I start searching I’ll destroy what little garbage you hold dear’ I love her

[rainedroptalks]

Suvi is horrifying I love her

[tinyastronaut-suggestion]

Bean and The Ghost Girl (1/?)

I think that one of the greatest things about the universe is how it’s infinite. Everyone knows that, that space grows and expands at an exponential growth in random direction, everyone knew. No one can comprehend that though, you can’t imagine infinite space or infinite numbers anymore than you can imagine how big the sun or galaxy is. There are so many things we know, but don't understand. I know how someone is feeling but can't comprehend their thoughts or true emotion, i know that gravity is always pulling on us, but can never imagine it. Someone who acts just like you could have thoughts in a completely different way, or see the world in a different way. Life, death, love, thoughts. Why do we know them, but not know them? I sent a little essay along those lines to a college I wanted to go to when asked why I wanted to become an astrophysicist. I had to know more about the mysteries of our world, about the incomprehensible. Ironically though, when I got into that college two years ago, I found the most incomprehensible thing alive to be as close to home as she was to my heart. I asked her questions like these constantly, she always gave me some sort of...fortune cookie spiel. “Do you ever think about how everything is so infinite and we’re so...small?” “Makes us all the more meaningful I guess, kinda limited edition.” How she could always find some beauty in the world was besides me, sometimes I wondered if she was even human. Her smile was something that saw the world for what I couldn’t, I’ll never know what I did to deserve her. I remember running my hand through her short curly hair, humming about how soft it was while reading some class notes. She’d always tell me to be careful of her star hairclip, and I’d make a joke about how she was the only star I saw. I remember her running up to me, toothy-grin and lollipop in mouth, screaming about matching NASA jackets. I still wear mine almost everyday. When we got an apartment together we made everything space themed, it was childish and a little embarrassing but it kept me going through college. Everytime I look at our rocket clock I remember all the times we’ve shared. The thing about her was that she really was everything. She was timeless. I always thought about our future, and our past is so clear I may as well be reliving it. She took photos on an instant camera she carried, so much emotion and memory capture in a little square. She held an unforgettable past. The present though, even I’m unsure. I guess my present is filled with watching the rocket themed clock, and her present is filled with watching the stars. The present was always a concept I didn’t understand. We can remember the past, we can imagine and wait for what the future holds, but by the time you realize what’s in the present it’s already in the past. By the time I realized what I had, Strawberry was in the past. Just another incomprehensible. We still don’t know how she died. It’s strange how such a decent day can become the worst day of your life by the unexpected. I was laying in our bed, scrolling through my phone when the knock came. Those kind of knocks are distinguishable, Strawberry held a more gentle rhythmic knock. This one held authority and reeked of bad news. The knock was a wake up call, I shot up grabbed my jacket, and put on some pants. I patted down my straight hair and opened the door. I should have kept it closed. I can’t even remember the officer who stood there, face, gender, nothing. All I remember was their straight face as they said one sentence. “Ma’am, I regret to inform you that Strawberry Thimble has passed away.” And it’s just...hard. It’s hard to think about, it’s hard to feel, it’s hard to do anything. It wasn’t fair that someone could be taken away so easily. So fast. Someone as outstanding and different as Strawberry, someone who saw the good in me. Just gone. They found her in the garbage behind the old candy shop I used to work at. They handed me her moon themed instant camera. I remember being mad at the officer, screaming and yelling. They don’t even know who killed her, they started writing it off as an accident. Yeah, right. Because being stabbed multiple times is totally an accident. I think the worst part about the whole thing was waking up each morning. I’d rub my eyes, stretch and yawn. But when I'd move to give her a kiss on the cheek, she wasn't there. It’s weird how easily you could forget someone died, even someone as dear as Berry. I guess it’s another one of those incomprehensibles. I’d open up my phone to ask her what she wanted for dinner, I’d nearly ask our professor for extra notes for her, I’d open the door and ask her how she was doing. I looked into the mirror one day, my hair was all off. I nearly started sobbing, Strawberry was always the one to do my hair. Why couldn’t I just get over it? Walking through the kitchen filled with the snack only she ate, to the dining room with the table sheets she picked out, to our room, which still smelled like her. Everyday it faded more and more. It was almost impossible to stand. I turned to her little desk where her photos filled the drawers. I read online that sometimes physically destroying memories of a person can help you move on. I was just so scared that once I ripped them, I’d want them back. I sat down on the little chair and opened up the drawer. There were so many photos filling up the drawer that it kept getting stuck on the way out. For fear of bending some, I had to reach my fingers into the narrow space and pull on stuck corners. I guess it could be called nostalgia, looking through the photos was like getting a bittersweet kiss from Berry herself. Images of the sky, or just little crafts I’ve made. I had found a photo of us arm in arm. Her smile was contagious. Looking at the photo I remembered how short she was compared to me. Her chubby hands intertwined in my bony hands. What an unforgettable feeling. On the back of the photo she had written “Bean and I, <3” I hugged that photo a lot, close to my heart. I kept searching through them all. Eventually I laid eyes on an old one, it was mostly sky. In the bottom corner of the photo you could see the top of my face, and my finger pointing towards a big white blur. Our first and only successful UFO spotting. I remember her showing that photo to everyone, I remember her submitting it to every magazine. It got a bit of attention then was brushed away as fake. She was still determined. I always loved that about her. “Oh Berry…” I left the photo on the desk, closing the drawer. I can’t destroy these memories. They were just too dear. I looked out the window in front of the desk, the moon was out. With a sigh I decided I should go to bed. Lately getting ready for bed was so difficult, I could practically hear her scolding me. Simple things like brushing my teeth, taking a shower, washing my face felt like such a burden and waste of what little energy I had. “Come on Bean,” I said while holding my toothbrush, “you’ve got a huge test tomorrow.” But then laying against the sinks tap was a purple and red toothbrush. She never could put it away, I always had to clean up after her. Maybe I left her messes around so it wouldn't be the last time I cleaned after her. I put the toothbrush down. I reached for the face wash, and paused again. My favorite scent, lavender. She used to try everything to get me to have some sort of care routine, she was certain my face would become as dry as a raisin. Once I was too tired to wash my face, so she put some in her hands and rubbed it all over my cheeks so I had no choice. I pulled my hand away, I'm not so sure if I like lavender anymore. I thought to just splash some warm water on my face, but the steam covered the mirror before I could process what I wanted to do. I really should get rid of all these memories. We'd both written “I love you” on the mirror. Next to mine was a heart, next to hers was a kiss. I slashed the mirror instead of my face. I just have to hold on. I took a deep breath. Just take a shower. Just get away from all these memories, maybe pack up and move out later. Just wash away the memories. I couldn't handle seeing anything else. When I went to take off my jacket for the shower though, I felt a stiff paper in my pocket. Taking it out I saw that it was the picture of Strawberry and I. Dammit. I held onto memories like I was dependant on them. I had to move on. I was so tired. I was failing school. I was so close to getting fired. I had to move on. I have to move on. I threw my NASA jacket to the floor, crumpling our photo in my fist. I can’t do this anymore, I thought as I tore the bathroom door open, I had to move on. I stomped straight for my room, to her desk. “Why! Why the hell did you have to leave me?!” I threw her desk to the floor. With a loud thud all it’s photos spilled out onto the floor. They were all right there. All of them. All the reasons I can’t move on. I tossed our crumbled photo into the pile, glaring at the the wet spots that fell over it. “That’s enough!” I tore the first photo. “Leave me alone!” I ripped the second photo. “I just want to forget!” The third, fourth, fifth, sixth… I look back at this breakdown with shame. Something so small, finding a photo in my pocket, and I went on a rampage. She would tell me that breakdowns over small things are usually because of a build up from bigger things. At that moment though I was too busy crying and screaming. My face and hands tingled as I struggled to catch my breath. There was a photo stuck in the window sill. The UFO. I sobbed, unable to control my messy emotions. When I went to rip the last photo though, it was taken from my hands. I can’t remember how I felt then, I was so numb. I recognized those little chubby hands that held onto that photo. Standing over me was her. Her. Her her her her. She looked down at the UFO photo with a sad look. She was taken away from me, her who was standing right there. Her. How? She was even wearing our NASA jacket. She was just like I remembered. Her short curly hair, her plump lips, her dark skin. All of her was right there. She looked away from the photo, staring into my eyes. I must have been so hard to look at, completely broken down, at the bottom low. She bent down in front of me and brushed a tear away. Her touch left my cheek cold and numb, it felt as though her thumb passed through me. She smiled, and I finally found my voice. “Berry?”

[lockeddw-blog]

Prologue

A quiet life. Just what the doctor ordered, thought the Doctor. Nothing to do but just listen to the crinkling and sliding of pages and creaking of book spines, that sort of thing. Simply marvelous, that was. Landing on a Sunday was sharp thinking furthermore, should lead to a calm affair all around. Silent enough to get a lot of reading done. The TARDIS library hadn't taken long to fill. Many books were already stored inside, but even so, the Doctor went to the trouble of adding another wing just to sport many of the native Earth texts he particularly favored. Adding space to the TARDIS was a bit like asking a Sontaran general to try and be more aggressive. There just isn't a whole lot of space left for this sort of thing, but extra library wings are always important.

The Doctor had finished his read through of Sense and Sensibility again (loves the book; wishes Austen would have kept in the dueling scene between Willoughby and the Colonel) and had just sat down with his copy of Oh the Places You'll Go! Much more complex and time consuming document. While opening the cover, he noticed that someone was sitting next to him. Before he could register who it was, he took a few milliseconds to ponder why he even had two chairs near one another in his library. The answer was depressing.

"Hello" said the Doctor. "It's good to see you again. Odd to see you here, honestly, but still." He paused for effect. "Not unwelcome, you are. I don't get a lot of visitors unannounced. Come to think, I don't have a lot of visitors. Most people usually run into the TARDIS screaming for their lives, so things like offering guests a drink and making sure they're relaxed is not exactly second nature."

Rambling, in the Doctor's mind, seemed a good way to avoid the conversation he knew they'd be having in a moment. "Like a drink? Does your kind drink? I'm afraid I've never seen your mouths" the Doctor probed awkwardly, wondering whether it was rude to ask. "Here for a quick kip perhaps? I don't have many beds. Don't sleep much myself. Not sure if your kind sleep either. I should probably add more books about you to my library, though I don't know where we'd find the space..." The person near him used the small pause to commence his side of the conversation.

"Begging your pardon, we must discuss your song. It is soon ending. It would be preferable for you to be ready promptly. You will soon be summoned" greeted Ood Sigma.

***

"Sorry darling. I'm on call ain't I?" argued Mickey. "If it wasn't important, they wouldn't contact me. Especially not now. I don't even know how many people are downtown at the moment. Quick knock in and I'll be right back to -"

"But you promised," interrupted Martha Smith. "You promised Christmas Eve was a special day. 'A solemn night which I will hold dear and treat you like the Queen herself then' were, I believe, your exact words. You and me, we've been on so many separate assignments lately. I haven't got to talk with you like this in ages. It's nice Mickey! Why can't you send Private Crem?"

"What, just tell Private Crem to go? You don't think he's with his family as well do ya?" asked Mickey.

"No. He lives alone, and his mother can spare him a few hours. Private Crem adores you and you know he'd go. Loves following orders, Private Crem does. We need this time together, love. I miss you. I do." Martha pleaded.

"I'll be back at the flat in a jiff. Love you," urged Mickey.

"Love you too," sighed Martha.

Mickey gave Martha a kiss on the head and a gentle pat on the navel, and promptly left the pub. Martha was starting to wonder whether she and her husband should continue to work for U.N.I.T. The ongoing stress was starting to make her feel queasy at times. Mickey and Martha had decided long ago that the safety of the Universe was their top priority, above any personal needs. She was starting to wonder, though, if more pressing circumstances were on the horizon, whether the holding together the fabric of time and space was truly their highest priority. Others things were proving more difficult to hold together of late.

As Martha sank deeper into thought, something odd pulled her out of her trance. A pudgy woman, late twenties, with a black felt cap and matching string tie had abruptly sat down across the table where Mickey had just vacated. The woman seemed to be waiting for a sign that she was noticed. Not to be phased or caught off guard, Martha took a strategic bite of her chips and simply stared at her once the woman caught her full eye, as if Martha had simply been surveying the room and had finally given this person her attention. Once the woman's presence had been acknowledged, she did not hesitate to begin.

"Have you seen this being?" the woman inquired. Martha recognized the picture at once. It gave her a bit of a squirm in her abdomen.

"Hi. My name's Leah, by the way. Nice to meet you too, but I'm not interested in making new friends this evening. Merry Christmas all the same though." Martha replied politely, lifting her basket of chips, hoping the woman would simply leave.

"Have you seen this being?" the woman repeated.

"Never," responded Martha. "Good bye," she added with more bite.

"Not laid eyes upon him before this moment? Not one time? In this life or possible past lives then?" the pudgy woman continued to pry. Irritated, but not wanting to show any emotion, Martha gave an answer.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no. Never. And if I may be so incredulous, as you seem prone, your methods for locating individuals are a tad inefficient, aren't they? Big city, small pub, this is." After Martha offered this opinion, the woman stared, in the same hard but blank manner Martha had employed. Martha's years in U.N.I.T. had taught her that the more trained in staring like this a person was, the more annoying their answers would be.

"You're lying"

"About your census strategy or my acquaintances?"

"I'm trying to find the Doctor to offer him something he values dearly. A chance he's never dared dream but is now within his grasp. This would make him happy and bring him peace. If you'd like to deny him this to the Doctor because you were too stubborn and arrogant about your transcendent abilities in being coy, that's fine. Stop talking. But don't lie. It's not honorable. Or nice, for that matter."

Martha considered this. The pudgy woman had used his name twice.

"I don't know where he is, and I've destroyed any methods of contacting him in the indefinite past and future for his own safety. I won't divulge manners of relationships or duration of time spent together. Don't dare be daft enough to ask about any emotional garbage. All I'll tell you is yes, we've met." Martha paused. "And your hat looks smashing. Now, Happy Chanukah, cheers, adios, and for the sake of thoroughness, please leave."

The woman left with. Martha continued to meditate on more important items.

***

"You're an odd Ood, you know that?" The Doctor had been waiting for years to use that one.

"You have little time left. Your song is ending." Ood Sigma repeated.

"As you've said. About 3 times now. Let me ask you, if you say that phrase again a 4th time, will I buy the farm right here on my floor, or will things be a bit more formal?" The Doctor's patience was beginning to wane. "I've got quite a lump of Sunday reading to do, so if that's all then," he added.

"Begging your pardon, but it is not I who must act, or 'wrap up' as you phrased it. You must ready your affairs to take the next step. You will soon be summoned before the Elder. When you are summoned, it is vital for the safety of many beside yourself that you do not delay," The Ood summarized.

"Well," The Doctor prolonged, his tone becoming more formidable, "In that case, I suppose I'd better write a will. Do I need an executor for my will or shall one be assigned? Unfortunately I've no next of kin, as they've all been blown apart by the Dalek Empire in the Great Time War. I'm afraid my eulogy will be a bit long. I've accomplished a vast many things, you see. Oh, and there may be political ramifications, as I've married into the nobility of a small island kingdom back on planet Earth. You may have heard of a cramped country called Britain, perhaps?" The Doctor's voice became sharper with each word. The blank expression of the Ood leader only made the Gallifrean edgier. "If it's all the same to you, my song will end when the fat lady sings," he ceased.

"Sir, if I may offer, it is worth noting that often, we sentients believe to be fighting other sentients when incensed. In actuality, for the better part of our time in the Universe, we are simply fighting ourselves." He eyed the Doctor.

Turning his head slightly, he added, "Perhaps instead of Geisel, Nietzsche would be preferable. He once said, or considering our current position, will come to say, 'The end of a melody is not its goal: but nonetheless, had the melody not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either. A parable.' Oh, Doctor. The places you will soon go. Do not your allow parable to become a cautionary one."

***

The skinny girl who'd been arguing with her husband left soon after their conversation. She'd been small help, but had at least admitted to knowing the Doctor. Undoubtedly she'd traveled with him in the past. Or future, depending on when Jane returned to her station on Urej.

If one only searched for people by looking in two, or even three dimensions, finding someone or their acquaintances was a difficult job that involved the need of many tools and tricks. Martha Smith had been on point about that. However, searching in 4 dimensions made things very simple indeed. Luckily, Martha had given Jane only what she required: verification that she was one of the many companions of the Doctor's current face.

Jane saw the girl whom she'd been informed was named Donna Noble sitting at a table with friends. At least according to the descriptions within the code, her profile matched. The table Donna sat at was only 3 away from where Martha and Mickey Smith had been sitting. Inefficient indeed.

Jane went up to Donna. "Excuse me," Jane breathed. Donna was more likely to give information to a kind and sincere person. Martha had a flaw for seeing kindness occasionally as weakness. Donna was just the opposite. She was too nice. And she'd be all too willing to give Jane the information she needed now that she'd had a few drinks. A trained spy Ms. Noble was not. "Have you seen this being? We've been looking for a few weeks now, and we'll have to end our search soon if we don't get any more leads..." Donna did not look at the picture yet.

"You're looking for a being? A being? Tell you what, then, you're being a bit rude right now, interrupting our party." Donna giggled, and then sighed. She gave Jane a second glance and her expression seemed a tad less hard. There was always the kindness hidden underneath the cheek, according to the profile. "Let me see the picture more closely then," Donna waved her hands toward her person. Donna observed. Donna's face went pale. Donna bore the appearance of sobering. Donna stared. She stared some more. Then Donna fainted.

Jane tried to recall what her notes said to do if someone fainted. Jane hoped that after this ordeal was finished, the other working class girl had stronger nerves.