#anyway curly yaz x short hair 13

[thetorturedlovergirl]

OKOK HEAR ME OUT

this Yaz with this 13

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Mosaic Broken Hearts (But This Love is Brave and Wild)

Part 2 | See the Full Series Here

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 5,140

Warnings: None

Summary: The Doctor knows she loves you, that isn’t her concern. However, doesn't know what to do about it. For help, she calls up one of her old faces for advice, but doesn't get the regeneration she was bargaining for. (This is technically a sequel to Your Hand Print's on my Soul but can be read as a standalone)

Key: Y/N - Your Name, Y/P1 - she, he, or they, Y/P2 - her, him, or their

A/N: So here's what I've decided on the pronouns front. When Reader is the subject of the sentence, it'll be Y/P1 (these are for pronouns like she, he and they). When reader is the object of the sentence, it'll be Y/P2 (these are for pronouns such as her, him, and their). I'm doing it like this because thanks to a wonderful anon, I've learned that people use this extension that changes Y/N (and other acronyms) into your name. So instead of just Y/P, I figured it would help if I made a distinction. Let me know how you feel about this and how it goes!

“Right,” the Doctor said, and she dumped the small book in front of Yaz. “I need your help.”

Yaz looked up from her phone. The Doctor didn’t know what had captured her attention, but apparently she had been refreshing her feed all day. “…Right,” she glanced down at the book, then back at the Doctor. “What’s up?

“It won’t take too long,” The Doctor said. “I just need your opinion.”

Yaz set her phone to the side, and cautiously picked up the book. “What on?”

The Doctor gestured to the book.

Yaz opened it and flicked through a couple of pages. It was a photo album of all the Doctor’s past faces, and as Yaz flicked through them, her face fell into a small frown. “Hey Doc, no offence or anything but… Why am I looking at a bunch of photos of random old white men?”

“They used to me,” The Doctor said, and she sat down in front of Yaz, cross legged so that she was looking slightly up at her. Yaz had been curled up on the living room sofa, the BBC playing softly in the background on the TV.

They were in Yaz’s family apartment, house sitting for them whilst Yaz’s family were down at the Coast. Her family had extended the invitation to both Yaz and the Doctor, but neither wanted to be too far away in case of a crisis.

Yaz sighed, sitting up right so she could flick through the book properly. She eyed the Doctor, as if she didn’t quite believe her. It was a look the Doctor got often from her new friends, and it gave her an edge of amusement. “Hmm,” Yaz eyed the Doctor’s eighth face. “What am I looking for exactly?”

“Which one’s the most trustworthy,” The Doctor said, then she frowned. “No wait, that’s not right. Which one looks like they’ll give the best advice?”

Yaz raised an eyebrow. “Best advice? Doc, I can’t judge that from a photo.”

“Sure you can!” The Doctor said. “You can get it from a vibe! Besides, I need a neutral party to decide. I can just imagine technicolour dream coat and I getting into an argument. He wouldn’t like my rainbow, which doesn’t even make sense, have you seen how much rainbow is on him!”

Yaz quickly flicked backwards through the pages, until she landed on the Doctor’s sixth face, in all his curly blonde haired glory. “Is this him? Technicolour dream coat?”

The Doctor nodded her head. “Oh just look at that coat, I loved that coat. I reckon I’d look smashing in that coat today.” Yaz gave it an amused smile. “It’s certainly… striking,” then she closed the photo album and gave the Doctor a look, and the mood completely shifted.

The Doctor hated when Yaz did gave her this look, it was too… knowing. It was like she was piecing together all the things the Doctor had ever said, stitching together the real Doctor, the version of herself she wasn’t sure if she wanted the others to see. “Why do you need advice from one of these blokes anyway? We’re all here for you Doc, all of us.”

The Doctor’s jaw clenched. What was she supposed to say? Oh yeah, don’t mind me, I’m just in love with Y/N and need advice on how to deal with it, nothing big or important at all.

Because that was the thing though, she wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to do about it. She wasn’t sure whether she should pursue you, if that would even be fair, given the weight that was her everything.

And? If she did decide to pursue you? If the Doctor was really going to be so selfish? Well, she couldn’t even begin to know where to start with that.

So fresh eyes, eyes that understood her to her very core. That’s what she needed.

“Honestly,” the Doctor swallowed. It was difficult being honest in this face, speaking so openly like this. She had to practise, not just for herself, not just for you, but for the rest of her friends too. “I don’t know,” she said, eventually. “But I know, right now at least, the only person who can tell me… is, well, me.” I just don’t know which me to choose, I don’t want to be biased about it, base my decision on baseless things like the opinion on a coat, for example.

“And Yaz, you’re good at this, brilliant at it even. You know people, you know how to judge people immediately. I’m asking you because… well, because I trust you. You’re one of my best mate’s Yaz, who else would I ask?

Yaz chewed her lip, giving the Doctor a look she couldn’t yet recognise. “Alright,” she said, at last. She flicked through the book, and the Doctor watched as Yaz scrutinised each and every one of the Doctor’s old faces. She made some comments from time to time, mostly about the clothes the Doctor had once worn,  or certain hairstyles.

Finally, she settled on someone. “Him,” she said. “He’s got a knowing face.”

She turned the book around so the Doctor could see. Huh. Yaz had chosen her tenth face; Sandshoes.

Well, technically her eleventh face, but that was neither here nor there.

The Doctor pondered over the thought for a moment. He wasn’t a bad choice, in fact, he was probably the best choice of the bunch. He’d wanted love more than anyone, he had fallen in love, so easily, so quickly, so readily.

At the very least he knew how to navigate it.

“That,” the Doctor said finally. “Is an excellent choice, I think.”

“Yeah?” Yaz said, and she was smiling. “You reckon?”

The Doctor nodded vigorously. This could work, this could be perfect.

Which was why, when the Doctor was finally alone, she set her plan into motion.

You, Ryan, and Graham had agreed to come over around the same time Yaz’s fam did, which had been the Doctor’s suggestion. She just needed one short moment, just a minute, a quick duck out and duck in, none of you would ever even notice – you wouldn’t know.

So, when Yaz’s family came home, and she was letting them inside, the Doctor snuck into the TARDIS, which had been parked in the spare room.

Now, the thing about time travel, the very tricky thing about time travelling, is that travelling through your own time stream could be messy, very messy. The Doctor knew this, of course, and, when she had decided that she was going to meet up with her past self, she had planned to circumvent this.

The first thing she had to do was think of a location that wouldn’t be prone to a violent world ending, explosion making paradox – which she had already done; The Medusa Cascade. She had been there enough, in so many regenerations, that the old girl would barely bat an eye should she materialise at the same time as a past version of themselves.

And even if the TARDIS did realise when exactly she was going (which, of course she would, nothing got past the TARDIS), well, the TARDIS was such a romantic, surely she wouldn’t mind.

So the Doctor punched in the coordinates.

The second thing the Doctor had to do was send her old self a message, one that conveyed the urgent-ness of the meeting, but not too urgent. She’d run into her timestream so many times now that it was basically an annual holiday for her, but that didn’t change the fact that this was something she definitely shouldn’t do lightly.

She had a message, or, well, at least, the idea of a message.

The third thing, well, the third thing she had to do, was sync up their TARDIS’, create an artificial temporal feedback loop between the two TARDIS’ so neither one of them would vomit the Doctor(s) out. Hopefully, what it would do would allow both her and sandshoes to exist in the same TARDIS, whilst also not existing in the same TARDIS at all.

The Doctor waited for someone – you, to tell her that she was clever.

Then she whacked her head on one of the crystals that towered around the console and realised you weren’t in the room at all, that all of those words had just been her internal monologue.

Huh, well then.

She rubbed her head with the back of her hand, trying to subside the throbbing, pounding, sensation that was rattling against on her forehead. She punched in the rest of the coordinates, pulled up the leaver, and was off.

The TARDIS groaned loudly. She was shuddering dramatically, and the Doctor almost groaned. “C’mon old girl, don’t tell me you’ve gone bitter in your old age.”

A panel on the wall popped off, leaking angry fiery, sparks. The Doctor yelped, and glared around her person, so the TARDIS could clearly see who the glare was directed at. “Now that wasn’t necessary.”

With a shaky grumble, the TARDIS landed, floating in deep space. The sparks stopped as soon as they started, and the Doctor made a mental note to patch it up before she left.

Right then, time for the message.

A video call wouldn’t be right, not for this. She needed something dramatic, something mysterious, something her past self would latch on and be too curious about to ignore. A simple message, completely appropriate, just 13 words:

   ↠ In a sort of pickle, Bad Wolf and all that. Fancy a cuppa?

And then, of course, she sent the instructions on how to create an artificial temporal feedback loop between the two TARDIS that her past self could follow. Of course, since this was herself that she was planning for, she knew damn well that he wouldn’t read the a word of them.

So hopefully that would mean that she would wind up inside his console, instead of it being the other way round. She didn’t have the time or energy to defend her stylistic choices to him.

The Doctor waited anxiously, pacing around the console like a nervous cat, like one sound would cause her to flee. She wasn’t even sure why she was nervous, she was only seeing herself, after all.

Which was exactly why she was nervous.

She considered bailing, finding another face of her to talk to instead. She was going to get distracted by Ten’s spikey hair, she could already tell.

No, that wasn't true.

She was scared, she felt like she was being selfish.

The thing was, Ten had loved someone too: Rose. She had been wonderful, utterly fantastic, and to this day the Doctor still loved her, in her own way. She loved Rose as an echo, a memory of what-ifs and could have beens.

The Doctor wasn't sure how it would feel to have a future version of herself tell her that she would one day love another, that it would be so tangible and close, after losing someone so awfully. She couldn't imagine that sort of pain.

Actually, she could imagine it, quite easily. It was dreadful.

She had experienced it once, with Rose.

And River.

And she wouldn’t ever, couldn’t ever, experience it with you.

The Doctor took in a deep breath. The message has already been sent, an invitation for just the two of them to talk. She couldn’t back out now.

She eyed her fez, sitting by the steps that lead up the TARDIS corridors. It was a split second decision, one second she was debating whether or not she should grab it, the next, it was on her head.

She felt more herself, more confident, wearing it.

Yeah, totally still her.

The first thing she noticed was the way her skin prickled, as if thousands of tiny needles were lightly poking her. Then the room around her went fuzzy, and the Doctor felt dizzy. In an instant, she was stumbling into a different TARDIS, with familiar brown poles, wires swinging freely in the air, and old grating under her feet.

Except… there weren’t any brown poles, or grating under her feet. The Doctor stared underneath her and oh no.

Something had gone very, very wrong.

For one thing, the most obvious thing, the thing she should have noticed immediately: she was standing on glass.

The Doctor looked around her, she was surrounded by orange chromed walls, golden metal plating, and round little lights sat into the sides. It was familiar, intimately and completely familiar, because this console room had once been hers.

But this wasn’t the console of her tenth face… this was-

“Who,” a familiar voice rang out. “Are you?”

The Doctor turned around slowly, and eyed her eleventh face carefully.

Gods, she had forgotten how big that chin was.

“So,” she said slowly. “I’ve got a bit of explaining to do.”

“A bit?” Eleven said. He said the next two words under his breath. “Bad Wolf,” he then turned to her. “I haven’t heard those words in a very long time.”

The Doctor took in her old self. He seemed tired, his clothes were a bit disorganised, with his shirt untuck and his suspenders hanging limp by his knees. His hair was a mess too, flopping over his face like he had just regenerated. He seemed stressed – scared, almost.

It was almost as if-

“Lake Silencio,” Thirteen breathed, the realisation hitting her with so much force she stumbled backwards slightly. “That’s about to happen, isn’t it?”

His eyes visibly widened – they were so expressive, these eyes. They were the only things that showed his age. “How do you-”

“I’m so sorry,” Thirteen said. “I wasn’t supposed to run into you, especially not now. I was trying to find sandshoes.”

“What? Sandshoes?” Eleven drummed his fingers against the console. “Spikey hair, big sad eyes?”

“Yup, the very same.”

“Why would you even want to talk to him, he,” Eleven straightened, and marched towards her. “No, wait, hold on. That’s distracting, you distracted me with information.”

Thirteen raised her hands up, placating. “I really am sorry-“

“Who are you?” Eleven repeated. “You can’t be me, I’m, I’m about to-”

“I am though,” Thirteen interrupted, and she scrunched up her face. She knew he didn’t want to finish saying that sentence as much as she didn’t want to hear it. “I’m you, a couple faces down the line.”

“You can’t be, you shouldn't exist," Eleven said, an edge of an accusation in his voice. “How do you exist?"

"Aww," Thirteen drew the sound out. "Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey, something to do with spoilers."

"Spoilers," Eleven let out a half laugh, a half scoff. "Now that's a word that's thrown around a fair bit."


River.

The Doctor's hearts ached for her, they always would, in a way. A memory of so many chances, of sly smiles, and fleeting moments.

"Trust me though," she said. "I am you, we have a future."

Eleven’s mood changed almost instantly. “A future," he breathed, and he had a wistful smile on his face. "Well then, that's something. I hope it's a good one."

"I do my best."

"Right then," Eleven said, and he clapped his hands together. “What are you here for? What’s so urgent that my future self would come barrelling in like this? I did pop the kettle on.”

Thirteen grinned. “Peppermint tea?”

Eleven rummaged on the console for a moment, before throwing a small cardboard box in the air. He caught it one handed and turned to Thirteen with a wink. “Of course.”

He then jogged towards the kettle, not waiting for a reply. “I do love the fez by the way,” he called out. “It’s suit’s you! Let me know it was you, too. Well, that and the scan I did as you landed.”

Thirteen looked around frantically, scrunching her face up at the TARDIS interior. “Scans? When’d you do scans?”

“As you materialised,” he replied. “Set it up with Donna, remember?”

Thirteen racked her brain for the memory. That had been over a thousand years ago for her.

“Vaguely,” she replied, and hopped over to him.

“Ah, losing that memory with age then?” He eyes sparkled as he passed her a mug.

“Careful whippersnapper,” Thirteen teased. “I’ve got centuries on you.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Eleven replied. They move in sync, in a sort of tandem that only they two were familiar with. They were the same person, but also so starkly different.

“But what do you think?” She said, and she gestured to the fez, but really, she was talking about all of her. “Still me?”

Eleven eyed her up and down quizzically. “Most definitely,” he said. “An upgrade, I’d say.”

Thirteen grinned as they sat down. “Tell you what, buying women’s clothes, still not used to it.”

“Nah,” Eleven replied. “It’s been ages.”

They sat on the threshold of Eleven’s TARDIS, each with a mug of peppermint tea in hand, staring out at the Medusa Nebula. Thirteen was curled in on herself, one knee tucked into her frame and the other dangling freely. Eleven, however, sat openly, his legs swinging free.

She didn’t know how long they sat there in silence, just taking in the bright dust clouds dancing across the inky black universe.

“I’ve met someone,” Thirteen started, after another moment. “A human.”

“Well,” Eleven took a sip of his tea. “That is something we do.”

“No it’s,” Thirteen floundered for a moment, trying to find the words. “It’s different.”

“Define different.”

Thirteen struggled to find a way to describe it, to fully articulate what it was like, what her love for you was like. So, she told a story.

“Do you remember,” Thirteen said. “Gods, it was so long ago for me, but there was this way Amy once described Rory. How, sometimes you meet beautiful people, but they’re dull as a brick. But then you meet someone, and their personality just becomes synonymous with their beauty…”

“She said Rory was the most beautiful man she had ever met,” Eleven finished.

“Exactly, and, well… Y/P2 name is Y/N,” Thirteen said, and risked looking at her younger self.

She watched him blink as the realisation hit him. “Oh,” he said softly, and it was enough.

“Yeah,” Thirteen breathed out.

“So…” Eleven said. “Sandshoes.”

Thirteen chuckled at that, and took a sip of her tea. “Yeah.”

“He would’ve been a bit moody about it.”

Thirteen snorted, and Eleven laughed. “Oi, don’t judge it,” Thirteen said. “My friend picked him out, said he’s got ‘a knowing face,’ so I went with it.”

“He would’ve known how to cope with it,” Eleven said. “That’s for sure.”

“That’s what I need,” Thirteen said. “See, I know I love Y/P2, I keep it safe, hold it in my hearts. That’s not the part that worries me.”

“You just don’t know what to do with it,” Eleven surmised.

“Exactly,” Thirteen nodded. “So, you’re right, and so was Yaz. Ol’ cockatoo hair would’ve known.”

“And you got me instead,” Eleven said with a rueful grin.

“Yup,” Thirteen said. “So? Got any advice for me?”

“Not really,” Eleven replied. “But tell me about Y/N, maybe that would help?”

Thirteen smiled, staring out at the Medusa Nebula, and thought of you. “Well,” she started. “Y/N’s amazing, just so thoughtful, so selfless. I don’t even know if Y/P1 realises just how much she does for others, I think it’s just so innate and present within Y/P2 that for Y/N, it’s just a state of being.”

Eleven sounded out your name on his lips, enunciating it carefully, almost reverently. “It’s a nice name,” he said. “Straight out of a storybook.”

“It is,” Thirteen agreed. “And, okay, so, you know that energy humans have? That wonderful quality that just fills them with so much vibrancy, so much life?”

“Always,” he looked riveted, like he was hanging off of Thirteens every word.

“Well, Y/N just sort… encapsulates it. It’s like, there could be an entire solar system, an entire nebula,” she gestured to the view. “Right there, but the only thing worth looking at is Y/P2.”

“But everything,” Thirteen continued. “Absolutely everything to Y/P2, is so new and exciting. I could show Y/N the seven wonders of the universe, take Y/P2 to see the most dazzling sights in the next universe over, or just show Y/P2 some pink snow, and Y/P1 would find it all just as extraordinary as the next.”

Eleven’s mouth formed a small smile. He took a small sip of his tea. “That sounds… wonderful.”

“Yeah,” Thirteen said, and then, suddenly. “If you were me-”

“I am you,” Eleven said, giving her a wry grin.

“Yes, I know that, but me, me. As in, this face me. Would you pursue something with Y/P2, would you try?”

Eleven let out a heavy breath. Thirteen had no doubt as to what he was thinking about, who he was thinking about – she had lived it, after all. I would be different hearing it, though. “Yes,” he said, after a moment of thought. “I would, if I could. What you’ve said, it sounds like… well, it sounds like everything.”

Thirteen swallowed. It certainly felt like everything.

“The thing is though,” Eleven added. “Is it what you want, is it what Y/P1 wants?”

Thirteen scrunched her face up at that. “I don’t know.”

“Look” he said. “I know next to nothing about this sort of stuff, really, it was absurd you came to me-”

Thirteen snorted, again.

“-But the way I see it, the fact that you’re going around, asking people stuff, questioning this, seeking answers, that’s got to count for something. Loving a human… I can’t imagine anything better.”

“And when I lose Y/P2?” Thirteen challenged. “When Y/N is gone with everyone else, what do I do then?”

Eleven sighed. “What we always do, what we’ve always done. Keep moving forward.”

Thirteen huffed out a breath. “I don’t know if I can do that, again. I’ve lost so much, more than you could imagine-”

“Oh I’m sure I’d be able to, one day.”

“-Right,” Thirteen ran a hand through her hair. “I’m just exhausted though. I’m so sick of losing people, of losing everyone. You fix things, you move on, and then it just keeps happening,” she gave him a desperate look. “I’m not sure I could lose someone again, I’m not sure if I could lose Y/P2.”

“I suppose then, you’ve got to think of the alternatives,” Eleven replied. “What are you willing to do, what boundaries are you willing to set?”

Thirteen considered it for a moment. Then it hit her. “I don’t want to set boundaries. Well, Y/N can set boundaries of course, but me? I… I want whatever I can have…” she scrunched up her face. “I think”

“Do you always do that?” Eleven asked suddenly.

“Do what?”

He mimicked her expression, scrunching his face up. “This.”

Thirteen couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Y/N says I do, Y/P1 notices things, that one.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that, either,” Eleven said. “Face it, we’ve got a type.”

“Plucky adventurous willing to take on the universe?” Thirteen suggested.

“Exactly,” he sobered, after. “I can’t tell you what you should do. Even though I am you, I think that’s something only you, you can decide.”

Thirteen let out a half-hearted groan. “That’s what Vastra said.”

“Oh, Madame Vastra! How is she?”

“Not enjoying her meals as much as she was,” Thirteen commented idly. “She liked Y/N though.”

“Well that’s important, her approval is hard to come by.”

Thirteen thought about Clara, and Amy, and River, and all the people the Doctor had been close with whom Vastra approved of. “She does have excellent taste.”

“Wait,” Eleven said. “If Vastra told you the same thing, why’ve you come to me – or, well, why’d you go looking for sandshoes?”

Thirteen winced. “I may have… um, interpreted it literally.”

Eleven laughed. “I would’ve done the same.”

“You will,” she sighed. “I just… I feel so…” she groaned, not finding the words. She didn’t want to say inadequate, or wrong, because neither of those words fit.  

Eleven, though,  just nodded. “I know,” he said. “I feel it too.”

“I’m just worried that my own self-doubt, or, well, not even that, but, I just feel like it will stain my decision” Thirteen went to take another sip of her tea, and frowned when it came up empty. “I want to make sure, whatever I decide, I do it for the right reasons, I do it for Y/P2. Y/N’s the most important thing.”

“Well,” Eleven said, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t think any version of ourselves are the best person to talk to, then. We’ve all got that” he waved a hand in the air. “Sad self-doubt thing.”

The Doctor thought about you – you who was so bright, so good. She was scared of hurting you, she was scared of hurting herself, too.

And this was all under the presumption that she could woo you, too.

She groaned, again. This was all just so messy.

“Y/N,” Eleven said slowly, again. It was as if he was trying to fit your name in his mouth, hold it, like the act could help him remember it, help remember you.

Actually, no, it wasn’t ‘as if’ at all. Thirteen knew him, she had been him, she knew Eleven better than anyone.

And she knew, if she were in his position right now, she’d be doing the same.

“I’m sending invitation,” Eleven said, after a moment. “To the Ponds, to River, the people most important to me. I mean, I got the guest list because I’ve already seen it, bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, this-”

“Or a bootstrap paradox,” Thirteen supplied. “You’ve got questions like who made the list? Where did it come from?”

Eleven gave her a rueful grin. “Still obsessed with the ‘why’ I see.”

“When haven’t we been,” Thirteen countered with a soft grin.

“Although, and, I’m not sure how much of this you remember,” Eleven said. “The feeling of it, at least. When it hit me that this is what I had to do… I was grateful it was those three on the list. I think I need them there, I couldn’t go through with this alone.”

Thirteen nodded. She remembered, and she suspected she knew where he was going.

“So,” Eleven continued. “I guess what you need to think about is, if all of this,” he gestured around them both. “Was to end tomorrow, where would you want Y/N? Where would you need Y/P2?”

The question made Thirteen pause. She hadn’t ever considered that, not for a moment. She thought back to times when you had been missing, or lost, and how the only thought on her mind was how she needed you back, needed you here, by her side.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Eleven chuckled. “Yeah.”

It was an important thing to think about; boundaries. What was the Doctor willing to sacrifice? How far was she willing to go to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt, and that, in turn, you wouldn’t get hurt either.

“Right,” Thirteen stood up and brushed down her pants. “Thank you for this, I think I needed this.”

“The tea or the chat?”

Thirteen shrugged. “Both. I love a good tea, my friend’s mum makes the best tea.”

“I’m not going to remember this, am I,” Eleven said suddenly. “We’re too close to creating a paradox.”

“Part of the reason I chose this place,” Thirteen replied.

“Then…” Eleven scrunched up his suspenders in his hand, leaving his tea deserted as he stood. “The Ponds. How are they? Do… do they?”

Thirteen swallowed her sadness at the question, doing her best to give him an encouraging smile. “They live long, happy lives.”

He scrutinised her for a moment. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

The long happy lives starts in 1938.

She gave him a small, sad smile. “Spoilers.”

Eleven huffed. “I suppose I should have expected that.”

But he helped her get back to her TARDIS, and the familiar glow of the crystals warmed her hearts. She rolled her fez in between her hands, thinking about what her younger self had said, thinking about you.

What did the Doctor need? How was she supposed to work it out?

Eleven was right, it wasn’t something that any of her past selves could tell her. It was such an intimately, personal question. And not one with a clear answer.

She threw the thought in the back of her mind. She had all the time in the universe to work it out, hopefully. And rght now, she missed her fam, she missed you.

So she pressed the buttons she needed to press, pulled down the levers she needed to pull, spun her mini TARDIS that sat on the console, and flew home.

As she landed, The Doctor wondered how long her younger self would stay by the Medusa Cascade, holding the memory of their conversation, the knowledge that he would live, regenerate, and fall in love again.

If it were her (and it was, in a way), she would stay there for a long time, just thinking of you.

It was only a second or so after she had landed that there was a knock on the door. Surely it wasn’t Yaz, she couldn’t have realised that the Doctor had gone.

The Doctor swung the door open, completely unprepared for any sort of excuse to give Yaz.

Except, it wasn’t Yaz by the door… It was you.

You were giving her an amused grin, and the Doctor wanted to capture it, hold it and cherish it in that special place that held everything you gave her. Every smile, every laugh, all of it.

“Where did you get off to?” You asked.

“Oh, I just had to check out a thing, you know how it is,” she stepped to the side to allow you to come in.

“Not really,” you said. “I’m not the time travelling alien in suspenders.”

The Doctor almost snorted. Little did you know.

You were holding a bigger bag than normal. The Doctor wondered if that meant you were going to be staying longer. She hoped so. She watched your face fall into a confused frown. “What on Earth happened there?”

The Doctor followed your gaze, landing on the panel that the TARDIS had blown off in a petulant fit. Well – not a petulant fit, the Doctor would never let the TARDIS believe that’s what she thought. “Uh…” The Doctor tried to think of an excuse, any excuse. “Just some maintenance.”

“Right,” you drew out the word, clearly not believing her. “Oh!” You suddenly turned to her. “I forgot, Yaz’s mum has invited us to have tea with the family. Graham and Ryan too.”

Doctor grinned. Tea at Yaz’s. Tea with you at Yaz’s.

“Sounds brilliant.”

A/N^2: If you've made it this far, thank you for reading!! I'm having a lot of fun with this series/collection of standalone fics all set in the same universe with the same premise. On request I’ve started a tag list, so, if you'd like to join it, just let me know!

Tag List: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere​ @dreamer7black​