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aparticularbandit · 1 year

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Claire Makes A Call

Summary: In the unseemly event of Eve's very unfortunate death, Claire demands help from a certain scientist who probably should know better.

AU of The Valentines Collection.

Rating: T.

Note: This is your reminder that I write Claire as trans and that within the context of Valentines AU she doesn't come out until after her presidency. Her immediate family mostly knows. That's it.

AO3

“No.”

The word slips soft through President Valentine’s lips, but no less firm for its quiet hush. Her deep eyes take in the still, unmoving ones of her wife, and for all that the hand still in hers has grown limp, she tightens her hold on it. She does not cry in the same way that her wife does not breathe.

“No,” she says again, firmer this time, louder, barely audible over the single long note through the machine broadcasting her vain ignorance. Not ignorance. Obstinacy. Like maybe if she says it enough, it’ll be true.

When the nurses try to speak to her about funerary options, when they use the name they know for her but not the one she wants right now, Claire stops them. Cuts them off. “Take her to Doctor Octavius,” she says, and when they give her a harsh look and try to convince her otherwise, she repeats herself, even more firmly, dark blue eyes growing dark like steel, “Take her to Doctor Octavius.”

Eventually, they obey, although their expressions of disgust do not change.

There are certain perks to being president, after all.

Liv doesn’t let her look at her wife’s body.

Probably because Claire refuses to refer to it as her body, because that’s like saying Eve is dead, when she’s not. She’s just—

“I don’t know what you want me to do with this.” Liv doesn’t even look up from her clipboard. She glances over her shoulder at something just out of Claire’s sight – at Eve, maybe, behind one of the many, many walls in Liv’s laboratory – and then raises her eyebrows before returning to the clipboard. “I’m not Frankenstein, Christopher. That’s not what I—”

“Lionel will get you everything you need.”

Liv looks up then. There’s no pity in her gaze, no empathy or sympathy, just a keen sense of boredom with just the barest hint of curiosity. “I don’t need anything, Valentine, because I can’t—”

“You’re telling me the greatest scientific mind in over a century—”

“You’re overselling it.” Liv gives her a flat look. “You’re overselling me.”

Claire meets her eyes. Raises one eyebrow. “Am I, Doctor Octavius? Am I really?” She steps to the sitting woman, brushes her finger along her jaw, presses her thumb against her chin, and then lifts it so that Liv has no choice but to look directly at her. “Do this for me.”

Liv’s expression shifts. Her jaw sets. “And what will you do for me in return?”

“What do you want?”

Liv’s lips spread into a wolfish grin. “I’ll tell you later.” She jolts her head out of Claire’s grasp and swivels the chair away from her. As she does, she begins muttering something under her breath – a long string of things that Claire doesn’t understand and likely aren’t for her benefit in the first place. Then Liv lifts a hand and waves it dismissively. “Come back in a few days, and I’ll see what I’ve got.”

No price. Yet.

Claire doesn’t care.

“So here’s the sitch.”

Liv leans forward in her chair, elbows on her knees, long noodle arms stretched out in front of her. She yawns. “There’s this whole procedure. You can do it. I can do it—”

“Then why haven’t you—”

“Shush up and let me talk. Questions are for the end of class.” Liv holds up a hand and leaves it up as she grabs a golden mug of coffee and takes a sip, her eyes shifting elsewhere. “Mm. Apple spice. You want some?” She holds the mug out to Claire.

Claire stares at the mug, one brow lifting.

Liv sighs. “Fine. Trust me with your girl, don’t trust my coffee. Fine, fine.” She waves her hand dismissively again. Then she taps her finger on her desk. “Someone who actually knows the deceased has to be here. Tell her who she is.” Another, smaller swallow of her coffee. “Being dead makes you forget.” She shivers once as she mentions it. “I’d make you go – that place gives me the creeps – but science.” She waves her hands in the air, waggling her fingers, and starts muttering under her breath again – something about tests and experimenting and modifying perimeters—

Claire cuts in and stops her again. “You’re not going to jeopardize—”

“No, no, no, no.” Liv shoots Claire a look. “I’ll get your girl. But I might need some funding to….” Her voice trails off as her gaze moves away, and her fingers build a spider shape atop her desk. “Later. You’ll owe me one.”

That sits wrong in the center of Claire’s chest. To be fair, she’s paying as much attention as she can, but certain words make her head buzz. Deceased and dead. She tunes them out. Eve’s not like that. She’s just…sick. Of a kind that only an experimental scientist like Doctor Octavius can help.

To be fair, Claire doesn’t really like Liv. In point of fact, the spindly doctor should probably be in jail somewhere. But Eve….

Eve was always the better of them when it came to people like this. Hopeful. Interested. She’d gone and visited Liv a few times when Claire was busy with presidential duties, only to tell her about it later over dinner or when they were curled up in bed. It sounded like they were friends.

Maybe that’s why it bothers Claire so much that Liv seems to be dangling Eve on a string, like maybe Liv doesn’t care at all that she’s—

Well, why should she? Eve isn’t dead, after all.

“When do you want me here?” Claire asks, trying to keep the guttural growl out of her voice. “Pick a day. A time. I’ll—”

“Tomorrow.”

Liv turns full away from her, so that Claire can’t see her face, and her voice lowers to a kind of reverential hush. “Be here tomorrow. I won’t be – it’ll take a while to bring her back – but get here as early as possible. After a good rest. You’re going to have to….” Her voice trails off. “You’ll see.” She turns back around and taps a finger on Claire’s chest with each syllable, emphasizing them. “To.mor.row.”

The lights seem to be off when Claire arrives the next morning, but they flicker as she shifts through the cracked door. Then they hover half-on, liming the room in an industrial waste color that isn’t quite green but isn’t quite yellow either. One of the laboratory doors swings in place; a note taped to it indicates Claire should go inside, so she does.

At first, there’s nothing, not even Eve, but then Claire sees it – a shimmering transparent something on one side of the room. The two of them must have gone on a trip. Liv just took Eve with her through that portal, and they’ll be back any second. On a normal day, Claire would be upset about that, upset that Liv would endanger Eve like that. But this is part of what will heal her sickness, so it’s…it’s what has to be done.

It’ll be okay. Eve’ll be better. Just a little longer.

Liv stumbles through the portal all at once, thick lime green glasses huge over her eyes, wrapped in a much more technological outfit that Claire has only seen her wear for more tricky experiments, hair pulled back up and high. She doesn’t turn back, although she breathes heavily. Claire stands as soon as she sees her, hands clenching instinctively into fists, dark eyes looking for someone she doesn’t see. It’s another heartbeat – too long – before Eve stumbles through the portal after Liv, and it disappears entirely. When she passes through, Liv looks up, meets Claire’s eyes with her own, haggard gaze, and then nods. “You have to make sure she doesn’t go to sleep. Tell her who she is. Keep her warm. I’ll be right back.” Then she dashes from the lab without saying anything else.

Eve doesn’t look like Eve. She’s a shallow, hollow shell of herself. Faded. Dark hair and soft skin varying shades of grey tint. Even her eyes, which once reflected the sky, only look like storm clouds. No, not even a storm. That’s too much effort. Just the overcast grey of a dreary drizzle. She looks up at Claire with indifference, blinks twice, and then looks about the room.

It isn’t like Claire forgets what Liv said. It’s that part of her didn’t believe it. So when she says, “Eve,” she still expects her wife to react. It’s only when she doesn’t that it hits her.

Claire presses her lips together and crosses the room to her wife. She pulls her into her arms – Eve feels like ice – and holds her against her. “Eve,” she says again, but Eve just stands there against her. Doesn’t hold her back. Doesn’t bury her head in her chest. Doesn’t do anything.

“Your name,” Claire says, brushing her hand through her wife’s hair, “is Eve Valentine. You’re my wife.”

Eve doesn’t react, but she seems to be listening.

That’s a start.

Liv comes back a while later with a platter full of food and mugs of what smells like that same apple spice coffee. When Claire looks up at her with narrowed eyes, she gives her a blank stare back. “She hasn’t eaten anything since she died. She’s probably hungry.” But it isn’t food she offers first; it’s one of the mugs. “This will help warm her up.”

Eve doesn’t feel nearly as ice cold as she did when she first came through the portal, but Claire can’t tell if that’s because she’s actually warming up or if she’s just gotten so used to Eve’s chill that she can’t quite feel it anymore. She doesn’t look like someone who hasn’t eaten; she looks like a worse form of Agatha after she’d lost Lillian Rose. That’s another thing they don’t talk about. In the future, she’s certain this will become just like that.

Claire presses a kiss to Eve’s forehead. “You need to drink something, dear. It’ll help.” She takes a baby blue mug from Liv, hands it to Eve, and then takes her own bright pink one, raising it in both hands and sipping at it.

As she does so, Eve mimics her, clasping her mug in both hands and raising it to her lips. She swallows as Claire swallows, her eyes widening, lips steaming. Then she licks her lips and winces.

“Here. Let me cool that off for you.” Liv places a hand over Eve’s, draws her mug down, and drops an ice cube into it. “Give it a few seconds.”

But even as they eat, as they teach Eve to eat again, Eve doesn’t let go of her mug. In fact, she holds it closer, stealing as much warmth from it as she can, sipping at it occasionally in an action reminiscent of how she’d acted before she died.

Didn’t. Die.

Got sick.

Just about the time that Eve finishes her first mug of coffee, the phone in Claire’s pocket starts to vibrate. She wants to ignore it – to ignore her duties – but Liv catches it, head tilting to one side, muddy brown eyes fixating on the phone, on Claire’s pocket. “You gonna answer that, sunshine? Might be something important.”

Nothing is more important.

But she’s president. She’s president, and Eve is supposed to be – but isn’t, she’s better, she’s getting better – and while there should be a certain amount of mourning time, the job doesn’t stop. It’s constant. They wake her in the dead of night, in the earliest hours of the morning, in the few moments she gets to spend with her wife and remaining child (which, in her opinion, is worse), so of course, they would call her here and now, when she needs to be here.

“I’ll take care of her.”

Claire looks at Liv in her white shirt, sleeves rolled back, noodle arms not as clammy white because she’s wearing white, and sees only a scientist wanting to be left with a new toy to play with. Her lips press together in a thin line.

Eve thought she was more than that. Eve thought she was better. Eve thought—

“If you do anything, I will—”

“Stop your threatening, Valentine.” Liv turns to Eve and waves that hand dismissively at Claire again. “I don’t want to bring her back again. She’ll be fine.” She gently takes the still warm mug from Eve’s hands, and when Eve whimpers with displeasure, she taps the center of her forehead. “You’re out, Eve. Give me five minutes. It’ll be better.” When she passes Claire on the way out, she nudges her again. “Return the call, Christopher. Some of us have important jobs.”

You have an important—

Claire moves to Eve. Brushes a hand through her hair and tucks it behind her ear. Meets her eyes and sees the slightest glimmer of blue sky beneath all that gray. “Liv’s going to keep an eye on you while I’m away. Don’t….” She doesn’t finish the sentence, just bends down and kisses her forehead again. “Stay safe.”

Claire hears it before she even gets there, hears the sound of her wife crying out as it echoes down the hallway toward her, louder as she draws closer – louder and clearer and she’s suddenly glad that the entire wing of this building belongs solely to Liv, that Liv has sent everyone away for the day – but she doesn’t want to think about Liv hearing this, about how much and how often and how loud—

“Claire!”

Her wife yells her name. That single word. Over and over and over again.

“Claire!”

Once she understands what Eve is saying, she races faster, harder, stronger – she hadn’t been on all those athletic teams in high school for nothing, and she hadn’t been keeping all of that up for nothing either – and throws open the door to Liv’s primary office with a huff. “What’s wrong?”

Liv glances up from her paperwork. “Nothing. This is part of the process.” She shuffles the papers. “Process would go faster if I knew who she was talking about, but I did deep search into all of her records and couldn’t find anyone—”

Claire pushes past her and into the lab where Eve sits curled up in one corner of the room, gently rocking herself. She sweeps Eve into her arms and holds her to her. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Claire,” Eve says, burying her head in her chest. “It was bad, it’s bad, it’s really bad, I can’t, I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” Claire repeats, running her hand along Eve’s hair. There’s a smell – bad – rising from her that wasn’t there before. Probably that’s part of the process, too. It would be nice if she knew what the process even was, but she doesn’t expect Liv to tell her what any of that is. But Eve’s warm now, too, so much warmer than she was before, so Claire settles as she rocks Eve against her. “You’re safe now. Nothing’s going to hurt you again.”

Eve nods against her and quiets.

But Claire can feel her tears wetting her shirt, and she glares up at Liv when she hears the soft clunk of her shoes on the cold tile. “You were supposed to help her—”

“Can’t help with something I don’t know.” Liv looks between the two of them, and her head tilts ever so slightly to one side. “Claire?”

Claire doesn’t say anything.

Liv nods once to herself, and to her credit, she doesn’t grin at the realization. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have that frustrating scientific expression of filing something away flicker across her face before she says with the barest hint of a smile, “No payment necessary.” Then, reconsidering, “Consider that payment enough.”

That should be comforting.

It isn’t comforting.

Liv goes back into her office and returns with another mug of coffee. “Here,” she says, holding it out to Eve. “This will help with the chill.”

Eve stares at the mug. Blinks twice. Then takes it in her hand easily. “Thank you, Liv. I don’t know what I’d do without—” Her words cut off, and she flinches before drinking. She doesn’t finish her sentence.

Claire doesn’t leave again.

The lab isn’t the best place to try and sleep, but if it isn’t the best for her, then it isn’t the best for Eve either. They curl up together with blankets and pillows that Liv provides. Liv doesn’t provide enough, but Claire makes her way through the other offices (ignoring the shadows she sometimes sees in the connecting lab rooms) and finds more. There’s enough to build a nest of sorts, and between what they’re given and what she finds, they survive. Curled up together, breathing in near unison, Eve mimicking the pattern of Claire’s breathing with her own.

Until she doesn’t.

When Claire wakes, Eve isn’t there. She panics, feels the thrill of fear like a stab through her chest, and startles, shoots up, lets her gaze sweep the room, and finds nothing. “Eve—”

“She’s in here,” Liv calls from the office. “We’re just having a nice chat.”

Claire doesn’t take time to straighten her rumpled shirt or find her tie, and she doesn’t make any apologies for the bedding she’d smuggled from the other rooms. She goes into the office, finds Eve sitting across from Liv as she normally does, with a mug of that apple cider coffee in one hand and a chocolate chip cookie in the other.

Eve looks up at her. Blinks. Eyes that color of the bright blue sky. “Christopher? What are you doing here?” Her brow furrows. “Why are you in one of Liv’s lab rooms? She’s not running tests on you, is she? I told her that we were not available for any of her fun family games.” She bends forward, whispers. “They’re not fun, and they’re not games.”

“I was just.” Claire struggles to think of what to say.

“He needed a nap and just happened to be here, Eve. I thought this would be a good place to keep his people from finding him.” Liv lifts her own mug and coolly takes a sip. She gives Claire the slightest of nods. “Eve just got here. Seems she missed our little chats. But I’m in the middle of a few things, so if you’ll just take her with you….” Her voice trails off, but she meets Claire’s eyes briefly enough.

Enough.

Claire squeezes Eve’s shoulder gently. “I think we should get out of Liv’s hair, dear. We wouldn’t want to get lost in all that frizz.”

“Christopher—”

“No, no, he’s right.” A corner of Liv’s lips swerves upward in a haggard smile. “You wouldn’t want to get lost again.”

Eve’s brow furrows again, but she nods. “Well, I guess….” She pauses. “Rowena will want to see us, won’t she? I feel like something’s happened, but I can’t remember what.” She smiles and glances up at Claire. “Liv says I must have breathed something in on the way down here. Temporary memory loss. You’ll have to fill me in.” Her gaze moves to Claire, hardens the slightest bit. “You’ll turn whatever that thing is off before we leave, right, Liv?”

“Already done.” Liv taps her fingers on her desk. “But if you’ll have Christopher wait here for a moment. I need to discuss something with him before he leaves.”

“Oh. Of…of course.” Eve sets her mug down. Her head lilts ever so slightly. “Was it…was it me?” she asks gently. “Did…did something happen to me?”

Claire kisses her forehead again. “I’ll explain everything when we leave,” she says. “Just give me a few minutes with Liv.”

Eve nods and heads outside the office, taking the rest of her cookie with her. But there’s something…misplaced to her. Not off, not wrong, just…misplaced.

When Eve’s gone, Claire turns to Liv. “She’s—”

“As back to normal as she’ll ever be,” Liv completes for her. “You can take her back to that pretty little mansion of yours. She’ll be just fine.”

Claire nods. “Thank—”

“Don’t thank me.” Liv gives her a harsh look. “I’m a scientist. You paid me. I don’t need your thanks.” She glances outside, briefly focuses on Eve, and then glances back. “She won’t know to thank me. You won’t tell her that.”

“No.”

Claire considers in the silence, then says, “She was sick. Very, very sick. You gave her an experimental drug, and she got better. That’s all she needs to know.” She meets Liv’s eyes. “I can tell her that much, at least.”

Liv nods. “Sure.” Her gaze meets Claire’s, then, and hardens to steel. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Claire doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t have to.

Instead, Claire leaves the office and takes Eve’s hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze. “I missed you,” she says, and her throat tightens without thought.

Eve glances up at her, confused. “I wasn’t gone very long.”

“It felt like much longer.”

Eve nods, contemplating, and then says, “Not in one of Liv’s labs. They’re full of all sorts of—”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Claire never calls on Liv in that same manner again. Not because she doesn’t have a need for it, but because it seems to her better to not. Eve’s fine. Eve’s safe. That’s really all that matters.

It’s roughly a quarter of a century later, however, when Eve finds Liv, hair streaked with grey, and says in a dark, unnatural voice, “I know what you did for me. Now bring Claire back.”

Liv gives her half of a wolfish grin over a mug of apple spice coffee and says with a glint in her eye, “Now, Eve. You and I both know you’ll be able to do that yourself, won’t you?”

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riversofmars · 2 years

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The conclusion to "From The Beginning To The End Of Time"! Hope you enjoyed the story <3

Chapter 8: On The Day They First Met

“So, the time-crossed lovers,” the Doctor dropped into an armchair and Missy pursed her lips, eyeing him with the watchful curiosity of a bird of prey. She rounded her piano and perched on the bench, tilting her head expectantly.

“What about them?” She queried with carefully curated disinterest in every syllable.

“Good story, don’t you think?” He retorted, holding aloft a well-worn paperback. Colourful sticky notes were poking out of the pages.

“If you like that sort of thing,” the Time Lady gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I mean, it’s a bit sickening, isn’t it, those lesser species and their constant LONGING for each other. Ugh. I mean, I understand why he did it, the Toymaker,” she gave a theatrical sigh.

“So you know it was Helen and Liv?” The Doctor deduced without looking at her as he flicked through the pages.

“That’s what they were called? I forget. They all look the same,” Missy shot back and quickly grew annoyed by the lack of attention he was paying her, so she probed more directly: “Is there a particular reason why we’re discussing this thrilling topic?” While she didn’t really care, she was curious as to why he was bringing it up. Surely, for him, the issue should have been dealt with lifetimes ago.

“The ending,” he carried on, unfazed by her impatient tone.

“Doesn’t exist,” she sighed. Of course there had been an ending to the story, just not one that the rest of the universe was privy to.

“It does. I was there,” he smiled and she rolled her eyes.

“Big surprise,” she quipped back sarcastically. “Also somewhat disappointing, I was sort of hoping they would be left wandering Time till the end of their days. I mean, wouldn’t have been very long anyway, would it? Humans. Blink of an eye. There. Gone. Ah well,” she snapped her fingers for effect but the Doctor remained calm and quiet, waiting out her rant. She huffed, dissatisfied that he wasn’t taking the bait, so she pushed on: “So are you going to share with the class? Did they find each other and cry big ugly tears of joy?”

“That’s for me to know and you to imagine,” he smiled.

“Then WHY are we having this POINTLESS conversation?” She exclaimed, her annoyance seeking an outlet.

“You could have been in this story,” he gave the book a shake for emphasis and she gaped.

“Perish the thought!”

“There are all manner of stories about all of us. You and me, as well. We have touched so many places, so many people, of course there are stories about us, like there are of them,” the Doctor elaborated and Missy narrowed her eyes, hoping he would be getting to the point of the matter. Of course she knew his words to be true. She couldn’t count the times she had visited primitive worlds and become a god in their folklore. “The Toymaker thought he was giving them an empty ending, but instead, he has given them a legacy. A story, far more powerful than anything you can ever hope to achieve. Every civilisation they visited has a story of their journey, there are fables, fairytales, songs about them. There is a mural of them waiting on the opposite ends of time in the Hall of Remembrance.”

“What is the POINT?” Missy interrupted, thoroughly annoyed by his grandstanding.

“None of the stories have an ending because it happened in private and that was for the better and you know why?” He carried on, unimpressed.

“Enlighten me,” she sighed exasperated.

“Everybody can imagine what they like,” he burst into a grin and got to his feet. “It’s not set in stone. The story can be reinvented in a hundred, a thousand, a million different ways and the ending can be changed,” he explained, arguing passionately, and finished with his eyes fixed on her. “Like your ending.”

“Oh please,” Missy scoffed.

“You want to be good? Alright. Your story isn’t over yet so I should know better than to put off the possibility for a different ending. Surprise me,” he stated and placed his hands in his pockets. “Write your own ending.”

“And will you tell me how they ended?” The Time Lady countered after a moment of silence in which his words hung in the air, full of hope that neither of them was quite able or willing to accept just yet.

“Would you like to know?” He grinned and Missy found that she did, though her pride forbade her to admit as much. No, they weren’t there yet. But perhaps her curiosity was a good sign in itself. Instead of revealing any of her conflicting thoughts, she simply sniped:

“Would it have restorative, uplifting value, teaching me that goodness prevails and the bad people lose?”

“What do you think?” The Doctor winked.

---

Liv felt the familiar chill of late autumn in London, 1963, when she teleported to the back of the National Museum, out of the public eye. The Dalek timeship hung in orbit around Earth, invisible in the light of day, and Liv hoped the remote control of the teleport worked from where she was. And even if it didn’t, she thought, she would have no more need of the Dalek ship, if worst came to worst. She was where she needed to be. All she had to do was wait for Helen.

She looked around, wrapping her arms around herself to brace against the cold. She hadn’t stipulated when and where exactly to meet but she figured Helen would know not to risk running into their previous selves. The back of the museum seemed like a good bet. Over the years, Liv had come to realise how very much in tune they were, she would surely draw the same conclusions. It was just a matter of time. The med-tech didn’t let the fact that Helen wasn’t here yet trouble her. She had read her message. She was on her way, there was no doubt about it. She had all day to arrive and the thought of soon being able to have her fiancé in her arms again made her heart race.

“My my… she’s not here, is she?” A voice sounded right behind her, a presence suddenly in her personal space, and she jumped, whirling around.

“You!” Liv exclaimed, overcoming the moment of shock quickly and lunged herself at the Celestial Toymaker to shove him but all she did was fall through his momentarily translucent shape. She stumbled but managed to catch herself.

“Yes, me,” he laughed and turned to face her. “I must commend you, you have done rather well, haven’t you?” He looked around and tutted. It certainly was a change from where he had left her. “Really quite resourceful, it has been entertaining to follow.” Then he fixed his eyes on her once more and hummed: “Shame she isn’t coming.”

“Where is Helen?” Liv pressed through gritted teeth. She should have expected things wouldn’t go smoothly, they never did! Before dread could settle too heavily on her, a familiar, comforting voice cut in.

“LIV!”

The med-tech looked around to see the Doctor charging towards her. He seemed to have appeared at the same time as the Toymaker and the TARDIS stood off to the side. She didn’t take a moment to second guess, she simply allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace.

“Doctor…” She whispered in disbelief and relief. It had been such a long time for her, she hadn’t dreamt she would see him again, even if she found Helen, the chances of finding him too… the only reasonable explanation was that he had been looking for her as well. He looked no different than the last time she had seen him. It seemed as though his journey had been significantly shorter than her own. It didn’t matter, she simply rested against him for a moment, drawing strength from the knowledge that she wasn’t alone in whatever came next.

“Yes, heartwarming,” the Toymaker observed sarcastically. “I suppose I can let you have one of your friends back…”

“Oh you, you will bloody well do more than that!” Liv pulled away from the Doctor, the momentary joy for seeing her friend gave way to her anger. “Where is Helen? She should be here!”

“And she would be if she had the other half of your message,” the Celestial Toymaker observed in amusement and pulled part of the plate that Liv had recorded her message on from inside his robes. The plate had been broken in two, a feat Time hadn’t been able to accomplish, but for a would-be god such as a Toymaker it had been child’s play.

“YOU CHEAT!” Liv bellowed but the Immortal simply laughed.

“That’s what I said,” the Doctor hummed and grabbed hold of his friend’s upper arm, clearly worried she would throw herself at him once more.

“I was always under the impression that the Doctor’s friends were meant to be oh-so-clever. I would like to see it proven,” the Celestial Toymaker carried on mocking. “But since I can see only one of them… I fear I might end up winning this bet.”

“A bet? Is that all it was?” The Doctor scowled at him.

“You are playing with people’s lives!” Liv exclaimed, trying to free herself from her friend’s firm grasp.

“The only worthwhile game to be playing,” the would-be god gave back dismissively.

“Come on, Liv, we’re going to find her,” the Doctor decided that he had seen and heard enough. Helen wouldn’t come here, there was no point in hanging around. He had one of his friends back and that was a start. He pulled her along to the TARDIS. “We will-”

“Oh no you won’t!” The Celestial Toymaker yelled and suddenly, their feet froze to the floor. They got stuck halfway to the TARDIS unable to take another step.

“You have made your point, Toymaker,” the Doctor snapped as he looked back. “Helen won’t be here. You have won whatever bet you have going. Now, leave us to find her in our own time! We have done so before, we will do it again,” he stated defiantly.

“No. No no no. That just won’t do,” the Toymaker shot back. “You wait here, it’s your only chance.”

“What do you mean by that?” Liv demanded furiously.

“If she makes it here, today, I will leave you be. All of you, in fact,” the Immortal adopted an almost accommodating tone, as if he was doing them a great favour which was certainly not what it felt like. He did, however, release the hold he had on them and they were able to move more freely again as he carried on: “But if you try to leave here before then, I will kill you. And I will go to find your little friend and kill her too,” he threatened. “You wait. Like the good ephemeral beings you are. It’s your only chance.”

“Don’t you think you have interfered enough?” The Doctor exclaimed.

“I have barely started,” the Toymaker hissed, taking a threatening step forward, daring him to say or do any more.

“It’s fine, Doctor,” Liv spoke up, her voice calm and collected, as she touched her hand to the Doctor’s arm, indicating for him to stand down.

“It’s fine?” The Time Lord repeated incredulously, his head snapping around. “Liv, everything is the very opposite of fine!” He insisted but she simply shook her head, she wanted him to stop.

“But it will be. She will find her way here. I know it,” she told him firmly and there was no doubt in her voice or her eyes, particularly when she turned her attention back to the Toymaker.

She gave the friend’s arm a reassuring squeeze, then let go to walk forward, step into the neutral space between them with new-found ease. She pushed her hands in her pockets, hands that weren’t shaking with tension or anxiety anymore, and looked up at the Toymaker who towered over her. She was not intimidated. By stating his intentions, he had, in a way, relieved her of having to keep going and wondering where to turn next. She already knew what would happen and she gave a content smile as she carried on: “I have faith. I love Helen. She loves me. Maybe we’re not immortal, or all-powerful, maybe we are just human but humans have such a capacity for love, that is something the likes of you could never understand. And that’s why you underestimate it. That’s why you underestimate us,” she shook her head, as part of her pitied the Immortal, and her voice grew stronger, more passionate and determined: “In the short, fleeting time we have, we love so much more than your lot do through eternity and that’s why our short time is enough! It is better to spend what little time we have with someone we love fiercely, rather than have an eternity that’s just empty!” She laughed and took a deep breath, blinking away tears before squaring her jaw: “It’s no surprise all you know is cruelty. But you know what? Cruelty does not change the hearts and minds of people. Love however? Now that is a force you should be afraid of. You can’t oppose or defeat what you can’t understand! So I guess, in a way, I should feel sorry for you. All you’ve done is prove to me what love is capable of. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

---

Helen leaned against the door of her TARDIS, fighting tears. They had been tricked. Something - or rather someone in all likelihood - had tricked them and ruined their chances of the joyful reunion they should have had long ago.

Breathe in, breathe out, slow and steady, she told herself as she knew Liv would advise to manage her anxiety and the crippling panic that rose in her chest and made her struggle to draw breath. Was this the end? Had she really come this far only to fall at the final hurdle? She had her own TARDIS, all of space and time at her fingertips but where was she to go with no direction? She was only human. Time would run out for her before she could have scoured every corner of eternity.

She couldn’t keep her tears at bay any longer, they dropped onto her cheeks where she sought to brush them away in frustration but it was no use, they just kept falling. Her task seemed insurmountable but, equally, she couldn’t give up. It wasn’t in her nature. Liv wouldn’t give up either.

“Right then, forward again…” She mumbled to herself and slowly made her way to the console. What was another disappointment at this stage? It was nothing she couldn’t handle. As she touched her fingers to the controls, she felt calmer once more, drawing on the reassuring humming of the engine and the traces of sentience that skirted the edges of her mind. She would be okay. She had to be. And she had to keep going. She had no place in the universe other than wie Liv.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded, piercing and shrill, impossible to miss.

“What the-” Helen startled out of her melancholy. “What is that?” The TARDIS answered by bringing up an alert on the nearest screen:

“Incoming transmission.”

Helen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and relief. She had expected something to be wrong with her ship but that was a curious and certainly preferable turn of events, if a confusing one. The last thing she had expected was to receive a message at the beginning of time. Who would even be able to send her a message out here? There was no point in wondering about it when the solution was so painfully simple: she answered the call.

“Oh hello, Miss Sinclair,” Narvin appeared on the screen and the linguist’s heart sank. Part of her had genuinely believed it might have been the Doctor calling or even Liv. Her benefactors on Gallifrey, kind as they had been to give her a TARDIS, were of lesser interest.

“Now is really not a good time,” she answered with a sigh as she didn’t fancy explaining her failure to find Liv where she was until she had come to terms with it herself.

“I disagree. It seems to be the perfect time,” Romana stepped into the frame and shooed her deputy aside. “We have a message for you. It has come the long way around and I’m sure you will be more than interested in hearing it.”

---

In a burst of anger, the Celestial Toymaker lashed out and struck Liv across the face with the back of his hand. The Doctor rushed to catch her as she staggered back and the med-tech gave a bitter chuckle as she straightened up.

“Figures,” she huffed. “That’s the only way you know to deal with things when you’re not getting your way, you-”

Her retort was rudely interrupted by a groaning, wheezing noise, less intrusive than the Doctor’s classic type forty TARDIS and yet unmistakable.

“Liv!” The Doctor directed Liv’s attention towards a fountain that was phasing into existence, a TARDIS with a working chameleon circuit.

“Oh my God…” she breathed and her heart started to race, threatening to jump out of her chest.

“What is this?” The Toymaker growled and the Doctor simply laughed:

“‘I told you so’ on an epic scale.”

There was one terrible, tense moment of anticipation. One moment of complete silence as nothing and no-one dared to move. Liv forgot to breathe as she stared at the fountain with desperate longing. It had to be. Surely. It simply had to be-

“Liv?” Never had Liv heard her name spoken with such awe, such emotion, such love.

The med-tech needed a moment. She squeezed her eyes shut, sending a prayer to the stars, blinking again to reassure herself that she wasn’t imagining things, that her desperate mind wasn’t playing tricks on her and that it really was Helen, stepping out of a TARDIS.

The linguist broke into a run, bridging the moments in which Liv remained stunned and overwhelmed, and slammed into her. Helen flung her arms around her and the med-tech did the same, holding on to her for dear life, as they threatened to topple over.

“Helen?” Liv’s voice trembled, she managed barely more than a whisper but they didn’t need words. Helen buried her face in the crook of her neck and Liv wrapped her arms around her tightly, intent to never let go. For a moment, the world around them faded away. It had been months since they had last seen each other, maybe even years, it was impossible to tell, but the time apart faded into insignificance. What mattered was the here and now and that they were together again.

“NO!” The Celestial Toymaker roared and the Doctor was quick to step protectively in front of his friends.

“YES!” He shot back enthusiastically. “Remember your words, Toymaker! You don’t touch them, or any of us!” He insisted and the Toymaker burst out in anger:

“But how?!” How could Helen have possibly known how to come here?

“Now that is something I am curious to find out as well…” The Doctor admitted and glanced to his friends for an explanation. The Healer and the Scholar, however, very much remained in a world of their own, even as they pulled apart a little to have a conversation at last.

“You made it, you really made it,” Liv mumbled through tears as she ran her fingers through Helen’s hair, and traced the tips of them across her cheeks, catching tears of joy as she went.

“Well, would have been rather rude of me to ignore your message,” the linguist gave back softly, trying to joke but her voice was too laden with emotion to pull off the comic tone.

“I thought he took half of it, I thought-” the med-tech shook her head slowly, failing to see how they had arrived at this wonderful conclusion.

“He did,” Helen agreed, slowly regaining the strength in her voice as she looked towards the Toymaker, who was scowling at them, flushed with anger.

“Then how could you know?!” He snapped in frustration.

“The Doctor - and us, by extension, I suppose - has a lot of friends,” Helen answered and turned towards him, eager to finally give him a piece of her mind. She grasped Liv’s hand firmly, refusing to move as much as an inch from her side as she explained with smug and deserved satisfaction: “Dedicated, lovely, caring people who saw to it that the message got to me.”

“Nobody read it!” The Celestial Toymaker exclaimed. “I took it from the beginning and Artron, the poor fool, surely wouldn’t remember!” He growled.

“UNIT! Just now!” The Doctor realised all of a sudden. “You were waving it in our faces!”

“They can’t possibly have-” The realisation dawned on the Toymaker’s face but he refused to accept it. Two humans in the twenty-first century surely had no influence over the course of events.

“Can’t they?” The Doctor grinned in response.

“The odds of them being able to send a message across the Time Streams from their point in prehistoric-” the Immortal started to argue back but Liv interrupted him pointedly:

“What can I say, we humans are rather clever.”

“They were shouting into the void rather, but the Time Lords relayed the message to my TARDIS,” Helen revealed and added towards the Doctor: “Romana sends her regards and someone called Narvin..?”

“Narvin, that idiot, finally got something right,” Liv huffed while the Time Lord smiled and nodded in response.

“I-” The Toymaker wanted to argue but, really, there was nothing else to say.

“I think you ought to leave now,” the Doctor stated before he had the opportunity to carry on. “A deal is a deal. And a bet lost surely needs owning up to. Off you go,” he told him firmly. “Remember your promise.”

The Celestial Toymaker ground his teeth together. He could just kill them all and for a moment he seriously considered it. At least the humans… but where was the sport in that. Their lives would be over in such a short space of time, it hardly mattered. When he returned to the end of time, they would long by dead and forgotten. He raised his hand to snap his fingers and leave the forsaken place behind.

“Thank you, by the way,” Liv called out before he could depart and he stalled.

“What?” He stared at her incredulously.

“Thank you,” she repeated and a smile spread across her face. Both Helen and the Doctor looked at her with confusion but she carried on unfazed: “While I can’t say I enjoyed the experience of fighting my way through time, you did give us something special.”

“What’s that?” The Toymaker snarled in response.

“A story that will be told and retold until the end of time. Thank you. You made us immortal,” she grinned and the would-be god didn’t dignify her quip with a response, he snapped his fingers and was gone.

“Liv!” Helen laughed in disbelief.

“He was asking for it!” The med-tech gave back with a shrug and a wide grin.

“Come here,” Helen pulled her into her arms once more. “And never go away again.”

“I won’t. Not for anything. Fairly certain if a god can’t keep us apart, nothing else will,” Liv hummed in response and pressed a long awaited and deeply desired kiss to her lips.

“Can we get married now?” The linguist mumbled and rested her forehead to her fiancé’s.

“Yes. But not here,” the Doctor interrupted. “As much as it pains me to admit, 1963 is not the place for that. Off to the TARDIS with you, before we run into our past selves!” With gentle pressure, he turned them around and manoeuvred them towards the TARDIS.

“The CIA will be wanting their TARDIS back,” Helen pointed out, halfway to the familiar blue box.

“And there is a Dalek time ship in orbit, as it happens,” Liv added but the Doctor didn’t seem particularly bothered.

“All that can be dealt with later, for now I want you back in the TARDIS, safe and sound,” he insisted. “And then you can tell me where you want to get married. Congratulations by the way, on your engagement. What a way to have a hen do…”

“Oh yeah, because that’s exactly what we’ve been doing this whole time,” Liv quipped back and once the door of the TARDIS closed behind them, it was as if nothing had ever happened. They were safe. They were together. They were home.

The Doctor bounced ahead to the console, and Liv held Helen back.

“I love you so much,” she told her earnestly and reached up to cup her cheek. She regarded her with a smile, sure in the knowledge that the most precious thing in the universe had been returned to her.

“I love you, too,” Helen gave back softly and brushed another loving kiss to her lips. “From the beginning to the end of time.”

“And back again,” Liv grinned and kissed her more firmly. They would never let each other go.

---

“Osgood? This just came for you,” Kate opened the door without much ado as she strode into the laboratory. It was late, and Kate was beginning to see a pattern to their late night discussions but she didn’t dwell on it, not then, when she was far too eager to pass along the message she was carrying.

“What’s that?” Osgood frowned as she was handed a small brown envelope. Nothing like the standard letters they were used to. This was something out of the ordinary which explained why Kate had brought it herself.

“A thank you card,” Kate revealed with badly masked eagerness. “I have taken the liberty of opening it already, it was addressed to the both of us,” she made her excuses quickly but knew Osgood wouldn’t care, not once she looked at the card inside the envelope.

“That’s funny, I haven’t been to any weddings recently…” Osgood frowned, recognising the familiar design. She pulled the card out properly and took a closer look at the smiling couple depicted. Understanding hit her like a tidal wave and she was left stunned: “Oh my God…” Liv Chenka and Helen Sinclair were beaming at the camera, seemingly enjoying their wedding day to the fullest. They looked so happy. She turned the card over and read the scribbled note of “Thank you for your help. Love, Liv and Helen Chenka.” Osgood could barely suppress a squeal of joy. She tried to brush over it and launched into: “Of course we can’t tell anyone. The story has to remain open-ended so that-”

“Osgood, no-one but us knows who the heroines of this story are,” Kate halted her in her tracks.

“I suppose not,” the scientist conceded.

“And no-one should find out,” Kate cast her eyes to the desk that still carried the load of Osgood’s research into the matter. “It’s a legend for a reason. A legend that will have to carry on, there is no way of knowing what would happen if things get changed or discovered.”

“I guess that’s the end of the research project,” the scientist gave a small smile.

“I’d say it’s been concluded successfully,” Kate countered with a smile of her own, then added: “And it probably should be destroyed now, just in case.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say something like that,” Osgood sighed but she didn’t mind. Kate was right. They had their answer and that was more than enough. She grinned at the small picture and after brief consideration placed it on top of the companion files.

---

“So they have done it,” the Celestial Toymaker continued to sound bitter and unwillingly pushed his castle forward two paces. He was backed into a corner. Checkmate in two and there was nothing he could do about it, unless his opponent made a gross mistake. It was his own fault. He shouldn’t be playing while angry, he made mistakes.

“Fair is fair, you leave them alone,” Ashildr retorted mildly as she studied the board.

“You helped them,” she observed pointedly and she gave a shrug.

“Only to get started. Check,” she commented and moved her knight in position to threaten his king. “Only seems fair since you’ve intervened as well?”

“You would make a terrible Old One, no appreciation for the game,” he huffed, taking her knight with his bishop. His one remaining move before-

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she gave back with a smile and moved her queen. “Checkmate.”

“What are you going to do now?” He questioned as he toppled his king, conceding the game and with it, the end of their acquaintance. He saw no value in staying and got to his feet.

“Sit here and watch the stars some more,” she answered and looked up to witness another celestial body flicker out of existence. “Who knows, maybe I will have more visitors,” she mused. At the end of time, the universe was a very small place after all. “Maybe I will write down the ending,” she looked back to him and he scoffed.

“With no-one around to read it?”

“I’m still here. There are worse things to read at the end of time than a love story,” she hummed. “And who knows, maybe some of it will carry over into the new universe… don’t underestimate the significance of stories,” she smiled and he chuckled:

“I certainly won’t again.”

#Doctor who #fanfiction #liv/helen #liv x helen #liv chenka #helen sinclair #eighth doctor #the celestial toymaker #kate stewart #osgood #ashildr #femslash #angst #action/adventure #epic love story #fairytale scattered across time prompt #dw fanfic

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