𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬
𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞
𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

"Is that what happened to Mo? The ground swallowed him too. Are they dead?" Tony asked, confusion and fear evident in his voice as the Doctor paced the room, hands resting behind his back.

Nasreen was playing with her bottom lip, shaking her head in disbelief as she once again went over the drill readings from the Earth. I had my goggles on—my right hand clicking through various settings as I examined one of the many holes that had appeared when the ground 'attacked'.

"Nah," I answered for the Doctor, clicking my tongue—voice a nice and long American drawl. "They just got taken deep, deep underneath... like 13 miles, at least..."

"21 kilometers," Nasreen corrected, and I threw an annoyed glare at her.

"Sorry," I huffed sarcastically, "I'm American—I don't use the metric system..." that was like a total lie, I could've used the metric system if I wanted—it was better, after all—but I am just being a douche and purposely using a system I know isn't used in this area of the world.

"Right..." Nasreen narrowed her eyes at me.

They had explained that they were here on a Sunday looking for one of their co-workers, Mo, who had not come home after his shift last night. Apparently, this Mo guy is also Tony's son-in-law. His daughter's husband.

"Let me guess, you hate Americans?" I rolled my eyes while looking back toward the ground.

Most of the Earth was not too fond of America—reasonably so, but also like... c'mon, it's not that deep. Everyone is a critic nowadays. Well, I guess given I travel time and space—everyone is a critic all days.

"Can't say I'm too fond of you lot after my ex-husband cheated on me all our marriage..." Nasreen told me snidely.

"What does that have to do with America?"

"He was American... and so was the girl..."

"Ah," I clicked my tongue in understanding. "Yep, that is definitely a reason..."

Nasreen scoffed. "Certainly, and you lot are also rather annoying and prideful and rather thick... no offense..."

"Fair enough," I told her, looking back up to face her. "But at least we don't eat straight nasty food—I mean, do you guys really need to put beans with everything?" I trailed off thoughtfully. "And my teeth are quite nice..."

Nasreen gave me a tight smile. "Well, aren't you just a positively bitchy thing—"

The Doctor cut in—eyes wild and mind reeling. He appeared not to have been listening to any of that conversation (thank gosh), but I was left with only one thought. I really like Nasreen. She has spice.

"It's not quicksand; Amy didn't just sink. Something pulled her in, it wanted her..." The Doctor said, eyes catching mine as I moved my goggles back atop my head and stood up straight, crossing my arms. "You said you felt something tugging you down too, right PJ?"

"Yep," I popped, "But I burned whatever it was when I activated the thrusters—released me right away..."

The Doctor nodded, deep in thought and looking away. "Right, right... good thinking on that front, by the way, love..." He complimented distractedly, not really looking at me as he said it.

I did not bother to respond as the Doctor was already onto the next thing.

"Hold on, there are thrusters in your boots?" Tony asked in confusion. "How is that possible? Where could you have possibly bought those?"

"The Black Market," I waved him off, and he looked entirely doubtful but was unable to follow up with another question as Nasreen spoke.

"The ground wanted her?" She asked in disbelief.

The Doctor looked to her. "You said the ground was dormant. Just a patch of Earth when you first saw it this morning. And the drill had been stopped..." He trailed off in realization, big green eyes looking between all of us.

Now is really not the time for me to be having thoughts about how cute the Doctor looked. So utterly hot... stop it! No time for those thoughts!

Maybe I can convince him into a quickie?

No, bitch, what is wrong with you?! Amy was literally EATEN by the ground!

I shook myself out of it.

"Stop what? The ground wants us to stop drilling?" Nasreen scoffed. "Come on, Doctor. That is quite ridiculous..."

The Doctor did not respond, only crouching next to one of the holes and scanning it with the screwdriver. The dirt in the hole proceeded to bounce around unsteadily, and the Doctor analyzed the readings.

"I'm not saying it's ridiculous, I just don't think it's right..." He groaned, hitting his screwdriver against his head.

My eyes narrowed in thought. Slowly, the Doctor and I turned our heads until we were staring directly at one another—eyes meeting.

"Bio-programming," We echoed in unison.

The Doctor hopped to his feet in realization, mouth opening and words spilling out a mile a minute as he paced.

"Oh! Clever!" He clapped his hands. "You use bio-signals to resonate the internal molecular structure of natural objects! It's mainly used for engineering and construction—" He was explaining, and I cut him off.

"Yeah, but that's mostly on jungle planets and wayyyy in the future, Doctor—what is it doing here?" I asked, and he snapped his fingers at me, nodding heavily.

"The question of the hour, love! What is it doing here?" He agreed, continuing to pace.

"I'm sorry... did you just say jungle planets?" Nasreen blinked. "In the future?"

"You're not making any sense, man!" Tony cried in confusion—staring at the Doctor as though he had grown a secondary head.

The Doctor appeared offended, standing straighter as he regarded the two. I smirked in amusement at the scene.

"Excuse me, I am making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up..." He ground out, his voice heavily annoyed.

"I am!" I piped.

"You are," He agreed, briefly glancing to me—smiling for a split second before it was wiped away for his serious look.

Nasreen scoffed at him, crossing her arms while Tony shook his head.

"The Earth, the ground beneath our feet," The Doctor gritted, explaining it slowly. "It was bio-programmed to attack..." He told them.

Nasreen clicked her tongue. "Okay, say I buy it—even if that were possible, which by the way—it's not—why?"

"To stop you drilling," The Doctor shot back. "Okay, so we find what's doing the bio-programming, we can find Amy—we can get her back!" The Doctor paused, stiffening and looking around. "Shh! Shush!" He suddenly hushed, holding up a finger. "Have I gone mad? I've gone mad!"

Jesus fucking Christ. You went mad a long time ago, Doctor—a long time ago.

"Silence. Absolute silence!" He ordered, sending me a glare. "That includes your snappy thoughts, dearest, I'll deal with those later..." He said the last part quickly, and I quirked a brow.

Or maybe I'll deal with you later...

I purposely thought it loudly, knowing he would pick it up. It obviously found its way into the Doctor's mind based on the small smirk that tugged at his lips.

We were all quietly watching the Doctor slowly shift around, his big eyes taking everything in. It took me a moment, but I realized that he was listening, and upon listening myself—it was the sound of drilling that met my ears. Something was drilling through the ground upward.

However, no ordinary humans would be able to hear or sense anything like that, and so, I was left pretending to be clueless to the noise.

Actually, no.

I slid my goggles over my eyes again and pointedly looked at the hole. I pretended to finnick with the controls for a moment before speaking loudly.

"Something is drilling up." I announced, acting as though I had found out by looking through my goggles.

"What?" Nasreen said. "That is not possible."

"Girl, did you not watch the ground attack us five minutes ago?" I drawled sarcastically only for the Doctor to step next to me.

"Can you see what type of drill it is? Who is driving it? How long until they reach the surface?" He fired questions at me, putting his face right next to my own as though trying to see out my goggles as well.

I pushed his face away while speaking. "No, and no‚ but I'd assume a secret underground civilization—" The Doctor cut me off, moving his hand in a 'hurry-up' sort of motion that had me rolling my eyes.

"Yes, yes, dearie, we've already discussed that part—"

"—You know maybe if you would let me finish talking—"

"—You always cut me off!"

"—See, you literally just did it again!"

Nasreen cut in. "Are you two married or something?"

The Doctor and I answered very differently.

"No, she's my intern-slash-girlfriend..."

"No, he's just my bitch..."

There was a long moment of silence as the Doctor gaped at what I said.

"PJ!" He hollered in outrage.

Nasreen and Tony were staring at us blankly before they turned and gave each other looks of distraught.

I waved him off. "Twelve minutes, Doctor—whoever is drilling upward is going to reach the surface in about twelve minutes!" I told him.

The Doctor nodded, poking my nose which caused me to try and swat him away but he'd already moved away from me and leapt toward the computers with all the readings. His sonic was outstretched.

The readings suddenly began going crazy as he hacked into the hard drive of the computers. Nasreen and Tony leapt after him.

"No!" Nasreen squeaked. "What're you doing?" She demanded, coming up next to the Doctor with Tony just behind her.

"Hacking into your records. Probe reports, samples, sensors, good—just unite the data, make it all one big conversation, let's have a look..." he started typing furiously, eyes moving from screen to screen. "So. We are here, and this is your drill hole—PJ was right, it's about 21.009 kilometers..." The Doctor explained.

Wait, so he was listening before? Now I'm confused.

"I usually am," I snarked, tilting my head and moving the goggles so they were resting atop my head again. "But I was wrong last time—we had fourteen minutes, now we actually have twelve..." I sighed.

The Doctor snapped his fingers toward me. "Good—keep reminding me of the time I don't have!" He told me, and I knew he was serious. "Alright, Nasreen, good job—deep hole, must've taken a while..." He complimented and Nasreen truly took it to heart.

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you, and yes, it's taken us a while..."

"Alright, so why did you drill here?" The Doctor asked. "Why on this site?"

"We found patches of grass in this area containing trace mineral unseen in this country for 20 million years..." She explained, and my brows furrowed.

The Doctor realized it before I did. "The blue grass..." He said, understanding apparent in his voice as he looked deeply into Nasreen's eyes. "Oh, Nasreen." He clicked his tongue and shook his head, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder—his voice portraying amusement. "Those trace minerals weren't X-marking the spot saying; dig here. They were a warning; stay away..." His voice went lower, eyes worried. "Cause while you've been drilling down, somebody else has been drilling up..." He told them.

The computer buzzed, and suddenly a new image was displayed. I shoved my way between the Doctor and Nasreen, eyes wide as I took in the image. The Doctor leaned close to me as he too looked at the image.

"I told you," I breathed with a smile. "It's a network of tunnels—all the way down!"

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, right you were, indeed..." He sounded concerned, though he was admiring the work.

Tony shook his head. "No, it's impossible!" He expressed in disbelief. "We've surveyed that area!"

"Yes, but you only saw what you went looking for," The Doctor told him, tittering and shaking his head.

"What are they?" Nasreen breathed, pointing to three dots heading toward the surface.

"My guess..." I shook my head. "The things digging their way up here..." I clicked. "It's 2020, right? Well, as the youngins these days say: GG..."

The Doctor shook his head in exasperation, though he did not deny my words while Nasreen and Tony only looked fearful.

"How many people live nearby?" The Doctor asked the two.

"Just my daughter and her family; everyone else travels in," Tony explained.

The Doctor nodded, clapping in relief and pulling away from us suddenly. "Grab that equipment and follow me..." He expressed.

"Why? What're we doing?" Nasreen asked, causing the Doctor to whirl around.

"Because that noise isn't a drill—it's a transport, and as PJ said, we have twelve minutes until they arrive..." He told them, walking over and closing one of the station laptops before grabbing it.

"Roughly ten minutes at this point!" I exclaimed, grabbing another workstation and following after the Doctor—Nasreen and Tony did the same.

We booked it out of the drill sight—taking the gravel path back toward from the direction we first came from. According to Tony, we're heading to where his daughter and grandson live. Nasreen and Tony were huffing and puffing, obviously not used to such exertion.

"How can something be coming up when there is only the Earth's crust down there?" Tony asked.

"You saw the readings," The Doctor answered, continuing to run and lead us.

"Who are you people? How can you know all this?" Nasreen asked, voice completely astonished.

"Uhm—I went to school for engineering, chemistry, physics, aerodynamics, astronomy, aerospace, bit of medical school... oh, and I studied to be a dental hygienist once..." I rambled, trying to think through everything I was technically qualified in. "Archaeology too... communications, business—" I was speaking, and Nasreen was gaping at me in disbelief.

"Love, stop lying. You did not go to school for all of that!" The Doctor called from his place in front of us.

"Hey!" I snapped. "I did! And I am a licensed cosmetologist too!"

"You are not!" He sounded highly bemused, scoffing at the end. "It's not even possible to go to school for all of that at your young age!"

"My age!" I gasped. "What do you mean my age? Do you know how old I am? Obviously, I've had time to—" I cut myself off, face paling as I realized what the fuck I just said.

Oh. Oh, shit.

I felt it the moment it left my lips—the slip, the mistake, the dead giveaway. My stomach twisted violently as my own words echoed inside my skull, bouncing around like a chaotic pinball machine with nowhere to land. The Doctor had been running ahead of me, but the moment my sentence stopped short, he stopped, too.

Not a casual pause. No, no, no—this was the type of stop that meant something. Like the Earth itself had yanked him to a halt. His back straightened, his shoulders went rigid, and then, ever so slowly, he turned.

His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed together in a frown that was less stern and more... confused. His eyes—those sharp, ancient, too-knowing eyes—pinned me in place, dissecting me, analyzing every twitch of muscle, every flicker of guilt across my face.

"You're 25 or 26... aren't you?" His voice was even, but the suspicion underlining it was sharp. Then, his expression shifted—his confusion deepening as he added, "When I first met you, you were 27..."

I felt my blood freeze.

Then came the demand, quiet but absolute, the kind of command that left no room for argument. "How old are you, PJ?"

My brain short-circuited. Every alarm bell in my head went off at once, red lights flashing, sirens wailing, a full-blown DEFCON 1 situation. You absolute idiot, Polaris! Think fast!

"26!" I squeaked—SQUEAKED.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Brilliant. That totally sounded convincing... not!

The Doctor narrowed his eyes even further, shifting slightly as if mentally recalibrating everything he knew about me. His sharp tongue was already forming another question, his lips barely parting—

Distract, Polaris. Deflect!

Before he could say a word, I forced out a laugh—too loud, too forced, too desperate. "Okay, fine! You're totally right!" I waved my hand dismissively, shaking my head so hard I probably looked like a bobblehead. "I couldn't have gone to school for all that! Haha! I was just pulling your leg!"

The Doctor did not look convinced. Not one bit. If anything, his frown deepened.

But then—salvation.

The sky, as if sensing my distress, suddenly turned red.

OH, THANK YOU, SECRET UNDERGROUND PEOPLE. I COULD KISS YOU.

Tony's yell shattered through the tension. "OH MY GOD!"

The others were not quite as happy at the sight.

Nasreen took a sharp step forward, eyes wide. "What—what is that?"

The Doctor's focus finally snapped away from me, because even his many, many questions about me would have to wait when the literal sky just changed color.

A forcefield. A massive, glowing red forcefield stretched across the land like a dome, trapping everything—and everyone—inside.

The Doctor dropped the workstation immediately, bolting toward a pile of rocks. He grabbed something—a slingshot?—and within seconds, he had flung a rock straight up toward the forcefield. The moment the stone made contact, it violently ricocheted back down, smacking into the dirt with a force that left no room for doubt.

We were trapped.

I exhaled sharply, ripping my goggles down over my eyes, scanning the forcefield for energy readings. At the same time, the Doctor had his sonic out, buzzing it over the air as we both did what we did best—figure things out.

"Energy signal originating from under the Earth," The Doctor confirmed grimly. "We're trapped."

"Give me more than eight minutes, and I could probably bring it down," I muttered, analyzing the shifting power fluctuations running through the forcefield. "It's more advanced tech than the Earth currently has, sure—but it's also ancient... like hella old!"

The Doctor, instead of responding, turned his head toward me again—staring.

He hadn't forgotten. Of course he wasn't going to let this fucking slide.

Despite the forcefield, despite the literal crisis at hand, he still had that calculating look in his eyes, like he was filing my earlier slip-up into a very important mental folder labeled Highly Suspicious Behavior of dearest PJ.

Shit.

Luckily for me, again, the crisis came to my rescue.

The Doctor shook his head sharply, as if deciding to put me on the backburner—for now. "Well, we have eight minutes, dearest," he finally said, voice clipped, moving on.

I cleared my throat, forcing away my nerves and nodding. "Right. Locking ourselves up then, I presume?"

He snapped his fingers, pointing at me. "Right you are!"

At that moment, Rory came running from the hills. "Doctor—PJ!" He yelled, waving his arms. "There is something weird going on here!" He expressed, followed by two people. A short woman and a young boy—mother and son. It was probably Tony's daughter and grandson. "The graves are eating people!"

"It's a secret underground civilization!" I yelled, hands coming to the sides of my head and tugging on my hair forcefully. "They must be eating the corpses...!"

"Now, that theory is a bit out there, dearest!" The Doctor called where he was still scanning the forcefield. "I doubt that is what's happening—"

"—They've put up an energy barricade to trap us so they can eat us!" I exclaimed, fully ignoring the Doctor. "It's just like how you eat people, Doctor!"

"I do not eat people! Stop spreading that rumor!" He angrily lectured, putting his sonic away and pointing to me accusingly. "Honestly, you're probably the reason half the universe has heard absurdities about me!"

I snickered at the thought, but Rory pointedly came between us—shaking his head. "Oh, for the love of—!" He snapped, gaining our attention and pointing to the sky. "An energy barricade? We're trapped...?"

"Indeed," I sighed. "We are sitting ducks..."

"What about the TARDIS?!" Rory asked frantically.

"The what?" Nasreen questioned, but no one answered her question.

"No, those energy patterns would play havoc with the circuits—with a bit of time, maybe. But we've currently only got nine-and-a-half minutes..." The Doctor explained while looking at his golden watch.

I crossed my arms and stuck my hip out. "Uhm, that doesn't sound right..."

"Not now, peanut gallery!" He made a yapping motion at me, and I made it right back.

"Nine-and-a-half minutes until what?" Rory asked.

Nasreen threw her arms up. "We're trapped, and something is burrowing toward the surface..." She looked around as though she could not believe this was how her Sunday was turning out.

Don't worry—I can't believe this is how our trip to Rio turned out. Actually, never mind, I would've been more surprised if we actually ended up in Rio.

"Where's Amy?" Rory asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the tense air like a blade.

Yikes.

My shoulders instantly hunched as I cringed so hard I felt it in my bones. This was exactly what I didn't want to deal with right now. Rory demanding answers that neither I nor the Doctor particularly wanted to give.

The Doctor and I turned toward Rory at the same time, staring at him as though he had just pulled a gun on us.

His brows furrowed, confused. "What?"

The Doctor took charge, clapping his hands together and pointing toward the church. "Inside! Everyone, into the church! Come on, move, move, move!" He took off, and everyone obeyed, already too overwhelmed by the glowing red sky and our sudden imprisonment to question it.

I wasted no time grabbing the workstation computer, clutching it tightly as I hurried toward the church with the others.

Tony and Nasreen quickly got to work in explaining the situation to Tony's daughter and his grandson. Especially as she was demanding where her husband was—Mo, the guy who'd gone missing.

Double yikes.

The Doctor and Rory were just behind me. I tried to ignore them, but I could hear Rory's voice, still confused, still pressing. We were standing just outside the entrance to the church.

"I'll get her back, Rory," The Doctor tried to assure, rather simply and vaguely, at that.

"What do you mean, get her back?" He was starting to catch on. "Where's she gone?"

The Doctor hesitated for the briefest moment before giving him the truth. "She was taken," he said, his voice quieter now. "Into the Earth."

Silence.

A long, cold silence.

Then, finally, Rory choked out a single word, his voice hollow with disbelief. "How?"

The Doctor didn't answer right away. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to find the right words.

Rory's shock transformed, sharpening into something more raw, more desperate. His hands clenched into fists. "Why didn't you stop it?" He demanded.

The Doctor stopped walking.

I instinctively slowed down, just enough to glance over my shoulder, just enough to see the way the Doctor's whole body seemed to tense, as though Rory had physically struck him.

He set down his workstation, stepping closer to Rory. "I tried," he said, voice quieter now, heavy with the weight of his own failure. "I promise, I tried..."

Rory's face twisted, his breath shuddering. "Well, you should've tried harder!" He exploded.

The Doctor flinched, the words hitting him harder than they should have. He swallowed, his face momentarily unreadable before he softened, trying again.

"I'll find Amy," The Doctor promised. "I'll keep you all safe. I promise." He held Rory's gaze. "Come on, please, Rory. I need you alongside me..."

For a moment, they simply stared at each other.

I turned back around, not wanting to be caught watching. I hurried inside the church, scurrying toward the front as if that would put more distance between me and the entire, extremely emotional interaction happening behind me.

The Doctor caught up moments later, sliding in beside me.

I didn't even look at him before hissing under my breath, "You should've just told him she was in the TARDIS."

The Doctor made a sound between a scoff and an incredulous laugh before lightly smacking the back of my head. Not hard. More like a habitual, exasperated sort of affection. The kind of thing that made it really, really clear we were not operating under the normal Earth boyfriend-girlfriend standard of interactions.

Because any normal Earth girlfriend would've gone psycho and smacked the shit out of a boyfriend for such a motion.

I, on the other hand, only glared at him. "Rude."

"Are you a pathological liar or something? Why would I tell him that?" He hissed back, keeping his voice low. "I can't lie about where his fiancé is, especially when she's probably not somewhere safe..."

"Obviously, I am," I whispered back. "And why would you not?! You lie about like a thousand other things!"

The Doctor groaned, dragging a hand down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose like I was personally giving him a migraine. "You have major issues, dearest," he muttered. "And I do not lie about everything. Only things that make it dangerous for you lot to know. Not everyone needs to lie about everything."

I shrugged. "Eh, makes it more fun. Plus, it's always entertaining watching people play the game."

He gave me a deeply suspicious look. "What game?"

"The game of life," I deadpanned. "Or maybe it's two truths and a lie? Ugh, both are the same in my books anyway...!"

He huffed, nudging his shoulder against mine in that familiar way of his, like he couldn't decide whether he was absolutely done with me or absolutely adored me. Probably both.

The Doctor shook his head. "Bloody hell, I really hate you, wayward girl," he said, but it was so painfully obvious that what he really meant was I really love you.

I grinned. "I really hate you too, old man," I said, and it was equally obvious that I meant I really love you too.

The Doctor exhaled sharply through his nose, then clapped his hands together. "Right!" he barked, spinning toward the others. "Time to set up the workstations! Let's move, people!"

I threw him a mock salute, already moving toward a table as Tony and Nasreen hurried to help.

There wasn't much time.

Whatever was coming... it would be here soon.

As we continued to work—setting everything up until it was operational, Tony's daughter began speaking.

"So we can't get out, we can't contact anyone, and something—the something that took my husband, is coming up through the Earth?" She asked in disbelief, blasting back what Tony has told her.

Unfortuantely, radio waves can't even get through the shield, so phones were also inoperational.

"Yes, if we move quickly enough, we can be ready," The Doctor explained as he walked past her before going to help Nasreen in setting up a rather heavy-looking device.

"No, stop. This has gone on long enough—I mean what is this?" She asked, slapping her hands to her thighs.

Tony shook his head, turning to his daughter sadly. "He's telling the truth, love..." He said firmly.

"Come on," The woman continued to deny it. "It's not the first time we've had no mobile or phone signals. The reception is always rubbish...!" She exclaimed and her son was watching her with a frown.

I felt bad for the kid. But at the same time, while this woman was certainly annoying—it's not necessarily her fault that she's never seen an alien or anything beyond the ordinary of Earth. It's not her fault that her husband never came home last night and the only explanation she has is from two psychos who look younger than her (one wearing a bow tie) saying the ground ate him.

So yeah—while I am certainly the bitchiest bitch around and will always act like it—I could give grace to this lady in denial.

"Look, Ambrose, we saw the Doctor's friend get taken, alright. You saw the lightning in the sky, an actual energy field. I have seen the impossible today, and the only person who has made any sense of it for me is the Doctor and his American woman..." Nasreen said the last part judgmentally.

"Seriously, what do you have against Americans!" I said in outrage before pushing the Doctor who had been squatting near the ground next to me over. He cried out, barely managing to keep his balance. "And fat load of good you are defending me..." Though it was said as a joke.

The Doctor shook his head comically, eyes huge. "Wha—?" It was apparent he had not been listening, but he suddenly stood up straight and waved his sonic around. "What? Defense? You're in danger, you need me to defend you?" He was whirling around wildly, as though something was about to attack. "Wait? Me protect you? I thought you were supposed my guard dog?" He was clearly joking, but he said it as seriously as he could manage.

"You are absolutely useless!" I hollered in disbelief, throwing my hands in the air and walking away from him to go stand next to Rory.

"What?" The Doctor blinked in confusion. "What is happening? Dearest!"

"Those two are clearly lunatics!" Ambrose scoffed and shook her head at Nasreen, appearing as though she wanted to cry. "You're taking the word of those strangers you've only just met?"

Nasreen was unable to respond for the kid, the son who could not have been older than ten piped up.

"Can you get my dad back?" He questioned, big eyes looking between me and the Doctor.

"Probably," I shrugged. "The Doctor has an absurd amount of luck," I bluntly told the child before turning back to the workstation.

Everyone else was silent, looking around at each other and the child. My words were taken as a grain of salt in comparison to the way the Doctor stared the child dead in the eyes—promise evident in his gaze.

"Yes," He told him with a firm nod before looking around the room. "But I need everyone here to trust me," With that he began striding toward Ambrose with purpose in his step; his eyes holding no-nonsense; it was the look of the Oncoming Storm. "Do exactly as I say from this moment onwards because we are running out of time..." He paused until he was directly in front of her, eyes staring into her firmly.

There was a long moment of silence with the Doctor staring at Ambrose intensely.

"So tell us what to do," Ambrose finally breathed in response, nodding her head.

"Thank you," The Doctor nodded, eyeing his watch. "We have eight minutes to set up a line of defense. Bring me every phone, every camera, every piece of recording or transmitting equipment you can find..." He ordered firmly.

A shudder ran down my spine at the look in his eyes and the dominating presence he suddenly held. I swallowed harshly, trying to fight back the flush and heat spreading throughout my body.

We have what? Eight minutes and counting... two of those could totally be spent with the Doctor and I in the confessional booth?

Right?

NO, BITCH! What is wrong with me?

I blinked rapidly, struggling to get my head back in the game, but it was a losing battle against the heat crawling up my neck. Eight minutes. That was it. And yet my brain, in all its disastrous glory, had decided to take a scenic detour into very inappropriate territory.

Could I really be blamed. Last night—or last night aboard the TARDIS, at least—the Doctor... impaled me for the first time. Body and mind, and it was like... really really good. Obviously the thought of fucking that alien again is more than exciting. And incredibly tempting.

I sighed.

Then, with absolutely zero warning, I reared my hand back and slapped myself across the face.

The sharp sting snapped me back to reality, though not before I realized—mid-recoil—that the entire room had gone dead silent.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned my head. Every single person was staring at me.

The Doctor, mid-stride, looked like he'd just watched me transform into a robot. Ambrose, still half skeptical, was blinking rapidly like she'd found yet another reason not to trust me. Rory's eyebrows had somehow climbed into his hairline. The kid was gaping. Nasreen had stopped in her tracks, one foot still lifted, her mouth slightly open as if she was about to say something.

I cleared my throat and laughed awkwardly. "You heard my homeboy—go find those things!"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I internally screamed.

Homeboy? Homeboy!

What the hell was that?

I turned away immediately, cringing at my own stupidity. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Doctor mouth the word to himself, looking as bewildered as I felt.

Nasreen, of course, sighed and muttered something that definitely included the word "Americans" before heading off.

At least everyone else finally took that as their cue to move, rushing out of the church to follow the Doctor's orders.

We were left alone.

I bit my lip, busying myself with the last of the equipment. The Doctor had come to stand beside me, working quietly for a moment as we wired everything into place. For about thirty seconds, I had hope that maybe—just maybe—he'd let it go.

But I should have known better. It's the Doctor.

"Dearest," He finally said, voice light and amused. "Any specific reason you slapped yourself?"

"Nope," I popped out quickly, avoiding eye contact. My gaze flickered toward the confessional booth, and I immediately shook my head. Nope. Not enough time. Definitely not enough time.

The Doctor's lips quirked upward. "Are you sure?" He sing-songed teasingly. "You can tell me, dearie. C'mon, I'm your good ole Doctor..."

I shot him a look. "No, Doctor," I said smoothly, smirking.

But the Doctor wasn't buying it. He frowned slightly, as if considering his next move, and then—without warning—he strode forward, all seriousness and purpose. It was similar to what he had done with Ambrose.

I barely had time to register what was happening before I found myself backed against the wall, the Doctor mere inches from me. The air in my lungs evaporated. His eyes—sharp, knowing, that deep Oncoming Storm intensity—held mine captive, boring into me as if he could see right through me.

He's so hot.

My breath hitched. My fingers twitched at my sides. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will away the furious heat blooming across my face. But there was no getting rid of it—not with him standing this close, not with the way he was looking at me.

"Oh." The Doctor clicked his tongue in a mock coo, tilting his head slightly. "Oh—baby..." He tittered with a long sigh. "You have it bad, don't you?"

"What?" I hissed, attempting (and failing) to sound indignant.

The Doctor only smirked, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he gently tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. My stomach flipped.

"My dearest PJ, " He murmured, and it wasn't fair—wasn't fair—how soft and utterly devastating his voice could be when he wanted it to. "Remember—I've known you a lot longer than you've known me." His thumb brushed over my jaw. "I know exactly what gets under your skin. I know exactly how to push your buttons. Where to push your buttons..."

His eyes flickered toward the confessional booth.

I inhaled sharply.

The look that crossed his face was brief—a flash of something dark, mischievous—but then he shook his head, eyes turning more serious. Instead, he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, "If only there was more time..."

My brain short-circuited.

Oh, he knew. He knew. The Doctor—the man who could sometimes be oblivious to the most basic social cues—somehow instantly figured out exactly what I had been thinking and was now using it against me.

I hated that the dynamic had shifted, that he was the one flustering me. I had worked so hard to maintain the upper hand in our little back-and-forth, and now here he was—smug and confident—turning my own thoughts into some kind of slow-burning torment.

But I guess this is what happens when you fall in love.

I managed some kind of strangled noise, probably a response, but thinking was not my strong suit at the moment.

And then—just as I was about to gather my senses—the Doctor's eyes sparked with a new thought. "Although..."

He clicked his tongue and tilted his head, eyeing me with a smirk.

My stomach dropped. "Although what?"

His smirk widened. "We do have a few seconds for this..."

"For what?"

Before I could react, the Doctor twirled me into his arms, dipping me back dramatically. I yelled in surprise.

But then he kissed me, cutting the sound off.

The world tilted. My senses imploded.

His lips were warm, firm, insistent as they moved against mine, his hand supporting the small of my back while the other cradled my jaw. I gasped into it, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine in a way that was way too fast and yet not nearly enough.

It was ridiculous. And it was so him.

And then—just as suddenly as it had begun—he pulled back, twirling me upright as if nothing had happened.

The Doctor smirked, winking at me and already turning on his heel. "Now, back to work with you, intern!"

I stood there, stunned, every atom in my body rearranging itself.

Then my brain finally rebooted.

And just before he got out of range, I smacked him on the butt.

The Doctor yelped, spinning around with a scandalized look. I cackled, grinning as I turned back to the equipment.

"Go check up on everyone—make sure they're getting what you need," I told him smugly. "I can finish setting up these stations."

Still red-faced, the Doctor cleared his throat, nodding quickly before speed-walking out of the room.

And that, I decided, was a victory.

Even if we both knew the real reason he got out of there so quickly was as to not allow us to distract each other any further. Because the truth of the matter was that it would not take that much convincing on my part to get him in that booth.

Well—it would not take much convincing, but then we'd probably be caught immediately once everyone comes back inside.

Talk about embarrassing.

And Rory would definitely never forgive us. Caught canoodling whilst his fiancé is in jeopardy.

Within minutes, the entire church was secure. The Doctor had used his screwdriver in having the sensors and cameras set up around the outside work as a full recording systems that transmitted back to the work stations.

Nasreen and I stood next to each other, working silently and diligently, watching the three approaching things get nearer the surface. We offered small smiles to each other every little while.

Personally, in case this entire operation went sideways, I was planning on potentially destroying them before they destroyed us. For obvious reasons: I did not dare say this out loud. The Doctor would no doubt have a fit if he heard me saying such a thing.

Despite everything between us, one area where the Doctor and I would always knock heads (and not in a good way) is when violence should be used. I am more prone to fighting than he is—it takes a while before the Doctor likes to fight. He exhausts all options, always trying to choose a different road before it comes to that.

However, if the Doctor is pushed to the point of violence, well, I would not want to be the one at the other end of it. And that's coming from me.

The little boy, the one I had especially been keeping my distance from, was named Elliot. And he looked at the Doctor with stars in his eyes, the way a child does when met with their idol.

The two were currently talking, the Doctor explaining something wildly to Elliot and motioning to his sonic screwdriver. I watched with my eyes just above the screen at the way that the Doctor was animatedly speaking with Elliot.

I smiled sadly at him—he really had been a father long ago.

My gaze fell away from them and to the screen—my brows furrowing as a system error popped up. I managed to clear it in a decent amount, the screen now clearly displaying the various camera feeds.

Looking up, I was met with the sight of the Doctor clearing out a system error from across the church on his own screen. His focus was deadset on this system. Within another moment, he smiled at it and then raced out of the church once more.

I tilted my head—where had Elliot gone? I looked around but shrugged when I couldn't find him; he was probably with Ambrose.

The ground started shaking, a clear sign that whatever was burrowing its way to the surface was nearly here. Sighing, I looked back to the screen; however, my attention soon fell to Tony, who kissed Nasreen out of nowhere.

My mouth fell open.

Nasreen looked shocked, but she soon returned his advances with another kiss. Nothing crazy—just quick little pecks of affection, clear indications of long-hidden feelings for each other.

I looked back to my computer with a smile, averting my gaze just as they looked over to me.

"Oi, American woman, what're you smiling at?" Nasreen called, though there was no bite to her voice, only playful happiness. "You've been all over your boss-slash-boyfriend...? All day!" Nasreen said his title unsure.

I quirked a brow of amusement as I looked upward. "Firstly, I haven't been all over him, he's been all over me..." I paused. "And second, he's barely ever been my boss, he's just my TimeLord bitch..."

"What's a Time—?" Their question was cut off as the wooden door suddenly burst open and the Doctor, Rory, and Ambrose fell through.

"Yikes, have you guys been stuck out there this whole time?" I mentioned, tapping my fingers against my knee casually.

The Doctor and Rory looked at me in exasperation.

"The door was stuck, we were banging on it...!"

"Ah," I clicked my tongue. "Sorry, we couldn't hear you over all the rumbling." I smiled fakely before looking at the camera feed and muttering to myself excitedly. "Okay, secret civilization people—let's see who you guys are!"

I only noticed the Doctor's presence a few seconds later when he came next to me and softly kissed my head. I turned to him, raising my brows at the soft display of affection. He only smiled at me, bringing me in one more time and leaving another affectionate kiss on my forehead.

He wordlessly pulled away a moment later, walking to the other workstation. He was soon surrounded by Nasreen, Tony, Rory, and Ambrose, all three leaning in as the Doctor adjusted the settings, his face alight with concentration.

"Let's see if we can get a fix!" The Doctor called out, voice sharp with urgency. He barely spared me a glance before refocusing on his work. "I have the even cameras, PJ!"

I scoffed, lips twitching as I shot back, "Alrighty then I guess I'm stuck watching the odd cameras, Space Lord!" I paused. "I bet the odd cameras catch a glimpse of them first!"

"Oh-ho!" The Doctor laughed, eyes still on his screen. "You're on dearie!" He added, briefly glancing at me.

The ground trembled violently beneath us, the rumbling escalating from a low vibration to a full-on quake. Dust fell from the rafters, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the sound of debris clattering against the floor. But I barely paid attention—my focus was locked on Camera 3.

The feed flickered for a moment before stabilizing, and my breath hitched at the sight that filled the screen.

Three transports were emerging from the earth.

"Doctor!" I yelled, curiosity and excitement lacing my voice. My fingers dug into the desk as I leaned forward, staring at the screen in disbelief. "I win! Camera 3—"

But I never got to finish.

A violent shower of sparks erupted from the Doctor's work station first, and I barely had time to register the way he and the others staggered backward, shielding his face with a loud yell as the equipment short-circuited in a burst of electricity.

His voice cut through the chaos, sharp and panicked.

"PJ! Get away from that—!"

Too late.

A deafening crack sounded as my station and the rest of the lights blew out next. A jolt of searing, white-hot pain surged through my body as electricity arced through the console, through me. My scream tore through the church, raw and uncontrolled, as my limbs locked up, muscles spasming from the sheer force of it.

I collapsed. My body hit the floor in a graceless heap, and the world tilted violently before fading into black.

But in the quiet, in the hollow space between consciousness and unconsciousness, something stirred. Not within the church. Not within my body. Within the pocket dimension nestled inside my backpack.

THE POLARIS JADE.

It shifted, restless and aware, pulsing. She was laughing. Taunting.

Weak.

The word slithered through my mind, a whisper, a sneer, a challenge. My own voice speaking it.

But then, the darkness swallowed me whole.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

It begins with a ceremony. A moment of triumph.

I stand tall, back straight, a crisp uniform wrapped around me like a second skin. The air hums with anticipation, murmurs of admiration rippling through the gathered officers.

Major Jade Cooper.

My name—or current fake name—rings out over the grand hall, a voice full of authority and finality. Applause follows, sharp and precise, and I let myself bask in it just for a moment before stepping forward. The insignia pinned to my chest gleams under the artificial lights. It feels heavy—responsibility, expectation, pride.

Someone claps me on the shoulder.

"Not bad, Major Cooper." A go-lucky voice practically purrs, it's deep.

I turn—dark eyes, roguish smirk, an easy kind of charm exuding from the man before me.

"I'm Captain Jack Harkness, ma'am, at your service!" He introduces himself, saluting and grinning—he's already won me over. "I've been assigned under your section. I'll be reporting to you..."

I quirk a brow, matching his smirk, tilting my head just slightly.

"Major Jade Cooper," I reply smoothly, shaking his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Captain."

The words barely settle before the moment shatters, and my mind is swirling.

I'm moving. I'm winning.

My body is in motion, leaping, flipping, twisting through impossible obstacles, every muscle in me burning with the thrill of competition. I hear the roar of the crowd, the thundering applause of one of the many Space Jam arenas. A challenge completed. Another victory claimed.

Then—I'm reaching out.

A hand grasps mine—strong, calloused fingers. A man—humanoid. His green hair spikes wildly, the white-iced tips catching the neon lights of the arena.

"Gotcha!" I say, gripping tight, yanking him up before he can plummet into the abyss below. His chest heaves, breathless, eyes wide in surprise before his mouth stretches into a grin.

The world fractures again,

We're standing before it.

A portal.

Loud. Chaotic. Tearing reality at its seams, glitching everything around it in violent bursts of color and distortion.

Garren Zevon looks at me, eyes alight with uncontainable energy.

"You ready, Polaris Jade?" He calls over the roaring wind, his hand extended toward me.

My heart hammers. The unknown beckons. I grin wildly, grabbing his hand without hesitation.

"Always, Garren Zevon!"

We jump.

"Wahoo—!"

Dark corridors. The halls of the Time Agency. One of the many headquarters.

Everything is off.

Garren and I crouch low, backs pressed against the wall, listening, waiting. Footsteps echo, distant but closing in. We don't have long.

He exhales sharply, eyes flicking to mine.

"We can't stay together here," He whispers. "We'll need to split up..."

"Definitely, but it'll be a while till we meet again..." I whisper back.

I don't want to agree, but I know. Two of us together is too noticeable. If we split up, we'll survive long enough to take it all down.

We lean in, foreheads pressing together in quiet resolve.

This isn't goodbye. It's simply till we meet again.

"See ya later, alligator," I murmur.

"After a while, crocodile..." Garren echoes.

And then everything rips apart.

I am falling. Everything is sparking. My limbs lock, my mind fractures, my body convulses.

I wake up with a violent gasp, eyes blown wide, body shaking.

"There we go, good girl... breathe, dearest, breathe..." The Doctor was murmuring in my ear. "You're okay... you're okay..."

He was still speaking, but my brain was too fuzzy to understand what was happening.

Slowly, I concluded that I was in some little cot in some little room, my body leaning back against the Doctor. I was between his legs, the alien's arms wrapped around me. Rory was standing in a corner watching me worriedly, and then I took in the humming of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver.

I force myself to focus. The edges of my mind are frayed, memories blurring at the seams, but reality is slowly knitting itself back together. The Doctor's voice is the thread pulling me through, his touch grounding me.

He exhales against my skin, his face buried in the crook of my neck. The tension in his body is evident—every fiber of him is coiled tight, wound with something heavy. Fear, maybe.

"You scared me," he murmured, the words barely audible, as if they weren't meant to be spoken aloud. His fingers comb through my hair, slow and deliberate, like he's reassuring himself that I'm still here.

"Sparkly golden stuff comes in handy..." I rasped quietly, and the Doctor gave a small laugh from where his face was buried in the crook of my neck.

"Sparkly golden stuff..." he quietly agreed, as to not draw attention.

My throat is raw when I speak again, this time louder so Rory can hear too. "What happened?"

The Doctor pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes scanning my face like he's checking for any lingering signs of distress. He hesitates—long enough that Rory steps in from where he's been standing in the corner, arms crossed, eyes lined with concern.

"You were electrocuted," Rory explains gently. "The power cut was so sudden, and given where you were standing, it must've sent a surge right through you." He grimaces. "It's a miracle you haven't sustained worse injuries."

The Doctor's grip on me tightens.

I wince. "Yeah, okay, that sucks. But I'm fine—"

Rory cuts me off with a pointed look. "You also had a seizure, PJ."

I blink. "I—what?"

My stomach lurches, my body instinctively recoiling at the implication.

"You seized up not long after we got you in here," Rory continues, his tone calm but firm. "It lasted about a minute, but it felt a lot longer than that." He hesitates before asking, "Do you have epilepsy?"

I scoff, waving a dismissive hand. "No, of course not!"

Rory lifts his hands in defense. "Alright, alright, just asking."

I breathe in deeply, trying to shake the unease. "So, did the secret civilization people come up?" I was quick to change the subject from the apparent seizure I had.

Not good... not good at all. I could feel the POLARIS JADE stirring from her place in the pocket dimension. She was to blame for the seizure, the longer we remained separated the worse the effects became. The longer she—no—I—the other half of me, was locked away, the angrier that part of me became.

The Doctor finally straightens, regaining some of his usual energy. But he still watched me with that look, a look of fear—as though preparing himself for something bad to happen. And I knew that this subject wasn't going to be forgotten about, simply brought up later.

Nevertheless, his words came out as jolly as he could force them. "Oh, you'll love this—Silurians! Ancient race of Homo Reptilia! I ran into a different branch of them a while back, fascinating people, really."

Despite the lingering fuzziness in my head, my interest piques. "Silurians?"

"Yep!" The Doctor pops the 'p' as he shifts, pulling away just enough to give me space but not enough that I don't still feel the ghost of his warmth against me. "They took Elliot—but don't worry, we've got some leverage of our own. One of their warrior females, Alaya, is currently our guest."

"Wait what? What do you mean?" I narrow my eyes. "They took Elliot?"

"Down to their underground city," the Doctor confirms, his expression darkening for a moment before he smooths it over with forced enthusiasm. "Which is where I'm going next. Need to have a little chat with them, sort this all out before things escalate."

The weight of the situation settles in my chest. They had three hostages; Amy, Mo, and now Elliot. We have one, at least—this woman, Alaya apparently. And now the Doctor has to go find their underground city, get our people back and attempt to make peace.

There was no hesitation in my voice as I tried to shake myself out of my slightly dazed state from being electrocuted and then apparently having a fucking seizure.

My voice was firm—the Doctor can't go alone. "I'm coming with you." I told him.

The Doctor shakes his head immediately, voice equally as firm. "No."

I push myself upright, only for his hand to press firmly against my shoulder, keeping me in place.

"You can't tell me what to do," I grumble.

His voice sharpens, worry bleeding into frustration. "I can, and I am. You stay here. You've just been electrocuted and had a seizure!"

"I'm fine!"

"You need rest!"

The air between us thickens. We lock eyes, tension crackling like static. Rory, wisely, shuffles awkwardly toward the door, clearly wanting no part in whatever battle of wills is about to unfold.

The Doctor, despite his earlier bite, forces himself to relax. His hands move to cradle my face, thumbs brushing lightly along my cheekbones.

"Please," he murmured, his voice dipping into something softer. "I need you up here. I've already discussed this with the others. Emotions are running high, and we cannot risk Alaya hurting them or them hurting her. The Silurian race is very similar to humanity, the previous owners of the planet. We need to show them that humanity is peaceful—no one needs to be hurt, no wars need to be fought. Everyone up here needs to be the best of humanity, no less. Please, dearest, stay here... watch them... rest a bit... for me."

I swallow hard. "Why can't I go down, and you stay up here?"

The Doctor gives me a look. A simple look. One that speaks volumes.

I roll my eyes bitterly. "Fine, I'll stay." I cross my arms, pouting slightly before adding, "But for the record, I am fine. So this better not have anything to do with you thinking I'm hurt."

The Doctor cringes, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Well," he starts, dragging out the word. "Considering I watched you get electrocuted, have a seizure, and remain out cold for a solid hour—I wouldn't exactly describe you as 'fine' at the moment."

I glare at him. He rolls his eyes dramatically.

"But fine," he concedes. "That's not the reason you're staying. You're staying because one of us needs to, and quite frankly, I am better at brokering peace deals."

I scoff. "Puh-lease. That was my job once upon a time—I'm just as good, if not better at it than you."

"Oh? Had lots of jobs, then?" The Doctor raises a knowing brow.

"You know it," I reply without hesitation.

"Just like all those degrees?"

I pause. The Doctor is watching me too closely, his earlier suspicions creeping back into his gaze.

My stomach drops.

"How old are you again, dearest?" He asks casually. Too casually.

"26, old man, I'm sure you remember those days..." I cough before dramatically falling back against the cot. "Oh—gosh, I am feeling rather woozy, you're right, I'll stay here... but off you pop!"

The Doctor rolls his eyes, but he leans down, his lips hovering near my ear. "Now all of a sudden you're feeling woozy, eh?" There's amusement there, but also a dark undertone that makes my pulse quicken. "I'm not letting this go, dearest."

I swallow. Damn it.

"But unfortunately," he continues, voice soft yet firm, "you're right. The longer I'm here, the longer Pond is in their grasp... so we'll be discussing this later."

I panic—just a little—and desperately try to change the subject. "We have many other things to discuss later as well," I say suggestively, hoping to derail his train of thought.

The Doctor smirks but shakes his head. "Distraction isn't going to work this time."

His lips press firmly against my forehead, lingering longer than necessary, before he pulls away. Then, in an almost impulsive motion, he tilts my chin up and steals a quick kiss from my lips.

I blink.

"See you later, dearest," he murmured, standing up and heading for the door.

I grinned, waving mockingly. "Bye-bye, Space Lord..."

As the Doctor reaches the door, something inside me snaps.

A cold wave of fear crashes through me, leaving me breathless. My mind, as sharp as it usually is, betrays me—flashing images in rapid succession, a montage of every person I've ever lost. Faces I cared about, voices that will never speak again. The people of the Space Jam, their suffering, their deaths. The countless lives stolen by time, by cruelty, by war.

And then—us.

Me and the Doctor, tangled in the wires of the TARDIS, laughing while we fix some sparking, ancient bit of machinery. Us slumped together in bed, groaning at some ridiculous human rom-com before gaping in awe at Atraxi Cops. The way he spins me across the console room floor in a ridiculous waltz, just because he can, until we're both too dizzy to stand. Lying side by side on the grass of some unnamed planet, swapping stories about our lives, pointing at constellations neither of us has names for. The warmth of his hand in mine. The light in his eyes when he looks at me.

And then—nothing.

A hole where he should be.

Darkness.

And in an instant, I see it all ripped away.

The Doctor stepping into the Earth, and never coming back.

My breath stutters. My fingers curl into the thin sheets of the cot. My body goes rigid.

"Stop."

The word is barely above a whisper, but the Doctor hears it. He halts mid-step, his back stiffening. When he turns, bemusement flickers across his face. "What's—" But he stops, eyes locking onto mine, and something in his expression changes.

His smile—so often a carefully constructed thing, masking the weight he carries—falters. His brow furrows. His whole posture shifts as he takes me in: the trembling of my lip, the way I'm gripping the blanket like it's the only thing anchoring me to this moment.

"PJ?" His voice is softer now. Cautious.

I shake my head. Swallow hard. "Please," I force out. My voice is unsteady, but I can't stop. "Don't go. Don't."

His face falls. He looks torn.

"PJ..."

I drop my gaze to the bedsheets. They're stiff, starched. The kind of awful material that always comes with places of worship, old schools, places meant to be safe but never quite are. I wonder, distantly, why a church even has a cot.

I inhale sharply, but it's like there's no air in my lungs. "I am begging you. Just—let me..."

And I realize—this is better.

Maybe I'm not as good at diplomacy as he is. Maybe I don't have his patience, his kind eyes, his ability to spin words into peace.

But I can bring Amy, Elliot, and Mo back.

I can make sure they survive.

And if it comes down to it, if blood has to be spilled—I'll do it.

The thought doesn't sit right in my chest, but it doesn't unsettle me as much as it should. Because the Silurians blood isn't my concern. My concern is getting my friends back. My concern is him.

The TimeLord who caught me when I jumped into the abyss. The one who coddled me, loved me when I never expected him to.

And the thought of losing him...

The thought of him vanishing into the dark, and me waiting, waiting, waiting, until I finally have to accept that he's never coming back. Or worse, going in after him only to find a cold and dead body.

Like so many others before. But he might hurt the most.

The thought destroys me.

I suck in a sharp breath, pushing forward, words spilling before I can stop them. "I know this is what you do, what we both do even, I know, and I'm not trying to stop you, I swear. I don't want to be that kind of person, the horribly clingy type who—" I let out a weak laugh, but it was hollow. My voice wavers, eyes big. "But I can't. How am I supposed to—? What if you don't—? What if they—?"

Panic claws up my throat.

But then, suddenly, he's right there.

I didn't even see him move. One second, he was at the door, and the next, his hands were cupping my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. His forehead is pressed to mine.

"Hey, hey," he breathes, a thread of something raw in his voice. "Shhh, dearest. Breathe."

I didn't even realize I wasn't.

I inhale shakily, and the Doctor follows the motion, exhaling slowly, deliberately, like he's guiding me through it.

His fingers tangle in my hair, stroking gently. "You think I'd leave you like that?" He murmured. "That I wouldn't come back?"

My throat tightens. "Doctor—"

He shakes his head, firm, resolute. "I always come back for you."

My eyes snap to his, searching.

"You are not losing me," He says, steady and certain. "Just like I am not losing you. Not today. Not ever."

I want to believe him.

I need to believe him.

But the fear is still there, curling around my ribs like a vice. Mostly because I know it's not true, even if it's not today—there will come a day where I will lose him. Where he will lose me.

Sensing this, the Doctor shifts, tilting my chin up slightly, pressing the gentlest kiss to my forehead. His voice softens into something barely above a whisper.

"You've got me, dearest. I promise. And I'm coming back." I squeeze my eyes shut. I feel his breath against my skin as he adds, "And if it makes you feel any better, I'll be very cross with myself if I don't."

That pulls a laugh from me—a real one, albeit small. It's weak, but it's there.

The Doctor smiles, relieved, pressing another lingering kiss to my temple. "That's my girl."

The Doctor's hand is warm on my cheek. For just a moment, the storm inside me settles, soothed by his touch, his voice, his presence. But it isn't enough. Because he's still leaving. And I—I can't let him.

My fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, clinging, desperate. "Please," I whisper. "Don't go. Just—just let me do it. I can do it."

He tuts, shaking his head as if I've suggested the most ridiculous thing in the universe. "No, absolutely not," he says, with a force that makes my stomach twist. "You are not going down there, and that's final."

"But it's safer if I go!" I insist, my voice rising with my growing desperation. "Doctor, think about it, I can't—" My breath hitches, my throat tightening.

I wanted to say that I can't die. Or at least, it'd be very unlikely. But for obvious reasons, I couldn't reveal that.

The Doctor exhaled sharply, his hands cupping my face, forcing me to look at him. His gaze is fierce, but beneath it, there's something else. Something fragile. Something afraid.

"You are not invincible, PJ," he says, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "And I know you like to think you are, I know you believe it, but—" His throat bobs as he swallows. "You're not. You are human."

I open my mouth to argue, but the words catch when I see the way his expression shifts—his jaw clenches, his eyes darken, and suddenly, he looks so very tired.

"There was a moment earlier," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over my temple as if the memory was still there, branded onto my skin. "When you were electrocuted and you hit the ground—I thought I might've lost you."

I feel my breath hitch.

"I saw you," he continues, his voice breaking just slightly. "Lying there. Not moving. Not waking up." He shakes his head as if he's trying to rid himself of the image. "You were seizing in my arms, and there was nothing I could do. I—" He exhales, pressing his forehead against mine. "You scared me. You always scare me, dearest... because despite it all, you are still human..."

Something in my chest twists—tight, painful.

"I need you here, dearest—to watch over the others. To make sure nothing bad happens... Alaya is the only bargaining chip we have..."

I don't think. I just move, wrapping my arms around him, holding onto him like I could somehow anchor us both in place. And he holds me just as tightly, his grip unyielding, like he's afraid that if he lets go, I'll slip through his fingers entirely.

For a brief moment, a reckless thought crosses my mind.

I could tell him.

I could tell him everything.

That while I may not be invincible, I am close to it. That my body can endure things no human should be able to. That I could go down there, take the risks, face the dangers, and survive.

And yeah, I know I seem weak right now—cause half my soul is missing—but I won't die. I never do.

Maybe, just maybe, if he knew, he'd let me take his place.

But then THE POLARIS JADE sneers, her voice—my voice—flowing in the back of my mind, dripping with disdain.

Oh, how foolish you are.

I stiffen, the warmth of the Doctor's embrace suddenly feeling distant, his presence unable to silence the shadows clawing at the edges of my thoughts.

You think he'd still look at you the same? She taunts. Once he knows what you are? What we are? Once he sees us for what we were made to be? Think about how he reacted to something as little as the atomic bomb, you idiot.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

He will hate us. Just like all the others.

I see it—clear as day. The disgust in his eyes. The revulsion. The fear.

A monster. A half-breed. Inhuman. A weapon. The Destroyer's creation. His starfire—meant to incinerate everything she touched.

I tremble, bile rising in my throat.

No.

I can't tell him. Not now. Not ever.

"PJ?" The Doctor's voice is soft, but there's an edge to it, a knowing. He nudges his forehead against mine, coaxing me out of my silence. "What? What is it, dearest?" He pulls back just enough to search my face, his brows furrowed in concern. "I can see you want to tell me something. You can tell me, I promise..." he paused. "You can trust me."

I part my lips—but the words don't come.

I can't tell him.

I won't.

Instead, I inhale sharply, blink rapidly, and force myself to pull away, breaking his gaze like a coward. My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to steady myself, to shove all of it down, deep enough that even I can't reach it.

"Just..." My voice cracked. I take another breath, trying again. "Just please fucking come back."

The Doctor's expression shifts, and for a fleeting moment, I think he might push, might demand the truth from me. But then, his shoulders drop, and something aching crosses his face.

Time is already running out.

His hands settle on either side of my face again, thumbs grazing my cheekbones with something painfully soft. He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead, his lips warm and reassuring, before pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.

"Rest here, please. I'll come back," He murmured. "I promise."

For a moment, neither of us moves. I squeeze my eyes shut as he suddenly tilts my chin up, stealing one last, brief kiss from my lips before stepping back.

Then, reluctantly, he leans back, his hands slipping from my face. He studies me for a moment longer, as if making sure I'll be okay.

"I'll be back before you know it," he promises, one last glance over his shoulder before he disappears through the door, seeming to force himself away.

And all I can do is hope he's right. Because if he's not, then nothing is going to be able to save the Silurian from my vengeance.