#borrowers crossover

Oliver let out a sigh of relief, glad that his plan had worked so well, although his cheeks heated up slightly when Tanner began asking about things Oliver distinctly remembered telling him as bedtime stories. At least that meant Tanner remembered him, whether he knew it was him or not.

The Doctor stifled a chuckle, equally relieved to see that Tanner seemed less afraid. His notions about what a spaceman’s life must entail made both his hearts melt into puddles in his chest.

“I don’t really live anywhere, other than in here,” he answered with a grin as he went down the line of Tanner’s questions. “I only need the big helmet if there’s no air, and there’s plenty inside. Most stars are a little too big to keep in a jar. And I like to think I make quite a few friends with aliens.”

Plenty of enemies too, but the kid doesn’t need to hear about that, he thought to himself.

Seeing that Tanner still struggled with the light, the Doctor glanced up toward the console. “I can turn things down a bit if it’ll help.” He decided then that it would probably be best to go ahead with that rather than wait on the kid who still seemed barely comfortable talking to him to confirm a preference.

So the Doctor carefully shifted his feet to be under him and stood up slowly, ignoring the way he stretched well over the borrowers’ heads. He instead turned his focus to the console, pressed a series of buttons and turned a big dial. Before long, the room began to slowly dim, as did the lights in the corridor to the side. The entire TARDIS shifted into night mode, leaving only the soft blue-green glow of the center column left to light the main console area.

Zepheera was used to this change, since it was difficult to have a sense of the passage of time without it. Her instincts as a borrower led to an almost Pavlovian response to the dimness, and she found much of any remaining tension melting away. Even after all the months adjusting to the Doctor’s active lifestyle, the dark still felt safe. It felt like the worst was finally behind them.

Tanner looked absolutely fascinated with the Doctor's answers despite him not going into much detail, he was just excited to meet a real spaceman. And space borrower!

As the lights dimmed he relaxed a bit more with the buzzing of the lights becoming less harsh as well as the light itself. He was able to open his eyes more fully, although he kept his hands covering them slightly just in case. Turning onto his side he peered at Zepheera with curiosity next, smile ever-present.

“Are there lots of borrower astronauts? I-I thought humans and borrowers are mean to each other so we couldn't do stuff together… B-but maybe if you're friends it's an exception..!” he chirped, simultaneously asking questions and answering them in the same breath.

Sammy frowned, feeling a mix of relief and unease seeing Tanner so relaxed in the presence of what should be a borrower's worst fear. She couldn't understand why he was able to simply…move on from that fact so easily. It made her own anxiety kick up more, filled with both thoughts about the Doctor still being a potential threat and also self doubt.

“Tanner…doesn't it bother you though..? That he's… I-I don't know… aren't you scared?” she asked hesitantly, shifting her gaze away from him as she continued to rest her hands reassuringly over his chest whilst he lay in her lap. Tanner looked up at her, scanning her expression over for a few moments before shaking his head.

“I-I mean… a little bit… but he looks nice… a-and Oliver said he saved me. And he's friends with Zepheera, and she's really nice s-so…” His hands lowered to fidget over his stomach, and he cast his gaze downwards only to blink at the sight. He gasped, pushing himself to sit up immediately. “W-why are my fingers black..?”

As he said that, the black gathering at his fingertips spread up his hand slowly. Letting out a soft cry of surprise he tried in vain to wipe it off somehow, but when that failed to work black tears began to gather in his eyes again; understandably panicked by the sight. He looked around for help, holding his hands away from himself.

The way it was spreading just made him think back to when he had been suddenly pulled into the darkness however long ago, and the thought of going back made him tremble.

“What's h-happening..??” he whimpered, not realizing that his distress was just causing it to spread more.

“Whoa, whoa, Tanner, breathe…” Zepheera jumped up and crouched in front of Tanner, inspecting his hands closely. They weren’t disappearing, which seemed to indicate that it wasn’t the void reclaiming him all of a sudden. The blackness was spreading, though, and it only sped up the more upset Tanner got. Deciding it was worth the risk, Zepheera reached out to take both of the boy’s frigid hands gently, yet securely.

After a moment passed and nothing happened, Zepheera offered him a soft smile. “See? You’re okay. You’re not going anywhere, alright? Just breathe, big deep breaths.” She gave a slightly exaggerated inhale and exhale, maintaining eye contact (as best as she could with his completely blackened eyes) to encourage him to copy her. “We did say your body’s changed a little. It’s kind of hard to say exactly how it has changed, since you’ve only just come back. So some things might happen that are kind of scary, like this. And if any of it hurts, you just let us know and we’ll try to help, okay?”

Tanner tried his best to copy her breathing, despite his attempt sounding much shallower. He looked at Zepheera with wide frightened eyes but nodded and tried to relax and calm down. It became easier once the darkness had stopped spreading which gave him the time to process that she was right; he wasn't going anywhere.

Gradually, the more his nerves settled, the more the blackness receded back to the tips of his fingers rather than covering his whole forearm. He was still shaking but the tears had stopped and he wasn't breathing as heavily as he was before. Letting out a sniffle, he met Zepheera's gaze again.

“Y-you promise I won't disappear..?” He couldn't help but want the extra reassurance, holding tightly onto her hands for the moment.

Of course, everything going on with Tanner was uncharted territory. It shouldn't even have been possible for him to survive where he was for so long, and yet there he was. Zepheera knew that guaranteeing anything at this point was very difficult, but…she couldn't stand to see the kid so scared. That, combined with the confidence that she and the Doctor would do anything to keep him safe, strengthened her resolve and tightened her own grip on Tanner's hands.

“We won't let you,” she swore gravely, shaking her head. “Will we, Doctor?”

As careful as the Doctor tried to be while he slowly lowered himself into a crouch once again, the slightest shifting of his weight could be felt through the floor by the borrowers.

“No, we won't,” he agreed, though he regarded everyone and especially Tanner with a thoughtful frown. Glancing toward the door, he gave a quiet sigh. “Look…it's getting late. I know you all have been through a lot today. It might be best to get some rest.”

The Doctor was fully aware that the suggestion, and the offer he was about to give, came with a lot of baggage for some of the others. He anticipated that Sammy in particular would be less than comfortable with what he had in mind. Still, he couldn't think of a safer solution, so he made the offer anyway.

“I can make you all a comfortable space in the infirmary– a temporary one, nothing closed in,” he insisted, hoping to dismiss any fears that he'd be trapping anyone. “It's not a lab, and there won't be any tests. The TARDIS can monitor vitals ambiently and detect threats to anyone's health and safety in there. And if anything goes wrong, there are medical supplies all around to help with anything as needed.” Looking each borrower facing him in the eyes– Zepheera had her back to him to remain face-on with Tanner– the Doctor emphasized, “I only want to ensure that Tanner is physically stable, that he'll be alright without further help. I won't stop you if you really don't want to stay here for the night, but I will still check in just to be sure.”

Oliver knew the moment that the Doctor made his suggestion that Sammy wouldn't like it. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly in an attempt to assuage her brewing fears. He was torn between both sides; the fact that Tanner's condition definitely needed monitoring and he didn't have any relevant supplies for that at his burrow, and the fact that Sammy wouldn't be able to relax in such an environment. She had barely relaxed in his own bed.

Tanner for his part had settled down again, and seemed perfectly content to spend the night in a spaceship. If he hadn't been so spooked earlier Oliver was certain his enthusiasm would be much more obvious. Sammy on the other hand was tense, her mind only conjuring up the dozens of ways this could end poorly for them all.

“Sammy…” Oliver started, approaching the topic very carefully to avoid making her too defensive. “I believe it's best we stay here for now…for Tanner's sake. If it would put you at ease I will stay awake and keep watch— regardless of my certainty that you are safe.”

He needed rest, he really did. But currently his needs were secondary to the needs of both of his cousins. He would much rather he stay awake and be exhausted than for Sammy to stay awake out of pure fear and probably just get herself into even more of a state.

Sammy met his gaze with thinly-veiled fear, her arms still wrapped around Tanner protectively. She looked from Oliver back up to the Doctor again and tried to keep the panic from overwhelming her. She didn't like to be upset in front of Tanner, knowing it just stressed him out and made him worry for her when her whole job was to worry for him.

With that in mind, she slowly nodded in acceptance of the offer. Oliver offered a weary smile and patted her back.

“Thank you. I know this is very difficult for you… You're doing well,” he assured, then turned his fond gaze to Tanner too. “Both of you are.”

Relieved as he was to see Sammy's nonverbal agreement, however reluctant, the Doctor knew that what came next would be an even harder sell.

“The infirmary is…quite a bit further in than Zepheera's place,” he informed them. “I don't mind offering a lift to make the trip faster, but I understand if that's too much after today. Zepheera knows the way, she can take the lead while I get something set up for everyone.”

Being closer to everyone else, Zepheera could plainly see how exhausted they all looked. She certainly didn't want to make them all hide a decent distance, so she vouched for the Doctor to try and placate any reasonable fears about his offer.

“He won't grab anyone. He'll keep an open hand so nobody is closed in, and the second we get there he'll let us go.” With one last reassuring squeeze, Zepheera let Tanner's hands rest in his own lap. “I've had plenty of time to train him up. He'll be gentle and listen if we need him to change anything at all.”

Sammy froze up completely this time, her heart starting to beat rapidly against her chest the moment she processed the offer. A cold dread filled her body, not helped by the already cold presence of her brother currently in her arms.

Her instinct was to say no; to insist that this was a ploy and to run and hide or cry, anything besides consider the offer for what it was. She didn't realize that she was holding her breath until Oliver urged her to breathe and rubbed her back again, causing her to inhale sharply.

Oliver could see how quickly her panic was rising and so he went to suggest that he and Sammy follow behind or something to try to put her at ease, but before he could speak Sammy interjected.

“Okay.”

Her words came out stiffly, but after looking between Tanner and Oliver and recognizing how tired they looked she just didn't want to keep forcing Oliver to do things for her sake. Not only that, but she was the only one here who still had a problem with the Doctor, so she was trying to swallow her pride and deal with it.

Come on…you've been held lots of times by lots of different people. You don't cry anymore. Why does it feel so different now? Despite her agreement she was struggling to move for the moment, her hands shaking as they stayed wrapped around Tanner’s front. She purposefully avoided looking up at the Doctor, knowing that if she did she might not be able to keep it together.

Oliver's expression softened, though his eyes shone with concern seeing how tense she was, feeling her trembling under his hand. He gently prompted her to a stand, helping her and Tanner get up at their own pace and trying to get her to relax if only a little…though it seemed an impossible feat. He hoped if anything this would at least demonstrate to her that the Doctor really was safe, but it still broke his heart to see her so afraid and being unable to help.

Once he saw Oliver helping the siblings up, the Doctor decided it would be better to get on with it. Rip the band-aid off, as it were. So he reached out with one hand, letting it lay flat on the floor next to the borrowers. “Take your time,” he murmured.

Zepheera wasted no time hopping on, and came to stand on the Doctor's wrist. Small as the borrowers were compared to the Doctor, having four in his palm all at once would still take up a decent amount of space. From her perch, she could still help usher the others up without adding to the crowd.

Sammy wasn't able to step any closer for a while, staring at the hand that lay before them and standing completely still. Tanner had no qualms about climbing aboard, but he stayed close to Sammy because he could tell that she was upset. Oliver coaxed the two forward slowly, helping to lead them both onto the open palm.

When it came to the comfort of the borrowers, the Doctor was more than capable of waiting patiently. He kept perfectly still as they slowly climbed onto his hand, and made sure his movements were smooth as he lifted his hand just enough to let the other slide underneath it for extra support. Then he rose to his feet and began making his way through the dimmed corridor.

Zepheera stayed standing on his wrist throughout it all, accustomed to navigating much more motion than this. Knowing Oliver was significantly less bothered, she ventured to comfort Sammy and Tanner with a gentle pat to each of their shoulders.

“Won't be long now,” she assured them under her breath. “Long legs certainly get the job done quick.”

Sammy flinched when Zepheera pat her shoulder, startled out of her thoughts and assuming the touch was from a giant finger before realizing the fingers hadn't curled in around them. She swallowed thickly and nodded, staring ahead and battling to keep her worries from taking over.

Tanner had seen this kind of reaction before, and usually he wasn't able to provide any comfort until after since they were usually carried in separate hands. He leaned against Sammy and hugged her slightly.

“We'll be there soon… D-don't cry…” he uttered gently as he leaned against her chest, hearing how fast her heart was racing and responding by hugging her a little tighter. She didn't react much but he knew she had heard him and felt him because she hugged back after a few moments.

Oliver simply continued to stroke her back in slow methodical motions, relieved that Tanner wasn't too bothered about being carried. Trying to keep them both calm would have been significantly more difficult. He shot Zepheera a thankful smile for the attempt at comfort earlier.

The path the Doctor took wound through the corridors and up a set of stairs. Finally, he emerged into a large room that looked more like it belonged in some hospital than a spaceship. There were several simple beds on frames that could adjust to allow the occupant to sit up, all suited to fit someone the Doctor's size.

He paused briefly in the threshold to consider his options. Ever mindful of the borrowers, he drew his hands in to brace against his chest so he could free up the unoccupied one. Then he stepped up to the nearest bed and stripped it of its thin blanket and soft sheet, bundling it all under his arm.

The Doctor crouched next to the bed’s frame, then carefully moved the hand with passengers to the floor off to the side. “Give us a mo’,” he murmured, allowing them to hop down so he could have both hands free.

After separating the blanket and sheet, he folded up the former to create a soft, plush surface that he carefully lay underneath the bedframe and against the wall. He reckoned the slightly more enclosed space might help the borrowers feel less exposed, but not trapped. Next, he took the sheet and bundled it with a bit less care, knowing they would need as many wrinkles and folds as possible so everyone could comfortably wrap up.

He gave it a once-over before glancing Zepheera's way, relieved to see her nod with approval. Satisfied, the Doctor scooted himself back, sitting cross-legged near the foot of the bed to be out of the way.

Zepheera stepped up for a closer look at it all. There was more than enough room for all four of the smaller folk, especially if Sammy and Tanner continued to stay so close to one another. With a small, polite smile, she stood nearby and gestured toward their makeshift bedding for the night. “Guests get first pick.”

Sammy watched all of the Doctor's movements with a wary gaze, analyzing each action to determine if this was still okay or not. The bed being made on the floor underneath a bed definitely felt much easier to escape from in case of anything unexpected; what with not having to climb down a tall surface or anything. Her eyes flickered over the folds in the sheets, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Oliver gave a polite nod and smile to the man before looking towards the makeshift bed and ushering his cousins to go forward and choose where they would sleep.

Sammy sent one last wary glance in the Doctor's direction before creeping over the sheet towards the end that was furthest from the man. After testing the comfort of the chosen area she finally willed herself to sit down, Tanner following her lead.

“T-thank you..!” Tanner called out, only just realizing that he had forgotten to show his own appreciation. He was quick to curl up onto the sheets and relax, any tension left in his body disappearing. Sammy bit her lip and slowly lay down, curling around Tanner in the same way they used to sleep together in the lab.

Once they were settled Oliver simply sat down close by, crossing his legs and bracing himself for the sleepless night.

The Doctor smiled softly to see everyone settling in. Knowing his job was done for the moment, he moved even further back. “I'll be here in a flash if anything goes wrong,” he promised in a whisper. Then he got carefully to his feet and stepped gingerly out of the room.

Once she saw the spots the others had claimed, Zepheera found an empty space and all but threw herself down. She seemed to settle in place, but never got properly comfortable. Her attention was subtly focused on the siblings in their corner, particularly Sammy. The poor girl had been so anxious basically every moment the Doctor was around.

Zepheera listened carefully, and only moved from her spot when she was sure she heard their breaths evening out. Then she sat up slowly so as to not disturb their well-deserved rest, and moved closer to Oliver's side.

“You should sleep,” she suggested gently, keeping her voice low. Obviously Oliver had promised to look out for his cousins, and Zepheera didn't want to undermine that. At the same time, Oliver had had an equally exciting day and she could see it taking its toll. “I'll stay up. Get some rest.”

Oliver had let his thoughts and theories consume his mind to keep him occupied as he waited patiently. There was a lot to think about and process, and this was a great time to do all of that— though with each new worry he could feel it was all sapping his energy. Even so, he was determined to stay awake.

He startled at the sound of Zepheera's voice interrupting his introspection. His gaze turned to focus on her, exhaustion apparent as he offered a weary smile that faded just as quickly as it arrived. He let out a small sigh.

“I fear that even if I lay down now my thoughts would keep me awake regardless,” he responded, keeping his tone soft as he also didn't want to cause either of his cousins to stir. Leaning his elbows on his knees and cradling his face in his palms he considered the offer carefully. “I don't…want to do anything wrong. If Sammy wakes up and sees me asleep, I don't want to break that trust.”

“You won't,” Zepheera promised, settling into her own cross-legged position next to him. “I can take the heat for that one if she does.” She doubted that Sammy could blame Oliver for taking care of himself; the girl seemed just as concerned for her older cousin as he was for her.

Nudging Oliver gently with an elbow, Zepheera added, “And even if you don't sleep… I've found even just lying down really does help. It's restful in its own way.”

Oliver reacted to the nudge with a lopsided smile, still a little unsure. He knew that Sammy wasn't selfish, she was stubborn and fiery but he knew she didn't want him to stay awake really; she just needed that extra assurance. It worried him to no end imagining what she may have been through, but at the same time it was a subject he couldn't breach without immense care and caution.

“...Alright.” He bowed his head in acceptance, sitting up again and stretching out his arms, concealing a yawn with one of his hands. Shifting over to settle a little away from the edge of the sheets he lay down and tried to relax. Glancing over towards Sammy and Tanner sleeping peacefully helped put him at ease slightly. He never thought he'd have the opportunity to see them resting so calmly again.

He took off his glasses and pack, setting them to the side. As the exhaustion took hold he could feel his worries starting to leave his mind, at least for now. Looking over at Zepheera again the corners of his lips twitched up in a tired but content expression.

“Thank you… And goodnight, Zepheera.”

“Sleep tight,” she smiled, glad to see everyone at ease after everything.

Zepheera managed to stay alert for a few good hours, going over the events of the day in her head. Most days were unpredictable, and she was more than used to things not quite going to plan. The way things played out hit a little closer to home than she'd expected, dredging up feelings and memories the thought long buried.

Every time she glanced over to find the siblings curled up around each other, something in Zepheera melted. It filled her with a warmth that eventually wore at her own resolve to stay awake.

Ryker faltered, aware of the fact that Sammy was likely listening in on this conversation too. He couldn't go into his reasons why, he couldn't defend himself— deep down he knew that he had gone too far, but he stood by that it was never his intention. And yet, the thought of defending his actions with Sammy listening was a little too much. She hadn’t been born into the Celestial War, but ripped into it the same way he had been. After recent discoveries, and after what happened to Tanner, he could not stand there and defend his actions when she had lost everything. When I took it from her.

He brushed his fingers through his hair as he tried to come up with something to say but came up blank every time. Ultimately it was the dark truth of his actions; he could see in Sammy's eyes how terrified she was of him, no matter how many quiet moments they had. The past few weeks in particular proved to him just how much she depended on her brother to keep herself together thanks to the constant breakdowns and refusals to eat or drink. He had to force her to stay alive half the time now.

Removing his glasses he rubbed at the bridge of his nose to fight off the spiralling negative thoughts oppressing him now, trying not to get overwhelmed. His slitted gaze focused on the Doctor once more, setting aside his glasses and inspecting the man’s form with his now unobstructed vision.

“...She is a child,” he began, “and she needs to be protected. I— I can do that! All those humans who did her harm are gone, I made sure of it. And what am I to do when she has no family to return to? She will die out there.”

Sammy flinched at the reminder, biting the inside of her cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes again at the more recent memory of Tanner's death, recalling how Ryker wouldn't even let her look or get close. It happened so suddenly and she had no idea what happened besides that it almost looked like he melted.

Oliver, getting sick of the scientist’s insistence, snapped. He released Sammy's hands, giving her a brief reassuring look and ushering her to continue following Zepheera before dashing towards the table behind Ryker. He climbed deftly up one of the legs of the table.

He was long gone by the time Zepheera realized what he was doing, far too late to try and hold him back. Though he'd told her of his past experience with confronting humans on his own, it was still jarring to see him put himself willingly in the middle of the two giants. She took solace in the fact that one of them was the Doctor, and he wouldn't let any harm come to Oliver.

With that thought in mind, Zepheera snapped back into action, wrapping one arm carefully around Sammy's shoulders as she ushered her forward. “C'mon, we've gotta keep moving,” she urged. “He'll be okay, I promise.”

Once Oliver was standing on the table he glared at the back of the man, drawing his porcupine quill. He took a running leap off of the table and caught himself on the grey fabric of Ryker's shirt, climbing up his back as fast as possible.

Ryker took notice of the weight that had suddenly appeared on his back and jolted, instinctively trying to reach for whatever it was only to let out a shout of pain when his hand was stabbed in response. He continued trying to grab whoever was climbing on him but before he knew it they were already on his shoulder with a sharp quill pointed up at his eye. He went still, taken off guard by how the borrower on his shoulder looked startlingly similar to Sammy.

“If you care at all about my cousin then you will never ever try to so much as look at her again, understood?” Oliver demanded, his tone as sharp and serious as his expression. “I have half the mind to give you a second scar, and that pain would not make up for even one iota of what you've put her through..!”

The Doctor, like Ryker, stood stunned for a moment, impressed by how swiftly and effectively Oliver had held up a man over twenty times his height. He made a mental note to never question his methods for ‘dealing with’ people again, as though he needed the reminder.

Then he bristled, recognizing the very real threat that Oliver would use that porcupine quill to its fullest extent. And maybe Ryker deserved it. Even so…

“Oliver…” said the Doctor in a low, careful tone as he approached Ryker and the borrower on his shoulder. When he got close enough to hover a hand near the larger man's chest, he gently yet firmly advised, “Don't. It's not worth your time.”

Oliver didn't look away from Ryker and he stayed steady as he kept the quill a few centimeters from the larger folk’s grey eye to keep him from moving. He stared into his unblinking gaze with a glare, his rage only burning higher at the genuine guilt in his eyes. He has no right to feel guilty. Not now.

He hesitated, wanting nothing more than to make the man pay and yet something made him stop. He retracted the quill after a moment but kept it in hand as he looked to the Doctor then back at Ryker.

“Not worth my time? All I’ve spent is my time. Time looking for my family, wondering what happened, and they've been here, with him— He would deserve any punishment I could dish out…” His tone was harsh and riddled with upset, but he was listening to the Doctor and was also aware of the fact that he was by no means in a safe position. His brows pinched together in frustration as he addressed Ryker directly once again.

“I am perfectly capable of protecting Sammy from people like you. Now stop wallowing in your self-pity. She is leaving. Now.”

The scientist remained still as he spoke, a flicker of defensiveness in his expression that he withheld between thinned lips, staying silent.

Satisfied by the lack of response Oliver hummed. As tempted as he was to take some sort of revenge he managed to retrieve some of his composure and take a deep breath. He gave the Doctor a small acknowledging nod before moving back and climbing back down the way he came, sliding most of the way to get down faster.

Once he was on the ground he returned to the shadows, joining Zepheera and Sammy again. Sammy looked a mix of surprised, terrified and in awe of his actions, though she had instinctively clung to Zepheera's arm in anticipation of the confrontation going sour. Finally realising what she was doing she let go immediately and murmured an embarrassed apology.

“What were you thinking..? He.. he could have hurt you,” she whispered sharply, her rounded eyes belying the worry in her words. Oliver shook his head, a frown etched into his expression.

“He wouldn't have… Now come on, we're almost there.” He took Sammy's hand again and began to lead the way, feeling an odd mix of emotions after the interaction; satisfied by getting his point across, but disturbed by the look in Ryker’s eyes. Something about them reminded him of the Doctor; like he had lived a thousand lives.

Ryker leaned back to rest on the edge of the table as he held his head in one hand, disheveled greying hair falling in front of his face. “I didn’t…” he began, trailing off and shaking his head before sighing and muttering to himself under his breath, “qué monstruo soy…”

He peeked at the Doctor through the gaps in his fingers with narrowed eyes.

“...Thank you. Though I know you didn’t say that for my sake.” He was relieved to still have his vision— not to mention if his eye got stabbed he wasn't sure if he would have been able to maintain this form and he would rather not shift in front of Sammy. His eyes flickered down to the pocket containing the vial again, exhaustion clear. “Who are you? Why are you taking that vial when you don't even know what it is?”

With Ryker seemingly deflating, the Doctor let his own posture relax in the slightest. He kept up his guard just in case, but spoke calmly as he gave his answer.

“I'm the Doctor. And I rather think we need to have a talk.”

That decided, he retrieved his sonic screwdriver and finally glanced away from Ryker and toward the borrowers, making good time on their way to the elevator. “Go on, get into the lift,” he urged them on without him.

Zepheera, still urging the others on, faltered briefly in her pace as she whirled around. “What about you?” she called, glancing dubiously in Ryker's direction.

“I've got this,” the Doctor insisted with a wink. His gaze flitted to the other two who had pushed slightly ahead. “Oliver? Take them home. And look out for me at that street corner.”

He watched Zepheera reluctantly hurry to catch up to Oliver and Sammy, pausing just before she got onto the elevator proper. “Don’t do anything stupid!” she tossed the order over her shoulder as she marched her way to the middle of the elevator floor with the others.

Once they were all in place, the Doctor gave his sonic a buzz and activated the recall on the lift. The elevator doors closed on their own, and it began to slowly rise, taking the borrowers up to the surface with it.

The Doctor gave a sharp sniff once they were out of sight, pocketing his screwdriver once again. “Now. Where were we? Ah, right, you and I were just about to have a good ol’ chat, weren't we?”

Ryker let the hand currently cradling his forehead fall back down to hang by his side, brows furrowing. He wasn’t used to the kind of personality the Doctor had shown off; though it was hard to be serious in a world where nearly everyone either believed he was dead or wanted to fulfill that fact. He had definitely found himself missing Tanner's random talks; when the boy would ramble about whatever came to his mind and talk about the world like he wasn't living in a glass box.

Thinking about Tanner drew his gaze to the darkness around the Doctor's pocket again. He had been searching for a possibility that the boy might be alive and he might be able to bring him back, but all of his research failed on the subject. Getting the boy required entering the void, and that was not a place one could simply enter and leave without issue. But maybe…

He hesitated.

“...There were two vials, you know. I didn't seal them properly before and there was a leak— her brother got caught up in it.” Ryker shuddered, scowling at the darkness. “Since then I've been…reserved about continuing. I've been more focused on trying to understand that substance so I can see if he might be alive.”

His gaze met the Doctor's again, serious. “I can accept that I'm a bad person. But I'm not trying to be evil. I know it was wrong, I just…hoped the ends would justify the means.” He sighed. “But it never has.”

“Rarely does, in my experience,” the Doctor agreed with a small nod. Sensing that much of the fight had left Ryker, he stepped up to the table and hopped up to sit right at the edge of it alongside the scientist. He sat forward with his elbows leaned on his knees so he could still talk properly with the man.

“Believe it or not, Ryker, I'm not here to punish you. Didn't know you were even alive, let alone on Earth, til I got here. I've no part in your war, on any side of it. All I'm concerned with right now is the safety of this planet and its people.” The Doctor twisted to lean further forward and face Ryker more head on, his expression stony. “I might not like everything you've done– what little I know about what you've done– but you don't strike me as a planetary threat. You're just a refugee, speaking the only language you've come to know.”

The Doctor gave Ryker a scrutinizing frown. Despite everything, it did seem the man was being forthcoming with what he knew and what he was truly doing. Deciding it was worth the risk, the Doctor reached into a pocket to pull out the lockbox containing the vial in question. 

“This, on the other hand… now, this got my attention. My ship picked up on its energy signature, but couldn't tell me much about what it was or where it came from.” Holding the box firmly in both hands, he implored Ryker, “Tell me what you know about it. What it's made of, what its connection to the void is. Anything you've thought of to help that boy. The more I know, the more I can do to help him.”

Ryker looked down at the box, relieved at least to know it was still contained. The glass vial was reinforced, but with something so dangerous it was better to have precautions. If he has a ship capable of detecting these kinds of frequencies, perhaps he would have more luck? But it's still dangerous. He thought about Tanner and a flash of the scene that had played out weeks ago replayed in his mind again, reminding him that this was someone he wanted to save if it was possible. Even if it wasn’t him doing the saving.

“...Fine. You probably have a better chance of finding him than I do,” he relented, eyes narrowing at the ground as he recalled as much as he could about the substance and its origin. “It's a mixture of His ‘blood’ that I took a sample of. I…cannot say his name or he may hear me. The blood was mixed with water from an ancient lake, potent with life— then combined with the sap from tiefrot. The blood takes up 93% of the substance however, the others are to attempt to balance out the destructive effects of the blood without diminishing its power.”

He took a breath, collecting his thoughts on his theories about the void since he knew that wasn't nearly as simple. His hands clasped together as he continued.

“The blood is the connection to the void. It's not technically a biological fluid, it's composed of the same energy as the void, almost like it's a part that escaped…? Because of the mixture, when it makes contact with biological matter it tries to attach to it, but…as I predict it did with Tanner, it could theoretically pull whatever it is attached to into the void if the environment or vessel cannot withstand the energy.” They clasped tighter and he shook his head with a frown of self-contempt. “He…he was consumed by the darkness before I could really realize what happened. I got Sammy away, but all I could do was contain it I couldn't—”

He cut himself off, the stress of the memory followed by the memories of the first Eschaton swirling in his mind briefly before he managed to shake it off. He gave the Doctor a serious look.

“I can't say for sure if he's alive or not, but it is possible.”

The Doctor's frown in return was deep, thoughtful. Everything he'd ever known about the void was mostly theoretical since no living thing was meant to be able to survive in it. There was a reason it was called a dead space by most aware of its existence. The void only existed by technicality, a vast and endless nothingness outside the bounds of all living dimensions. Crossing through the void and passing into other dimensions was not only an immensely difficult feat, but one that tended to have harsh consequences on either side.

If not for the Battle at Canary Wharf a few years back, the Doctor would think that sustained existence within the void was impossible. He maintained it should be without proper protection. Without light, air, or even time itself, anything that found itself in the void without a vessel would die almost instantaneously. And that was saying nothing of a person or creature whose blood could be connected to the void, as that should be impossible too.

But… the void ship he'd encountered had been constructed to be undetectable by most methods of measurement. It acted as though it were part of the void, giving off not so much as a heat signature or weight. He hadn't slowed down to think about it since then, but…perhaps that was how it withstood the non-existent conditions of the void in the first place. Mimicking that environment externally whilst shielding its passengers from it.

So it was possible, at least with regard to a constructed vessel, but that was hardly of help to a flesh-and-blood child exposed to the void without such protection. Although… if Ryker's theory was correct, if whatever that void goo was could attach itself to a living thing without completely destroying it…

The Doctor found himself catching his breath, having jumped down from the table at some point to pace back and forth while speaking all these thoughts aloud as they came. He turned wild eyes to Ryker with a grin to match.

“Oh yes,” he declared. “He very well may be alive. And if he is, if I can find a way to get him back, then I will!”

Staring at the box still clamped in one hand, the Doctor held it in front of himself and rubbed his thumb almost reverently over its surface. Excited as he was by the prospect of saving this lost child, Sammy's brother no less, it was sobering to know that it wasn't going to be easy. The substance he held was still volatile, and the Doctor could easily mishandle it if he attempted to use it in order to find and retrieve Tanner.

“I'll make you a deal, Ryker,” said the Doctor more evenly than his enthusiastic rant from a moment ago. “I need every bit of information you have about this stuff and its relationship to the void. Every note, every file, every Post-It you might have lying around, I might need it if I'm going to pull that child out of hell.”

He approached Ryker slowly, studying his reaction carefully. “In return…I can get you out of here. Reckon you don't actually want to stay here on Earth, and with your research gone belly-up now, well… And I know you feel trapped in the tide of it all, but I'm here to offer you a life ring. I can take you to some distant planet, find you a colony where nobody will know who you are or were, nor will they care. You can start fresh, make a new life without all these burdens you've been carrying.”

It was all so overwhelming and distant at first. Her senses struggled to catch up. Most prominent and alarming was a sensation Zepheera was terribly familiar with. Vibrations in the ground– constant and all around, at steady intervals.

Footsteps. Far too many of them for a borrower’s comfort.

And behind (or more accurately, above) it all, the murmur of voices like distant thunder making conversation. Zepheera's blood ran cold. Wherever she was, it was somewhere out in the open, with people much larger than her around. 

Not ideal at all.

She suddenly became aware of a closer rumble in the ground that was increasing in intensity behind her, and her head whipped around. Her vision had cleared just enough to take in a sight that dropped ice into her stomach. 

Massive hooves crashed heavily against the cobbled stone of the street, marching the attached titanic horses and the further looming carriage behind them ever closer to Zepheera, who was right in their path!

Very, very bad!

Zepheera's body moved on its own, instinct carrying her out of harm's way and pressing her to a damp curb. She watched, bewildered, as the monumental vessel passed her by and briefly cast her in its shadow.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, but she was determined to not let panic override her. She needed to figure this out. Violet eyes darted in every direction to take in every important detail.

The sky was grey, full of clouds that had recently rained and were on their way out. Between them, Zepheera could make out a sliver of familiar blue. The people walking along the pavement, the edge of which the borrower was pressed against, looked like the people she'd spent her whole life living alongside. Human beings. Speaking English, and her own dialect of the language. Even the architecture, despite being a little archaic to her memory, was familiar.

Despite how lucky it was, Zepheera was hard-pressed to feel relief to reasonably assume that she was at least on Earth, and in England to boot.

A stray newspaper lay in the curb a few meters away, with just enough room underneath to act as a lean-to for a borrower. Zepheera ignored how sore her entire body felt as she hurried towards it. Even if it was old, it could give her an idea of just where and when she had ended up. And offer a bit of shelter while she worked out next steps. 

Ducking underneath the dampened paper, Zepheera managed to find the top of the page, and it finally gave her the terrible clarity she'd been looking for.

July 21st, 1889.

~~~

“Come on, come on!”

It was over. Alaric Edwin and his plots were no more. That didn't matter.

“There's GOT to be a trace! There's ALWAYS a trace!”

The Doctor had every wire he could find pulled out from or around the TARDIS console, all of them attached to the temporal displacement weapon. His fingers flew across every keyboard, every button and switch and control available to him. Frantic brown eyes flicked constantly around the various machinery that now filled the floor of the room, and the monitor that lit up with even more functions at once than usual.

“Come on, find it, FIND IT! No WAY you are going to out-clever ME and MY TARDIS!!”

A whirring buzz intensified from the sonic screwdriver in the Doctor’s white-knuckled grip. Its pitch and volume heightened, and its light glowed brighter as it, like the Time Lord and everything else at his disposal, was pushed to its absolute limits.

The console sparked and popped violently. Even the interior lights of the room and the central column itself flickered. The heat and plasma flying up finally forced the Doctor back from it all, and he stumbled into the old seat nearby. 

The screwdriver clattered to the floor. 

His chest heaved underneath his tight suit jacket, and his eyes continued to burn.

“No. No, no no no NO!”

In a blind rage, the Doctor threw himself back to his feet, stomped forward and ripped the weapon out from the nest of wires and cables.

“Stupid… stupid, stupid WHEEL!!”

The Doctor hurled the infernal machine straight into the doors of the TARDIS, where it came completely undone and fell into an unceremonious pile of useless electronics.

And that was that.

Like a puppet with cut strings, the Doctor slumped to his knees. His hands just barely reacted quick enough to keep him from teetering forward, fingers tingling with pins and needles under his weight.

Not again… not now, after all they'd been through!

A roar erupted from the console room, reverberating through the entire ship. Frustration and fury. Guilt and grief. All of it and more bubbled up from the Doctor’s chest and tore its way through his throat on the way out.

The Doctor didn't save her. Too slow, too cocky. And with no means of narrowing down the search, there was no chance of tracking down a single borrower who could be anywhere.

Zepheera was gone. Lost somewhere in time and space. 

~~~

By the end of the day, Zepheera’s situation became dreadfully clear.

She looked out at the now darkened and empty street, curled in a ball against the wall of an alley that had kept her hidden from the towering pedestrians.

Now they were gone, and Zepheera was alone with her thoughts. 

For hours, she’d sat there straining her ears to listen for the one sound she needed to hear most in the universe. She’d watched the street at all times in case she could make out something blue appearing in the distance.

She never saw or heard it.

Surely, she thought, if the Doctor could find a way to track her down, he would. But the way that Edwin was talking, it seemed like that wasn't possible.

Her eyes closed and she hugged her knees tight. Deep breath in… In a little more, and out slow…

Zepheera didn't want to give up hope. Didn’t want to believe the words of a horrible man. After all, if there was anyone she knew who did the seemingly impossible on a regular basis, it was the Doctor. 

Then again, she also knew the TARDIS wasn't always the most accurate ship to pilot at times. 

Regardless, facts had to be faced. She was stranded in a time unfamiliar to her, with no way to contact her friend or make herself known without risking her safety and that of any other borrowers that might be found. 

With a shaky sigh, Zepheera pushed herself to her feet. Her best bet, for now, was to find a way indoors. Stay safe and under the radar, like a borrower should. Survive.

She wouldn’t stop looking out for signs of the Doctor. If there was even the slightest chance that he might be able to find her, then she couldn’t just walk away.

And if he never came… Well, she'd figure that out when she needed to.

Her tea was already gone. It would cool so fast in her much smaller cup if she wasn't quick with it. She took one more scoop from the human-sized cup that was still nice and warm. Feeling a little more comfortable, and having been reassured by the others that Wilfred could be trusted to keep meeting her a secret, Zepheera made her way closer to Donna.

“I'm called a borrower,” she found herself explaining to Wilf. “Basically just like you, only a bit shorter. We usually stay a secret from humans, so… honestly, some of that folklore is probably based on us. The hidden people, and all that.”

With a quizzical tilt of his head, Wilfred asked, “Why's that, then?” 

“Why do you think, gramps?” 

Zepheera gave a shrug. “It's not our world, is it? We're just surviving in it.”

She'd laid all this out to the Doctor (who later passed it on to Donna) not long after she'd accepted the offer to live in the TARDIS. It felt like necessary information at that point, and they built enough trust that Zepheera at least believed they wouldn't mishandle the information.

There was plenty of trust, now. So much so that Zepheera felt perfectly comfortable approaching Donna's folded arms where they rested on the table. With hardly a thought, she hopped up to take a seat atop Donna's forearm.

“Best way we learned to do that was to scavenge from whatever humans left around,” Zepheera continued as she got comfortable. “Nothing too valuable, just easily replaceable things like food and–”

“Batteries?”

The gentle interruption from Wilfred threw her off her explanation, but she considered the suggestion. “Yeah, sometimes, I suppose.”

“Said so, didn't I?” Wilf crowed, shaking a finger Donna's way. His playful tone and smile melted any tension that had cropped up in Zephera. “I kept tellin’ ya the batteries were disappearing! But did you and your mother listen? Oh, no.”

Donna gave a sigh and said, “Alright, grandad…” 

Zepheera took a pull from her tea to cover up her own grin. She didn't look up, but Donna's eye-roll was audible in her tone.

Zepheera had jumped at the opportunity. For how tight the security was in this base of operations, it all but ignored smaller life forms. Even carrying the tiny but incredibly powerful EMP device the Doctor had given her, the four and a half inch tall borrower was able to avoid tripping any alarms. She could get in close to the master control and shut it all down long enough for the Doctor to make sure it could never come online again.

It was the Doctor's job to make sure she got there.

Once in a while, he could catch the slightest glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye, but he dared not look for fear of blowing her cover. The Doctor only noticed because he had grown so used to a borrower being around, and as far as he could tell, Mr. Edwin was so locked in his own world that he had no concept of anything or anyone else. And the Doctor was determined to make sure it stayed that way.

It was just a shame that getting him to brag about his toys was apparently the way to do it.

“But, with this,” Edwin continued, lifting the temporal displacement weapon so that the newly added wheel was prominent, “it's all random. Even I don't know when exactly I'm sending someone once I fire it off. And the very next second, well…” He gave the wheel another pointed spin. “Then it's gone. No way to trace anything back, no way to know. Nice and clean, you see? Even torture won't get anyone anywhere since I literally do not know, myself, where I'm sending people. I've even lost track of which direction takes someone forwards in time or backwards. Really turns what was once a weapon of waning relevance into something…truly devastating, if I do say so.”

The Doctor’s eyebrow quirked. “And that just works for you?” he asked, deadpan and unimpressed. In his peripheral vision, he could see the faintest movement against the side of the master control. Good job, Zepheera, he thought, just a little longer… “Not nearly enough to point guns at people, is it? Is that what you do all day, come up with endlessly creative ways to threaten people who are already in your thrall?”

“You know, I grow tired of all your questions, Doctor,” Edwin sighed. “They're not nearly as entertaining as they were. I should think the time has come for me to begin asking the questions. For instance: How is it that you think you're going to put a stop to my operations here? You've come all this way, I can only assume that is your goal.”

Behind Edwin, Zepheera's heart was in her throat. This was hardly the first time she'd taken on a task that separated her from the Doctor, especially since Donna’s loss. Her drastically smaller size lent her to very different strengths than her Time Lord friend. He'd been nothing but encouraging, if a tad protective when she first started actively taking such initiative.

The adrenaline coursed through her veins, powering her climb. If she pulled this off, millions of people would be set free from imprisonment in their own mind. She knew firsthand what a terrible fate that was, and helping put a stop to it was what kept her moving forward.

It was slow going up her climbing rope, but Zepheera finally pulled herself up to the titanic machine's console. Leaving the grappling hook and line behind, she began sprinting toward the center. Along the way, her fingers fumbled to remove the straps keeping the electromagnetic pulse device attached to her back. She abandoned the fiddly latch and simply yanked the device over her head.

The Doctor clocked this movement, and tossed his hands in the air. “Well, I'm only a concerned passer-by. Just reckoned I'd scope things out as I stumbled in, plans aren't really my forte–”

“Couldn't agree with you more,” Edwin cut in, whipping his head around in time to lock eyes with Zepheera, her arms full with the little device. 

Her steps faltered for a split second at the sight of being caught, but she quickly redoubled her efforts. Frantically, Zepheera slammed her hand down on the button that would begin the thirty second timer on the pulse. 

Edwin's thumb flicked the wheel.

Zepheera tossed the device as far as she could throw it and made a mad dash for her hook.

Edwin's arm whipped around and he squeezed the trigger on his weapon.

“Zepheera!”

It all happened far too quickly for the Doctor to stop it. A bright flash of blue light leapt from Edwin's hand and collided with Zepheera. She didn't have time to scream before the beam consumed her whole. 

In less than the blink of an eye, Zepheera had vanished completely.

Edwin's thumb once again flicked the wheel on his device with a pointed whirrrrrrr. The only sound the Doctor was consciously aware of anymore.

That smug smirk was in full force as Edwin turned back to the Doctor. “Would you like me to repeat the question?”

The Doctor didn't respond at first. He stood frozen, staring at the last spot he'd seen his friend before she was tossed into the temporal wind. And at first, Edwin took pride in shaking up the Time Lord so visibly, and was willing to wait for it all to sink in.

Then that gaze slid slowly to lock with Edwin’s, and suddenly he was the one frozen in place.

Anger wasn't all that could be found in those eyes, and Edwin could almost see for himself what they saw when they looked at him. It wasn't just the dismantling of his plans. It was the complete and total destruction of everything Alaric Edwin was and ever would be, along with anything and anyone bearing his name. Oblivion in the truest sense of the word.

The wrath of the Time Lord, whose lip curled with utmost disdain as he growled; a low tone that went well beyond seething.

When the Doctor removed her from the picture, it shattered the trust he and Zepheera built. It had to be done, and no amount of protesting from Zepheera or Donna would have changed that. Either it happened, or Donna died. Zepheera was just the one still around to feel the consequences of the judgment call the Doctor had made. 

She hated him for it, and he couldn't blame her. He hated himself for it. One of the best friends he'd ever made in over 900 years, and he had to destroy the remarkable woman she had become. And it wasn't just that Donna had saved the whole of reality. She was there for the Doctor when he needed someone to keep him in check. She was there for Zepheera when she needed a confidant, someone to support her healing process.

Now Donna was gone. Because the Doctor couldn't save her. Not in a way that mattered.

He wondered briefly why Zepheera stayed, after what she surely saw as a betrayal of the friendship they all had. He'd tried to offer her a way out, and she'd told him off. Did she feel some sort of obligation to stay, think she owed the Doctor anything? Surely if any of that were true, it would all have been erased by what he'd done. What she'd tried to stop him doing, begged him. And he'd ignored her, and didn't even give her a chance to say goodbye to Donna herself.

With all that and more in mind, the Doctor struggled to think of a good reason Zepheera would continue to put up with him.

He hadn't found an answer yet when he felt a small impact on his lower back.

Blinking in surprise, he squinted this way and that in the darkness before his thoughts could catch up to the present.

“ ‘Ey! Quit your squirming,” called a small voice from behind him. The Doctor froze as it was accompanied by tiny but rather pointed jabs from that same area on his lower back and tugs at his jacket.

“What are you doing?” the Doctor asked Zepheera, baffled by this turn of events. He hadn't even heard the borrower come in, let alone get close enough to pull such a stunt. 

The jabs and tugs reached the back of his ribs, and it was so odd to feel them offer the tiny woman better footholds. “Climbing, what’d you think?” Zepheera shot back. Then, with a huff, she added, “Although, at this point, more like crawling. Can't be good for your back, slouching like this. Keep it up, and your age will start to show.”

The comment drew the Doctor's attention to his posture for the first time in hours. Evidently, all the tension in his body had caused him to curl in and fold forward. Shoulders hunched nearly up to his ears, elbows rested on his knees, forearms crossed as his hands clutched at his sleeves with white knuckles.

It wasn't terribly comfortable, now that he was aware of it, but he couldn't just sit up straight all of a sudden now. For all she'd griped about it, and as thrown off as he was by it, the Doctor was loath to make Zepheera's climb more difficult. He could feel her drawing closer to her usual perch of his shoulder so, with a deep breath, he slowly released his shoulders to a more natural position to give her some room.

Even though he did his best to move the rest of his body as little as possible, Zepheera's movement paused briefly somewhere behind his shoulder blades. “See? That's more like it,” she said before continuing her ascent.

The Doctor chanced a glance toward his shoulder when he felt her pull herself up to it. She sat there so often that he was used to mostly making out her blurry shape in the corner of his eye. With a small grunt of effort, Zepheera swung her legs forward to dangle over the edge and stretched her arms over her head.

“Alright?” the Doctor gently asked, still unsure of what she was doing there.

Zepheera gave a yawn and dragged her hands down her face. “Couldn't sleep,” she sighed. “It's all…too quiet.”

Something in the Doctor clenched. She felt it, too.

He nodded, gaze turning downward. Now that he'd forced his shoulders to relax, his hands followed suit. They were quite sore from all the clenching. He gave his fingers a small stretch in place, which helped a bit.

“Times like these, I find I sleep a bit better with some… well, in company, I guess,” Zepheera went on, sounding a little sheepish. “And you didn't seem busy, so… Alright with you if I stay?”

That drew the Doctor's attention back to his shoulder, and his brow jumped nearly to his hairline. Dozens of questions swirled around his head all over again, but the one that eventually stumbled out was, “You…want to sleep here? On my shoulder?”

He saw Zepheera's shape glance his way for a moment before she shrugged. “Well,” she said, leaning forward to look down toward the Doctor's lap directly below, “preferably not from this angle.”

“Right,” the Doctor blinked. “Hold on.”

Carefully, the Doctor uncrossed his arms to brace one hand each on the matching knee. He could feel Zepheera shift positions herself, ready to adjust to the inevitable shift of gravity. He slowly began pushing himself to sit upright once she felt settled, and eventually his back pressed against the seat’s.

“Better?”

“Getting there…” The Doctor felt Zepheera's weight shift again, and he froze in place. She scooted closer to his neck, too close for him to even think about glancing her way, and then he felt a tug at his left collar.

When her weight left his shoulder entirely, accompanied by a stronger tug at his collar and then his tie, the Doctor couldn't hold back from looking down at her with complete bewilderment. His right hand lifted to hover below Zepheera before he could think better of it when he saw her dangling from the left side of his tie. All that movement was hard for the borrower to miss, and she lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

“Oh, er,” she uttered, “well, shoulders aren't as good for sleeping as sitting, y'know. And there's a good bit of white noise down here that's surprisingly calming. Suppose I should have asked, though…”

Slowly, the Doctor let go of the breath that had caught in his chest. He hardly needed reminding of the handful of times Zepheera had curled up in that spot on his chest after a panic attack or night terror. It didn't take a genius to understand that she'd grown to find some level of comfort there. This was just the first time she'd basically asked to stay there, albeit in not so many words.

“Of course, yeah, I'll just…” Since it was already hovering under her, the Doctor lifted his hand to gently meet Zepheera at her level. She immediately let go of his tie to drop down into his palm, and the hand curled in just enough to offer her a bit of security as he moved.

The Doctor scooted forward in the seat and carefully leaned back in it, propping his feet up on the console for ease of maintaining the position. He'd ideally be in it for hours, after all. In tandem with his movements, Zepheera's weight made the transition from his palm to his chest, in the gap between his tie and his lapel. The angle wasn't close to flat by any stretch, but enough for her to comfortably nestle in there. The Doctor's hand stayed curled around her, kept her from slipping downward and offered a bit of warmth in the console room that Donna had always declared to be chilly.

“Thanks,” Zepheera murmured as she settled in place.

“Sure,” breathed the Doctor in return, mindful of his volume with her so close.

Silence fell between them for a good while. With Zepheera meant to be falling asleep, the Doctor was left with his thoughts once again. He was even more confused than he was before Zepheera showed up. 

He thought for sure that it would be a few days at least before he even saw the borrower again. With her having access to the rare gap in the walls of the TARDIS, and being more than capable of finding and raiding the kitchens, she could easily survive without having to interact with the Time Lord at all if she didn't want to. 

The question remained, and in fact rang even more strongly in the Doctor's mind: Why?

A touch at his fingertip startled him out of his thoughts once again. It took a moment for his brain to settle enough to register the feeling of a tiny hand, tentatively laid across the tip of his pinky.

“It's not your fault.”

Zepheera's soft voice drifted up to the Doctor, slightly muffled by his hand and clothes. Still, it cut straight through him.

“What you did… If you hadn't, Donna would really be gone. Not just from here. And that would be the worst thing in the universe.” The light pressure on the Doctor's fingertip brushed like pins and needles toward the side of his finger. It stopped just above the first knuckle, and he felt Zepheera's grip tighten on his skin as she said with conviction, “I'm not angry with you. Never really was. I just. Hated feeling so helpless.”

The Doctor felt he should say something, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth to try. Meeting her gaze wasn't an option anymore, either. All he could do was gaze up toward the glow of the central column as though it would help him find the words.

After a few breaths, Zepheera continued. “I can't imagine how it must feel for you. Because you were right, you had to do it. But that doesn't mean you have to just be okay with it. And I don't think you are. I don't think anyone would be.”

He felt his jaw lock, as though her verbalizing the pain he tried to keep to himself suddenly and physically made it all real. His free hand clamped into his hair as his head fell back, utterly defenseless.

“You're always trying to be the strong one,” Zepheera pointed out with a quaver in her voice that she couldn't quite keep under control. “And you're really good at that, but it's not the kind of thing anyone can keep up forever. ‘Cause sometimes, the one who needs saving is the one who's trying the hardest to save everyone. So…this is me, telling you that you don't have to be the strong one this time.”

Stunned, the Doctor was in no position to resist as Zepheera tugged his little finger to curl in closer to her. Her arm wrapped around the knuckle to keep it in place, and something else touched the fingertip. Concentrating on the second sensation was almost enough to calm the swirling in his head.

Warmth. The tiniest wisps of hair. Zepheera's forehead, pressed emphatically into his fingerprint.

“We're not alone,” the borrower all but whispered, and yet the Doctor heard each word loud and clear. “We've got each other. We will get through this. Together. It's… It's what she'd want.”

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut as he forced himself to take in and release a long, slow breath. 

That…certainly answered his questions. Before he'd even asked them.

As he felt Zepheera's grip relax around his finger and her tiny weight settle in his grasp, the Doctor noticed the tension gradually unwinding in his own body. Speaking her mind so honestly yet bluntly… it was something Donna would have done to talk sense into him.

Zepheera was right. It didn't lessen any of the hurt, but having someone around for mutual support made all the difference in feeling like they could get through it.

One by one, the fingers of the Doctor's free hand detached themselves from the desperate grasp they'd had in his hair. He rubbed at his face, ignoring the moisture caught along the way.

“Thank you,” the Doctor finally managed to murmur in return. 

He wasn't sure if Zepheera was even awake to hear him, as she stayed silent for a few moments afterward. Then, he caught the barely audible, half-awake breath that gently carried the word, “Yeah…”

“He-hey! Wait!” John cried. Sherlock flinched as the human’s voice bombarded the silence of the room and rumbled through Sherlock’s very being. Then the table beneath his running feet began to shake, and Sherlock threw a glance over his shoulder to find John coming closer, his free hand raised placatingly.

All Sherlock saw was hands. Dangerous appendages built for grabbing, lifting, crushing– the most unpredictable part of the human body. Sherlock was decidedly against having anything to do with them and, in his panic, did the only thing he could think to do.

He concentrated, and everything around him fell slightly out of focus. All noises were muffled far into the background, and when he looked back at John, he was moving so slowly that he might as well be still.

Sherlock let out a relieved breath, but kept going, knowing this wouldn’t last long.

Ever since Sherlock was a teenager, he’d noticed a tingle on the back of his neck in certain situations. Dangerous ones, in which it was likely that he’d end up in some kind of trouble. And he found that when he concentrated on it, everything and everyone around him slowed down significantly. 

For just a moment, Sherlock was faster than the entire world.

The catch was, if Sherlock kept this up for too long, he would tire. Growing up training himself to control this ability, he often worked himself into pounding headaches and intense nose-bleeds. He counted it worth it now that years later, he was able to slow time around him on command.

As swiftly as he could, Sherlock snagged the thread on the edge of the table and slid all the way down to the floor. He retrieved his hook and gathered the line before ducking behind the leg of a chair and returning himself to the natural flow of time. Here he could catch his breath and recover his energy.

High above, John sucked in a gasp. Sherlock side-eyed the man’s feet as they shuffled indecisively. Then they and the cane circled around the table in their stilted pace until they carried John to the space between the table and the counter, and Sherlock cursed under his breath. John had cut off his quickest exit. Sherlock couldn’t risk passing so close to the human. He needed a new route.

Sherlock’s eyes darted to a hole in the wall across the room, adjacent to a loosened outlet under a smaller table. 

Just as the human bent to peer under the table to see where Sherlock had gone, the borrower slowed him down again and dashed to the far leg of the table on the diagonal from his previous hiding spot. There he took refuge again, taking a breather from using his ability. Not only were these sprints wearing him out, but it had been ages since he’d used his knack this much. The all-too-familiar fatigue of overuse was creeping up on him.

John Watson had no such impediment. A glance back revealed the doctor straightening in surprise, rising out of Sherlock’s line of sight. This time, John’s approach around the table was much more swift, and Sherlock had no choice but to make a run for the exit without the aid of his ability.

A shadow fell over Sherlock, and he had just enough time to see the mug before it dropped on top of him and trapped him in darkness.

Even with his limp, John was much faster than Sherlock could hope to be on his own.

~~~

John sat frozen on the floor, in utter shock.

The last thing he’d expected when he came home to grab a quick lunch was a miniature man standing on a plate of scones. He could hardly believe his eyes, especially when the little being fell out of focus and became a speedy blur zooming over the edge of the table.

A shot of adrenaline coursed through John, driving him forward to find where the creature had gone. He had no ill will toward whatever it was, but he was too curious to let it get away.

This is what drove him to trap the little guy, but now that he was there, staring at his mug, he had no clue what to do.

It took him a second to realize he was being shouted at.

John could hear light taps against the porcelain of the mug in between muffled outbursts. He leaned in to listen.

“I’m talking to you!” the tiniest baritone echoed slightly in the small space. “I know you’re out there, I demand to be released!”

John stiffened, finally starting to think about all this from the smaller man’s perspective. Chased and trapped by a person several times larger than himself, with no means of escape even with that hat trick of his. To this little fellow, John was hardly more than a giant in his way.

John had always been average height, oftentimes shorter than others. Never once had he ever felt so ridiculously large, frightening, dangerous.

He was already feeling guilty for what he’d done, reaching toward the mug to free the tiny man when his voice rang out again, freezing up John’s hand.

“Answer me, damn you!” Another dull tap against the side of the mug, possibly a kick. John opened his mouth to say something as per the man’s request, but nothing came.

The quietest sigh strained the edges of John’s hearing, and the tiny man sounded a little more dejected when he spoke up again.

“Or at the very least, you could hurry up and get the dissection over with. I’d say the suspense is killing me, but that would be redundant, now wouldn’t–!”

Sherlock’s remark was cut short as John lifted the mug away without warning. He winced in the sudden light and, thanks to the way he’d been leaning on the wall of the mug, tumbled onto his back. When he looked up at John’s hovering face, he found it ashen and full of shock.

“You think I…” John blinked rapidly at the tiny man on his back on the floor, lifting one arm to shield his eyes and feebly defend himself against John. “I...I’d never...” His insistent protest trailed off as the thought of dissecting a living person, no matter how small, turned his stomach. It was a disturbing notion, downright cruel, and John felt terrible for giving this stranger the impression that he’d do such a thing.

He must’ve looked like a monster, crouched on the floor over the smaller man like a predator cornering its prey.

John shook his head numbly, grabbing his discarded cane for support as he pushed himself to his feet. While he still hated towering over Sherlock, he couldn’t keep the man where he clearly didn’t want to be.

“I’m sorry,” John breathed, putting the mug down on the table. He took the long way around to the door out of the kitchen and left without looking back.

~~~

Sherlock remained on the floor for another minute or two after John left. Scrambling to his feet, he stared at the door and waited for the human to come back and catch him again.

But he didn’t.

With a huff, Sherlock combed his fingers through his mess of curls and straightened his clothes importantly as he made his way to the nearby hole in the wall. The sooner he was out of sight in his hidden home, the sooner he could think long and hard about what had just happened.